Today is a special day. My grandfather was born on Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) on October 4th. Every nineteen years Yom Kippur falls on October 4th, his birthday, and today is that day. Am hoping that this special coincidence will herald a better year for the family.
Must make it to synagogue later then, in case need to do that too for any divine intervention. After Spin and a sleep obviously – don’t want to go too crazy about it.
Was privileged to spend a lot of time with both my amazing grandfathers in my childhood and teenage years. They passed away when I was in my second year at Oxford, which didn’t help with my mood disorder. That began as soon as I arrived at university. Presume they would be very upset by my current medical problems. Anyway, thinking about both of them today.
Thursday, and we’re at the hospital again.
“Hello, Tanya. How are you?” My plastic surgeon says, beaming. He’s always cheerful.
“Yeah, OK,” I say, smiling back: can’t help but smile back at him – he’s such a cheering presence.
“Infection cleared up?” He says.
“Yes, it’s fine,” I say. “At the ultrasound the doctor said that it’s not infected anymore and…”
“It’s still very red,” Mum says.
“Let’s have a look,” he says.
Dragging myself across the room, I sit on the pale blue bed and take my top and training bra off. My plastic surgeon wheels himself across the room on his desk chair – a far more pleasant way to travel.
“That looks much better,” he says. “The tumour has spread,” he adds.
Pulling my clothes back on, my right arm hurts.
“Do you need to refer me to the physiotherapist again?” I say. “The infection spread to my arm and the mobility hasn’t come back properly and…”
“No, just call up and make an appointment,” he says. “That’s fine. So I think we can go ahead with the operation as soon as possible and…”
“We can’t do Monday,” Mum says.
“It’s the launch party for our film,” I say.
He beams. “Not Monday then.”
“How will you know,” Mum says. “When you start removing the affected skin, how will you know how much to take off? Will you be able to see how far the cancer has spread?”
“There will be a bit of guesswork,”. He says.
“And when you take the implant out, will you have a look at what’s going on underneath it?” Mum says.
“Of course,” he says. “Of course we will.”
I don’t want them to take my implant out, I think, but they are going to do it anyway. Meant to be seeing Arjen – can’t do that with no implant in. Don’t see how can continue dating or the blog without the implant.
And I haven’t got any immunity on the side of my body that is going to be carved up and mutilated even further. How will they stop it getting infected.
At the time of the journey, Isaac wasn’t a small child, I remember my Rabbi telling us once. He was in his thirties. He knew what was going on. He knew that he was going to be sacrificed…