On the second last day of my trip in Costa Rica, I was coming down the mountain and went over on my ankle. The ankle that I had surgery on only a year and a half earlier. The ankle that I had been so careful with and the last joint in my body I wanted to injure. Only an hour earlier, I had had neural therapy on both of my ankles and my knee to break down the scar tissue. It's a natural injection made up of caffeine and dopamine (or something similar) that basically helps break down scar tissue and reactivate nervous tissue. When you have surgery, you can lose the sensation of your skin where the scar is - so that part of your skin doesn't feel like it's a part of your body. Neural Therapy helps treat that - it's like restarting your computer when it stops working - this just resets your nerves. All natural, no known side effects. The only risk would have been from the needle the doctor used.
I was in an ecovillage that was started by a German doctor and a few other doctors also lived there. He was a pioneer of Neural Therapy back in Germany and then moved to Costa Rica about 20 years prior. He had been operating a small natural remedies clinic for 20 years from the village. It was impeccably clean and well-run. People from all over the world came to see the doctor who had treated cancer patients and extended their lives with similar treatments. I was only getting scar tissue removed. What I didn't realize is that the first surgery on my ankle had failed and the only thing that was still holding it in place, was scar tissue. Getting rid of it meant that my ankle was incredibly unstable.
So, in immense pain, I was given a ride down the hill, and then hobbled the rest of the trip back to the UK and then back to Canada. I went to see my knee surgeon (family friend) who recommended another ankle surgeon and set up an appointment the next morning. After a quick examination, the ankle surgeon set me up with immediate surgery as the only option - he had opening in 48 hours and could take me in. He would need to take a ligament from my hamstring and harvest it as the ligament for my ankle. Cool, yet scary. Since I hated being put under, my only option was to have a spinal freeze. More dangerous but a much better recovery.
It was suggested that I go see Walter before the surgery as I wouldn't be able to travel afterwards. I wasn't in the best of moods and my mind was on the surgery, but I didn't disagree. I did want to see him - he would've made my world a little bit better. We had been discussing rings via email/skype and I knew that he had purchased one. I knew that he was planning to propose relatively soon because my mom had accidentally told me about the Indian engagement that was planned for the beginning of November.
My trip to Halifax was very quick - I went from the hospital to pack my bag and off to the airport and was set to return the next evening, less than 12 hours before I would be operated on. Walter's parents, brother and niece were also visiting him in Halifax so it was a good time for me to see everyone.
The first thing we did was pick up my apartment keys. Walter had been amazing with the move and while I wrote my thesis, he viewed and found me an apartment. It was within budget and super close to his place (where we figured I'd spend most of my time anyway). The move had been so easy and I was so thankful for all of his help! He had met my superintendent and so picking up the keys was easy. As soon as I got them, I was very excited...
"A mail key," I exclaimed, " I have mail!!"
"You might have mail," he replied.
"Really? Might? I have been forwarding my mail for the last month - surely there is something, even if it's junk mail!", I retorted.
"But, you haven't checked yet, so how do you know for certain that you have mail?", he explained.
"Of course. Let's move on," I said, slightly annoyed. Thanks for bursting that bubble for me.
The afternoon progressed and he saw my vacuum cleaner.
"Did you test the theory?", I asked, referring to an earlier Skype conversation. He preferred Swiffer on his floors while I preferred a vacuum. He didn't think that a vacuum worked just as well (if not better) and so had to test this theory on his own (rather than just taking my word for it). Fair deal, and I was curious to see if he'd tested it.
"No, I haven't had a chance," he replied.
Being a bit cheeky, I continued "well, I still think that Vacuum trumps Swiffer," with a smile.
"Maybe, we'll have to see," he said.
"Those sheets just fill up landfills and don't pick up as much dust," I regrettably continued, jokingly.
"Well... ... you get noise pollution from vacuums," he replied very seriously.
Clearly this was not a joking matter, so I digressed from the conversation. "Let's not talk about this," I said. Knowing that I only had 24 hours with him, the last thing I wanted to do was have a meaningless fight.
We went back to his place, met up with his family and went to dinner. He told me that he had been to Marks Work Warehouse with his parents and picked up some new clothes. He was very excited. Remembering his Lululemon comment, I decided to poke a little fun and say "well, if I were to take you shopping, it's not where I'd take you". Clearly, it was not taken very well, because I had to repeat the statement three times, each time increasing the emphasis on "I" and making it sound even more joking/sarcastic than before. No dice. He figured that it was off limits because if he wasn't allowed to joke about my clothing choice, I shouldn't be allowed to joke about his. Since when had he been joking about my lulu's? He persisted and said "well, if I were to take you shopping, I wouldn't take you to Lulu!". Okay - fair enough... whatever, 'let's not talk about this', I said, dropping the subject.
We went for a long walk after dropping off his parents. He seemed upset and clearly wanted to talk. And, we did. He told me that he had concerns - that he felt that when I said "let's not talk about this", it meant that I didn't want to hear what he had to say. He felt that I wasn't listening to him and didn't want to hear his opinion. I explained that I had a limited time to spend with him and I didn't want to have meaningless arguments. My mind was clearly elsewhere as I was quiet for most of the conversation. I didn't have much to say and wanted to hear him out before I responded.
The next morning, we went to find a few things from the boxes in my apartment. We ended up having a long conversation, where he continued to discuss his concerns. He felt that I didn't want to listen to him (still referring to the 'let's not talk about this' comment) and that we were not communicating well. My concern was that he couldn't take anything as a joke or understand that everyone has faults. My faults had clearly been pointed out but although he claimed to look at his own, he didn't actually see that he had any. Even if we left the major things out, he couldn't see the small things, either. For me, the quickest way to confirm (or refute) my theory was to ask one question. Surely, someone who has grown up in Canada and has great friends would realize if his wardrobe (filled with old-man clothes) is 'cool' or not? (I didn't actually care if it was or wasn't, I just wanted to see what his self-perception was). So, with my head preoccupied about the surgery and not really wanting to have in-depth discussions about anything, I put my theory to the test.
"You know, Walter, I'm sorry if you feel that way. I have tried to explain that your interpretation is incorrect. I love hearing what you have to say and am always up for a discussion. I just didn't want to have big discussions about little things that don't really matter. But I do need to know the answer to something. Do you think your wardrobe is cool?"
Just as I suspected, he answered "Yes," not understanding why I asked him that most random question.
I knew from his answer that he clearly couldn't see any faults with what he did or how he thought. Nobody had really challenged him up until that point and I don't think he took kindly to it. We had a lot to talk about and I was confident that we'd sort things out and move forward and grow together. I didn't have all of the answers and I knew he didn't either. But, together, we would sort it out. We had made a commitment to each other, and we'd had minor disagreements like this before, so we'd definitely sort through these ones.
As we bid adieu at the airport, he was quiet. I knew we had things to talk about. I told him that we'd work it out and sort things out but for now I needed to focus on my surgery and recovery. He agreed. We were both quiet as we had one long final hug before I got on the plane and flew home. We'd work it out...
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