Every once in a while, something happens that stops me in my tracks and makes me realize just how lucky I am. One of those times came about recently as a result of a half-hour medical procedure.
On Jan. 8, I had carpal tunnel surgery for the second time in 12 years. This time, EP (as Dr. Eric Paetkau is known by one and all at St. Mary's Hospital) worked his magic on my right hand. And although some of my "fans" in the community might not relish the thought, it appears I'll be able to write for many years to come.
So where does luck come into it? Certainly not in the skill my mostly-retired doctor exercised in easing the pressure on the carpal nerve in my hand. And certainly not in the skill of the other professionals on duty that day, including, ironically, the same nurse, Julie of the dark brown eyes, who was on duty for surgery number one in April 1996. No, the luck comes because of some issues within my control and others that are not. First, off I consider myself lucky to work for a progressive employer who provides sick pay for employees. Many people are not in the same position. For folks who have to take medical leave at their own expense or on Employment Insurance benefits, there is no such thing as elective surgery. Unless it's life threatening, the surgery is unlikely to be performed. A numb, tingling, aching hand is never as important as food on the table.
I also consider myself very lucky to have a husband who is able to cook and clean with the best of them. And although he has yet to learn how to sort clothes by colour rather than species, he can and does make remarkable bread and other yummy noshes. I also appreciate his care and concern in making sure I was comfortable during the healing process. He may be right that this gives him enough Brownie points for the next several years. I also consider myself lucky to work with the people I do. I'm grateful to all of them for filling in for me as needed and for their genuine concern as to my health.
But most of all, I'm grateful for my own good health. We who are hale sometimes forget what it's like to be in pain or unable to perform simple daily tasks. For me, not being able to handwrite is akin to not being able to speak. It was and is most frustrating for me. I cannot begin to imagine how challenging it must be to live with chronic pain or limitations. To all who do, I can only say you have my utmost admiration. I hope people are as kind to you as they were to me. God willing, I'll be writing about all of you for many more years.
