My mother is the most wonderful woman to have walked the face of earth.

Worrying about worry. I'm still getting downwound from Central America (which means I'm peeling like crazy).

My mom was in Hamilton on Tuesday for more tests – their GP saw something he didn’t like in the kidney neighbourhood – but I haven’t called yet – I will later today when I’m sure they’ll be awake. I think just having all these tests scare her. When I was talking to my brother, though, they’re telling me that things aren’t that bad. Earlier, Dad and Mom told me “not to run away” from bad news. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but….”. Then my brother tells Mom and Dad that I’m really worried. Then Mom and Dad tell me not to worry. Then I try to explain that I’m only worried about what I don’t know and I don’t know whether to worry or not. So everyone means well, but I’m still confused.



Take the words “major surgery”. What does that really mean? Yes, an open-heart quadruple bypass is major surgery. And stitching up a cut is minor surgery. When J-kid was born, he had to be delivered by C-section because he was “in distress”. A hundred years ago, they would have lost both me and him during childbirth, but 15 years ago, it was a matter of snip, cut, rescue and stitch. And I was up and walking the next day with a healthy baby. (Thank God for Demerol). So was that major? And all they said later was “difficult delivery”.



I suppose it could have been life-threatening, but so is driving a car. Our health system is really quite broken – it seems like Doctor A didn’t know about Doctor B who is waiting on Doctor C who’s receptionist didn’t do the filing that day so the test results are missing. Sometimes methings the only thing life-threatening in Ontario is Health Care.