Читать книгу Laughing at Cancer - Ros Ben-Moshe - Страница 18

17 June 2011

D Day

My bowel has been prepped, matching my psychological state. I have never been so psyched for anything, ever, and wonder if I will ever feel so psychologically strong again. I will wrought iron beams to support me but still fear they might morph into cotton wool.

Once at the hospital, I was allocated cubicle number 8 which I took as a good sign. Recently I’ve been drawn to the significance of certain numbers. Number 8 matches the mathematical symbol of infinity and symbolises completeness or wholeness—two complete circles linked into one, resting in each other’s curved arms, unable to differentiate which circle leans onto the other. I’ve heard it is associated with good luck, and I, for one, need all the luck I can get! June 17 also is an auspicious date adding up to another 8! I may be clutching at straws but if it helps, why not?

Danny was still allowed at my side. I was certain we were both feeling sick to our stomachs. Sentences were filled with mundanities as anything else just added to our emotional load. Nurses came, nurses went. Finally the anaesthetist arrived and briefed me about what lay ahead. I would be under anaesthesia for around 5 hours. He would be monitoring my every step, and soon he would return to take me into the operating theatre. I hadn’t recalled being told that the operation would be so lengthy, but as long as they did a good job I doubted a lengthier operation would make any difference in the long run. I don’t know how warm it really was but I was shivering out of nerves and a blood supply that had largely taken leave of absence.

The next thing I knew my legs were wrapped in lightweight silver coils, like a 3-dimensional slinky, but nowhere near as fun. Apparently this was to assist with circulation and would be left on my legs until after the operation. From waist down I looked like an extra-terrestrial being and wished I could be beamed up right away! Next, the surgeon appeared asking me if I had any questions, but I got the impression it was cursory. I was straight-jacketed to the bed and it was way too late for any questions, even if they were perfunctory. I just wanted this to be over, to be on the other side.

I avoided looking directly into Danny’s eyes as the floodgates in both him and myself weakened with each shallow breath. Time was running out. Soon they would be collecting me. A nurse by the name of Emily (another good sign—my sister’s name) came to my bed and said she would be at my side the entire duration of the operation, as my surgeon played God. She didn’t leave though. It was time. Enveloped in panic I turned to Danny for one last hug goodbye. We were both shaking and I sensed he was losing the battle to stay strong. A trademark of a long-distance relationship, Danny being from the UK and I from Melbourne, we’d had so many emotional farewells. Yet as heart-wrenching as they might have been, they paled in comparison. Sure there may have been the occasional infinitesimal fear of a plane crash or of an even more perfect match appearing out of nowhere and severing our love, but deep down we knew we would return to each other’s embrace.

Now I was a mother. We had kids. This was an absolutely humungous operation, classified between a hysterectomy and heart surgery; but the whopping 5 hours more closely aligned with heart surgery. Like all operations it bore a risk, not only to my inner functions but also to my existence. I pushed back that torrent of thought. Nope, I was not going there. My voice strained as I uttered my final words, ‘I’ll see you on the other side.’ I couldn’t even be sure Danny heard them. Too scared to even cry, I was wheeled into the operating Temple of stainless steel, complete with bright lights, beeping and computer screens. Everyone was pleasant enough and did their best to play down the seriousness of what was to follow. An intravenous (IV) bung was inserted in my hand. ‘Just a little sting,’ said the anaesthetist. I beckoned all the love, support and protection I had in this world and summoned the same from other worlds. I visualised the Lion of Judah with an outstretched paw keeping any evil at bay and the love of both my beloved grandmothers now deceased. I never knew my maternal grandfather and my paternal grandfather passed when I was just a toddler, but I was sure they were there shielding me from harm’s way. I was bathed in universal love. On instruction I counted slowly to ten, then my consciousness surrendered. I was in their hands.

X