Devion's Views #150


                                    If at first she doesn't succeed...

A youngish nurse came out into the waiting area and called "Ronald".

"That's me" and followed her to a room marked #6.

"Mr. Devion, please take your clothes off, put this on, lay face-up on the table. She will see you shortly."

A few minutes later "Hi, Mr. Devion, how are you this morning?"

"Frankly, a little nervous." Trying to lighten the mood with some lame humour "We have to stop meeting like this", produced zero reaction, not even a smile.

Assumption: She's very busy, has no time for humour today, likely behind schedule tending  to patients.

"Don't worry this shouldn't take too long" and proceeded to stab my forehead several times with a needle, then my lower left cheek...the one on my face.

She ignored the sounds of malaise this caused as my attempt to be brave failed. ""; proving once again that when it comes to pain tolerance women make much better spies than men.

The ultra-bright light made it impossible to see, but someone else was now in the room moving surgical tools around on a metal tray...not a comforting sound.

The voice asked which tool she preferred to use for the next phase of work.

It sounded like "the #5, then the #9, and the industrial-size twine to close it up. Oh, and have the big cauterizer standing by, had to use it on Mr. Devion the last time."

The memory made my palms begin to sweat.

Despite feeling nothing (the freezing did its job), she proceeded as my heartbeat and blood pressure increased.

The slicing sounds coming from my forehead area and lower left cheek...the one on my face...followed by lots of dabbing with a cloth, tensed every muscle in my body.

Thankfully, there was no mention of the big cauterizer used the last time to stop blood spurting from a nicked blood vessel...oops.

Sounds of sewing produced images of preparing the Christmas turkey, with me playing the part of the turkey.

She declared "Your wife is going to be jealous because you just received one 'eye-lift' and the 'life-lines' on your forehead will disappear."

"For awhile, your left eye-lid will be higher than your right. Not to worry, in time gravity will level things out."

This unexpected bonus-gift produced no joy from me. My drooping eye-lids and life-lines are markers of a long life and like an old pair of comfortable slippers, I had no intention of discarding them now. However, it's not wise to argue with a lady wielding sharp knives.

With two dozen stitches holding my forehead together and a dozen more in my lower left cheek (you know which one) covered by two large bandages, the clean-up nurse advised "You can get dressed, here's a post-op instruction sheet; stitches come off in a week and you're good to go. The biopsy results should be available in two-three weeks. The doctor's office will call you."

As I departed room #6 at the hospital, thanking the surgeon and her helpers, attempted another feeble attempt at humour, "Wouldn't recommend this as a way to lose weight or get rid of your life-lines. Go Jets, Go."

And thus concluded the second double surgery in four weeks.

Thanks to all who sent good wishes for a speedy recovery.

Hopefully, some day somebody will make a fortune by inventing:

1) A hospital gown that can be tied, by the patient, from the front. Inadvertently having to expose an ageing posterior is embarrassing; to the patient and hospital staff.

2) A pill or injection that turns off the imagination when the patient remains conscious during a surgery.

                                         Resolving conflict

In 'the good old days', one method of resolving conflict between gentlemen, was to agree to a duel using either guns or swords.

A duel was usually the result of an argument over a woman that was fuelled by liquor.

Honour was restored (i.e. saving face) for the participants by simply showing up rather than having to declare a "winner", unless only one person survived.

The current 'brouhaha' between British Columbia, Alberta and the Feds over the Trans Mountain Pipeline twinning contains all the necessary ingredients for a duel.

1) The woman scorned (Rachel)

2) The supportive suitor (Justin)

3) The adversary (Big John)

In order to defend Rachel's honour and retain his, Justin the Fair must challenge Big John (don't like/want her bitumen but all-in for LNG?) to a duel, so Big John can also retain his honour. Comprende?

Only makes sense if you understand the rules of dueling and politics.

NB: The 'seconds' were gentlemen chosen by the principal participants whose job it was to ensure that the duel was carried out under honourable conditions, on a proper field of honour and with equally 'deadly' weapons.

At a meeting in Ottawa, on Sunday, the 'seconds' agreed to the following choice of weapons and proper fields of honour for the duel:

a) swords...on the Alberta/BC border

b) guns...on the BC/Alberta border

c) boxing Edmonton

d) 10K foot Vancouver

e) skeleton race (head first on sleighs)...Calgary's Olympic Park bobsleigh track

f) swim five lengths across Olympic size Victoria

g) One mile snowshoeing Banff's Sunshine Village

h) Two mile rowing Victoria's Elk lake

Result: The "loser" will "save face" with his voters by accepting:

 - what is in the national interest,

 - and graciously accept billions of taxpayer $ from the "winner",

 - who also will "save face" with his voters", explaining he and the woman scorned, whose honour he defended, will also "save face" with her voters.

Consequently, everybody wins/saves-face and prevents a catastrophe.

In the Great White North this is called a Canadian standoff.

Ron Devion, No Guts, No Glory