Knitnut.net. Watch my life unravel...
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Posted by zoom! on September 22, 2009, at 9:40 am |
I hate to say it, but my unbridled optimism is taking a bit of a beating. After a couple of days of consistent improvements in my pain levels, an irritating pain settled into my left leg and butt on Sunday and has been getting steadily worse ever since.
As you know, I got my medical degree from the University of Google. We specialize in multiple choice diagnostics here at Google U. For example, your headache is the result of your hat being too tight or a brain tumor.
So after conducting a great deal of research, I’ve concluded my leg pain is due to one of four things:
- Normal, temporary post-surgical swelling or inflammation or irritation of the nerve or surrounding tissues;
- The nerves are still in the process of settling down now that the impingement has been removed;
- The result of over-doing it after surgery – walking too far, sitting too long, etc.;
- Re-herniation or other injury of the disk;
- Something else.
Obviously reherniation is the most disturbing possibility. Things did get better before they got worse, which makes me suspect reherniation. On the other hand, maybe things just felt better at first because they kept me so high in the hospital it took a couple of days for the pain to catch up with me.
I might call my surgeon for a second opinion.
 ....at least you still have your paddle In other news, don’t you love this Get Well card? It’s from my friend Gail (aka Wendy in this post), who popped in on Saturday with wine and chocolate and fruit and kitty litter and paper towels. Gail’s got a fiercely pragmatic side. When she heard the word surgery, the first thing she thought “Is Oh My God, surgery! She won’t be able to carry kitty litter for months!”
I’m not sure why there was paper toweling in the care package, but I’m not surprised. Gail has a PhD in Worst Case Scenario Disaster Planning for Everyday Life. She is always prepared for an emergency – any emergency. Our cubicles were side by side for about 15 years, and she never ceased to amaze me with the number – and variety! – of things she found to worry about and prepare for. For example, she made sure that every member of her family always had a spare pair of clean underwear tucked away in a zip-lock baggie in their backpack or wallet or purse. Just in case. (And a first-aid kit, in case the class bully found out about the spare underwear.)
She’s also a very generous person, and the ultimate volunteer. I remember when she was on the Board at her kids’ daycare centre. At a board meeting one evening, the subject of the daycare’s worn, threadbare furniture came up. Gail was shocked to hear herself volunteering to re-upholster all the furniture. Shocked, and horrified too, but powerless to stop herself.
“Have you ever upholstered anything before?” I asked the next morning, when she told me about it.
“No!” she cried, “I don’t know what I was thinking! The words just came out!”
She never did upholster the furniture, because she was too busy making 27 different costumes for the Grade One play. Instead, she went out and bought ALL NEW FURNITURE for the daycare centre. With her own money.
That’s Gail. And this is her Get Well card.
Posted by zoom! on September 21, 2009, at 12:47 pm |
 Garrie Bea Joyce's tools We spent much of Sunday visiting artists on the West End Studio Tour. (It’s on again next weekend, in case you missed it.) We started at Garrie Bea Joyce’s studio because she was in our mixed media art course last year.
Garrie was light years ahead of the rest of us. She’s a retired art teacher and has been a working artist for years. By comparison, the rest of the class was still eating finger paints. But she was always interested in what we were doing, and she was generous with her ideas and knowledge. Someday I would like to take a course from her.
 One of Garrie Bea Joyce's textural works Garrie combines her creativity with a thorough understanding of all that theoretical and technical stuff like composition and colour and texture, so she invariably makes art that feels right. It feels good to look at it. My eye and my brain both love exploring her work. Someday, when I get another job, I’m going to buy a piece of Garrie’s art. (I’m glad it’s not yet though, because I’d be hopelessly torn between her coloured work and her textured work; I love both.) (Click for a larger view, but go see it in person too…my pictures don’t do it justice.)
 One of Garrie Bea Joyce's Colour Works  Edwina Sutherland's Felted Bowl , the doll artist, provided lots of visual treats to savor along with her chocolate chip cookies. Some of her dolls are sewn, others are felted. It was hard to pick a favourite, but I eventually settled on the Pied Piper and his Familiar, which were on display at the Wall Space Gallery. (Each of the artists on the tour has one piece in the Gallery – so if you don’t have time to do the whole tour, you can swing by the gallery and see which ones you want to visit.) I also liked this felted bowl of hers.
 The Peace Chair We had a lovely visit with Alice Hinther, the Chair Artist, in her back yard. She fed us homemade cinnamon buns while we checked out all her chairs and her jewelry and the teacups hanging in her tree. GC’s favourite was the Peace Chair. I liked the little kid Time Out Chairs and the Birthday Chair. We noticed that my mother, who is also a Chair Artist, had signed Alice’s guest book right before we did. We missed her by just a few minutes.
What else? GC loved Derek Aylen’s woodcuts. Mr. Aylen’s an elderly gentleman, who, at his father’s insistence, had pursued a law career rather than becoming an artist. When he retired, he was finally able to give his abundant talent the time and energy it deserves.
 Shlomo Feldberg's napkin rings GC also liked Shlomo Feldberg’s bent cutlery art, especially the Menorah. I only got a picture of the napkin rings.
We both liked Andrew King’s piece in the Gallery. Revenge. Nice pitchfork.
 Andrew King: Revenge We didn’t get a chance to see everything. My leg was starting to drag us both down towards the end. We came back to my place, flopped down on the couch, and munched on yummy snacks delivered by a kind and generous friend.
Posted by zoom! on September 20, 2009, at 9:28 am |
 Brown-Eyed Susans remind me of my Opa Things are looking very, very promising. The surgeon said the best thing I can do to hasten my recovery is walk. Short distances at first, gradually increasing as I build up my strength. He might as well have said the best thing I can do is eat Smarties, drink red wine and go yarn shopping. I love walking.
So on Friday, a few hours after I got home from the hospital, I went for a 20-minute walk. It was my first real, unescorted, unassisted walk in a very long time. My legs, although a little uncomfortable, did not become sorer with every step. This was unusual.
 My artist neighbour painted his gate! Yesterday I went for a 35-minute walk. It was a gorgeous, crisp autumn day, the kind that makes me feel sorry for Floridians, who don’t get seasons. I love our seasons. Oh sure, I hate them too, fiercely at times, but I love them just as much. Everything changes when the seasons change. We rotate whole sets of clothes, foods, colours and hobbies out and other sets in. There’s something about packing away the old season and making room for the new one that stirs my Canadian soul.
This one – summer into fall – is one of my favourites. I love the way fall looks and feels, with its rich palettes and clean earthy smells. I love the way fall changes me, the way my own colours change, the textures and layers, the foods I crave, the way I spend my time. No more leisurely lightness and cotton and peaches and ice cream and keeping cool. Suddenly it’s all about sweaters and apples and spices and getting warm and cozy and cooking and knitting and burrowing down and starting new projects.
 Somebody's been hanging art in the forest! For my 35-minute walk, I wore my red knit heavily-fringed jacket from the Vintage Clothing Sale, with my hands deep in the pockets. I wore socks and sneakers. I relished every single step.
I know now that the operation has been at least partially successful. Time will reveal more. But yesterday’s walk was the longest and most pain-free walk I’ve taken in many months.
Since I don’t drive, walking has always been my primary mode of transportation and key to my independence. It was also my only form of exercise and a rich source of meditation and inspiration. I can’t even begin to describe how it feels to be getting all that back.
I’ve always said, if you want to make someone happy, take away everything they have and then give some of it back.
 More forest art!
Posted by zoom! on September 19, 2009, at 9:48 am |
Did you know that if you cry in front of Duncan he will use his big fat paws to mop the tears off your cheeks and then he will lick your eyes until you start giggling and then he will try to chew your hospital bracelet off your wrist?
I don’t know why I was crying. I don’t cry very often. Nothing was hurting and I wasn’t sad. I just needed a good cry, I guess. (But the next time I need a good cry, I’ll lock Duncan out of the room. He’s such a big softie.)
 Red jello GC made me some red jello. It’s almost too pretty to eat. After he left, I took pictures of it, but then he came back with raspberries. Raspberries! I love raspberries. Picture these with raspberries! And whipped cream!
I’m not supposed to sit very much. No more than three times a day for 20 minutes for the first month, I think. The written instructions aren’t very clear. The rest of the time I guess I’m supposed to be lying down or standing up. I mean, what else is there, really? It’s kind of weird, because my whole life has pretty much revolved around sitting down for the last few months.
Last night I knit for a few hours, lying down. I started a sock. Then I made a mistake and that was the end of that. I can’t fix my own knitting mistakes, unless they’re in plain stocking stitch. Even then.
GC and I went button shopping yesterday at Darrel Thomas’s new fabric store on Preston Street. It’s button paradise over there. I wasn’t entirely happy with the sheep button I got for the baby sweater, so I thought I’d see what Darrel has. He’s got an amazing selection, and a God-given button-picking talent.
He picked out a couple of possibilities while GC said, “Well, what about this one? This one’s nice.”
“Nothing personal,” said Darrel cheerfully, “But we don’t generally listen to men in this store.”
“Oh,” said GC, who scored almost perfect on the online colour hue test.
Darrel found a stunning little blue button for the sweater.
“I love it,” I said.
“It’s nice,” said GC, who doesn’t give up easily, “But it kind of gets lost on the sweater. The pink one would pop more.”
Darrel decided to humour him. He placed the pink button on one side of the sweater and the blue button on the other.
“Watch,” he said, picking up a shoe box, “Keep your eye on the button.”
Then he covered the blue button with the shoe box. Then the pink one. Back to the blue. The pink. The blue. The pink. The blue. Faster and faster! Pink! Blue! Pink! Blue! Pink! Blue!
Finally he stopped.
Darrel looked me in the eye.
“He’s right,” he said.
GC grinned a great big grin, having vindicated the button-picking talents of all men once and for all. I bought the pink button.
In other news I’ve been asked to publicize a couple of things on the blog. One is the City of Ottawa’s Green Bin program. I don’t know much about it myself, other than it’s about putting out our organic waste to create compost. But I guess I’ll find out more.
The other is the upcoming Global Leadership Forum on Cancer Control. I haven’t had time to check it out, but it appears to be a two-pronged thing – a conference at the Westin Hotel next week, and a parallel public process called Community Conversations.
Posted by zoom! on September 18, 2009, at 11:22 am |
I had a pretty good time at the hospital, even though I didn’t get any red jello and was too groggy for puzzles or knitting or even reading.
We got to the Civic at 6:15 a.m, and a few minutes later I was in my hospital gown and in a bed, where a friendly nurse took my blood pressure and did some basic information gathering.
There was a Code 222 over the intercom. The nurse told me it means either a baby or a mother in trouble in Labour & Delivery. I found myself thinking about this baby and mother off and on all day. Every time I woke up or was drifting off, I wondered if they made it.
Around 7:30 they said it was time for GC to go, as they’d be sending me down to surgery soon. We said our goodbyes and I asked him to hand me the small bag inside the big bag I’d brought with me. It contained everything I’d need for now. He was to bring the big bag back later.
“You’re so organized!” he exclaimed, “An inner bag and an outer bag!”
I only mention this because nobody ever compliments on my organizational skills. It was a first. I beamed.
Then Richard the porter wheeled me away, and we chatted about his new snowblower all the way down to Surgery. He’s hoping for lots of snow this winter, since it’ll be his first winter with a snowblower.
He parked me in a corridor, smiled, and wished me well. People came and went, mostly pushing carts, and they all said good morning to me. What a nice hospital.
One of the people was pushing a microscope on wheels. My surgery is called a microdiscectomy, and the ‘micro’ part is because a microscope is used. If you’re like me, when you hear ‘microscope’ you think of one of those high school science microscopes. This microscope was as big as my bathroom!
A nurse went over my paperwork with me. I reminded her I had to be kept warm because of my Cold Agglutinin Disease, and that they couldn’t put an IV or blood pressure cuff on my right arm because of the nodes that had been removed.
Then the Anesthetist came along, and he was much nicer than my last anesthetist.
Next, I was wheeled into the gleaming operating theatre. There were about ten people waiting for me there. Plus the giant microscope. The nurse wrapped me in some nice heated blankets. I thought about my special Zoom blanket and wished I could have had that too.
Then they started putting stuff on me, like cuffs and leads. The Respiratory Therapy student was given the task of inserting my IV. He looked all over my arm, and then my hand.
“Hmmm,” he said.
“I’ve been told I’m a bit of a challenge in that department,” I acknowledged.
While the anesthetist watched, he tried to insert it in my hand. It didn’t work. It hurt, but I didn’t say anything. They injected some freezing and tried again, and again it didn’t work. The anesthetist took over. He couldn’t do it either. He tried in my arm. Nope. Meanwhile, I busied myself reading the wall posters about female incontinence and Kegel exercises. I did a few Kegels while I was at it, because I can’t think about Kegels without doing them. (I’m doing them right now. You too?)
Finally the anesthetist said he’d like to put me to sleep using the mask, and then insert the IV while I was out. I said okay. Mask. Deep breath. I thought about the Code 222, the mother and the baby. Hold it. Hold it. Hold it. Ho…………………..
And that was the last of anything for quite awhile.
The surgeon visited shortly after I woke up and I vaguely remember him saying it went well except for the IV being tricky.
I found out later that it took them an hour and forty minutes to get the IV in, and they finally had to put it in the jugular vein in my neck, and suture it for good measure.
My surgeon came back later with three other doctors and they told me that we won’t know for sure if was successful for a few more weeks. Also, they were out of beds. He’d had a choice of rescheduling my surgery or going ahead with it but not admitting me – just sending me to the Day Surgery Unit overnight instead. He chose to do that. (Yay.) So off to Day Surgery I went.
Then, more drugs and a rush of visions of art and good feelings of good people and good energy and GC and Duncan and the mother and baby, and more sleep.
The next few hours passed that way, just kind of dreamy and druggy.
GC visited for a little while and I was soooo happy to see him. He told me I was in Bed 13 1/2. Seriously, I was! He said my hair looked good, which it seriously didn’t. But I was groggy and couldn’t stay awake and then I was nauseous. So they sent him away and gave me three injections which knocked me right out again. (He came back for visiting hours but they wouldn’t let him wake me up.)
I had toast and yogurt and gingerale for dinner, but no jello.
Anyway, the night passed with many wakings-up and going-back-to-sleeps and thoughts of the mother and baby and pills and blood pressure readings. Eventually it was dawn and time to go. I went to the washroom and looked in a mirror and was shocked. I looked scary. My eyes were puffy and my face was grey and I had a bloody tube sticking out of my neck, and the surgical up-do was just plain BAD. I took the rubber band out, and tried to neaten it up a bit, but it was still pretty bad. I washed my face with a warm cloth, and that felt good.
Then they took the IV out of my jugular, and I ate breakfast and got dressed and chatted with my neighbour until GC came at 6:30.
It’s good to be home again. And I feel pretty good. I really hope the surgery worked. And that the mother and baby are okay.
Posted by zoom! on September 16, 2009, at 3:25 pm |
Today’s my last day before spine surgery. Tomorrow at 6:15 A.M. I’m going to present myself at the Civic Hospital, where I’ll be wheeled into a gleaming operating theatre and fixed.
My surgeon has booked the theatre for me from 8:00 am to 11:45. This is a bit odd, since last week – for the same surgery, which got canceled – they only booked it for an hour and a half. When I pointed that out, I was told that the extra time was required to clean the operating room after my surgery.
Hmmm. Were they not planning on cleaning it last week? Or are they expecting my operation to be much gorier this week?
Well, whatever. I don’t mind if he takes his time.
So today’s the last day before surgery and I’ve totally wasted it on frustrating things that didn’t work. Mostly knitting related things.
For example: I vowed I would finish my niece’s baby’s sweater before tomorrow. It’s all knit, even those 9 rows of frill that ended up being 350 stitches long each. But sewing the sweater pieces together is not going well.
Even though I AM the Knitnut, I’m actually not all that great a knitter. No, really, it’s true. I’m slow. I’m awkward. I can’t even fix my own mistakes. But my knitting is positively masterful compared to my abysmal post-knitting assembly skills.
I will not tell you how many times I’ve seamed and unseamed this sweater today.
I finally decided I was too frustrated to be seaming a sweater. Best to put it aside and start fresh another day. In the meantime, I thought, I would whip up that sweet little Stuffie for the same baby. Stuffie is a very simple stuffed animal.
Stuffie is not going well. And the yarn, which has mohair in it, doesn’t unravel well. I don’t even know why it’s not going well. It’s just not. I don’t know whether it’s me or the pattern. It’s fiddly trying to knit ten stitches in the round. I keep ending up with the wrong number of stitches, and this is one of those situations where such things matter.
Look. It’s 3:19 PM and I haven’t done anything today except make mistakes. I should probably have spent the day doing things to make the next few post-surgery days easier. Like cleaning the house, putting stacks of books within easy reach of the couch and the bed, and making red jello.
But right now I’m going to abandon all knitting projects and go roast some red peppers.
Posted by zoom! on September 15, 2009, at 10:01 am |
GC and I did the Catwalk on Sunday. The Centretown Art Tour. You get to visit 11 artists in their homes/studios.
Artists have such interesting homes. Mostly trippy little apartments with lots of light and well-painted walls with good art on them. I actually started to miss apartment living.
We started with Meaghan Haughian because she’s my favourite and I wanted to make sure that if anything happened, I’d at least get to see Meaghan’s studio. You know. If we got hit by a bus. Or if I suddenly collapsed, paralyzed, on the sidewalk. Or if the downtown core had to be evacuated because of a terrorist threat. At least I’d have seen Meaghan Haughian’s studio.
Her studio was the best one on the whole tour. She wasn’t just displaying her work – she was opening up her process to us. All her in-progress stuff was there. All her tidbits and scraps and creative clutter and bits of inspiration and raw materials and the inside of her brain. It was all right out there, for us to peek at and wonder about.
Ever since I first started following Meaghan, a couple of years ago, I knew that she and I were kindred spirits. Her themes and motifs resonate with me. The phrases she pencils into her work, they mean something to me. Her titles touch me. And now I see she’s started working with drawers and miniature furniture – I LOVE drawers and miniature furniture.
I peeked into her kitchen, which was technically not part of her studio, but it was gorgeous. Bright green walls and a set of shelves filled with brightly coloured pottery.
Even though we’re kindred spirits, this is something I know but Meaghan doesn’t. I go to all her shows, so she recognizes me, but I always get shy and tongue-tied around her. It’s definitely my problem, not hers, because she’s warm and friendly and approachable.
I still haven’t bought any of her work. Someday I will. I should do it now while she’s still affordable.
After Meaghan’s place, we went for breakfast at The Buzz. We’d never been there before, but we’ve been intrigued because you can bring your own bottle of wine and they only charge you a $5 corking fee. Most places that let you bring your own wine charge you $15 for the privilege of drinking it on their premises.
However, this was noon, a little too early for wine. I had the very best pancakes I’ve ever had in my life. GC liked his breakfast too. Huevos Rancheros or something like that. The prices were good, but they charge $2.50 for mediocre coffee.
Back to the tour. We went to all the studios, and most of them were just displaying completed works in their living rooms. We didn’t actually get to see their studios.
 Photo: Tom Evans Tom Evans, photographer, was interesting for several reasons. He’s a warm, soft-spoken gentleman, and he has some lovely old antiques in his place. He had his dining room set up as a photography studio and was inviting visitors to participate in a project he’s doing.
Because so many Canadians are from elsewhere, he’s photographing all kinds of people wearing a quintessential Canadian symbol: a red and black lumberjack jacket. He invited us to pose in his lumberjack jackets, so we did. With umbrellas and lights and backdrops and everything. So much fun.
Cynthia O’Brien’s work is three-dimensional, and she’s into what I would call primoridal sperm art. Stuart Kinmond’s paintings were amazing. Nicole Beaumont had a wonderful giraffe which my son, the giraffe collector, would have loved. They were all interesting, and it was an excellent way to spend a couple of hours on a Sunday afternoon.
There are a few other artist tours coming up in the near future.
West End Studio Tour
September 19-20 and 26-27
Wakefield Art Tour
September 26-27, October 3-4
Perth Autumn Studio Tour
October 10, 11, 12
Posted by zoom! on September 14, 2009, at 7:37 am |
Today I’m going to clean my underwear drawer. That’s because I just had a dream in which GC decided to surprise me by inviting everybody over to clean my underwear drawer. I arrived home and found my bedroom full of former bosses, ex-boyfriends, neighbours, relatives, friends, all kinds of people equipped with all kinds of underwear-drawer cleaning supplies, like ladders and buckets of paint and paper towels and power drills. I was mortified because my bedroom is a mess, and my underwear drawer in particular is a disaster. It’s crammed full of socks with no mates, pantyhose I’ll never wear, decrepit underpants, and condoms older than some of the people who read this blog.
I woke up relieved to find my bedroom empty, and vowed to clean my underwear drawer today.
What else? Well, Grace and I are going yarn shopping today! I’m very excited about this. I need more yarn. If I were to completely stop buying yarn but keep knitting at my usual rate, I’d only have enough yarn to last me about five years. So it’s definitely time to replenish the stocks.
However, speaking of replenishing the stocks, something AWFUL happened over the weekend. I ordered some of that Blue Moons Fiber Arts yarn for my Chevron. I couldn’t decide which two colours to get, so I caved and got four colours. Then I read all your comments, and started second guessing my choices, so I ordered two more colours. I had to do some serious rationalizing to justify spending $150 on yarn while I’m unemployed, but I did it.
But wait, that’s not even the awful part. Last night I was suddenly seized by this paralyzing thought – maybe the Chevron requires TWO skeins each of two different colours. I checked, and sure enough, TWO skeins each. FOUR skeins total. So even though I have six skeins on the way, they’re all single colours and I don’t have enough for even one Chevron!
So I did what any of you would have done, I panicked. I fired off a message to Blue Moon and asked them to send me TWO skeins of each of the colours I’d ordered. (For those of you who do not knit, it was imperative that I reach them before they shipped my order, so all skeins would be from the same dye lots.)
Then I sat back and felt slightly ill, having spent $300 on yarn in the last few days. I wasn’t sure I could find any way to justify it, but I immediately launched into Emergency Rationalization Mode: I deserve it! I have had cancer! I’m having surgery! My birthday’s coming up!
Arden suggested I think of it as long-term investment in my own pleasure. GC suggested I call Blue Moon today and cancel part of the order.
Here’s what’s coming. Two skeins each of Farmhouse, Watermelon Tourmeline, Fire on the Mountain, Puck’s Mischief, Waterlilies, and Kalish. (Just to show you I have SOME self discipline though, I did remove Petroglyphs and Gail’s Autumn Joy from my cart at the last minute. It pained me to do so – they’re gorgeous – but it had to be done.)
Anyway, I’m going yarn shopping with Grace today, and I’m going to be very restrained. Seriously.
Posted by zoom! on September 12, 2009, at 10:02 am |
I was poking around on Ravelry, looking for things to knit, and I came across the Chevron, which sounds like a car but is really a scarf.
I’m a little late to the Chevron party, because it seems every single knitter in the world has already discovered and knit it. But that doesn’t matter. I was the last person to knit the ubiquitous Clapotis, too.
The thing that the Clapotis and Chevron have in common – apart from the fact they’re both scarves and they’re both stunning – is that a person (especially a Libra-type person with a bad case of Options Paralysis Disorder) could spend entire days and weeks agonizing over the colour choices. However, whereas the Clapotis only requires that you choose ONE yarn, the Chevron requires that you choose TWO variegated yarns to knit together. Which makes the Chevron exponentially harder.
Normally you would choose two yarns that look good together, wouldn’t you? But from what I’ve been reading, this doesn’t necessarily result in the best Chevron scarf. Sometimes two yarns that look BAD together combine to make a glorious Chevron.
This does not make my decision any easier. I spent most of yesterday scouring the internet for Chevrons, to see what various colour combinations look like when mixed together. It was fun. But it really didn’t bring me a whole lot closer to a decision.
 Fire on the Mountain I have chosen the yarn – Blue Moon Fibre Arts Socks That Rock – but not the colours. This is where you come in. If you enjoy this sort of thing, would you please go over there and tell me which two colours you would choose for a Chevron? Also, I really like Fire on the Mountain. Which colour would you pick to go with that one? Thank you.
Posted by zoom! on September 10, 2009, at 2:51 pm |
The surgeon’s office called today and canceled my spine surgery. Apparently there are no beds available.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“No beds,” she repeated, “It’s like the inn is full.”
“But don’t I have a reservation?” I asked.
She laughed and laughed.
Then she said she was sorry, but that’s just the way it goes. She could re-schedule me for September 24th.
My son’s birthday, I thought to myself. I always make beer-battered chicken balls on September 24th.
I told her I’d take it, but how do we know this won’t happen again on September 24th.
“We don’t,” she admitted. “It could.”
I got off the phone and told Woodsy, who was visiting for lunch.
“But what about your radiation?” asked Woodsy, “How will it affect that?”
Excellent point. I hadn’t thought of that. I called the surgeon’s office back and left a message explaining that all my radiation treatments had been rescheduled to accommodate my spine surgery, and would now have to be rescheduled again.
A few minutes later the hospital called to see if I’d heard my surgery had been canceled. I said I had, and asked what they mean by “no beds.”
It turns out there’s an infection in the Civic Hospital. She wouldn’t tell me what kind. (“That’s not for me to say,” she said.) But they’ve canceled half of tomorrow’s surgeries, and they’ve ‘closed’ a whole bunch of beds.
“It’s for your own protection,” she said.
A little while later the surgeon’s nurse called back and said Dr. Lesiuk had called the hospital himself and tried to plead my case, but was unsuccessful. However, they were able to offer me September 17th instead of September 24th. I thanked her and took it.
So. Even though I won’t be pain-free and walking by tomorrow, at least I’ll be making beer-batter chicken balls on September 24th.
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