Tuesday, February 22, 2005

March 9, 2005

March 9.

15 days.

Two weeks.

Just like that.

The phone rings, Husband talks to the nice lady in Halifax, he sits down at his computer, my email icon pops up, and we have a surgery date. March 9, 2005.

What the - what-- Hey, I just --- Whadda, whadda, what about the lineups and the, uh, the waiting lists? What about the ailing health care system, here? Huh? What about those waves of Canadians flooding southward across the 49th Parallel to spend their personal money on health care, the ones the US insurance companies and Ralph Klein are always bitching about? Why is this little red Corvette going so fast?

Once I had a cup of tea and stopped shaking, it was pretty cool, though.

March 9.



Anonymous Anonymous said...

The date's on my calendar and I am pulling for you. If you're up to it, I'd be interested in reading your thoughts about what you expect to happen on March 9 and immediately after: what the doctors are preparing you for, how you're psyching yourself up (or out). Then later--again, if you're up to it--seeing how reality compares to your expectations. This seems like one of those situations where the only thing you can count on is that something surprising will happen.

I really hope it goes well. I think you're one of the finest people I've never met.

Brian (momscancer.com)

2:44 p.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


We'll be thinking of you out here in Lotusland. I'm so glad the medical system is working well for you. We were delighted with the response we got when DH was ill last fall, and hope you get similarly high-quality care.

I'm really looking forward to reading about how you and your new bionic ear get along.

Best wishes,

Kate, Storm the FCR, and the rest of the pack.

6:53 p.m.  

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