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Showing posts from September, 2009

sleeping again

A quick update from the trenches. I've had two nights of reasonably good sleep now, and actually managed to sleep on my side. Mum's making sure I can't get up to mischief and keeps me on a close leash at home. I'm swallowing like a fish again, enjoying food and a steady stream of good company that's been the high point of all of this! I've started my medication that will be a fixture of the rest of my life. It's going to take some getting used to. The pain from the surgical cuts is diminishing. My neck turns more than it used to. All eyes on Thursday. Thank you for all the well wishes, emails, calls, visits, food and there's so much chocolate here that I could open a store, so come and help me finish it or I'll be at St Mike's again, but this time with cocoa shock! ;-)

I'm home sans the thyroid (unat*)

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They sent me back home last night, almost 36 hours after I left here all scrubbed for surgery. It went well I heard. Thrice the time it should have, and nobody bothered to tell mum, Geoff, Khadi, Kaaeed and Jack when it was done, why it took so long and what happened. All questions to be asked at next week's sutures removal. I'm grateful to those of you who didn't follow my diktats. Seeing your faces and hearing your voices as I drifted in and out of consciousness kept me feeling positive. Mum kept me updated on all the calls and caring queries. I do remember holding your hands and I remember your scent. It was near midnight when I awoke to the delirium. What followed will probably be the longest night of my life. I'd sleep for what seemed like hours and wake up to see the clock (that had insensitively been fixed on the wall in front of the bed), had only moved a minute. I'd be awake and nauseous and in pain for what seemed like hours and the hand only moved a f

going under the knife

Tomorrow is the big day- my "Total Thyroidectomy". Bruce Willis couldn't do a movie with as much of a zing in the title, and there wont be a sequel. I've been flooded with calls and good thoughts and I go into this feeling very, very loved. Even people who only knew about the op in passing weeks ago remembered the date. I'm humbled and touched by their thoughtfulness. My mum's here, and so is Khadi, and I'm glad they are. Geoff's coming in on the night bus and I'm really glad he didn't pay heed to my protestations. My sister sends her love from the salt flats en route to Brasil. My dad and brother have been incredibly supportive. Ariadne, David, Jack, Michael, Anisa, Des, Karen, Melanie, Linh... Tony giving me a few inches of slack and a lot of spine at our morning workouts. I've pushed a lot of people away too so that I could have space, please don't hold that against me. People who knew me growing up, people who I thought hardly k

Nine months later...

It's done. After vacillating endlessly over the past nine months , I competed for, was offered, and accepted the role of Manager of the Growth Planning and Analysis Team of the Ontario Growth Secretariat at the Ministry of Energy and Infrastructure... (what a mouthful!). D loves to say it with one big intake of a breath. As Rilke beautifully says, the future enters us and transforms us long before we know it (see quote below)... change has come to me in that way. As I began to feel satiated with one course of study or work, the other seemed ready to begin and open up to me- architecture, on to urban design, then strategic planning... my life too, my identity, my sexuality, my relationships... moving, building, constantly evolving, ever better, ever stronger, never with regret, always with promise, never having to leave one to take on another. Mentors have often put me in positions to challenge me and I've performed. Lovers, friends and family have held me to higher standard

feeling loved...

I'm saving voicemails, cards, emails... I feel loved. I've never doubted that, nor have I ever counted it, lest I take it for granted, but in these trying times, the faith that people have in me, the genuine support and love I've received, have amazed me. It's true, I've kept all of this a secret, as best I can. As I said in an earlier post, it wasn't to hide the truth, but to save myself the task of constantly explaining it. If you asked, I shared, and only just, but not otherwise. I'm exhausted from the medical jargon and minutiae I've been thrust into, and I crave the normalcy I had just a month ago, so that I can focus on living life, and not resenting it. I am nothing without the lives that intersect mine. When I do have to go, as we all must, I will not be remembered for what I take with me, but for what I leave behind. It will be about what I've shared, tough and easy times, laughs, good solid cries... you've all held me to higher stan

It's all about perspective...

I've felt terribly vainglorious over the past week. In addition to wanting to use that word since I learnt it many moons ago, I did actually feel that way. My new-found secret makes me feel I'm special. I've joked (half-seriously) that I should use my lil' lump of cancer to get ahead in the line. Why me? Because I have this, I need to be compensated for it... it's not an uncommon reaction to the weight of a diagnosis of cancer. ...G and my ever-patient friends quickly hid their shock at my crass humour. But quickly-enough, this past weekend, reality bit. As I walked down my street, I passed a kid, not yet past his teens, pushing his mother in a wheelchair. She was in hospital garb, paralysed, a beautiful face that adored him, twisted into a stasis she may never be able to shake. Her arms lay limp beside her. Yet when the sun fell on her face, her smile glowed brighter than the light that it was bathed in. I'm fortunate, no, I'm very fortunate, and I nee

I think I'm in good hands (pun intended)

I spent most of Friday in the pre-op clinic at the hospital, being probed by a litany of medical investigations- anaesthesiologists, nurses, the blood-sucker lady (who had the sweetest smile), residents who didn't know my thyroid from my little finger, and some great doctors with a sense of humour and a message of reassurance. My lil' lump hurt that whole day and the next from all the pressing, but at least I know where it is now, and so do they! On this occasion, I'm going to leave it in the hands of the experts. I can't worry, because I know little about what they do, but I hope I am in good hands... ;-)

Woke up scared

I woke up in the wee hours of the morning, terribly, terribly frightened. Unlike most of my dreams that have a fantastical plot in play, this one was bereft of any story. Just dread, just fear. I put myself back to sleep, I've gotten good at that. My mortality is very present these days. Two weeks from now I may not be on this chair outside the Hart House, basking in the gentle dawn as the city crawls up to its regular, banal pace. Two weeks from now I may not be here... but for now I'm trying to be present, trying to be here, enjoying my health, my relationships, my life, every placid moment of these...

Turning into a statistic

Becoming a statistic has never been easier. When they found the 'growths' on my thyroid, I was told that barely 3-5% of them are ever cancerous. Of course, you hope you're part of that lumpy 95-97% and go home and sleep well. Lo and behold, when my biopsy results came back, I was part of that 3-5%. Now they tell me that 95% of those who test positive will be fully cured and live their normal life spans. I have my fingers crossed that I will not be that poor f***er who was the 3% of the 3% of the 3% who had to die that year to make the numbers work! I've never felt more important...

And how it all began... my romantic tryst with cancer

It started with a cold a few months ago. Perhaps the kind kids bring home from their daycare to their parents to carry back to the office. Perhaps something more virulent that birds carry over distances. But still, a cold... Vainly (and unashamedly at that), it was the double chin I noticed in my recent pictures that set the alarm bells ringing. "I've gotten fat, look at these pictures" I complained, early and often to the very patient G. In true cherubic form, he'd disagree. But when the ache that I woke up with each morning did not dissipate, I decided to go to the doctor. My own GP Dr D prescribed heartburn medication. The second GP Dr S at the clinic in my office building told me I was talking too much, which wasn't an impossible diagnosis. A return visit to my own GP Dr D had him prescribing an anti-fungal mouthwash to deal with the problem. After two more months of knowing that there was definitely something more happening, I chanced a visit to the walk-