End December 2011 ~ Surgery. Under the knife for seven hours in the hope my solidifying heart might keep on beating, beating, beating. I was told that 30 minutes later would have been 30 minutes too long.
Those words came as a definite full stop and I took it personally. Up to that point, I truly believed my life was my own. I had been strong and independent, living and loving as hard as I knew how. But it turned out, for about five years previously, the life I lived had been a snapshot – one dimensional without depth or substance. My power, my courage, my joie de vivre were pretentions; my body was, in fact, a hollow shell.
I had no weapons to fight an invisible enemy, one which had turned my own body against me and had given no signal of the agony or chaos to come. It was a disease, a slippery snake that squirmed silently through me choking off the human being I thought I was.
The final battle began on December 28th 2010 at 12 noon when I was cracked open. A deft slice of the surgeon’s knife changed everything.
Some of the bones in my spine inevitably crumbled. The spinal chord, though compromised in several places, did not break or suffer irreparable damage.