ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD
My mother started doing everything she could to make sure her darling daughter-in-law received the best treatments possible. I’ve always loved the fact that my mother is a nurse. She knows a lot about our ailments, and she has an endless list of contacts in the health community. One day, she came to us with a solution nothing short of miraculous. She told us the story of one of her friends. It convinced Andréanne to consult a doctor at the Centre hospitalier de Sherbrooke, as there seemed to be unparalleled expertise there. The C.H.U.S is located two hours from our hometown. Given the circumstances, we had reached that point… so why not try?
One morning, my beautiful Andréanne, who weighted 40 lbs less, left Beauce with her mom and her medical record that was as thick as a bible. They were going to Sherbrooke to meet a new gastroenterologist. I honestly believe this doctor was an angel for her. Andréanne got in this hospital centre only to come out weeks later in much better health.
Now that the stage has been set, I want to talk about being on the other side of the world. Because yes, even though it was only a two-hour drive, it felt like thousands of kilometers separated us. I was worried, because I knew the woman I love was alone and far from me while going through this ordeal. I had some peace of mind knowing that my brother, a nurse at CHU Fleurimont, and her brother, who was studying at Sherbrooke University were visiting her regularly. Her mother was also visiting her multiple times a week to accompany her to her medical appointments. And where was I? I was stuck at work, trying to earn enough money to pay for my first semester of university. The world doesn’t stop when disease strike. You have to continue with your everyday routine, and you have to deal with the new appointments and be there for the person you love.
Being on the other side of the world while your girlfriend is sick is really destabilizing. I only saw her once while she was being hospitalized, but we would talk on the phone every day. The day I visited her definitely is one of the worst days in my life. She was sitting on her bed; and she was pretty, as usual, as she is a proud woman. Her smile was beautiful. I fell in love with her again, even more than when I was eight years old. She had combed her hair and put on make-up; her pajama was floating on her bones. That day, we talked about her getting surgery. She had only two options left: dying, or undergoing surgery. It sounds dramatic, but it’s true!
I’ll spare you the details from our conversations, because we didn’t only talk about what was going to happen. My goal was to enjoy every moment I was sharing with the woman I love, while trying to convince myself that the surgery would not be that bad.
Ostomy scared me. It extremely scared me even. I’ve always hated hospitals and diseases. I was afraid I would not be able to look at her the way I did before, to not see her as the woman I love anymore.
After a few hours with her, I decided to leave. I had spent way too much time in a place I usually avoid, even though some of my family members are health professionals. I kissed, cuddled and said “I love you” to the future mother of my children. I hoped I would still love her as much when she would have her ostomy.
I went back home. During the two-hour drive, I cried all the tears I had. I still tried to stay positive, even though what we were going through was more than destabilizing. I will remember this day for the rest of my life: The day I felt like I was on the other side of the world.