*
When I set the operation date with my surgeon, Dr. Cohen, it was time to share the news. I told my closest friends and family members in person, and sent out an email to colleagues and family members that I don’t see often, but who have expressed an interest in my well-being at some point or another. Here’s what I wrote:
Subject: Incoming Lengthy Email!
Hello BCCed friends, family, and email buddies.
I hope you had a fun Easter weekend and that you found pet bunnies or chocolate eggs or resurrected fellas, or whatever it is that people find over the Easter weekend.
In the last episode of Rasheed’s Ulcerative Colitis, we found our protagonist sitting comfortably in a blue padded chair at an injection clinic in Etobicoke, with a Remicade IV slowly dripping into his left wrist. That prefabricated liquid was supposed to alleviate his UC symptoms. For two months, he was able to run and work and eat like a seemingly normal person. But the positive effects of Remicade faded, and another booster infusion has proven to be of little help. Yet another UC treatment has failed. Now, the dramatic conclusion of Rasheed’s Ulcerative Colitis.
Yes, a conclusion is near, albeit a messy one. A conclusion that will “cure” me, rid me of the wretched, diseased colon that has stalled so much of my growth personally and professionally. There’s no simple solution at this point. I need that five-foot long, fire-breathing dragon slashed out of me. I’ve been seriously considering it for over a year now, and despite my attempts at treatment, both traditional and alternative, nothing has tamed the beast.
The decision to have my colon removed was not taken lightly. I have racked up hours of conversation with doctors and other colitis sufferers. I have spend days reading academic, medical, and anecdotal articles on the subject. I’m doing what I can to prepare myself physically and psychologically for what’s to come. Just what is to come, you ask? Good question.
On May 9th I will undergo the first of two operations at Mount Sinai Hospital here in Toronto. This one is to remove my colon and (most likely) my rectum. The end of my small intestine will be rerouted to an opening that will be created in my abdomen. That opening, or stoma, will drain into a bag that I will wear. The hope is that bag will be temporary.
Roughly three months later, I will undergo the second operation. This one is to create and hook up a pelvic pouch, or “J-pouch”. The pouch is in fact the end of my small intestine sewn back onto itself to form a J-shape and connected to my anus. That pelvic pouch will act as my substitute colon. It’s an unconventional plumbing system, but one that can work surprisingly well. The hope is that with the pouch I’ll have to defecate about 6 times a day, which may sound like a lot, but compared to 30 times a day sounds like fucking paradise. When you think about it, it’s really quite amazing that medical knowledge has advanced to a level where people can live without their colons. It’s the result of bold human beings who have cast aside superstition and pseudoscience.
My description of the procedures are admittedly rudimentary, so if you’re looking for more details on the operations, visit the Mount Sinai hospital page.
So that’s the story as it stands today. Yeah. It won’t be pretty, but hell, neither am I.
There’s a story that Spanish Conquistador Hernán Cortés burned his ships soon after arriving in the New World as a way of illustrating his no-turning-back commitment to his future. It’s a disputed story, though, as many historians believe he scuttled his ships to prevent a mutiny. The first story sounds cooler, and it’s that story I like to keep in mind.
Burn the boats.
Rasheed
That email elicited a varied response. In general, the email responses could be grouped into three categories: eye-rollers, confidence-boosters, and smile-inducers.
Let’s start with a smile-inducer. I worked for several years as a traffic reporter alongside a friendly man named Glen. We both loved football and Simpsons quotes, and our voices sounded similar on air, which sometimes caused confusion for listeners and radio station staff. Glen sometimes called me “Bumba” after a DJ I worked with gave me the nickname “Bumba-Clarke”. Here’s Glen’s reply:
Subject: Bumba!
And no I’m not using the word ‘bum’ in Bumba to be funny. Although now that I think about it.....
So you know I’m squirming in my seat reading your missive and thinking about it—and I’m not the one who has to go through the procedure(s). Obviously I hope it goes well (I was going to say ‘comes out alright in the end’ but again, this is not funny) and the operation accomplishes the goal.
I’ve honestly never heard of this way of creating a new colon (semicolon?) but I do know my brother had his transverse colon taken out because of cancer, they hooked him back up and everything is (mostly) working well and has for almost a decade now. There are some things he’s not supposed to eat or drink which he does anyway and that causes some problems, but I think you might be a bit more disciplined than he is since you’ve had more practice.
Best wishes for the operation and the recovery and maybe I’ll stop in to see you and bring you some flowers or one of those stuffed animals with a ‘some bunny loves you’ t-shirt. Or hey, maybe Arsenal will make the champions league. Stranger things have happened.
Glen
Glen’s email made me feel happy, not just because of the jokes, but because he treated me as the same person I’ve always been, not some sickly sad sack on the verge of two trips to the operating room. My intestinal deterioration was no reason for him not to make fun of my ass or my beloved football club. To him, I was the same wisecracking, football-crazed person he got to know over the years; the same person I’ll be on the other side of the surgeries.
Now here’s an eye-roller, from an aunt who found Jesus (was he missing?) several years ago.
Subject: Re: Incoming Lengthy Email!
Hi Rasheed,
I wasn’t going to respond to your e-mail below, but I really wanted to comment on your “resurrected fellas” statement.
While you so callously referred to our Lord and Savior, Jesus, as a “resurrected fella,” isn’t it amazing that He still loves you? There isn’t one thing we humans have done to deserve His grace, love and forgiveness, and yet He lavishes us with these precious gifts because He is Grace. Isn’t it amazing that the God of the universe chooses to love His creation—mean, selfish, judgemental humans (that’s basically, all of us)—so much? Amazing Love! The Bible states that one day “every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.” I love that old hymn, “Amazing Love, how can it be, that Thou my God, shouldst die for me.” I thank Him for His sacrifice on the Cross and His resurrection, and because He lives, we who believe in Him will live also.
I don’t have answers to life’s problems, i.e. why some people fall sick and never regain their health this side of Heaven, or that there are thousands of people who don’t have food, clothing or shelter in many parts of this sin-sick world, or that there are thousands who are out of work and fear the future. I know that the enemy (satan) of God’s children wants to destroy humans, literally destroy, through sickness and poverty. Also, what I do know is that without Christ in our lives we are nothing. I do know that I am to worship Him now and forever, and I do. After His resurrection, I love what Jesus said to one of his disciples, Thomas, who was always doubtful (but after touching Jesus’ nail-pierced hands and feet called the Savior My Lord and God), “Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.”
As I have written to you in the past, we all have our crosses to bear, and I know that I have had many. I also know that I need my Lord and Savior, Jesus, every hour of every day of my life, and I thank and praise Him for always being with me and my loved ones as He has promised. I know how agonizing life has been, but I also know that He is very real to me and I want to spend all my days glorifying Him, here and throughout eternity.
Anyway, despite your silly, insen
sitive remark below, I know He will be with you if you earnestly seek Him. I pray you will, and wouldn’t it be great if you were to see His miraculous healing hand in your life?
Julia
It was a joke.
Relax.
Here’s a similar yet different eye-roller, from another aunt.
Subject: Re: Incoming Lengthy Email!
Dear Rasheed,
I went through your letter with a lot of apprehension.
Your are too young to go for this operation. Have you tried praying our mathras? Do you perform your “kusti” regularly? Try praying the Vanant Yast Nirang. It is very small. Then leave your health in His hands. It gives one a lot of peace. You may not understand the meaning of what you pray, but the vibrations of the words have its healing values.
I will pray for you also,
God be with you,
Yours Franak Aunty.
The kusti, by the way, is a string that Zoroastrians are supposed to wear around their waists. I stopped wearing mine about a year ago, around the same time I didn’t see the light and “converted” to atheism, which is something I had thought about doing for many years before.
These two emails from my well-intentioned aunts just left me wondering how people can so wholeheartedly commit to dogma that miserably fails every test of logic, and is perpetuated without a single scrap of evidence.
So let me get this straight...
God is, all at once, himself, his son, and a ghost.
Makes sense.
Tying a string around my waist will rid me of an autoimmune disease.
Makes sense.
I’m not upset with God for giving me this disease. How can I be? He didn’t give me anything because he doesn’t exist. I am, however, upset with people who can’t take a joke, and people who think I should spurn the advice of trained and experienced medical professionals in favour of baseless mysticism.
But enough about that. On to the confidence-boosters. This one came from Trevor, a friend and former colleague who works as a transit supervisor for the City of Moncton. He always puts “Moncton NB” in the subject line of his emails, regardless of their content. Perhaps his way of reminding me of my time spent in the Maritimes.
Subject: Moncton NB
Hi Rasheed, well I see that things have not gotten better. I am glad you are taking steps to finally put an end to your suffering. Yes it will not be pleasant, but there are things in life that are much worse. I know this sounds stupid for what you have to go through but at least you are upbeat. I am home, got your new e-mail address so I will change it at work on Monday. I was away for 2 weeks vacation and back to the grind Monday. I will send you another e-mail next week. You keep your head hi bro, there will be an end to this soon. I will be in touch, Trev
Heh. “Bro.” Awesome. This simple note was laced with perspective and realism. Yes, what I’m about to go through will be awful, but there are people in this world who live with harder circumstances every day. Yes, Trevor, I will do my best to keep my head up and grind through the misery.
Here’s another good one, which was the first reply I received.
Subject: Surgery
Good luck and I’ll pop by on the 10th and see how you’re doing.
Take care.
Alistair
Such an Alistair reply. No nonsense, straight to the point well-wishing. Like Glen’s email, what I took most from this one is that I’m being treated just as I always have. Alistair’s email also reminded me that while this surgery isn’t a minor job, it’s something that I’ll just have to endure. Difficult, yet simple. Alistair works at Mount Sinai Hospital, so he can “pop by” the day after my operation. I’ll be looking forward to that.
Okay, last one. The biggest confidence-booster I received, from yet another aunt.
Subject: from Meher
Hi Rasheed,
Perviz sent me your e-mail about the upcoming surgeries and yes, it is sad and terrible that you have to go through this. I would never ever want anyone to have this terrible—as you say—beast of an illness BUT and this is a big BUT I have seen my niece regain control of her life after getting a colostomy bag. In retrospect, if she had to have this illness, the removal of her rectum and part of her colon and getting the colostomy bag was the best thing that came out of this whole messy situation. Yes, there were a few accidents but once she got the hang of it, she could socialize instead of making endless trips to the loo, she got married and had a child.
You have researched this thoroughly, you’ve been open to other treatments and now you know you have made an informed decision. So my dear slay the beast and go on to live a fulfilling life. I don’t believe in God, so I can’t say I will pray for you, but I will think of you all day on the 9th and send positive wishes and good thoughts your way. If you feel like a rest and change of scene after you recover, you know you are always welcome to come and spend time with us in Bryn Mawr. I have a bedroom with its own bathroom waiting for you.
Love and all my good wishes for a successful recovery,
Meher
Fuckin’ beauty, eh? What hit me most was reading, “I don’t believe in God, so I can’t say I will pray for you.” Until this email, I assumed my aunt Meher was a God-believer like everyone else in my family. Knowing that she, like me, didn’t believe in God was a source of great comfort. A little camaraderie. A feeling that I wasn’t alone in my choice to not keep the faith. Knowing that someone wasn’t praying for me, and had the guts to say so, was incredibly comforting. Maybe you have to be an atheist to understand that.
An encouraging story, encouraging words, no messages delivered to the ether, and an offer of free accommodations with exceptional toilet proximity. Positivity without wizardry, sympathy without pity. I couldn’t ask for anything more. Thank you, aunt Meher.
Record Two: Night and Day Page 12
