I should have died.
I was somewhere between one and two years old. My mother says I was a baby but my aunt says I was talking and my grandfather confirms this. Somehow, somewhere I found a large safety pin. It was likely open when I swallowed it. It didn't just puncture my throat; it went straight through to my jugular vein. You know, the vein that takes the blood from your heart to your brain.
Blood was leaking from my jugular. I wasn't eating or drinking much. I was crying a lot. No one could tell what was wrong until my grandfather noticed that my neck was swelling a large bump.
They brought me to the local hospital where after I was flown straight to the Hospital for Sick Kids, in Toronto. They removed the pin and sent me home, 6.5 hours north, not knowing that my jugular vein was leaking.
I still wouldn't eat. I was coughing up blood onto my pillow. My mother knew something was still wrong. Once the local hospital had an idea of what might have happened I was put on a plane so quickly, on my way back to Toronto, that my mother barely made it onto the plane.
I was cut open from my ear to my chest and the vein was repaired. I still sport scars from the blood transfusion on my ankles, wrists and my right breast (which really just blends in with the stretch marks). So swollen was I and attached to so many tubes that when my mother went looking for me in the ICU she didn't recognise me. Then when I was pointed out to her, she became so hysterical that she needed restraining and drugs administered to her to calm her down.
The wound later got infected, opened up, and was mistreated by our family physician, causing the scar to be so wide.
I still remember my neck hurting for years. I didn't eat a lot and was really skinny with a huge head. My half-sister will confirm this.
When I was 10 years old and seeing a doctor about some extra cartilage that needed to be removed from my knee, my mom casually asked him about plastic surgery for my neck. "Sure, that can be done," he said. "We can take some skin from her bum and use that to make two very thin scars instead of this wide scar." "No!" I said. Just the idea of some men doing anything to my naked bum while I was unconscious made me feel instantly victimised. Plus, at the age of 10, the thought of having a piece of my butt on my neck grossed me out. Dude, I eat near my neck.
But besides all that, my scar didn't bother me. With long dark hair, people didn't even notice my scar for months after meeting me. My scar was a sign that I was alive and I believed that it was for a special purpose. This scar reminds me that I could have died at less than two-years-old. This in turn reminds me of the time I narrowly avoided drowning at age 6, and of all the other precarious situations I was put in as a child, or that I placed myself in.
My scar reminds me (as Destiny's-Child puke-worthy-corny as this is) that I'm a survivor. And besides, some people find it sexy. Okay, so just the prison inmates to whom I occasionally write, but still.
* * *
I haven't shared this story earlier because it's missing so many details that are in conflict between what different family members have told me and no one wrote anything down and despite being my mother's only child and almost dying, she doesn't even remember how old I was. *eyeroll* :-)
I'm sharing it now, though, to explain why I'm choosing Sick Kids Foundation in Toronto as my charity for CanadaHelps. If you know me in real life or if you're even just a casual observer on Twitter or here, you probably know how passionate I am about health care. And clearly, I'm grateful to Sick Kids for saving my life.
Please ** click here to see my CanadaHelps Giving Page **. I've set a modest goal to raise $3000 by my next birthday (which I can adjust, if people delight me with their generosity), however, there's more to this.
CanadaHelps has issued a Giving Challenge for people to use social media tools to raise money for the Canadian charity of their choice. The contest ends December 20th at 12 noon EST. If I raise the most money or get the highest number of donations, GivingHelps will donate $5000 to Sick Kids. I'm already entering a bit late.
For participating, I get entered into a draw every week for an iPod Shuffle-- hardly a big deal. I have no use for a music player I can't obsessively control according to my every whim, and anyway, can't you pick them up for like, $40 these days? If I do win an iPod Shuffle, I will raffle it off to a blog reader who donated. So, I'm not in it for the prizes.
Clearly, I'm in it for the glory.
Kidding. No, actually, with my last business I sold I had intended to set up a Sick Kids fundraising page and never got around to it. Then a media rep contacted me about the contest, so it was kismet.
So, for all you blog commenters who've thanked me for a post, for all of you who said I helped you in some way, or made you cry, or made you laugh, please consider donating. Those of you who read here regularly, consider it being like the cost of a magazine subscription. For those who say that coming here is like a therapy session, what are those fees running nowadays?
Let's take a look at the benefits you get from Becoming Something:
- a feeling of superiority for every time I embarrass myself, beknownst to me or unbeknownst to me
- new fantastic music suggestions for your playlist
- information about Mormonism and other stuff
- inspiration and encouragement
- humorous stories
- yummy recipes
- Daily Gratitudes
- commiserating
- the opportunity to help out those in need
I'm thinking that's worth at least a yearly $20 donation. ;-) $50?
You will receive a tax receipt and you can choose to not have your name displayed on my page's list of contributors, if you'd prefer to remain anonymous.
Jude has kicked things off with $100. Small gesture of thanks to Sick Kids for having me as a wife.
Thank you, in advance! I love you!
Daily Gratitudes
- Had a lovely weekend full of love for my family and friends.
- Bronchitis is gone. No signs of brain cancer or chlamydia. (Facebook friends would get that joke.)
- Okay, I really, really don't want snow this year but the fat flakes coming down right now are kinda pretty.
- My kids go to good schools with good teachers and principals.
- Jude let me sleep in a bit this morning, making breakfast and lunch sandwiches.
