04 January 2017

The rain is pelting on the large window of the hospital room. There is a storm coming apparently.
I accepted the sleeping tablet last night and now I am still drowsy. Waiting for the day to unfold.
After 10 days of conservative treatment, cortisone infusions and being wrapped in sheets of hot clay and electric currents running through suction pads along my leg (very nice!) and mysterious injections in my spine, the wisdom of the MRI images has won and around noon today I will dress myself up in that gown and hold R's hand until they wheel me on this bed down into the underground operating center.
This will be the fourth general anesthesia in my life. Someone once told me that we lose a certain amount of brain cells every time.
All I know is that I was much calmer and blue eyed on those previous occasions. Well, I was years away from editing medical research and interpreting risk statistics.

Then, I knew all would be well because I had child that I needed to raise and so many adventures waiting in my future. Contemplating risks or complications would have felt almost insulting to my sense of entitlement.

Now I am not so confident. But there is nothing I can do apart from chickening out which is definitely not on. Because I don't. Not in my repertoire.

So. It's: Roll it there, Colette.
(This is another of our family sayings, based on Gay Byrne - a very popular Irish tv and radio personality with a weekly chat show on Friday nights watched by the nation. He said this to introduce a film or a piece of news or a song. Colette was his long time assistant. My father in law would call it across the hall when he had the sherry ready before Sunday lunch. My mother in law would whisper it when she rolled the dice playing boardgames, R says it when I pour the tea and he fiddles with the remote to start the film we are going to watch together. We both say it when we take/drive/cycle off towards an adventure. Etc.) 


  1. So sorry to hear this. It´s hard to hold all that fear and uncertainty. It shows how much you appreciate life and love.
    I won´t say things like ´it will be allright´, becasue I don´t think it will help.
    I will call upon all that´s good though, and I am sure that will help.

    PS Could you tell us what it is they are going to do? No is ofcourse a perfect answer.


  2. My thoughts are with you! I hope and expect that all will go well.

  3. "But there is nothing I can do apart from chickening out which is definitely not on. Because I don't. Not in my repertoire." This is why I like you so damn much. There is a beauty in strength. You have it.

  4. I too am calling on all that is good on your behalf. You are in my heart. Roll it there, Colette. You brave soul.

  5. Thinking of you, Sabine. Trying to figure out time zones and wondering if you are out of surgery as I am typing this comment. I hope all has gone so well, that you will feel renewed, invigorated, pain-free and soon ready for a wonderful bike ride. When the new day begins you will be ready for a new adventure and to "Roll it there, Colette!"

  6. It's sunrise time here. Sending love as you recover from your surgery. R holding your hard. Until further notice, we are all alive! Roll it there, Collette. 22 degrees here. Clear skies. Birds singing.

  7. Fingers crossed and sending positive thoughts your way Sabine!

  8. Just noticed the figure in the window - You?

  9. I hope you dipped in and out of the anesthesia light and easy.
    I would imagine by now you are resting and R is with you and I am hoping that all is calm.
    I will continue to see the best outcome - be well, dear Sabine.

  10. I hope you are resting in ease right now as I type this. I am thinking of you.