It was Saturday, February 26, 2022 – two weeks ago.
I settled in the chair at his desk and watched his mask-covered face closely, my mind flashing a huge image of the word “WHAT?” I know something is wrong with me – but what?
We were sitting in a small cramped doctor’s walk-in office on Bison Ave. After a few pointed questions, the attending doctor had just asked me to get onto the examining table, then after finishing with his hurtful pokes into my belly, turned briskly around asking me to get dressed as he returned to his computer
“We definitely have some kind of a problem!” he said and stopped there.
“Partially blocked intestine?” I asked – almost hopefully.
“Yes, that and other possibilities that are right now unknown!”
He started typing and then printed something off. ”I’m sending you to the Victoria Hospital, Urgent Care Unit.”
In my mind, I’m going. “Really?! This is overkill. I came in with a constipation problem!”
He continues. “You will get an X-ray first, then they will need to do a CT Scan, I’m writing that up now too so you won’t have to wait to get a scan for three months from now.”
I’m in shock! This is a lot of urgency in his voice that I don’t really appreciate! What in the world could be wrong?
In minutes my wife and I are off to the Victorian Hospital. Due to COVID restrictions, Wilma cannot be in the waiting room with me…. I settle in alone!
I meet with a young, plastic-shielded, doctor who Is great. present and gentle. I’m sent to X-ray. Then just as the walk-in doctor suspected, this young doctor suggests a CT scan, to confirm what he’s seeing – he says offhandedly.
“Just to confirm what he’s seeing?” My imagination has run dry! I’m not a medical person. What could be happening down there? Is my plumbing busted, leaking, plugged, ballooned, dented…? I have no idea and give up!
Finally, he comes back, the expression on his face has changed! "Oh - oh" warning, warning!
“The scan went ok but I don’t have good news for you!” he says.
“Okay….?” I respond my fears rising.
“I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but you have cancer.”
There it is, the big “C” word has been uttered in my presence and its about me, no one else!
Shock waves hit me. This just cannot be happening to me!
“Are you sure?” I say softly.
He sits down and he begins to answer my questions. He tells me “it’s” in my gallbladder and “it” has spread to the liver! To first find out what kind of cancer it is, they will have to do an operation as soon as possible to remove it.
“I don’t have any more answers for you,” he says. “So, I have already booked transportation to take you to St. Boniface Cancer Ward and there they will be able to answer all your questions and do the surgery!”
“When will this vehicle arrive?” I ask glancing at the clock. It was 7:20 pm.
“Anytime between now and tomorrow morning - whenever a bed opens up! Oh yes, and don’t eat anything because you cannot eat before surgery which may happen quickly!”
I’m suddenly not hungry anyway.
Despite the fact that my phone battery is on red, I call Wilma mentioning the “C” word!, There were tears and laughter and agreement that we’d been through “stuff” before and that this was just another little test! Talk about denial!
We loved on one another and hung up.
(To be Continued)
Written - Mar. 6’ 22
I settled in the chair at his desk and watched his mask-covered face closely, my mind flashing a huge image of the word “WHAT?” I know something is wrong with me – but what?
We were sitting in a small cramped doctor’s walk-in office on Bison Ave. After a few pointed questions, the attending doctor had just asked me to get onto the examining table, then after finishing with his hurtful pokes into my belly, turned briskly around asking me to get dressed as he returned to his computer
“We definitely have some kind of a problem!” he said and stopped there.
“Partially blocked intestine?” I asked – almost hopefully.
“Yes, that and other possibilities that are right now unknown!”
He started typing and then printed something off. ”I’m sending you to the Victoria Hospital, Urgent Care Unit.”
In my mind, I’m going. “Really?! This is overkill. I came in with a constipation problem!”
He continues. “You will get an X-ray first, then they will need to do a CT Scan, I’m writing that up now too so you won’t have to wait to get a scan for three months from now.”
I’m in shock! This is a lot of urgency in his voice that I don’t really appreciate! What in the world could be wrong?
In minutes my wife and I are off to the Victorian Hospital. Due to COVID restrictions, Wilma cannot be in the waiting room with me…. I settle in alone!
I meet with a young, plastic-shielded, doctor who Is great. present and gentle. I’m sent to X-ray. Then just as the walk-in doctor suspected, this young doctor suggests a CT scan, to confirm what he’s seeing – he says offhandedly.
“Just to confirm what he’s seeing?” My imagination has run dry! I’m not a medical person. What could be happening down there? Is my plumbing busted, leaking, plugged, ballooned, dented…? I have no idea and give up!
Finally, he comes back, the expression on his face has changed! "Oh - oh" warning, warning!
“The scan went ok but I don’t have good news for you!” he says.
“Okay….?” I respond my fears rising.
“I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but you have cancer.”
There it is, the big “C” word has been uttered in my presence and its about me, no one else!
Shock waves hit me. This just cannot be happening to me!
“Are you sure?” I say softly.
He sits down and he begins to answer my questions. He tells me “it’s” in my gallbladder and “it” has spread to the liver! To first find out what kind of cancer it is, they will have to do an operation as soon as possible to remove it.
“I don’t have any more answers for you,” he says. “So, I have already booked transportation to take you to St. Boniface Cancer Ward and there they will be able to answer all your questions and do the surgery!”
“When will this vehicle arrive?” I ask glancing at the clock. It was 7:20 pm.
“Anytime between now and tomorrow morning - whenever a bed opens up! Oh yes, and don’t eat anything because you cannot eat before surgery which may happen quickly!”
I’m suddenly not hungry anyway.
Despite the fact that my phone battery is on red, I call Wilma mentioning the “C” word!, There were tears and laughter and agreement that we’d been through “stuff” before and that this was just another little test! Talk about denial!
We loved on one another and hung up.
(To be Continued)
Written - Mar. 6’ 22
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