Starting out, I have to admit I am a basket case when someone is badly injured or wounded and the blood is flowing. In particular, if it’s someone I know, or, worse yet, close to me, I’m on the verge of fainting. I am completely in awe of doctors and nurses who are involved in such matters on a daily basis and sometimes for hours on end. Just writing about the prospect gets me dizzy.
It follows, therefore, that for the births in Canada of my children, Luana and Tony, from my first wife, Dorothy many years ago, I let the doctor know very early that I would definitely not be present at the delivery. I would be there in the waiting-room, but any attempt to persuade me to enter the delivery room would be a waste of time.
I was positive that at the first sign of pain or bleeding
