Ad Abundantiam

 I took this picture 7 years ago today, just before my life-altering surgery at the Ottawa hospital, General campus.  It was a weekend that Helga spent with me before and things were possibly very different for us.  The pandemic restrictions are very similar to the ones imposed on me since my big surgery in 2014 when I had several organs removed. This may explain why I had no reaction to being told that I'd have to stay away from others, wear a mask or generally maintain distance from people. Thankfully I don't require this to be made mandatory, but at least we know that it's possible to reduce the danger to others through our own actions. It's proof positive that we can effect change to public behaviour by changed policy. 

This is  a good thing for us, because it means that there is hope for the future of humanity even with the many signs of insanity that exist in the world. There are many, many signs of it. I feel it's necessary to mention how I reacted back then. When my surgeon  explained to us that she needed to remove, inter alia, my spleen because it was touched by the cancer that, at that point, seemed curable. I wanted the cancer out. She explained that it would be a complicated, large, difficult operation that would eventually be a benefit. They had me sign a release for removal of a lot of stuff.  Finally, they removed: 

• half of my pancreas, 
• 1/3 of my stomach, 
• a portion of my diaphragm (replaced by gortex) 
• my spleen, part of my colon,
• piece of my small intestine,
• 3 of my lower left ribs and 
• a large blood clot that was spread across my left abdominal cavity.

My surgery, I later learned, had a 20% chance of me waking up. (I never looked up the surgery or its chance of success or the risks associated with it) until much later on, when I was quite depressed, and that’s for another time. I was kept in an induced coma for a week after the operation when I woke up, on July 13, (a day that I celebrate as an extra birthday!) I started to recover slowly (by my reckoning) and I was allowed home on August 25, pausing en route home to pick up my mother and aunt who were coming to take care of care of me.  

I trusted that my medical team were competent and would pull me into health. She gave me a pamphlet on "recovery from splenectomy" which covered such topics as carrying antibiotics as a preventive on a prophylactic basis, which essentially meant having them in my purse at all times, and avoiding activities that might be hazardous, like using public bathrooms and having masks to protect myself when travelling on public transport or buses. Doing things like having to be aware of the risks of touching others - so I was preparing for a life of never touching another human again! This was unacceptable. to me on so many levels! What were my options? Give up? No! Live in a hazmat suit? No! Quit work? No! (I eventually did, 3 years later)

I'm recalling this for a few reasons. First, it was a great visit. We spent time together, and we had fun. Then, on July 8 I did the surgery, which, thankfully went well. And, best of all, I'm still here,7 years later.  I just did another surgery, a month ago, which, hopefully, will lead to 7 more (at least) years of enjoying life. Plus, we have plans to spend more time together, where we'll make more fun memories that we’ll reminisce about 20 years from now, explaining to Sofiah, Casey and Jax (and their partners) how much fun it was doing that, while the kids are trying politely to look interested as they have heard this too many times to care. So, yes, I’m reprinting an old picture that I’m intending to reuse in the  future for my nieces and nephews to hear about the weekend when  we spent the day eating Nando’s and stopped by the river. I intend it to become a family memory. Thanks for reading 😘