The Hook Thirty Years ago today I found myself in the Northside General Hospital (I still think of it of by its old name “St. Elizabeth’s”) It was August 30th, 1983 and I was waiting in the Emergency Room, just waiting… I had spent a lot of time there over the last few years. It had the familiarity of a place that comes from passing hours; days and months in, somewhere you start to think of as part of your home, people and faces that you see routinely, polite conversations that you have with people calling them by their first names without knowing their last. Even that comfort that comes from such familiarity does not keep you from knowing that this is somewhere you do not belong. I was walking up and down the hallway; back then not every door needed to be closed; of course back then most of the people in the town I grew up in still did not lock their doors. I always figured leaving the doors unlocked was for two main reasons. The first is a sense of innocence and safety where you really did not feel the need. Secondly and probably the more important reason was all of your neighbours would probably be insulted that you felt the need to lock them out or they would think you had something to hide and want to find out what it was you were keeping from them. Regardless (for those of you who know me; note I purposefully did not use “Irregardless” as I normally would) No one locked their doors and we were not used to seeing doors closed over; so while I was walking up and down the hall of the emergency ward I could see into the areas where people were being treated. A woman wearing a blood pressure cuff; A man with an old ECG machine with little squeeze bubbles that resembled small old fashion bicycle horns instead of sticky pads; A young woman holding a pail trying not to get sick again (I remembering thinking flu? or pregnant?). The most interesting thing I saw that evening was taking place behind a curtain. I could not actually see what was going on but I could see the X-ray that was being displayed just outside of the curtain. It was of a man’s hand which was far from remarkable but this hand had a great big Cod Hook stuck in it. The hook glowed bright white on the old silver style film of the X-ray. It had taken hold of the man’s right hand so that the barb was pointed downward through the apple of thumb and given the universal shape of fish hook the eyelet was resting along his wrist. The pain the man was feeling must have been incredible. I remember thinking that this was going to scar him for life and might even disable his hand forever. It was only years later that I realized what that hook came to symbolize. The metaphor that has influenced me for so long… and what it foreshadowed a mere few hours before that evening. The reason I was in the Emergency room that afternoon and evening was not because I was ill, I was there with my father; he’d fallen ill a few years before and we’d often have to bring him to the emergency ward for help. So on August 30th, 1983 I was wandering the halls of the Emergency ward waiting to hear about my Dad… unfortunately for him it was not an uncommon occurrence, hence my familiarity with the place. My brother Bill was home visiting this time; something he did as often as he possibly could. It really was amazing that he was able to juggle his work; his family and his Visa Card to be able to make the 800 km trip every couple of weeks. This trip to the Emergency Unit was especially bad for our Dad. This was the sickest he’d ever been, for me it had been a constant decline that I’d seen in Dad, I was given the luxury of slowly growing to accept what was happening; not yet fully comprehending it but never the less I was seeing the day to day toll that all his ailments were having on him. Bill was seeing more drastic changes every time he’d come home, what I would have weeks to adjust to Bill would see in flashes. Sometime after 7PM I stood with Bill and he said he was afraid that Da was not going to make it through the night; this shocked me but did not seem real. Within minutes Dr. Hickey joined us… what he said then set the “Hook”. He told us that our Dad’s Kidneys had failed and that things had gone passed the point where they were going to be able to do much for him.... Our Dad was going to die, not tonight but this would be the last August 30th he would be around for. And he would not be coming home again, so the last day our Dad was home was Tuesday August 30th, 1983. After that his home became the hospital bed he was in. Dr. Hickey left Bill and I and we went in to visit with Da. I had thoughts moving through my mind so fast it hurt. The news from Dr. Hickey had set the Hook in both Bill & I… I had woke up feeling that it was a special day, my brother was home, it was going to be a special day, I was feeling Happy… Then we had to rush to the Hospital and it was no longer special or happy…and later after I had wandered the hallways and seen the X-ray of the hand with the Cod Hook through it, Bill & I had been given the terrible news about Da… the hook had been set. We went in to where Da was laying and he looked at me a said that this was not a very nice birthday present for me; at that point I felt the Hook, it dug in deep and was starting to rip; it had been one of the thoughts that had been going through my head causing the headache I had. I remember wanting to say to him that it was ok, that here would always be another birthday but it got lost somewhere and I told him it was ok and that it didn’t matter. I was feeling guilty because it did matter I’d been born on a Tuesday and today was a Tuesday, I had thought that having the Day of the week match on this birthday it would make for a unique day, my brother was home and my Dad had been home when I woke up that morning… I was not upset with Da I was upset with me for feeling cheated I felt guilty; it was as if fate had decided to pull a dirty one…but fate had betrayed my Dad with Dr. Hickey’s Statement, not me. I believe everyone’s pain is unique to them, you may go through similar things but they are never exactly the same; you can empathize to varying degrees but each person is unique, each situation is unique and the pain we feel is unique to us. I have met so many people who have had things so much worse than I have and I would never want to trivialize the pain they feel by comparing what I went through growing up to what they went through. People who have lost wives and husbands; People who have lost children; People who have lost Grand Kids; People who have witnessed friends being killed….all terrible, all things I cannot comprehend…Hooks that were set and ripped out leaving unique pain & unique scars For the man who had the Cod Hook removed; it had been painful; it had left a scar and his hand had never been the same again…he moved on but there are reminders when he looks at his hand. For Me when the Hook was removed it was painful; it scared; things are not the same as they were back then; I still miss my Dad… I am moving forward but there are reminders; I was born on Tuesday August 30th, 1966. On Tuesday August 30th, 1983-- I turned 17 and found out my Dad would not live to see my 18th birthday…the significance of what happened in 1983 floods back every August 30th and I have a hard time “Celebrating” Thirty years have gone by since then, things are better, still not ready to celebrate but putting this down in words and knowing 1 or 2 people might read it has been very cathartic. Maybe next year the balance will shift and I’ll insist on a cake. RobbieMacK
Posted on: Sat, 31 Aug 2013 08:37:32 +0000
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