THE RESULTS - OR NOT...

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The result of my brother’s biopsy was….no result. We drove 1 ½ hours to the hospital on Tuesday, waited another hour, saw the doc for 10 minutes, then one more hour and ½ to get back home, only to be told they had withdrawn infection samples instead of tumor tissue. The tumor is situated higher in his lung. In other words, they totally SCREWED up, but that is not the term used to convey the news.

“We are running out of options,” the doc added. Now they want to put my bro under, but are worried he will not ‘support it’; they think he may not be strong enough to survive the operation. He needed to see another specialist, who could NOT see him the same day, so an appointment was made for today (Thursday)…timed to coincide with rush hour traffic.

They couldn’t have told him this on the phone??? No examination was done – just the information and the new appointment scheduled.

It happened again today. This time the drive in took 2 ½ hours, we waited an hour, only to be told by this new specialist that Bird needed to see an anesthetist…who had no availability until April 25th. That was it. Another swiping of his card in the machine with no examination or tests, another day lost at work for me, and another day forcing my brother, who has difficulty breathing as it is, to go all the way to the city. And another occasion that could have been taken care of on the phone. GRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!

Needless to say, I so want to write a letter to our Deputy (who, being up for election, may just pay attention), with a copy to the hospital board, and another to the doctors involved. I ask myself, “What would Wiley have done?”

However, it is not my health at stake here, but my brother’s, so I need to butt out…I guess.

So I fall back on my belief that everything happens for a reason. It was a beautiful, sunny day for a drive. On both days, my brother and I got to spend some quality time alone together, something that would not have been possible if I was away to work. In spite of, or maybe because of, our being tense with worry, we found ourselves laughing until my belly hurt. We laughed so hard that my driving became dangerous, and that made us laugh even more. Precious moments.

Already harboring an intense disgust towards the health services in this province, I have decided that, when my turn comes, I’m going to Kanehsetakà:ke and seek out a Medicine Man. I’ll pay him with rum (which we will share!); we’ll smoke some peace pipe together, and I’ll let him chant and wave his magic rattle over me as long as he deems necessary. It may not cure me, but I certainly will be SMILING!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec