It was the morning of February 14th, 2017 that my family stood at the end of the hallway and watched me slowly disappear on a stretcher – not knowing when they would be able to see me next. I would be wheeled down the hall for a couple of minutes with a nurse wearing a blue cap to the operating room that was waiting for me.
The first thing I saw was a screen that displayed images from my MRI scan. I then took note of the nurses diligently preparing on one end of the room while the anaesthesiologist waited for me at the head of the bed. In my gown that was open in the back, I was transferred onto the operating table which would become my home for the next 10 hours.
It was just after 7 am at this point and I didn’t know where or who to look at. Is this a dream? I started counting the…
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