Perspective

Waiting for this number to come up. After exactly three months something might be done about à diagnosis of a “ mass” in my abdomen. No, this will not be what a witty friend of mine calls an”organ recital” but even writers have bodies, those miraculous, mysterious organisms about which we lucky ones usually don’t have to think about much. Fortunate inheritor of a gilded gene bank I even forgot about an artificial hip while giving a medical history recently. That was the result of a fall and I usually only remember it while passing through airport security.
So, it was a bit of a shock to have to postpone a trip this winter and embark on a tedious journey through the Quebec Medicare system. It took exactly three months to meet a surgeon who undertook to take this damn thing out of my body. I only got here this “ fast” by dint of pestering a helpful and efficient assistant in the hospital where I was originally scheduled for the surgery.
Without much preparation I found myself in a huge downtown hospital overlooking the east side of the city and the St Lawrence river

To find myself in a large waiting room clearly signed as a cancer centre. Hey, nobody said anything about cancer! After staring like an obsessed border collie at the electronic noticeboard for about half an hour ( of course like a true Brit I had arrived an hour early) I finally got to meet the young woman who explained to me that I had been transferred to her only because the removal of this lump would be “ complicated” and she is experienced in this sort of thing.
Now, dear readers, I know your eyelids are dropping. What could be more boring than other people’s innards? However, this is where the writing part comes in. This young doctor actually googled me while I was in her office and exclaimed “oh, you’re a writer!” Thus began a conversational detour about writing, guiding at the museum ( her husband is involved there) that was a wonderful example of her interest in her patients as human beings. À connection!
Suddenly, it really felt like spring. I was flooded with gratitude that I probably don’t have cancer and that this young woman was entering a request for ER time right in front of my eyes.

Suffice it to say I left the CHUM in much better spirits than when I entered. The very next day I got an appointment for some pre op tests ( no whining or desk thumping required here).
Yesterday was cool but brilliantly sunny and I walked 13 km – gotta keep in training for the next Camino, after all.

Oh, also grateful that I don’t have to mortgage my home to pay for all this – ah, Quebec Medicare – you have your moments I must say!







































































































