So yesterday morning at 8am, Holy Monday, I had the distinct privilege of going to Toronto Western Hospital for my first ever Botox treatment.
That’s right, you heard me; Botox!
Now up until this point I always thought Botox meant foreheads that didn’t crease and lips that were about seven times too big for a person’s face.
Little did I know that it is also used in mainstream medicine to relax overactive muscles. With Multiple Sclerosis, it’s my bladder muscle that’s often in overdrive making me feel like I need to pee all the time when I often don’t. Now I don’t know who figured this one out, and I’m not sure I want to find out, but someone discovered that injecting Botox into the inside of a bladder calms it down.
So at 5:30 AM yesterday morning, my nurse woke me and helped me get cleaned up and ready to go so that I could be ready for my 7 AM wheelchair cab to the hospital. Erinn met me there at 7:30.
Once they figured out that I couldn’t stand and change into a hospital gown nor climb up onto their cot, they decided it could still work by yanking me onto a gurney and wheeling me in to the special room that way.
Then when I got in there, the fun started. They pulled down my pants, catheterized me, injected me with freezing fluid, then covered me in a sheet and wheeled me back into the hallway to wait for 35 minutes for my bladder to freeze. Then they wheeled me back into the room and in came the doctors. They inserted this scope with a camera and retractable needle on it right inside me where the sun never shines.
I could see on a tv screen the inside of my bladder! Yes, that’s freaky. Then the doctor proceeded to inject (I’m tempted to say jab) me a dozen or so times in different parts of my bladder with Botox.
Then, before I knew it, I was back on my scooter, drinking a booster juice, in a cab and on my way back to the hospital I’m staying in.
Because of the injections, my bladder was bleeding. So the first few times I went to the bathroom I was passing blood. Fun.
That’s how Holy Monday started for me.
I was feeling kinda tired from all the activity. And kinda low. But thankfully I was reminded yet again of the road Jesus took to the cross during ‘Holy Week’. It was hard for Him. Brutally hard. He felt rejected. He asked God why He had forsaken Him.
I get that.
Richard Rohr then reminded me that the cross can’t be something you choose and then share on Facebook in order to be a cool Christian.
The cross is brutally painful.
I guess I get that.
I guess I’m getting Holy Week.
Plus I can now say I’ve had Botox. That’s something right?