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ablation
it without force. I watch the
operation in my head; I feel
lighter. I tell myself they took
out everything including the
tough part that contained
cancer. I feel reassured. I did
not think I was sick at any
point in time. A friend told
me to undergo the procedure
done by robots. It seemed
popular in America. I thought
about it; a robot is controlled
by human hand. It becomes
an extension of the human.
I preferred Professor J.F.’s
hands to do the job. The
robot is just a technique used
to impress the patient and
to gain more money for the
clinic.
Then came the day that I
had been warned about: the
day when they take out my
catheter. This could only be
painful. I imagined this thing
passing through my urethra
but this time in the opposite
direction. It was important
that I didn’t tense up. I was
afraid that I would not be
able to piss anymore, or on
the contrary, to not be able
to hold my bladder. In fact,
things seemed pretty simple.
Professor J.F. prescribed me
anticoagulants and told me to
keep my compression socks.
They took out my catheter. I
pissed blood. I felt bad. That’s
all.
After about a week, I left the
hospital. Professor J.F. warned
me that I was going to have
some moments of depression.
I thought back to what they
call “secondary benefits” of
disease. I was going to profit
from my condition in order
to spoil myself. I would be
surrounded by friends. My
kids and my granddaughter
were worried, but I reassured
them.