My erstwhile physician mockingly joked today while driving me home from surgery at the Queensway Carleton hospital that no doubt I missed not having gone for my routine car ride this afternoon. He knows me well. Nor by coincidence is this the first time in the past 35 years that he has so generously restored me to my digs following surgery. It is most certainly an uncommon privilege. And by further chance only minutes after being deposited at the doorstep of our apartment building, and once having regained my chair looking upriver (complete with traditional sliced green apple and glass of espresso grâce à my inveterate partner), I read with moderate alarm that Cadillac has discontinued the XT4 effective 2026. Apparently the electric templates have bullishly insinuated the stream. In the result I have the last of the recently improved model (2025). Commiseratively I wrote to the web site The Car Connectionwhich had shared that topical information with me. I advised that I have enjoyed both renditions of the XT4 which I have owned, adding, “The search begins!” It is however uncertain that the search will indeed recommence as it has customarily done each year in the past. Serendipitously was the news offered today by my ineffable surgeon Dr. David Carver to my erstwhile physician, “All went well!” which is to say (from my unlearned perspective and visceral interpretation), “Don’t push your luck. Let well enough alone!” I have always been an advocate of not seeking to overextend one’s fortuity. Nature’s bounty is normally sufficient. And intuitively instructive. At my advanced age it may be opportune to dilute this now redundant avenue of retail amusement.
I don’t know when you were last in a metropolitan hospital for surgery. It reflects the commotion of driving in the city; that is, unparalleled activity, speed and diversity. The start of our day today – at 3:30 am to complete a restorative cleansing of the specimen – was followed by our local driver Bill Dugdale of Don’s Taxi assuredly collecting us at 5:00 am, then dropping us at the front door of the hospital where we awaited opening at 6:00 am in the cool morning air of this uncommonly balmy November day. That brief damper was soon succeeded by a launch to the Diagnostic centre for yet another nuclear injection (repeatedly for the benefit of the surgeon to trace the evolution of the melanoma to the lymph nodes). Thereafter awaiting briefly to be removed to the Day Surgery Unit where I marvelled at the precision industry (and exceeding congeniality) of the staff.
Miraculously the time evaporated over the next three hours, leading to ultimate delivery to the surgical orb, whence I recall only being told to take a deep breath then next staring at the dazzlingly lit ceiling of the recovery room where, between struggles to subdue what I overheard said by the RN to be my “restless leg syndrome”, I awaited the arrival of my erstwhile physician and my partner both of whom happily materialized unscathed. It had been a taxing day all ’round! Such is the price and penalty of accommodation. And people have other things on their minds than one’s own pitiable distractions. Not least of these triumphs was the 40th birthday today of my former Legal Assistant Marina Thompson who has endured and surmounted her own calamitous medical issues. Her unstoppable brilliance has brightened my own day once again!
The crowning moment of the day however was an early evening meal of farm fresh eggs (recently given us by our building custodian Jeff) on Ezekiel toast with St Albert cheddar cheese and cherry tomatoes.
Altogether we’ve turned a number of important corners today, among them reaffirmation of our prospective winter plans. It is no trite observation to say that, in old age (as my late father so frequently opined), “Peace and quiet” is the Elysian status.