It’s Always a Good Time When..

..you’re hanging out with a group of ostomy people.

Ever notice how much more fun ostomates are?  Maybe it’s because those with the ostomies have had to go through so much in the past that they live life to the fullest. Or maybe it’s because we just all have a special gene that, well besides making us need ostomies, make us just a ton of fun?

This week has been, and is going to continue to be, full of ostomy community excitement because the United Ostomy Association of Canada is holding their biennial conference this week! For those that don’t know, it means that ostomates far and wide flock together for education, bonding, and a great time. (Also, swag)

On Monday, one of my friends from ostomy camp from way back in the day came into town from Calgary a few days before the conference to hang out and see the city. I got to spend some time with him while meeting another girl who had one too. I always love meeting new ostomates!

On Tuesday, I went out for dinner with that friend and another ostomy friend from camp and his lovely girlfriend. Though she doesn’t have an ostomy, she has the necessary level of fun to hang out with us.

Last night, a whole bunch of us ostomy people, and one of our very special health care workers, got together to see a Jays game! Though the Jays lost in a horrible game to the White Sox, we all had a great time hanging out together. It had been a while… Well, a while since we had hung out together in good spirits. With Alison’s passing it was a much needed reunion.

 

The rest of the week? I’ll be hanging around the UOAC conference at the Delta Chelsea in Toronto. If you’re there, come say hi to me! I’ll be standing at the IDEAS booth with the founder of the organization, Rob Hill, and attending the meals. The rest of the time I’ll be gallivanting around and you’ll have to catch me.

It’s not often I get to hang around others with ostomates, but once a year or so, when we all do get together, it’s an awesome time.

Hope you’ll come say hi at the conference!

For the Love of Friends and Food

There’s nothing better than enjoying some great food with some amazing friends.

Tonight I had the pleasure of spending my evening with two of my friends Kaitlin and Lauren. We cooked, we drank, we ate, we laughed, and had an amazing night.

Kaitlin not pictured.

It’s nights like these I am extremely grateful for my ostomy.

Without it…well… I’d be dead. BUT, theoretically, I would still be sick, isolated, alone, and worst of all, on bowel rest! (Aka the dreaded “no-food diet”.)

Nothing was worse than being stuck in the hospital for weeks on end and being told I was not allowed to have ANY food pass through my GI track. I was hooked up to intravenous food sources and told that ice chips would make the hunger go away. Yeah right.

It is amazing how many fast food commercials you notice on television when you are going mentally insane from starvation. 

Enjoying white wine, bruschetta, salad, pasta with avocado sauce, fruit, and cinnamon buns  really makes you appreciate the little bag that made it all possible.

Having amazing company to compliment the food is just a bonus.

A Bad Case of the Crazies

Phew.

That is all I could think the morning of Tuesday, May 1st, the day my mother and I hit the road in a 10 foot Uhaul, en-route to Toronto. After living on a couch in a studio apartment with a wonderful friend who graciously took me in for 3 weeks, it was finally time to move myself back to good old Canada land.

I had moved out of my apartment 3 weeks earlier than I was supposed to. 3 weeks earlier than I had paid for. Unfortunately, I had no choice- my apartment wasn’t safe.

3 weeks prior to Tuesday, May 1st, I had solidified the fact that I could complete my Masters at NYU from Toronto by taking 2 online classes and writing my thesis at home. Knowing it would save me upwards of tens of thousands of dollars, I decided it only made sense to move back home. I made all the arrangements I needed to make, including confirming my plan with my program director, finding a place to live in Toronto, and securing a sublet for my room to fill in for me. I hadn’t actually signed a lease for my place in NYC, but it didn’t feel right putting my roommate out like that. The sublet I had found actually happened to be a girl who went to the same university as us for undergrad, was an absolute sweetheart, and extremely trustworthy- I couldn’t have found a better match to take my place.

Well, apparently I could have.

I informed my roommate of my plans and about the girl I had found to take my place in the apartment, knowing that this was a win-win situation for both of us. She, however, did not see it that way. Instead, she told me that I was not allowed to sublet my room and demanded that I had to continue to pay rent. Shocked, I simply said ok and walked out of the room.

Little did I know that this was the beginning of one of the most surreal events of my life.

The next day my roommate began to harass me by texting me and calling me constantly, insisting that I call her parents, yelling at me, and slamming doors. I was in utter dismay with her attitude as I had simply said “ok” to her demands and nothing about not paying.

The next day, she served me with a letter (that made little sense) from a lawyer that told me she was going to sue me if I moved out, stating that I had said I was going to move out without paying, which I had not. I had expected this letter, but I didn’t expect what followed…

That night, after my roommate had served me the letter from her lawyer, I realized that she had made passive aggression actions towards my things. She had thrown my shoes in a pile, taken a Christmas card of mine off the fridge, took my shower products and put them in the middle of the tub in standing water, and… well… to spare you the gross details… she had “tampered” with my toothbrush in one of the most disturbing ways possible. This action was so disgusting that I questioned whether it was safe to eat the food I had left in the fridge, as I was unsure of what she could have done to it.

It was then that I realized I couldn’t live there anymore, so I moved out for those 3 weeks. The problem was, I had to leave most of my stuff back in the apartment. It was 3 weeks later that I was able to retrieve my belongings, with the help of my mother. But not, of course, without hassle from my roommate.

The weekend my mother came into to town to help me collect my things also happened to be the weekend my roommate felt the need to recruit both of her parents to keep watch on us. And by watch, I actually mean stalk. The entire weekend, while the 5 of us were living in the tiny NYC apartment, my roommate’s parents not only went out of their way to make living arrangements unbelievably difficult, but went out of their wait to literally stalk my mother and I. They waited in the building foyer for us to show up for the first night, and then waited outside of the building for us when we would leave the apartment. While my mother and I enjoyed our time in NYC by shopping, going out for dinner, and seeing a show, they were stalking us-waiting for me to move out.

My mother and I let it slide as we were having a really great weekend together. We were able to pack my things quite quickly, which is why we could enjoy the things we did in the city before we had to leave. It wasn’t until the last day that things really got messy.

I had sent my roommate a letter (from the lawyer I had to acquire) a few days after her letter, stating not only the harassment she had inflicted on me, but that I would be moving out May 1st, as I had a presentation the night of April 30th. Apparently, her parents were never informed of the letter and they were under the assumption I would be moving out on the 30th. When they realized I was not ready to move out by 5pm that day, they.. well.. kind of went nuts.

After much discussion, my mom and I had decided earlier that day that it may be a better idea to move out that evening, just to get out of their harrassing ways. So, by 5pm on April 30th, my mother left the apartment to pick up the Uhaul…Unfortunately, at the same time my roommates parents came back into the apartment. They wasted no time to come into my room, where I was alone and cornered, to begin to verbally attacking me. Hearing this from down the hall, my mother came back into the apartment to save me. It then turned into a battlefield, as my roommates mom began yelling at us that we needed to “get the f*** out” of her apartment or she was going to call the police and physically move my stuff onto the street. My mother responded by informing my roommate’s mother that she could not do that, which we knew, because we had done our research.

To this, my roommates mom responded, “of course you did your research- you’re Jewish.”

Thankfully, we packed up and moved out of the apartment by 10pm that evening and drove to a hotel for the night. I couldn’t spend anymore time in that apartment, especially with people so vile… so anti-Semitic. My mother and I had a wonderful night’s sleep that night and were well rested for our long 10 hour drive back to Toronto the next day.

I am now home in my new apartment, still unpacking and finishing up an assignment for my spring semester before my summer semester begins. I am looking forward to all the wonderful things ahead of me and hoping that I never have to experience what I had experienced again. While I always look for the good in people, I guess there are always some people who just have a bad case of the crazies.

————————————————–

Have you ever experienced a ridiculous roommate situation? What did you do and how did you survive?

I Better Get Used to It

I have just gotten back to NYC after an amazing spring break in Toronto. I saw many of my closest friends, hung out with my fam, and had an amazing time with my boyfriend. I even have some exciting  news from this week, but I’ll save that for a little later. The point is- this week was amazing.

So of course something has to happen, right?

Today I paid a visit to the dr. who performed the surgery on me a few weeks ago that I blogged about. I had been seeing him every week or so just to keep an eye on my healing. Everything had been going according to plan and I felt like my issue was finally gone. I was relieved.

Today I paid, which what was supposed to have been, my last visit. He surveyed the area that he had operated on and realized that something was not quite right. I had suspected as much, to be honest, but had hoped I was just being a hypochondriac.

Turns out that I was right and he has to get his scalpel back in there.

Wonderful.

Crohn’s disease really does like to mess up your immune system. Something that could have healed quite simply just.. didn’t.

Thankfully, the process I had endured during and after the surgery was actually not as bad as I had anticipated; however unpleasant it still was. The fact that it was not as bad as I had envisioned has actually made anticipating the surgery again again a little less stressful. I am not looking forward to what is to come, but at least I know what I have to prepare for. I’ve realized that knowing is half the battle.

I’m not writing this blog to ask you all for your best wishes because I don’t think I’ll need them. That isn’t to say I don’t appreciate them, (because of course I do!), but more that I really don’t think it will be a big deal. As I said, it’s not pleasant, but it is definitely something I can handle. I know what is to come, how it will feel, and what I will experience.

I guess you can say that you actually can get used to it.

Hopefully.

Gotta Love the Cycle of Fashion Trends

… Let’s just hope the disaster that was the 90′s fashion craze of belly tops and MC Hammer pants never returns.

As you all know, I was back in Toronto last week to get myself checked out for various medical issues I was having.

Surprise- nothing’s wrong with me according to my test results

Not a surprise- my body is clearly acting like something is wrong.

As with most medical issues in my life, I will have to suck it up and deal with the symptoms as they come. Wonderful.

Anyways, that’s not the point of this blog post. I am back in NYC, finishing up my 1st semester here at NYU (eeeee), and getting ready to have a wonderful winter vacation.

The point of this blog post, however, is to let you ladies in on some recent ostomy friendly and, of course, super stylish fashion trends I came across while I was back home. (Sorry, guys!)

While I was home, the wonderful woman that is my mother generously offered to take me to my local mall for some Canadian black Friday shopping to lift my spirits after my week of visiting doctors and awaiting my (eventually unhelpful) medical results. Thankfully, black Friday shopping in Canada was basically the same as everyday shopping in Canada, so I actually had some time to spend to seek out essential articles of clothing that I was in desperate need for.

Yes- I was in desperate need for some new clothes.

I swear.

Having moved out to NYC and participating in a more professional life setting, I quickly realized that my everyday undergrad sweatpant-dawning-sorority-tshirt-sporting-and-ugg wearing style wouldn’t cut it out here. Over the past few months I had made some essential wardrobe purchases including new shoes and new shirts.

But those were the easy things for me.

As you all know, I am a lucky individual as I have my ostomy quite low on my body. I have no issue buying shirts because the ostomy is not near that part of my body. Unfortunately, this makes pants quite the challenge.

Over the past few years, I’ve very successfully built my wardrobe around wearing, as I said, sweatpants, as well as lululemon pants, leggings, and my very scarce set of jeans that took me a lot of digging and trying on to find (eventually, I found stretchy jeans, kind of like jeggings, but actually made of denim- they work well.) My closet does include some other pairs of pants that do not fall under any of those categories, but the selection is slim.

My mission for that black Friday shopping excursion was to find real pants. Not leggings, lululemons, or jeans. Pants I could wear that said, “Hey, she looks like she knows what she’s doing.” Aka pants that don’t make me look like I’m heading to campus.

Not having a clue what exactly I was looking for, I ventured in and out of my regular store choices in hopes of finding something that would jump out at me. From one to the next I left empty handed.

Ok, not empty handed-I just didn’t have any pants in my hands.

Eventually I came across one of my most frequented stores called Aritzia.

It took all of about 30 seconds for me to realize I was in ostomy pant city.

…And by that I mean, stylish-sophisticated-but-hides-my-ostomy-perfectly-city.

Apparently, fashion trends have cycled back from the 50s and Aritzia has taken notice. I found a few pairs of pants that resemble the types of pants women wore back then; pants that were straight legged, with a bit of a tulip effect at the top of hip. Oh, yes: pants no longer hug hips!

I was in heaven.

I think I must have tried on about 7 pairs of pants- all which hid the ostomy absolutely perfectly. Don’t worry, I didn’t purchase all 7, just 3! These are one of the pairs I bought (click for more info):

These pants not only made me look as if I wasn’t missing 6+ of intestine, but they made me look as if I was ready to start a real career.

It’s amazing what clothing can do.

I have to say that I am unbelievably thankful that I had my ostomy surgery when I did. If I had been forced to live with it through the 90s with belly tops that flaunted the midsection and pants the hugged the hips, I would have either been showing my bag to everyone (more than normal..), or would have just been a very unfashionable individual..But really, who decided those clothing choices were stylish, anyways?

So fellow female ostomates-and ladies in general- Now is definitely the right time for a little wardrobe update, no?

Dear Followers, Lend Me Your Story!

This time next week I will be speaking at the Rachel M. Flood Ostomy and Wound Care conference titled, Supporting the Patient’s Journey: Living With an Ostomy at Mt. Sinai Hospital, in Toronto. As the title suggests, I will be speaking to a large group of medical professionals about how to work with, support, and teach new ostomy patients how to handle the life changing surgery.

The hospital has graciously asked me to be a keynote speaker because of my ostomy experiences and my ability to speak so candidly about it. However open and honest I am about my ostomy, however, I can, and only, speak from my single experience.

Though my one experience may provide information and guidance for these medical professionals to help future ostomy patients, my story is only a single a single story in a multitude of others. I experienced things during the ostomy process, before and after, that others had not, but I also did not experience the same things that others did.

Faithful ostomy community, this is why I am coming to you- I need help with my keynote speech, and I need it from you.

I feel that in order to paint an accurate picture of a pre and post ostomy surgery patient and how to properly care for them, I need a 360 degree view of the process-something I cannot see without your help.

So, my dear followers, this is what I am requesting from you:

If you could please, through commenting here, on the Facebook page, or by tweeting me @JessGrossman, please tell me your story!

When I say “your story,” what I mean is how were you treated before, during, and after your ostomy surgery. Do you feel like you were given the proper training and counselling prior to ostomy surgery? Did you have access to the right people to talk to? Did the medical professionals scare you into getting an ostomy? Did you understand your ostomy? Was the post surgery training informative and clear? And whatever else you wish to share.

Tell me everything!

By taking the time to give me this information, you are contributing to the information that I will be providing to these medical professionals in order to take better care of future ostomy patients.

I believe that the proper pre and immediate post surgery ostomy care is a key element to positive ostomy attitudes and ultimately positive ostomy awareness.

So ostomy community- what’s your story?

Time is Relative.

I’ve officially been living in New York City for a month now.

I have been living here for 4 weeks- 30 days-720 hours.

Nope.

No matter how I do the math, it still feels like I’ve been living here for 3 days.

These past few weeks have flown by-probably because of the whirlwind of activity I’ve experienced.

I started classes, I met tons of new people, I ran around for fashion week, I enjoyed a random street fair on my avenue, I’ve seen a couple movies, I listened to a few guest lecturers, I (fun Grossman) went out for my roommates birthday, I did some shopping, I met with my program director, I read and took a lot of notes for my classes, I did a few assignments, and I have taken a few days to sit back and watch tv in my PJs.

Somehow, I feel like I did all of that in 3 days.

I guess the old adage, “time flies when you’re having fun” is true. Or maybe what they say about time flying when you get older is true… Whether it’s one or the other, I can’t believe how fast this month has gone by.

Well, it felt like time was speeding by… until I woke up this morning.

This morning I woke up knowing that I will be home in less than a week.

In 5 days- 120 hours- 7200 minutes, I will back in Toronto for a visit.

Why? Whyyyyy is it that when you are excited beyond belief for something, it seems so much farther out of your reach?!

It’s been a month since I’ve been in my house, spent time with my mom and brother, or seen my boyfriend. I was fine with it until this morning.

Right now, itfeels like I’m running a race and I’m at the end and I can see the finish line straight ahead, but I am so exhausted, so drained, so tried, that getting to that line seems impossible. Luckily, I can’t stop time so I will get to the finish line eventually… it just feels like forever away.

It’s only a Saturday away.

Am I nuts?

This feeling kind of makes me wonder if I should position myself to constantly be looking forward to something big. I mean, the feeling is overwhelmingly stressful and draining, but I know it’s worth it. Most of all, I know it slows down time.

Figuratively speaking, of course.

According to my clock, I’ve been writing this blog post for half an hour-30 minutes- 1800 seconds.

It feels like I’ve been writing it for 2 hours.

Saturday cannot come soon enough.

What are you looking forward to?

Sometimes The Best Way To Deal With Loss is Just to Smile

Every year at the end of August my family gets together and heads down to the Canadian National Exhibition, or The Ex. For those who don’t know it, it’s exactly what you’d expect to be; a huge exhibition with vendors, rides, games, shows, and food… TONS of it. Some of my best memories are trying out foods from the famous food building on site.

My family and I have made the Ex an annual tradition since I can remember. We’ve been going, I’d say, for at least 10 years. We’ve been going for so long that there were some years where I had to be wheeled in a wheelchair because I was dealing with my Crohn’s disease. It was a mission for me, but I wasn’t going to let a stupid disease ruin our family tradition. My dad always made sure I would never miss it.

That’s why I didn’t miss it today. Today is the 2nd anniversary of my dad’s passing from complications due to a bone marrow transplant. For those who don’t know the story, I wont get into detail because of those who do, but you can go to this link to read the story.

Though it’s the 2nd year I’ve lived without him in my life, today’s adventure was still lacking without him. Actually, a lot of things in my life have been lacking without him.

It was weird being president of my sorority without him cracking bad jokes about the position.

It was strange graduating from UWO this May without him there to clap as I walked across the stage.

It’s odd knowing I’m moving to NYC and getting my Masters at NYU without him telling me he’s proud of me.

It still upsets me knowing that I can’t sit down and talk with him about everything that’s going on in my life.

It’s been two years but I’m still not used to it.

Instead of sitting around and being sad, mopey, and depressing, I thought there was no better way to remember him than to go to our favourite event. We had fun, we laughed, we ate ridiculous food, and we spent time together as a family.

That’s all he would have wanted.

Miss you daddy <3

My Blood is a Mixture of Liquid Sugar and Diet Coke.

Maybe that’s why I’m so sweet?

Ha.

Kidding.

Over the past little while I’ve been told (maybe by one certain individual..cough cough) that I have no emotions and have lost my capacity for empathy and blah blah blah. So it makes sense that my veins are filled with anything but warm blood.

For those who know me even a little bit, they know sugar runs through my veins because I have the BIGGEST sweet tooth known to mankind. It’s a genetics thing (another reason how I know I belong in my family and that I am NOT an adopted Asian child) because my dad’s side of the family eats chocolate like it’s their job. I could actually eat any type of dessert/candy/ice cream/sugar substance any time any day.

Thank god I was allowed to have lollipops and gum back when I wasn’t allowed to eat anything else, thanks to Crohn’s disease.

Unfortunately, this sweet tooth and genetic disposition of mine has become my arch nemesis. It was the liquid sugar in my veins that proved, when I was about 15, that I was a healthy girl, because I was gaining weight from my habits. It was a good thing that my body was functioning normally, but not such a good thing that I looked like a whale. I needed a fix.

Introduce my obsession, Diet Coke.

I probably drink at least one a day, two or three in the summer months just because of the heat. I really began to drink it because it stopped me from ingesting thousands of calories in delicious sugary snacks. It was a great replacement when I was having mad carb cravings.

Now you might be thinking that I, as someone with a bowel disease, must be absolutely nuts to be drinking that stuff as often as I do. I soon realized, however, that, as someone with an ostomy, it was actually a magical elixir.

As most ostomates know, some foods just don’t agree with the bag, not because of any disease, but just because of the function of the bag.

I didn’t care.

I hadn’t been allowed to eat for a longgg time, thanks to my disease, so my new healthy attitude was that I was going to eat whatever I damn well pleased. Unfortunately, what I damn well pleased was an array of raw vegetables such as lettuce, cucumbers, carrots, pickles, peppers, and tons of other vegetables that I loveeee who sadly do not love me back.

Thankfully, I discovered, through a bit of research and my own experimentation, that Diet Coke is actually an amazing way to keep the bag functioning and flowing. If I know I’m going to be eating tons of raw foods, I pair it with a cold DC to help everything digest.

I know it’s not the most glamorous thing to talk about, but food restrictions, and the like, are some of the biggest issues we ostomates face. We finally get rid of our disease, and we still have issues! Luckily, I found what has helped me get around these issues.

Another awesome cure? Alcohol.

Ok, first of all I am not an alcoholic, in fact I rarely drink (it’s true!) when I have had a drink or two, I’ve noticed its benefit! (one of many?).

You can imagine my delight when I was introduced to the amazing Diet Coke cocktail. The recipe is simple:

Fill a highball glass with ice and add 1 oz. Skyy Vodka, ¼ oz. lemon juice, ¼ oz. lime juice and ½ oz. simple syrup. Top with 3 oz. diet coke and garnish with a cherry.

Whether you need a special drink to pair with your delicious summer salad full of amazing raw veggies, or really, just want an amazing drink, I highly recommend this recipe.

Now, I’m no physician, and if you start following my DC obsession and it doesn’t work out as well for you… well, everybody’s different. I’m just here to provide tips from my own experiences. All I can say is try it out. Next time you, the ostomate, feel like you ate something that may not be moving where it should be, try a can of Diet Coke. It may just do the trick for you too!

Or maybe there’s something else? What do you do to handle these issues?

As a side note, to all those in Canada around the Toronto, Vancouver, and other major cities around Canada, keep an eye out for the Diet Coke Beauty Boost trailers. They’ll be touring around these cities, and offering free manicures and makeup touch ups plus free Diet Coke. It’s a perfect way to touch yourself up during the day, stay confident and gorgeous, and have a cold refreshing drink (to keep things moving! Haha)!

Eye Opening Experience

Tomorrow afternoon I am having eye surgery.

For years and years I have endured rude questions, comments, and jokes because people think I am half Asian.

“Yes, my eyes are small, but no,” I say, “Both my parents are white and I am not adopted.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

My tiny eyesYes, both my parents are Canadian and Caucasian born, as are their parents. I know that am not adopted as I have pictures of my mother in the hospital holding me as a newborn. And as far as we know, in my huge family tree [which, I tracked for a grade 5 project] there are no Asians in my family.

Despite this, I still get asked if I know the best places to get Chinese food.

Tomorrow, this all comes to an end as I am having surgery to widen my tiny little eyes.

 

JOKES.

Ok ok… I am NOT having eye widening surgery to get rid of my tiny eyes, though I have been able to convince 4 different people that I am. Is that even a real thing?

Either way, tomorrow is the first of two eye surgeries that I am having  to get IMPLANTED CONTACTS dundundun.

Implantable contacts are pretty much just tiny hair-thin contact that are placed underneath the top layer of the eye.

Unfortunately, I have every problem known to man so my corneas are too thin to have regular laser eye surgery. I didn’t even know this type of surgery existed until I burst into tears in the eye consultant’s office when he broke the news and then comforted me saying there was another way. So here I am.

I’m not sure if anyone’s noticed, but my past few video blogs and the like have included me wearing glasses. I have actually been wearing glasses consistently since August because right after Ostomy camp my eyes decided it didn’t want to wear contacts anymore. Every time I put them in, my eyes would get all red and dry and… well it wasn’t pretty.

Since I literally cannot see a foot in front of me without any eye enhancing technology, I was stuck with glasses.

I used to wear contacts all day every day, so having to wear glasses again was not only a hassle, but a challenge. As I have learned over the past couple of months- glasses suck:

  1. They get in the way when you’re trying to do your makeup
  2. They collect rain drops when it’s raining outside so it still looks like it’s raining even when you’re inside.
  3. They consistently fall off when you’re doing the downward dog or other upside down poses during yoga
  4. They fog up when you get on a really warm bus from being outside in the extreme winter cold
  5. They get in the way when your face is trying to touch someone else’s face… if you know what I mean…

Pretty much, they became a huge nuisance in my life and I needed to do anything to get rid of them.

That is why, tomorrow, I am getting contacts implanted underneath my eye. Sounds great, right?

That isn’t even the best part: because, for some reason, they have to do each eye a week apart, they are taking ONE lens out of my glasses. They usually just suggest people wear a contact in the other eye, but, HELLO, that is why I’m doing this surgery. Therefore, I am going to be missing one piece of glass out of my glasses and I will look like this:

Lensless glasses 

With one lens missing from my glasses I am not only going to look like a special person whose broken her glasses, but my mobility will probably become that of a drunk person from my lack of depth perception. My brother thinks it’ll be funny to keep giving me high fives. I told him it won’t be so funny when I smack him in the face when I miss.

I fully acknowledge now that this surgery is elective and I, as well as many people reading this blog, have been through much worse. We’ve tackled medications with crazy side effects, horrible tests through parts of the body that should not be tested, and surgeries that have flipped a coin on whether we lived or died. We’ve been through much worse than a simple surgery like this.

I cannot, however, shake this feeling of fear and nausea at the thought of someone slicing my eye open.

Wish me luck?

[PS: any friends in the Toronto area are welcome to visit and laugh at me in this state while I hibernate for the week :) ]

[PPS: As you can see, I'm trying out illustrations. Yes/No?]