Past Stories

So today I was thinking about my past surgeries and what affect they had on me. I’ve had around 9 or 10…I don’t know the exact number because most of them are just foggy bits and pieces. My parents would know more, because they aren’t drugged up the entire time…well most of the time. Anyways, I think I can honestly say I’ve never had any scarring surgery moments. You know, they’ve never ever removed the wrong bone, or anything remotely close to that. I was very lucky to have gone to Sick Kids in Toronto; it really is a wonderful hospital and I recommend it if you have a child with a chronic disease/disorder that needs a specialist. My doctor, Dr. Wright, was amazing with me. He was patient and basically watched me grow up from a toddler to a teen. I felt 100% comfortable with him and his team of doctors, and he’s never stirred me wrong before so I’m hoping that Dr. Wunder was just having an off day and that he turns out to be a remarkable doctor, just like Dr. Wright.

Anyways, what I wanted to talk about today was the fact that I was lucky enough to have my mom or dad spend basically each night with me when I was in the hospital. I’m sure there was one or two nights out of all my hospital stays where they were unable too, but for the most part they were there and I’m thankful for that. It can be scary when you’re a kid in a hospital; surrounded by beeping machines, strange people, and sharp instruments they like to poke you with. I swear the Blood Department was hungry for my blood! They came knocking at all hours, wanting to give me transfusions and take my blood and so on and so fourth. My mom guarded the door though, and none of them ever got in unless they really needed too. Don’t worry, I wasn’t refusing a blood transfusion for no good reason; my iron was low, but that problem was fixed by iron pills.

I’ve said before that behind every successful person suffering from a chronic disorder or disease is a family of people who support you and are there for you to make times a little easier. This makes it bearable to put up with beeping machines and strange people who just want to poke you.

A good friend (and fellow MHE’er) of mine always says, “Strength is nothing more then how well you hide the pain”. I think that’s a very interesting quote, and I do agree with it in its entirety. Strength is finding the means to keep on truckin’, no matter how hard things seem. Thanks to my family and friends, I’m able to do that 🙂


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