August 13th is the anniversary date of the accident that put me through many surgeries, many months of home care and physical therapy. It was a year ago, sometime around 1 pm, that I was returning back from an unsuccessful attempt to find an open barbershop on a hot Florida Sunday when I realized that I was no longer on my motorcycle but rather laying on my back on the even hotter Florida asphalt. I, in disbelief of what just happened, was thinking that I could get up and go home as I felt no pain but when the medic started to cut my jeans I knew I wasn't going home that day. Since that moment on, I had been looking forward to August 13th, 2007 as the day I would be free of hospital beds, nurses, bedside commodes, wheelchairs and walkers; a day when I can shower, without assistance, and go up and down the stairs, without pain. But, still, this wasn't the reason I couldn't sleep.
The real reason for my restless night was the fact that Monday, August 13th 2007 was the day Dr. Galen Jones scheduled Aylin for an Amniocentesis procedure. Amniocentesis is a medical procedure used for prenatal diagnosis in which a small amount of amniotic fluid is extracted from the amnion. Let me explain this. It is a pretty barbaric invasion of the fetus' domain where a large, unfriendly syringe is forced through the mother's abdominal wall to obtain a small amount of amniotic fluid which contains fetal cells -- traces of the skin and other cells that have sloughed off the fetus during its growth. By analyzing these fetal cells the genetic health and sex of the baby can be determined.
So there I was on Sunday night, thinking about Aylin who is going to have a large metal object inserted into her abdomen to suck the juice that our child relies upon for survival. All night I was thinking how we ever volunteered for this? Oh, yeah, we've been informed that it is almost mandatory for couples over 35 to test for any genetic abnormalities, or diseases. Here comes a panic attack. Oh! the possibilities. What if our child has??? What if some complications occur??? Oh no, I can't even think it. I have to put a stop to this before the synapses in my brain complete their task and formulate the thought. "Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day....Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day....Margaret Thatcher...."
And, that is how I spent most of the time between 2 am and 8:30 am on Monday, August 13th 2007. Awake, tossing and turning, imagining a shriveled, naked, ex-prime minister of England on a cold November London rain.
