The life in the diary – VIII


Fiction

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February 9, 2013, cont’d

My mind is blank. A heavy depression hit me as my surgeon explained my medical situation. Things will change. Profoundly. I am looking for an extended stay in the hospital. Further tests. Further treatment, possibly another surgery. I will receive my doctor’s note this afternoon. I want to call my boss, but cannot find the energy to do so. An email will be easier to break the news. I have no idea how this is going to affect my job, but I am hoping there is some employee benefits that I was not aware of. Additionally, my boss is a kind type; I am sure he will understand and support me during these times.

As per the hospital and medical care costs, so far I am okay. Thank you Canada for the universal health care and thank you my job for providing me health insurance. I am not worried about the money so far; as long as I keep my job of course. I can mail my cheque for the rent. Utilities are automatically paid, so I do not need to worry about them. Have I missed anything that requires me to fix now? I cannot come up with anything; either there is not anything else or I am not able to think about them. I decide to leave it here and focus on engaging my mind on something else.

I am at the hall again. One of the nurses who cares for me smiles and says “you like to walk! That is awesome – keep doing this”. I smile back and say with my hardly audible voice “thank you nurse – you have been so kind to me”. As if I was telling goodbyes. But I am not, am I? I am neither dying nor leaving the hospital soon. Not for one moment I thought about dying. Inside I know, I truly know, I am going to be okay. It is not one of these affirmations that I keep repeating to make myself, my mind believe. No, I truly know that I am going to be okay. Eventually of course.

But, how to break the news to my family? There is a deep sorrow that hits me hard when I think about it.

I keep the tears in – no mam. No crying. There are people around. I remind myself that I like my own misery.

In an ironic way of course.

I really would like a cup of tea now.

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The life in the diary – VIII

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