Rooted, I used to think.

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Atonement - Thursday, Feb. 07, 2019

Wednesday, May. 22, 2013 @ 9:35 am

It rained yesterday, and I was in a foul mood. Poor Daniel.

OK, so lots going on over here.

Got an email from the company on Friday at 4pm (right before the long weekend) thanking me for coming in for the interview and saying that it was great to meet me and giving me an update on the hiring process. Weird. Never had a company email me after an interview except to either offer me a job or reject me. It's a really good sign.

While they were writing me this email, I was in a conference call with some people in Saskatoon regarding a project that needed some work done on it over the weekend. The design engineer hadn't been feeding me and the other designer any real information, so we were basically making up the design based on old projects. He wanted a whole bunch of changes made at 3pm on Friday, and, well, obviously we weren't going to have the drawings ready for 9am on Tuesday. However, he said, "They haven't completed the drawings in time because, well, they're WOMEN."


I raged inside. The rest of the conference call is a blur. Who says that? What decade is this?

Working in the mountains behind Pemberton, Bathurst Inlet... is all of that worth having to work with someone like THAT?

I'm not a wilting feminist flower. I lived and worked in a mining camp that was comprised of 800 chauvinist construction workers. I've sat in a trailer while dudes look at inappropriate material on the internet. Nothing, I mean NOTHING, compares to that being said in a professional context.

If ever there was a sign telling me what I should do, that was it.

And then it was the weekend, and I cycled my frustration out. Anger and rage draining through my pedals, tires, into 110 cumulative kilometers of asphalt.

Last night we went to see yet another newborn babe. Ten days old, skin raw and pink. The second baby is way more fun.

I get home, and for some reason I decide to do some research on my pyloric stenosis scar. The scar is sort of attached to an inner muscle layer - this is called adhesion and is very common with abdominal surgeries. There is a technique that they can use to release it, but I've never had the urge to correct it. It's a part of me that I forget about, like how you don't think about your belly button. You mean nobody else has a 6 inch scar down the middle of their abs? Weird. Lots of people asked about it in Cuba.

Anyhow, one thing leads to another, and then I'm reading horror stories about how adhesion scars can cause pain and tearing (what?!) during pregnancy. I mean, it makes total sense. You've got this scar sort of stapling your layers of your abdomen together, and then you stretch the whole area out beyond recognition, and if the layers don't allow slippage expansion and there's a flaw in the balloon, then... well... problems.

So, should I be looking at having this scar released now, while we're still a year or more away from actual discussions about family? Or do I just wait to let the doctors deal with it if it does cause a problem?

... and I just got an email from the company asking if I'm free for a phone call at lunch...

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