Five and a half years ago an event happened
that changed my life. I woke up early one Tuesday morning excited to have lunch
with my visiting brother, Ken, in Toronto. He had arrived on the previous
weekend and was working at the Toronto General Hospital repairing a portable
MRI. Curiosity and anticipation rumbled in my head as I prepared to ride the Go
train from Appleby Station to Union. I was very eager to watch him integrated
one cog into hundreds of other cogs fusing it with a bazillion digital
whatchamacallits. It was going to be an exciting day until the good rumble in
my head went south into a very painful rumble in my belly.
Rumble in my belly…no problem…suck it up
princess…get moving… get going…all turned into the fetal position on my bed. “What
the hell did I eat?” Was my big momentary question. It turned into something
much bigger. Emergency bound I was.
As the drips off my brow became more frequent
and the rocking in emergency’s waiting room chair turned into a speed metal
dance interpretation, the intake nurse took me behind the wall of white coat
wonder and placed me on a bed. The doctor came in 30 minutes later and my
clothes were sopping wet. The pillow I had laid upon felt like it had been
tossed into the drink. The doctor said, “It looks like you have a flu.” He
poked and prodded and took some blood and vanished for some more time as I lay
writhing in a fog.
Upon the doctor’s return, he pronounced,
“You have a bug. Go home and drink lots
of fluid.” He continued with, “if the problem continues come back tomorrow or
see your doctor.” As I dressed, an intern that had worked with my father’s
doctor came into see me. Five years previously, My Dad had been in this
particular hospital and complications arouse setting his life into disarray
ending with a car crash that took him from us. It is strange how life works.
Apparently, Dad’s Doc had seen my name on some blood work and sent down his
brilliant intern. She asked me to lie down and checked my belly. There were
some sharp pains in the right side. She ordered up an MRI. “MRI really…life is
strange.”
After a few hours of being wheeled about
and photographed in a big machine, she came in to talk to me. “It looks like
you have an aneurysm in an artery. It is your celiac.” She showed me the
pictures and pointed out the location. I figured that part out all on my own.
See how brilliant I am. It was in the painful spot. “We are going to send you
to Hamilton General for more test.” An ambulance arrived and took me on the
most unexpected journey of my life.
So many things happened in the next few
years but the hospital time was filled with my Mom’s visits. She sat and read
the paper while I rested from surgery. My dear friend Andrea held my hand
before surgery, after in ICU and everyday I lay in that hospital. Many visited
and I appreciated every single consideration that was offered but my crazy mom
and one of my crazy best friends took shifts everyday to watch over me. If
death was going to knock on my door, it was too scared of my crazy guardian
angels.
After I took myself off morphine because of
the crazy hallucinations, the head of surgery came into see me. “You put on
quite a show. You had an audience while you were being repaired. Not too many
of these happen that are this size. Stints are put in older patients but not
repairs to this extent. I want you to know you are lucky to be alive. This is a
rare case and could easily be overlooked. Make the most of it.”
The attending doctored follow a few days
later, “ You put on quite a show last week. Keep those goals you set and be
thankful for another kick at the can.”
My surgeon, Dr Vikram Iyers, had come to
see me many times. His dry sense of humor shocked most people but I liked it.
He teased me about my new weight loss nutrient program: white fluid in a bag.
He said my incision looked like an upside down smiley face. He said, “I knew
you were full of shit before but now you really are. You have to get those
bowels moving.” Then he would give me heck about laughing because I would pop a
staple. Dr. Iyers,in a philosophical moment, shared his advice, “You would have
probably died if it had been elsewhere. No, seriously you would have. I lot of
coincidental things happened to let us recognize the problem. Make the most of
it.”
Being thankful and doing something about it
became a theme of visiting advisers. I was thankful for a very short time. It
became a hard recovery. It was much harder than expected by everyone. Some very
unexpected problems manifested. Slowly, I felt my determination slip away and
hope was replaced by depression. So, ‘thanks’ eluded me. I stayed busy fighting
that darn big ‘D’ and any issues to my health for a quite a while.
Grace finds you in strange places. Or
perhaps it is always there and you find it. I am unsure. I know we often
consider grace in this context to be divine and I am unsure as to that answer
but what I do know I have seen the revelation of its presence in the eyes of
the spiritual and the atheist. Watch a new mother or father hold their newborn
child. Watch the ripple of inspiration when another selflessly risks their life
for another. It is as if goodness has shone in a pure moment and it opposes
everything its not: not with a fist, sword or battle but with a gentle whisper
of reassurance that it exist. As I quested to kick the ass of this perplexing
obstacle, I found grace in the middle of nowhere Manitoba.
Amazing friends and family have blessed me
but whether I recognized them as such in every moment is another question. During my journey,
my supportive crew hugged me when they saw the cracks. The force of their
embrace seemed to glue me back together, temporarily. Their kind words silenced
the ‘what ifs’ that weighed my head in my hands, temporarily. They took me out
to watch films and dance to music allowing my soul to fill up with
possibilities, temporarily. I didn’t really recognize the importance of that
until nowhere Manitoba.
Nowhere Manitoba…the specifics are not
really relevant. What I’ll share is this. I encountered another unexpected
problem. A problem that opposed everything I was as a person. Old Bill would
have systematically destroyed the opposition laying waste to anything that got
in his way just to make the point due to his righteous indignation. New Bill was
flailing about stunned by what had happened, laying waste to himself. Didn’t
want me to be ‘old Bill’ but it certainly would have been easier on me. ‘New
Bill’ sucked though.
Now this is where grace enters. It started as a counterbalance to a poisonous
situation. My friend’s support could stop me from teetering. My girl friend’s
love could stop me from falling. My wonderful new colleagues didn’t really know
me. But four amazing young students started to believe in me. Oh we argued like
teacher and student. They kept me on my toes with their inquiries. We debated
points and shared ideas. But they surrounded me with support. It was like
having four thirteen olds as a security team. I laugh on how pathetic it sounds
but it counteracted that dark action and I noticed. I noticed. I noticed it was
special. My objective amazement at the kindness of four 13 year olds reignited the
notion of possibility and I began to forge my actions in its inspiration. I
stood straighter and my sight grew from an inner contemplation to outer
celebration. I became more aware and heard that whisper and I whispered back ,
“thanks.” (This is figurative language. No I didn’t actually hear voices. )
I love chocolate. I really do! I am really
thankful for it. I express that thanks
with a simple, “Mmm” and put it out to the universe. I love bacon and eggs on a
Sunday mornings. I really do. They make
me happy, content, and satisfied. I love feeling that way. I give thanks with a
“Mmmm!” I loved my dog. He is no longer on this earthly plan. I gave thanks for
his companionship by caring for him the best way I could. I fed him better food
than I sometimes fed myself. My friends and family are amazing. I love them. I dance around some combination of saying it
and showing it often in a goofy interpretive expression. Fist bump, chest pump,
high five, a hug, a kiss, and sometimes just hanging to do whatever they want,
are some of my methods to give thanks. It was in this moment with these kids
that I began to really remember and created a long list of thanks. As the list
grew from chocolate to family something happened, I realized thanks is always
connected with some variation of love.
Now love is a funny thing. We feel it in varied
forms but often hold on to its serious association. Occasionally, we throw it
about with the appearance of frivolity. Often the words ring with truth but we
act in a way that misdirects its sincerity. “Love ya man! Burrrrp!” Thanks is
the way we often share our love. Thanks is the way we often safely show a
little love . Sure it is a small dose but it is a little love never the less.
So that realization was the effect of
grace. I began to reflect not about the cracks or the scars or the failed
expectations but of the immense goodness that had and did surround me. My
misfortune was minuscule. My fortune was as great as any and greater than many.
Oh I still contemplated the obstacles of not being as healthy as I was but it
didn’t stall me. I was propelled to give thanks with the love that thanks
inspired. I began to show it more and work harder with it. Most importantly, I
worked to make the most of situations until it became effortless. Every motion
was my gratitude. Every motion was a little love.
So now Thanksgiving has passed. Winter is
quickly approaching. I sit at my new kitchen table that a kind woman sold me at
a crazy low price, amongst furniture and living stuff she threw in for almost
free. I sit in my beautiful apartment that kind coworkers offered to me at a
price I could afford: a place where I can breathe. I have a new job working
with others to better the world and learning new methods to enhance that desire
and direction. My brilliant and beautiful cousin that I get to be reacquainted with pointed me to this new job. I have old friends close
and family closer. I miss my friends and family from everywhere that is not
here but the yearning is different. I just want to share with them the wonder I
wonder, the whimsy I share and the real treasure that I walk through everyday. I want to share rather than take. I have more to share because I notice I do. What I am trying to say is don’t
wait for Thanksgiving to give thanks and winter is as filled with as many
possibilities as spring. So say thank you in your special way and be tenacious
with it because the world needs a little love and you might just be somebody’s
grace.
And if you are struggling make a list.
Really do. You’ll probably be surprised.
~ For my sparrows and all my friends and
family that have to put up with me whether I am good, bad or somewhere in the
middle. Thanks.
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