When asked if I had ever had surgery, I remembered a significant experience from my time as a living aid for a remarkable woman. She was an older, intelligent lady with a degree in literature, living in a beautiful house in Sun City. She struggled with obesity and diabetes and eventually decided to undergo stomach surgery to manage her weight.

After the surgery, one day, she ran to the bathroom and screamed. I rushed to her aid and found that she had urinated on the floor because her bladder had fallen. In my haste, I slipped on the wet floor and suffered an intake fracture, the small bone that connects the hip and leg. This incident led to me having rods and plates implanted, requiring almost a year of recovery with a walker.

Despite the pain and lengthy recovery, I was fortunate to have an excellent surgeon at a private hospital, who even covered part of my medical bill. It was a challenging yet profound experience that marked the only major surgery I’ve had since I was 18, aside from a couple of hernia repairs.