You could rename this blog ‘reasons why Ali is tired right now’ of late. But, boy, did the first two weeks back at work bore the weariness right into me. In them there were two extra evening meetings that went late, a farewell dinner for a colleague of sorts, my turn to cook dinner for 14 bible in my bible study group (plus visiting missionaries) and then it all culminated in our annual Diocesan Synod, which involves a weekend away in Goulburn staging a conference for over 300 people (it runs Friday afternoon to Sunday lunch time – if you’re lucky), where apart from going back to the motel to sleep you’re working. Then on the Monday just gone after Synod I had to drive to Sydney and back for a follow-up appointment with the surgeon. Soooo tired.
(I had to stop several times on the way back from Sydney to stay awake, which is when I snapped the picture of Lake George above with water in it.)
But everything went well. It was the third session of the three-year cycle of Synod, which is not so hectic, and it ran smoothly. The biggest challenge for me is our Chancellor’s handwriting. He gives me answers to questions scratched out on pieces of paper and it’s my job to decipher his microscopic cursive and type them to go up on the screen. He also happens to be a Supreme Court Judge and funnily enough I used to edit his court judgment reports in my previous job, so life comes around and back at you in strange ways.
The appointment with the surgeon went well and all things were benign (I knew I would have heard before now if they weren’t but it was nice to have that confirmed). I have a talent crush. The procedure I had to undergo is considered ‘technically challenging’ and not to be undertaken by an inexperienced surgeon. Further, the FDA in the States issued a warning against it, prompted by one particularly litigious case, which is why they don’t do it in Canberra, but this surgeon has developed a technique to address the warning (even though he considers the risk in itself to be overrated), which he applied to me given my somewhat abnormal second ultrasound. I’m in awe of what he was able to do and how he was able to do it. And I have bigger, messier evidence from a GP removing a BCC. Even the anaesthetic nurse told me, as I waited in the little room before you go into the actual theatre, that ‘he’s really good – he’s the best in NSW’, which was excellent to hear about two minutes before I was unconscious.
I’ve also called it that he is one of the nicest men on earth. He was just so kind to me, both in the initial appointment and then before the surgery, when he took my hand between both of his and apologised for the long wait and explained to me that I was young (told you he was a nice fellow!) and it was unlikely but that he’d do his fancy thing to guard against spreading any cancer. Then he came to see me before 8 am the next morning even though he delivered his last patient to recovery after 11 pm the previous night (I gather that myself and the patient before me took a bit longer than expected). The consultant anaesthetist, who was also a very nice man, came to see me even earlier the next morning as well. I take my hat off to these people who consider 15 hours of complicated surgery or life-risking anaesthesia all in a day’s work, and manage to be nice about it. I wanted to give the surgeon something as a token of thanks, and figured he probably didn’t need anything money could buy, so I made him some crocheted wrist-warmers, which I handed over with some embarrassment at the end of my follow-up appt, thinking he might find them rather pathetic and probably received expensive gifts from rich people all the time, then I made a slightly awkward exit. The receptionist looked at the screen and told me there was no charge for my appt so I went on my way in surprise, then as I hit the lifts my phone is ringing and it’s the doctor’s rooms and I’m thinking they are probably calling me to go back to pay, but it’s the surgeon himself and he’s calling to thank me for the card and the wrist warmers and saying ‘and you made these yourself?’ and going on about how much he appreciates them and thanking me several times (it was a strange reversal that rendered me kind of speechless) and wishing me a safe trip home ... And that is why I've decided he’s one of the nicest men on earth. I'm very thankful to God for the skill he gave the surgeon and for happening upon his name, when I really had no idea.
Meanwhile I’ve come home with four pages of coloured photos of what happened to my insides, which, having screwed my face up at them sufficiently, I think I am just going to hide in the filing cabinet.
In other news, I was being optimistic about the future, and I ordered my first ever pair of compression shorts for running. I wondered whether they’d make any difference to some of my postural and hip flexor issues, and after speaking to a Bishop who was once a physiotherapist and athlete who told me he was a fan that was all the justification I needed to spend the money, so I now have some super-duper running gear, which I have never owned even though I’ve been at it for years. But I wouldn’t be seen dead running in just lycra skins (I’ve seen what that looks like that from behind) so I have ones with a nice little skirt over the top - a running skort if you will. My new t-shirt even matches. I’ve now just got to make a concerted effort to get myself back to somewhere near where I was before I tore my calf muscle last year and then had the surgery etc. I’m writing this here as extra motivation. But first I just need a good sleep-in.
I didn’t do nearly as much reading in the time off as I thought I might, but hopefully I will come back to that.