I've just arrived at my home away from home, Unit 57 in Foothills Hospital. I'm in in room 571, a palatial suite, normally reserved for kings and diplomats I presume. Alicia is here with me, delivered from the airport by Wendy and her friend Leila. The service here is pretty amazing: the nurse was grilling me about any history of infected hangnails, etc., when two people come in to "take pictures". Mug shots in the hospital? No, they take pictures off the wall and put on new ones, so patients don't get bored with the pictures. Being here only 30 minutes, I wasn't bored yet. There are two TV lounges and some DVD players (they can be kidnapped into individual rooms whenever) and a kitchen stocked with food that patients can remove whenever, or cook in. And a treadmill and an exercise bike. One floor below is a gigantic and very complete exercise room. I'm waiting for some doctor or another to come and inspect me and then apparently I can get a day pass for a few hours so Alicia and I can go out and walk in the yellow leaves. And what is my mental state you ask? Well, although i'm not looking forward to feeling sick next week, on the whole I don't seem to feel any differently than if i didn't have cancer and was sitting in my office at the U. Equanimity. There were scary times at the beginning.... like when my GP read out the radiologist's report, on Valentine's Day... it looked like either myeloma, or an organ cancer that was rapidly spreading. My first thought: I'm going to have to revise my will, quickly. I still felt pretty calm when I told Wendy over the phone that I had cancer, and I still felt calm when she walked in the door for the Valentine dinner I was going to cook her, but when she put her arms around me I burst out crying, there was some stuff in there waiting to come out. I cooked the dinner. I also got a little teary-eyed when I told Kristyn and Chanone, before I knew what kind of cancer i had. Kristyn went with me on my first visit to the Tom Baker Centre and I had the biopsy and diagnosis right then and there: myeloma. Of the possibilities suggested by the radiologist, that was by far the best of the bunch. Since then I havn't felt particularly bothered about having cancer... although it's terminal in the long run, so is life without cancer. Emotions in general are a little keener now, my connections with my friends and family are keener, I love them even more than I did.
It's a beautiful day. Alicia and I are going to go for a walk.
1 comment:
It was a quick walk to the hospital. Once entering the back door, from a dark walkway, I got a little lost. Heading to the main building, I turned around and looked at the posted signs and realized I wanted to go 180. Then I asked a doctor how to get to unit 57. Then I got all nervous and think the hospital would be so interesting if the walls were splashed with Gerry Garcia rainbow colors and if they played some Euro trance. Seemed not to be the case last night. However the cafeteria was closed and the sun had set. Maybe it's s different scene in the day time; incense burning with disco lights?
Regardless, nice nurses who were helpful and gave me the direct phone number to the unit! Next time I will call before walking 400 meters to come and see you!
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