"polly" the parotid
Poor Tommy the laptop was only allowed in room 306 on Tuesday, but as soon as he was in, he kept the beautiful bouquet of roses company. Tommy kept me company as well as I wondered how in the world I can finish the yearbook for our masters’ course in time – graduation being a year later - on 19th March 2005 at the Université de Haute Alsace in Mulhouse (F)!
The dozen roses came with a gorgeous message that the nurses all wish they could read! “En-gel-chen … so, What language is that?” asked one nurse as she brought the flowers into the room, the morning following the operation. “That is German, nurse!” Being a born traveler has made me into a somewhat intolerant person faced with such ignorance: not being able to recognize Kabyle might be forgivable I guess, but not this.
The flowers had arrived in my room after having been set outside overnight. This meant the beginning of a new day. I realized quite soon I couldn’t do all that much at 6.30 (why on earth, do they wake you up so early when you don’t have anything to do all day anyway?), so I rang the nurse, made use of the red buzzer and asked if I could finally shower. She removed the pain killer and IV needle as well as the blood pressure kit, which were all driving me nuts every 15 mins anyway, and I was allowed a short shower if I avoided my hair, whilst she changed my bed. I came back to bed, disturbed by the blood pouch hanging from my ear and just lie there awake for a while. I had figured the surgeon had wanted to visit me at the crack of dawn, so I awaited him patiently, whilst recollecting the turn of events since leaving Geneva one week ago with Benny.
At the time, I had just come up for an op. scheduling with expert surgeon, Dr N., who had carried out an amazing operation a few years ago on little teenage euphonies. I bombed out on him on his splendid Parisian office with mom on Saturday and explained I had had tests, which had shown a fast growing tumor of and in the Parotid gland (since, renamed “Polly” by mom, after those “Polly pocket” toys, which encompass minuscule dolls – remember them?). Without further ado, Doc sent us away, canceled out the normal consultation fee (huh?!), required from all patients, and recommended his good friend to us. I was a bit bummed out, since I hadn't wanted to spend all that much time away from work and the problem seemed to be somewhat delayed. Plus, I had kind of wanted Dr. N. to conduct the operation. He was so efficient last time.
It ended up that his friend and fantastic surgeon called us back on Saturday afternoon and made a place for a Monday a.m consultation despite a very rushed schedule. We just couldn't believe it. So, we decided to chill in Starbucks for mom's birthday. Dad was still traveling at the time and she also felt so treated. Come Monday, Dr. R wanted a needle biopsy asap. So he rushed me into number one Paris lab’ for an evening appointment. On the way back to Geneva, the phone rang with a concerned surgeon, wanting an operation on Monday. Next.
Indeed, the hardest part of the process would be announcing an op to my new boss. “By the way, uh, how are you, how were your holidays, umm, I will be on holidays for a while. Why? Hmm, just a little tumor in my salivary gland”. I realized the scope of the surgery, potentially requiring partial removal of my ear and it shook me up. Finally! With encouragement from my two fav’ colleagues, I blasted news to management, who let me know it would be kept low-profile. The reaction was so peaceful, so foreign to any reaction I could have expected. I went out for lunch with my direct superior, who happens to be the head of the company and together we made an action plan and a list of things ripening and ready for an upcoming deadline and my boss basically wished me well. No way! We went back after the nice lunch in Carouge and met with T., the my new marketing and communications colleague for speedy action. Something the company totally excels at.
So at this point, I am lying in bed, contemplating this wild turn of events and just get goose bumps at the sound of the story I end up telling myself. It was as if I had had this VIP card for each appointment, each visit. The sobering news of the way I had just lucked out on a facial nerve complication at the rate of the growth made me realize the evident grace upon my life. I had received favor in each event in and around the surgery on the 3cm lump. Each detail fit an perfect tailor-made timeframe, each was perfectly designed to fit into place. Why?
People, I am so blessed.
I don't deserve this!
I decided at this point to check the indent Polly had left behind and went for a walk to thank God for His never ending mercy even in my life. Dr. R is awesome and God's grace, as always, immense.
The dozen roses came with a gorgeous message that the nurses all wish they could read! “En-gel-chen … so, What language is that?” asked one nurse as she brought the flowers into the room, the morning following the operation. “That is German, nurse!” Being a born traveler has made me into a somewhat intolerant person faced with such ignorance: not being able to recognize Kabyle might be forgivable I guess, but not this.
The flowers had arrived in my room after having been set outside overnight. This meant the beginning of a new day. I realized quite soon I couldn’t do all that much at 6.30 (why on earth, do they wake you up so early when you don’t have anything to do all day anyway?), so I rang the nurse, made use of the red buzzer and asked if I could finally shower. She removed the pain killer and IV needle as well as the blood pressure kit, which were all driving me nuts every 15 mins anyway, and I was allowed a short shower if I avoided my hair, whilst she changed my bed. I came back to bed, disturbed by the blood pouch hanging from my ear and just lie there awake for a while. I had figured the surgeon had wanted to visit me at the crack of dawn, so I awaited him patiently, whilst recollecting the turn of events since leaving Geneva one week ago with Benny.
At the time, I had just come up for an op. scheduling with expert surgeon, Dr N., who had carried out an amazing operation a few years ago on little teenage euphonies. I bombed out on him on his splendid Parisian office with mom on Saturday and explained I had had tests, which had shown a fast growing tumor of and in the Parotid gland (since, renamed “Polly” by mom, after those “Polly pocket” toys, which encompass minuscule dolls – remember them?). Without further ado, Doc sent us away, canceled out the normal consultation fee (huh?!), required from all patients, and recommended his good friend to us. I was a bit bummed out, since I hadn't wanted to spend all that much time away from work and the problem seemed to be somewhat delayed. Plus, I had kind of wanted Dr. N. to conduct the operation. He was so efficient last time.
It ended up that his friend and fantastic surgeon called us back on Saturday afternoon and made a place for a Monday a.m consultation despite a very rushed schedule. We just couldn't believe it. So, we decided to chill in Starbucks for mom's birthday. Dad was still traveling at the time and she also felt so treated. Come Monday, Dr. R wanted a needle biopsy asap. So he rushed me into number one Paris lab’ for an evening appointment. On the way back to Geneva, the phone rang with a concerned surgeon, wanting an operation on Monday. Next.
Indeed, the hardest part of the process would be announcing an op to my new boss. “By the way, uh, how are you, how were your holidays, umm, I will be on holidays for a while. Why? Hmm, just a little tumor in my salivary gland”. I realized the scope of the surgery, potentially requiring partial removal of my ear and it shook me up. Finally! With encouragement from my two fav’ colleagues, I blasted news to management, who let me know it would be kept low-profile. The reaction was so peaceful, so foreign to any reaction I could have expected. I went out for lunch with my direct superior, who happens to be the head of the company and together we made an action plan and a list of things ripening and ready for an upcoming deadline and my boss basically wished me well. No way! We went back after the nice lunch in Carouge and met with T., the my new marketing and communications colleague for speedy action. Something the company totally excels at.
So at this point, I am lying in bed, contemplating this wild turn of events and just get goose bumps at the sound of the story I end up telling myself. It was as if I had had this VIP card for each appointment, each visit. The sobering news of the way I had just lucked out on a facial nerve complication at the rate of the growth made me realize the evident grace upon my life. I had received favor in each event in and around the surgery on the 3cm lump. Each detail fit an perfect tailor-made timeframe, each was perfectly designed to fit into place. Why?
People, I am so blessed.
I don't deserve this!
I decided at this point to check the indent Polly had left behind and went for a walk to thank God for His never ending mercy even in my life. Dr. R is awesome and God's grace, as always, immense.
posted by euphonies @ 10:12 PM
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