No idea what time it was when I was ushered into the step down room. Janet tells me there were five patients in the room. The guy in the bed next to me was out of control. The nurses took turns trying to calm him down. He was being released the next day and was completely delirious. They tied him down to the bed to restrain him. He kept pulling at the restraints in a futile attempt to free himself. A nurse would always show up and tell him to stop doing that, and that he should behave himself. They wanted him to take some drugs or something and all he said was: “Give me a knife, just give me a knife!”. Obviously thought he could free himself. He refused to take any of the advice or drugs or anything the nurses offered. Spent the whole time just saying “Give me a knife”. I was half tempted to find one for him, and…

I am keenly aware of having no emotions during this time period. The drugs were still in effect, as was the confusion over time and location, and day and what they had found in me. 8 hours is a long operation.

After what seemed an eternity, I was taken out of the step down room and shown my luxury suite.

We show up on time and are ushered into the waiting room. There are a lot of people waiting, all accompanied by one or more person, and all carrying some sort of a bag. We are no different, except our bag is BIG. We were told to bring a house coat. The one we have is very plush and takes up a lot of room.

Our name comes up. I am taken into a room where this guy shaves my stomach and some other parts. He is very efficient. Then out to the pre-op room which also turns out to be the recovery room after the operation. All sorts of people are walking around, checking computers, and white boards on the wall. My bed is near the nursing station which is an amazing vantage point. Janet and I talk briefly about the organised chaos that abounds. Finally my turn.

Questions about drug allergies, and do I want an epidural or not. This is for when I come out of surgery as opposed to during surgery. The epidural stops the pain at the spine. The other choice is morphine which fuzzes up the brain. I go for the epidural. There are risks with the procedure, I might end up paralyzed. Whatever. They take my vitals. I am perfect.

Janet and I keep talking. Mostly about being strong, and not flinching. About the state of the mind which control so much of the body. We decide I am Spartacus and I will conquer. We also decide on a them song: Queen’s We are the champions:

I’ve paid my dues -
Time after time -
I’ve done my sentence
But committed no crime -
And bad mistakes
I’ve made a few
I’ve had my share of sand kicked in my face -
But I’ve come through

We are the champions – my friends
And we’ll keep on fighting – till the end -
We are the champions -
We are the champions
No time for losers
‘Cause we are the champions – of the world -

I’ve taken my bows
And my curtain calls -
You brought me fame and fortuen and everything that goes with it
-
I thank you all -

But it’s been no bed of roses
No pleasure cruise -
I consider it a challenge before the whole human race -
And I ain’t gonna lose -

We are the champions – my friends
And we’ll keep on fighting – till the end -
We are the champions -
We are the champions
No time for losers
‘Cause we are the champions – of the world -

I don’t know the lyrics but sing bravely as they wheel me to the operating room. Narrow bed, lots of people milling about. I am moved to the narrow bed. I flirt briefly with the nurses and that is all I remember.  Turns out I went under singing the song which amused everyone.

I wake up, and I use the term very loosely in the recovery room. I hear people screaming at me, just like in the movies. I am told to wiggle my toes, and bend my knees. And I try. I tell my toes to wiggle. They tell me to get lost. I tell my knees to bend, they tell me to get lost. I talk to my toes who do not respond. I can somehow tell they are there, but they are not responding. The nurses told me later they thought I was being stubborn. Turns out I am opiate naive. Remember that from yesterday? One of the results of this condition is over-reaction to drugs. In this case, the epidural is blocking everything. I am paralyzed from the waist down. Cannot feel a thing. I touch my thighs and they feel like swollen blubber. The nurses calm down. We just have to wait for the drugs to thaw out.

I am very confused and want to know if the operation was done or not.  They tell me it was done and it took 8 hours. I am even more confused. I have no memory of 8 hours in my day. The drugs are so strong that it does not even occur to me to ask about where Janet is, and that she would be worried sick. I have no consciousness of anything at the moment. Only that 8 hours have disappeared. And that I cannot feel my toes.

At some point, Janet and Devin come in to see me. I have no concept of time. I have no idea when they came, or how long they stayed. I seem to recollect that Dr. Kennedy also showed up, but cannot be sure. It took over 6 hours for the effects of the epidural to wear off. I kept trying to wiggle my toes throughout the 6 hours. Had little else to do. Had long conversations with the nurse. She was wonderful, but I forget her name. What a relief when the toes finally responded. The night shift was just starting as I was taken into the step down room. I made the nurses sing We are the champions as I was wheeled out. They thought it was funny, specially since none of us knew the words.

Show up at the hospital. We have been told that this will be an all day affair and to be patient. Dev is with us. They weigh me, take vital signs, take my blood and ask all sorts of questions. Forms are filled out and consents signed.  All the forms acknowledge the light risk of something going wrong. Does anybody not sign these things? Doesn’t that make them redundant on some level?

The big question: Are you allergic to any drugs? We don’t know and tell them about our experience with the Percocet. I am labeled as opiate naive. They put down no allergies, and we will cover that as we move forward. We finally go home to get ready for the next day. Nothing to eat or drink after midnight. Be at the hospital at 6AM. Operation is at 8, don’t be late. So the irony is that I have to wake up at 5 to be put to sleep at 8.

The operation is discussed a bit. They will start with a laparoscopic surgery. If all goes well, the procedure will take about 4 hours. There is a slight chance of them having to open me up if things look a bit too complicated. They will know only when I am under.

We go home and spend the rest of the day talking. This is all so new and moving at such a fast clip. It is really hard to come to grips with any of it, and there is a lot to come to grips with.

A week before the operation and the wait is interminable. I went to sleep early last night as I do most nights. Janet is calling the cats in for the night. We have three cats, Marble (the alpha cat), Busbie, and BooBoo LongPaws. All the cats have multiple names.

Marble is known also as Monkey. He sleeps in our bed every night, at our head right between Janet and I. He is Janet’s cat. Loves her to bits.

Busbie is also known as, well OK, she has only one name. She is overweight and has become very loving. She loves to be patted. She is pretty much anyone’s cat. Will go to anyone for a stroke and a pat.

BooBoo LongPaws, officially named Rumpus, is the newest addition to the house. He is barely 1 year old and has to be the softest most lovable cat we have ever had.

The cats are trained to come when we whistle for them. We do not like to leave them out overnight. The nightly ritual is for one of us (ususally me) to stand on the front porch and whistle for them. But Janet does the honours since I am in bed early most nights.

I hear a faint cat cry, but do not pay attention to it. Janet comes upstairs to say that BooBoo is nowhere to be seen, but that she is hearing this cat cry every time she whistles. I get dressed, grab our 20 year old flash light and go out to help look for him. There will be no peace in the house until we find him.

We whistle, the cat cries. We start walking in the direction of the cry. It is farther from the house than we expected. There is a school yard across the street from our house. They have a section cordoned off for composting. There is a beautiful very leafy tree in this section, and we swear the cris are coming from the tree. I shine the flash light up in the tree and cannot see a thing. I need a new flash light, one of thse new fangled LED jobs.

The cries are silent, but return when we move away from the tree. I finally spot him, way up, and I mean way up. I go hoome and bring the ladder back with me. It is a 6 foot job that lets me reach teh lower branches. Last time I climbed a tree was in 1966 in England. I start the climb up. The ladder is 6 feet hign, I am 5ft 10in, which puts the cat at about 12 to 14ft. As soon as I get near him, he digs his claws into my head.

Need a new tactic. I get behind him. He is wedged in between two branches and appears to be twisted. Does not look good. I lift him with one hand and grab him with the other. One or both of us might go for a spill if I am not careful. I place him on branches as I ake my way down. He is not making any moves to go anywhere, which is a good thing.

I finally make my way back to the ladder and hand him to Janet. Our neighbour John Brown has joined us to see what the commotion is all about. He takes the ladder back while Janet handles BooBoo.

The bad news: he is not moving his rear paws. We rush to the Emergency Veterinary Clinic. That is what I will be when I get re-incarnated. You pay them $500 just to walk in through the door. They take us in right away. He does not look good, his back paws are not reacting to anything, he appears to be in shock. They suggest we drive to Guelph where they have the expertise to look after him.

The doctor goes off to make a couple of phone calls. She comes back to tell us that somehow, BooBoo appears to be showing some movement in his back paws. Small movements, but movements nevertheless. We do not drive to Guelph, but take him home to see what happens.

Long story short, he is fine. Had to spend a couple of weeks in a cage so as to not damage himmself any further. Then had to stay indoors for another couple of weeks. He is out and about now. Caught a bird this past week. And ATE the damn thing.

Oh BooBoo.

I have an appointment with Yama and Steve Lennox for the big handover. It will be emotional. I take another Percocet to kill the pain. Janet and I drive to her office and I walk over to Monarch, same as any other day. The handover is quite smooth. Steve Lennox and Chandler are both there. Chandler set up their system, and is very familiar with the terrain. I will make myself available as required to make sure everything is running as it should and to answer any questions. I am apparently a bit high from the Percocet. I have no idea if that is true. But I am quite vocal and animated, and feeling no pain. Pain is very debilitating. No pain is great!

The meeting over, I make my goodbyes. Yama has sent an eMail and people have been inquiring. Lisa, Shawn, Yama and Antonella are the only ones who knew anything. By now, everyone is in the know. Shirley and Florence are in tears. Come visit. About that.. I finally leave and go home.

By the time Janet gets home, I am in a state of utter confusion and possibly panic. The drug masks all pain. Because of the various things going on in my body, some of the sensations and impulses had changed. For instance, I knew I had to pee because of sharp pains coming from what I suppose is my bladder. These were not continuous, or terribly hard, just a sharp stab that let me know it is time. The Percocet has stopped those stabs, so I have no idea when I have to pee. And when I do go to the bathroom, I have no control over any muscles. Think about that for just a second. You push, but since I have no feelings anywhere, what am I pushing. No idea.

I am off Percocet. This is some scary drug.

We call Ruth to find out if I should go on Tylenol 2 or 3. Turns out there is a Tylenol 1 drug which is over the counter. Who knew? Janet is off to the drug store and gets me some. Take 2. The drug takes its sweet time to make its magic work, but work it does. Pain is gone but some sensations and level of control remain.

My diet is pretty much all liquid at the moment or easily digestible solids. Janet, Devin and Leslie are becoming experts at making soups that are put through the blender, then through a sieve. I hate soup. The kind of food that leaves you still hungry for something real. But this is the best thing for me now. Occasionally, we have pasta with some delectable sauce that Devin invents. All soft and easy on the system.

And now we wait for Sept 1, the day we prep for the operation.

I am not sure who comes up with the medical terminology, but I am positive the terms and names are designed to obfuscate matters. Oncologist is one such word. Went in to see ours today. This is the quarterback of the chemo treatment. Dr. David Hedley (I have to stop giggling) is amazing if his [...]

Sunday. So many people come to visit. To talk. Just be there. Kali and David want to come for lunch. Aviva and David join us as well. We go through the whole story from the beginning. Everyone wants details. What were the first signs? When did you know? The unasked questions, what turbulence is going [...]

I have an appointment to talk with Yama at 10 this morning. I am not looking forward to this. Lucky I kept him in the know through it all. We sit in the boardroom and I bring him up to date. I have to liquidate my company. Changing phone numbers, making all sorts of changes. [...]

I have a 9:00AM appointment to see a Ki Energy person. All these things are so interesting. Janet insists on driving me. She is very uncomfortable leaving me alone in case something happens. It is all I can do to convince her to go to work after she drops me off. So many people who [...]

Sunny outside. No hospital visits planned. We can pretend this is all happening to someone else. We decide to make a day of it . I have a massage booked for 10:30 at the Asha Massage & Ayurvedic Healing on Danforth. The charming Megan is going to make me feel better. I am not big [...]