About a month ago I woke up in the Victoria General Hospital with a Dr. Fleetwood standing at the foot of my bed. Turns out this guy is one of the top ten neurosurgeons in the world. He seems friendly and kind. He is also a busy man. He came in to confirm what the resident had already told me about my MRI results. I’m typing this, so most of it was really good news.

I’ll go back a bit.

I left for the Faroe Islands to make a couple of presentations on April 15^th.  The trip was awesome and I think my sessions went well enough. I flew home via Iceland and had planned two days of being a tourist. I didn’t feel well when I landed but managed to walk around Reykjavik one day and take part in a bus tour the next, however I was in my room and in bed by about 7:00 pm each night. The last day I went to the airport early and just chilled. The flight home was ok but I didn’t sleep. When I landed in Nanaimo, Deb thought my face and eyes looked different, but we just chalked it up to ‘jet lag’ (which I normally don’t believe in).

The next day, April 25, I went to see my daughter because I’d missed her birthday. I told her I was a bit dizzy from the journey and didn’t really feel well. Again, we chalked it up to ‘jet lag’.

The next morning, I had full-on double vision and what felt like a hangover. I felt even worse the next day so I went to see an optometrist. She was awesome. She told me within ten minutes that the issue was not my prescription and she wanted me to see an ophthalmologist right away. I was thinking a week or two. She made a phone call and thirty minutes later I was in the ophthalmologist’s chair. His initial guess was that I’d suffered a small stroke in my face that had thrown my right eye out of whack, but he booked a CT scan just to be sure.

I was surprised that he could ask for the scan on a Friday and have me scheduled for Tuesday morning. I’d heard about long waits so I was pleased.

After a weekend at home in bed or on the couch with my eyes closed, Deb drove me into Duncan for the scan. He called with results just after noon the same day to tell me that I had a “lesion” or “cyst” behind my right ear. He also told me that he’d scheduled an MRI for the following Monday in Nanaimo. Again, I was impressed by how quickly he was making things happen. Impressed, but also a bit worried (“What’s your hurry?”…was running through my mind).

Thankfully, Deb was able to be home with me because my vision, nausea and balance kept getting worse. Two days after the CT scan I was violently sick to my stomach and could keep nothing down. The phone calls that Deb made suggested a visit to Emergency so, although the car ride felt quite a bit like a tilt-a-whirl, that’s where we headed. It was May 3.

The truth is I expected to wait a few hours and then be sent home with a pain-killer of some sort. Instead, within ten minutes, the triage nurse had admitted me and I was sporting an open-backed gown and IV tubes. Shortly after that a resident informed me that I would be receiving another CT scan right away. Apparently, they had shared the first scan with a neurosurgeon at Victoria General and he wanted another head scan as well as a full body scan. Within an hour or so the resident came back to tell me that she had called the ambulance and that I’d be transported to Victoria within the hour. It’s hard to describe how I was feeling, but I could tell that Deb and Britt were a bit worried.

It turned out that they couldn’t have a bed ready that evening so the trip was delayed until the next morning. They gave me some really good drugs so I actually slept well and, in the morning, I was able to tick “ambulance ride through the Malahat construction zone” off my bucket list. I was strapped onto the stretcher and slid into the ambulance facing backwards… just like the movies. We’d hardly made it out of the parking lot when the attendant riding in the back with me had to put Gravol into my IV drip and I had to apologize for making a mess. Deb and Britt met me in Victoria. Deb thought I looked like hell when I arrived. I felt like it too.

After I was admitted and wheeled up to the 6^th floor I was told that I was booked for an MRI first thing the next morning.  I was also told I’d been assigned to Dr. Fleetwood and that Tuesdays were his “surgery days”. I started to brace myself.

Carol and Mike, my sister and brother-in-law, flew in from Calgary that morning. When I thanked them and told them they shouldn’t have gone to all the trouble and expense, Mike told me that he wasn’t there to take care of me, he was there “to take care of my girls”. I get tears in my eyes just thinking about their support… it meant a lot for them to be there. (In fact, the support I’ve received from everyone has been amazing and probably deserves its own blog post at some point.)

That afternoon (it was a Saturday), I had a visit from the resident, Dr. Mostafa Fatehi. I liked him right away and he inspired my confidence. He looked and sounded like a movie star. He was there to give me his interpretation of the MRI results. First, he told me the mass, called a cavernoma, was not cancerous. That was the really good news. His “however” was that the mass was located on a part of the brain that made it extremely risky to operate. He said that had it been on the outside of the brain he would “go in tomorrow morning and take it out myself”. He told me that as good as Dr. Fleetwood was, he doubted he would take the risk. I was actually disappointed because surgery is what I’d been bracing for. Although the thought of it was a bit daunting, I was thinking they’d go in, take out something the size of a Jube Jube, and then everything would pop back into place.

Dr. Fatehi explained that they couldn’t really make a full diagnosis without removing it, but he was sure that Dr. Fleetwood’s “determination” would be the same as his. I would have to live with some “deficits” (vision, hearing, balance issues) for about ninety days but that in about 80% of cases the “thing” would reabsorb and I would be all “better”. He did mention that statistically it was likely I would have more “events” in my lifetime “possibly 2, 5 or 10 years from now”. As I listened I realized that, compared to some of the other people on the 6^th floor, I was hearing some very good news.

I spent a total of eight days in the hospital. I was given steroids to reduce the pressure in my head and some stuff for nausea. I lost my lunch a few times and found walking to be a challenge. I soon learned that visiting hours are limited on that ward because sleep is pretty important.

Dr. Fleetwood arrived on Thursday morning, May 10, to confirm what Dr. Fatehi had said. He told me that the mass I have is now referred to as a “cavernous malformation” instead of a “cavernoma” because the “noma” part tended to make people think of cancer. Good to know. He also told me I was now his patient and that he’d be following up in the weeks to come. He too inspired my confidence.

It was decided I could start my recovery at home so I was released from the hospital the next day and Deb drove us back through the Malahat to Chemainus.

Since then I’ve had more good days than bad, but I’m realizing that they actually meant ninety days and that a cane can actually save you from falling over! (I’ve teased Cy that the cool hockey stick-cane he made me for my 60^th birthday may have jinxed me, but the occupational therapist tells me it is just the right height and exactly what she would have prescribed. I use it every day.)

I’ve spent the past three weeks mostly sleeping and sitting on our amazing deck. It’s not the worst gig. Another upside is that I’ve seen Deb more in the past month than I’ve seen her in the past two years (thanks to Rod Allen and the SD #79 staff for their amazing support). I was also surprised to find that I’d lost more than twenty pounds. Normally that would put a smile on my usually chubby face but, sadly, my calves haven’t been this skinny since I was eleven years old. My appetite is coming back and Deb is a great cook so I think I’ll be ok!

The other thing I’ve done lots of in the past weeks is think. Although some of it is worry, most of it has been about what I want to do with the rest of my life. I was told I need to keep my blood pressure stable and to avoid smoking. My blood pressure has always been quite good and I don’t smoke but I have also been thinking about what else I can improve. I want to improve as a husband, father, grandfather and friend. I suppose that sounds hokey but it’s true. I want to take nothing for granted. I want to go on more road trips. I want to stop being sarcastic. I want to learn more on the guitar. I want, and need, to stop sweating the small stuff. I want to offer my kids the right amount of love and support… and quit being a nuisance. Bottom line… I want to be a better guy. I want to be more like my dad.

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The support I’ve received from friends and family has been overwhelming. Thanks to all for the cards, baskets, flowers, e-mails, texts and visits… I can’t say enough.

Post Script:

I’m proud of myself for not saying or posting sarcastic comments on social media (i.e. Facebook) for the past few months, and I apologize to those I may have offended in the past. I realize how divisive those quotes, pictures, and memes really are. They tend to drive people either too far right or too far left. I think it is when people get too far from centre that common sense and open-minded conversations stop. Facebook has the potential to connect people in such a positive way and I want to use it for that.

 Having said that, after receiving such amazing, genuine and heartfelt care from people with names like Mostafa, Mimia, Gayna, and Omar I find that mean spirited anti-immigrant posts are even more upsetting to me than they once were. If you post one, and I unfollow or unfriend you, please understand why.