The Wait.

The final test was to be performed in Vancouver General Hospital.  The newest piece of technology had arrived some 6 months before and was what we now commonly refer to as the C.A.T. scan.  It was first generation with relative grainy pictures that scanned my brain in slivers revealing any anomaly that may present itself to the trained radiologist.
I was hooked up to yet another I.V. while contrast dye coursed through my arteries to make them more clear on the scan.
After the test was completed, my parents drove me back to Victoria, Royal Jubilee hospital, a ferry ride away.
I had a slight reaction to the contrast dye and my joints began to ache,  I am not sure if this was a drug reaction or simply anxiety and frustration from 2 weeks of being poked and prodded.  My left arm looked like the arm of an addicted I.V. user, with tracks from where they had either taken blood from or had added I.V.'s too.
All I know was I was in discomfort.  As a result of this Dr. Cameron had advised the staff to keep me comfortable so that my blood pressure did not spike. 
I was given a sedative, however the pain did not abate to a shot of Demerol was administered.
Now the cocktail seemed to have worked too well. Back then, you could smoke in your room.  Due to the drugs, the nurses took mine away from me.
I went to sleep but suddenly I awoke in a panic.  I had hallucinated that I had dropped my lit smoke.  The nurse hearing the commotion came into the room and asked me what I was doing?  I explained and she said she had taken them away from me earlier.
I went back to sleep but again awoke when I thought I had fallen out of the bed.  I opened my eyes slowly and saw that the side rail of the bed was indeed up.  Logic then kicked in and I decided that maybe I fell out of the other side of the bed.
Rolling over I saw that the side rail was also up.  It was at this point that I decided, to stay awake and stare at the ceiling until I came down from this drug cocktail high that I was on.

With the tests all but over, it was now up to Dr. Cameron to decide when and where the operation would take place.  His concern was the technology in Victoria was not as advanced as it was back east in Toronto or Montreal and he felt I would have a greater outcome going there.
He then determined that chances were, I would not survive the flight as it may have an adverse affect on my blood pressure and determined that December 05, 1977 would be the day he would personally try to save my life.