May 23, 2013

It’s 10am, Thursday, May 23, and it feels as if it’s about 2pm.  I got up at 5:30 to drive to the Kelowna airport to pick up Barbara who is having a nap now because she woke at 4am in Calgary in order to catch a plan here at 6am Mountain time.  I bought a Tim Horton’s coffee in the airport to drink while I waited for her plane to arrive and then had more coffee and breakfast with her once we got home.  The caffeine combined with the excitement of seeing Barb and sharing some stories has me too wired to sleep even though it’s a grey day, perfect for an afternoon nap, but then it is only 10am.

The cedars, roses, irises and new plum and hazelnut trees in the garden are sucking up the heavy rains we’ve had over the last 2 days.  I’m happy for that, but wish the weather were better for showing Barb the countryside.

I think that I’m leveling off after ‘the thrill of the new’ when it comes to living in Vernon.  The twice lately that I’ve come back after being away, I’ve felt at home, but also a tad flat.  I’m used to living alone in my little home, but now I face the continuation of this life without the stimulation of adjusting to change and novelty.  In my continuing discovery of myself, I’m increasingly realizing that I’m more of a sprinter than a distance runner.  I’m fast out of the gate but not good in the long stretch.  Or maybe it’s just that the wee routine I had developed was broken by about 6 weeks away, and if I get back to it I will feel less restless.  I’ve seen my good buddies, Mo and John and gone on a couple of hikes since I’ve been back, and I’ve finally got back to classes with a couple of my Korean students again.  Yesterday, I went to the Rec. Centre to meet Lucia for the first time in weeks.  The swimming was really good for my arm.  I’ve been doing the physiotherapy religiously morning and evening to keep the right shoulder from freezing, but until the axillary nerve grows back, which I hope it will, I have no deltoid muscle so I can’t lift the arm at all by itself.  However, in the water I was able to do the breaststroke and a back- stroke that I made up to accommodate my gimpy arm.   I did them with no real strength but well enough to complete some slow lengths.  This swimming combined with a sauna and steam bath made me feel much better than I had when I dragged myself out of bed at 7 and forced myself to drive to the Rec. Centre.  Lucia and I always go to Starbucks for coffee and a chat/ language class afterwards.  By the end of all that, I was in top shape.  I think I’m becoming a coffaholic.  Now I have Barb visiting for a few days.  How much stimulation do I need?

Jay sent me this picture.  He added the comment, "Let's hope mid September is not peak season."

Eunjung, when she was over for dinner on Wednesday, using the magnetic words that Barb and Terry gave me to write comments on Jay's picture on my fridge.

An early poppy in my garden

Sharing the first gin and tonic of the season with Mo on her deck.

A wedding, 2 drives and a theft

Forgive me friends for I haven’t written; it’s 13 days since my last blog.  As a long lapsed member of the United Church of Canada, I have never had to worry about confessions, but it seems like a long time since I last sat down to write, and that expression popped out of some movie memory and onto the page.  This is the day that dad goes home from the hospital.  I haven’t phoned yet to see how they’re doing; I will wait until I think they’re settled in their chairs about to watch the news on tv, with a shared Presbyterian beer and some celery with Imperial cheese before I call.  I know that then they’ll be close to a phone so neither one will have to rush to answer and risk falling in the attempt.

I’m back in Vernon after spending a week in Calgary with Jo, going to Devlin Steers’ wedding and traveling in the Rockies with Barb and Faye.  I return to the blogosphere on the same day as Chris Hadfield re-enters the atmosphere.  I heard on tv last night that one of the adjustments that he will have to make is to the fact that you can’t just let go of things here on earth and have them float around near by waiting for you to pick them up again.  Things fall on earth.  We in Vernon were made aware of that this Friday when a flying car called Maverick, with an aircraft engine and fabric wing, crashed in a school playing field.  No one was seriously hurt, but the story must have legs because Linda Sanborn heard about it in Ottawa. 

I had a really good visit with Jo.  Our opinions on many subjects are different, but we’ve known each other since grade 8 and value our friendship more than our positions on matters of politics and economics, so when we approach a wall, we get off our hobby horses and walk down another path that’s less contentious. 

I’m very happy that I ‘held the date’ for Katherine and Devlin’s wedding.  It seems like ages since I was first asked to do that, so that by the time I walked into The Ranchman’s Club in Calgary for the reception on Saturday night and ran into Barbara, I was reminded of the poem, ‘The Titanic’, by E. J. Pratt, in which he details the long forming of the iceberg and making of the ship leading up to their fateful collision.  Every aspect of the wedding was the successful result of careful preparation, love and attention to detail.  The weather was even perfect for the outdoor ceremony.  It continued to be so for the four days that Barbara, Faye and I drove around Banff, Lake Louise and Jasper.   We had a great time together.  Driving them to the Calgary airport was fine, but if we had been about 20 minutes later, we would have been stuck in traffic.  As I drove back to Jo’s, there were very few cars going in my direction, but those heading to the airport were at a complete standstill for kilometers.

I drove home, again in fine weather, on Friday.  I’m happy to be back, unpacked and not having to drive for a while.  I went to tea with Mo and her mom on Saturday and on a Mothers’ Day hike with the VOC where I saw Mo and John and my other friends.  Later that day, I had a good Skype with Jay.    The only down side of my return has been the discovery that Ron Noganosh’s copper shield in the form of a screaming face with rear view mirror eyes that I had hung in the open porch in the front of the house had been stolen.  I loved it and was a fool to put it where I did.  I didn’t think it would be stolen.  I just didn’t think.  Too late, I realized that it was made of copper and probably stolen because of that.  I went to the RCMP this morning to report it.  A lovely young officer took careful notes, and I’m sure he’ll do his best, but I don’t have much hope of ever getting it back.   

Devlin and Katherine

Barbara and Faye in the Rockies

Where the glacier at the Columbia Icefield was when I was 2 compared to where it is now, in the distance.

The scene Barb, Faye and I contemplated as we had our evening drink on the balcony of our hotel room in Banff

A rental van in a parking lot in Banff.  On the back was painted, " Life is like a bowl of soup; you only get blown if you're hot."

Mo's mum, me and Mo having tea

The first hike of my return from Victoria with the VOC, overlooking Lake Okanagan

Me on the Mothers' Day hike up Sugarloaf

The Hat Trick

I’ve been back in Vernon for a week.  The little house was well taken care of by Mo and Priscilla, and Donna had collected a big bag of ‘Morning Stars’ that went immediately into the recycle and mail that was mostly junk.  I drove to Kelowna on Tuesday morning to have the car summarized at the Mazda dealership there and then have lunch and a good visit with Bert and Peggy.  Wednesday I went to see the neurologist, a serious young man who spent a long time looking at ultra sound images of my right shoulder and arm.  I could actually see the white line of the nerve, where there was a nerve, not as exciting as making out the dim image of the child in your womb, but technically impressive none-the-less.  I liked him because he was thorough and admitted to not having all the answers.  In fact he had no answers, so we will wait and I will see him again in a month.  Aside from continuing to do the exercises that the physiotherapist gave me to keep the arm from freezing while I wait for up to 6 months for the nerve to repair itself, he mentioned that there is a surgeon in Vancouver who does an operation to repair the axillary nerve.  HOWEVER, he uses a nerve from the foot.  That gave me pause.  If I’m going to have to make a choice among my limbs, I think I would prefer to have 2 legs and 1 arm rather than 2 arms and 1 foot.

I hope that I wakened this morning, Wednesday, May 1, workers’ day, to a fresh start.  It’s sunny, and I’ve been for a walk on the Grey Canal with Marie, so perhaps my hat trick of difficulties is behind me.  On Monday, March 11, I dislocated my right shoulder, on Sunday, March 24, dad fell and broke his hip and yesterday I succumbed to a scam.  I made the mistake of turning on the computer before I’d washed my face and had coffee and breakfast.  When I tried to unpack my e-mails, I couldn’t.  A glitch that had been in my system for about 2 years, that I had always overridden, seemed to have finally bucked me off.  I couldn’t open my G-mail account.  I panicked.  It’s my lifeline to friends and relatives.  I googled Google tech support, found the name of a company on contract to them, phoned that company, in India of course, and began to discuss my dilemma with a salesman whose day I must have made.  Not having thought about the situation, let alone discussed it with anyone, I was vulnerable and took this guy to be my friendly helper, when, nice as he may have been, he was a salesman.  He had a service I needed, reconnect my g-mail account, as well as products, Spyware and Malware and god knows what otherware, I didn’t.  After listening to more of his pitch than I should have, I paid $300.00 dollars for the Full Monty.  AND I did it all on my Mastercard.  As soon as the money changed hands, he and then other technicians in India began moving the cursor of my laptop around for hours.  It’s spookier than watching the 3 cornered stool move on a Ouiji Board.  It took a long time because I had never fully erased any of my e-mails; there were almost 8,000 of them to put back up.  As soon as that was over and the mystery ware installed or not, I took my laptop to the local Mac store and found out for free how to really delete.  I probably should have gone to them in the first place.  Now I have the cleanest in box in Canada.  Can that be taken a few ways?  

I felt fine for a while, and then I began to wonder about the Mastercard information that I had so thoughtlessly divulged to ‘whomever’.  Just about that time I went on Skype to talk with Jay.  He began by telling me about a weird e-mail he had received in my name.  That reminded me that the salesman had mentioned Jay’s hotmail account at one point, thinking it was a second account of mine.  PANIC!  Jay thought that I should cancel my Mastercard, and I agreed.  Then we decided that I should look into my web banking, even though he had heard somewhere that TD Easy Web was very secure.  After a bit more serious discussion, Jay suggested that I not send money to any young person who phones or e-mails me saying that he/she is somehow related to me and is stranded in the Congo.  I laughed and laughed and felt more grounded than I had all day.  We ended our Skype a bit earlier than usual so that I could call Mastercard and TD, but I felt I’d come through relatively unharmed.  Losing $300.00 and waiting a week for a new Mastercard doesn’t hurt as much as a dislocation, and I’ve learned to be more wary of scams, I hope, to say nothing of how to really delete e-mails.  And my g-mail account no longer has the irritating message popping up every time I open it. 

One thing about living alone after having been married for almost 40 years with someone with whom you could share ideas, even if you didn’t always agree, is that you aren’t able to express yourself in words before you act, and that can be dangerous.  I often think best in dialogue.  As I discussed this with Mo last night on the phone, she assured me that I could phone her any time about such things.  In future I will stick to Jim’s rule about not doing anything business-like when you’re tired and I will talk with Jay, Mo or some sane friend or relative before I give out all my Mastercard information.

The main street of Vernon on the first hot summer day.  It's cooler now.

The VOC on the last Sunday hike on East Vernon Hills.  The snow-covered Monashees are in the distance

A view over Vernon of Terrace Mountain, taken from the Black Rock

A view of Incheon that Jay got while hiking near where he lives.  We took these pictures at almost the same time.  The season and blossoms are similar, but the cities are very different

Leaving Victoria

9:45am, Monday, April 22, 2013.  It’s a brilliantly blue morning in Victoria, and I’m in the Schwartz Bay ferry terminal waiting for the 11:00am ferry.  I thought that I would arrive in time for the 9 o’clock sailing, but I just missed it.  They stopped the boarding at the car in front of me, a Mini Cooper S whose driver, a cute young woman who looked as if she hadn’t been denied much in life, was some irritated.  I got out of the car and approached hers to ask if she knew when the next ferry would leave, and she pouted, “11 and I’ve got such a small car.”  I had taken 2 pillows to mom’s, so I pushed back the seat and rested on them for about 20 min., but the thought of coffee wouldn’t leave my mind, so I rose and wafted into the terminal café for a Starbucks kick in the butt.  I’m a certified caffeine addict now.  Mom’s breakfast every day is a bowl of very healthy cereal, a mix of 4 unsweetened wheat, bran and oat cereals with some fruit or raisins and a cup of tea.  It’s ‘good and good for you’, as she says, but so unrelenting.  While I was with her I learned of every location within a reasonable radius of the hospital and their place that served good coffee.  One of the best was Barbara and Terry’s; they have an excellent hazelnut coffee that I would recommend to anyone visiting Vic. West.  They also make a savory Spanish garlic soup.  When I joined them for lunch one day after about 10 days at mom and dad’s where garlic is strictly banned, I found it hard to resist lifting the bowl and pouring its contents down my throat in one long gulp.  Mom didn’t weaken where garlic was concerned.  She has eaten and enjoyed it in small doses at times, but dad can’t bear it and she seemed to be enforcing his edicts even more strictly in his absence than she usually does when he’s there.  They both have enjoyed coffee in their day; however, and she readily joined me for a coffee when we went for lunch at the hospital.  She even learned to appreciate an Americano, my cup of choice at the moment.

The other day, I thought of Jay’s story of Mark Van de Vyvere saying, “Oh my shattered nerves.”  Jay was delighted to hear such a big man utter a phrase that is usually associated with delicate ladies.  It came to my mind when mom suggested that we go for a drive in her car so she could make sure it was still running before I left.  Of course it had to be done, but I had been hoping that she would forget about doing it, find out it didn’t work after I had left and take taxis to visit dad.  No such luck.  She may wheeze a bit after rushing or walking too far and wave her cane in a dangerous and dismissive way when she’s angry.  Her face might cloud over instantly in a mask of anger when crossed or misery when the pain of neuralgia overwhelms her, but her will too carry on with dad is never to be denied.  And for that to happen, she must drive the car.  So we did.  I was happy to see she had a cushion to sit on, so she does see over the dash.  And aside from swinging left before turning right, going through one red light and almost creasing a parked car, she actually drove quite well.  I think she will be better when she’s alone because my presence made her nervous and she also wanted to show me a good time by pointing out interesting things along the route which I was too frozen with fear to be able to turn my head and appreciate.  She parked the car at Willows Beach, and we had a good walk along the shore.  She actually enjoyed letting the wind blow through her hair.  She usually walks with a hood up or a horrible plastic rain hat on because wind either threatens her ‘do’ or makes her neuralgia hurt.  We ended the trial run with a lunch at the Marina Coffee Shop.  It was a complete success.  I hope all goes as well for her now that she begins her solo drives to the hospital.

The rumble of the ferry’s engines and the mumbling of passengers’ voices surround me as I write these final words.  It’s a glorious day to be on the ferry, blue, windy and warm.

I spent the first hour walking around the decks taking pictures and thinking about all the times I’ve taken this ride to and from Victoria.  It’s a drag if you miss the sailing and it adds hours to the trip, but whether the weather is fine or not, it’s always invigorating to walk along the decks and look out over the water and to sometimes see the ghostly snow capped mountains in the distance and the islands and boats that pass.  As I watched the wake bubble up between the island and me, the overwhelming sadness of leaving mom and dad to the difficulties they face combined in equal parts with the fresh air and clarity of the sea and the freedom of leaving.  I took deep breaths and tears filled my eyes, as they do now.   

I will end with the image of mom that stayed with me as I drove back to Vernon.  I got up early to leave for the 9am ferry.  I had all my stuff in the car and was returning to say goodbye to her.  I opened the door to see her careening around the corner from her bedroom, hair disheveled and wearing nothing but her fine wool bloomers and matching wife beater, her frail limbs akimbo.  She looked so cute.  The same cuteness that often infuriates me melted me this time.  She was upset that she had wakened late and was now rushing to help me with my last things.  I waited for her to put on her laundry day clothes and we shared a final glass of orange juice.  Then she came out to the car with me to see that the little Mazda really does have ‘inner bigness’.   We had a parting hug, and I left with a touching image of her that erased the memories of past anger, for a while. 

Barbara and Terry in front of their house, dressed for spring and her birthday

Burke Boyce struggling to roll over for the first time

Great grandma and grandpa Boyce in his room in the hospital where he is struggling just as hard to get back on his feet

Part of the view from mom and dad's balcony at sunset.  I did my physio on there every morning and evening.  There were 2 bald eagles who often perched at the top of the big cedar in the background.

Snow covered Mount Baker in the distance as seen from the ferry to Vancouver

Me looking windblown in the mirror window at the bow of the ferry.

Good news

Dad is so much better that this morning he wheeled over to the sunroom on his floor and called mom from the phone there.  She squealed with joy when she heard his voice.  What a pair!   The next call was for me from the occupational therapist.  Yesterday I had asked to talk with someone about the procedures the hospital has for the release of patients like my dad, so I was pleased to get such a quick response.  Mom, always alert to everything in her ken, surreptitiously listened to my every word.  The woman said that they have a comprehensive discharge system that includes looking at the place the patient will be returning to and making sure it is suitable.  Am I glad to hear that!  Dad’s room is a rabbit warren of clutter and jerry rigged stuff.  He’s had both his falls there because he can’t get the walker into the cramped corner where the television is and where they each have a comfy chair, footstool and tv. table, not to mention magazine rack and book shelf with a complicated light system that involves dangerous old cords wedged behind books and around a pipe rack full of pipes dad hasn’t smoked in two or three decades.  I’m afraid to touch anything in the house because it’s all in such a state of decrepitude it could crumble at any minute.  I just hope I make it out on Monday without having ruined one of the many old things on which they depend but which are as fragile as mom and dad are frail.  The occupational therapist asked me about mom’s health because dad always says he has his wife at home and that they can get along quite well alone, but the staff have noticed that mom is quite tiny and stooped and wondered if she would be up to it.  In the politest way possible, I told her that mom is small but a powerhouse.  This isn’t entirely true; she tires easily now but her will is still up to anything, and I certainly don’t have the courage to raise her ire by suggesting within her hearing to anyone at the hospital that she might not be up to managing the apartment with dad.  ‘The Force’ is still with her, and she can move material objects with one of her looks.  She can make me leave the scene with a pained glance and a waft of the hand.  I didn’t have much to tell her after the call because my half of the talking had pretty well painted the picture.  After years of reaching conclusions based on the bare minimum of information, she knew what was up and was pleased.  Whew!!!!!  Dad’s release is not imminent, but mine is.

I called Dr. Inkpen’s office ( Mac isn’t happy with that word, but that’s his name) yesterday and got an appointment for next Wednesday.  I’m happy about that for 3 reasons:  a) my shoulder is making no progress, and even though the physio. said that the nerve could take as long as 5 months to recover, it’s hard to keep up the exercises with no results, so I’m ready for a second opinion.  

                b) I have a legitimate reason to leave mom and dad to do what they must, make their own decisions about their future.  I was so desperate not to get involved that I was willing to say I had an appointment even if I didn’t.

    c) Mom and I will not be able to keep our fragile truce for much longer.  I’m overjoyed to hear that things are carrying on in Korea as they have for 60 years, but mom and I aren’t capable of that. 

Time in Victoria

So much for my vaunted calm, mom and I have already had another screaming argument.  It’s easier to be patient with strangers than with your mother who’s every move and word elicits a conditioned reflex that probably had its source in the womb.  Mom is capable of sitting in her plaid flannel pajamas on the stool of her vanity that has functioned as her desk for the last 25 years looking over papers and cards that have come in the mail for I don’t know how long, and I don’t intend to find out.  I walk into her room and suggest that we set a time for when we will leave.  It can’t be less than 45 minutes because it takes her more than that to prepare for the day, dress and put her face on, as she calls it.  I then go back to dad’s room, get ready to go and vent my frustrations on this laptop.  Yoga breathing just doesn’t do it; I’d hyperventilate before she finally hung her cane on the front door, so as not to forget it, as she frequently does, and sat down to put her boots on.  At 66, kids tire you out with their unstoppable activity and older people wear you down with their unbearable immobility.  The former make you feel old and the latter make you realize that you almost are, so you’d better get moving because time is and soon you won’t be able to.

Enough!  The sun just burst into the room.  It was really cool and rainy all yesterday and today started in the same way, but perhaps it will stay bright and I will walk by the ocean after mom and I shop for groceries, I drop her off at the hospital and come back to unpack and prepare dinner.  I have to say that when mom isn’t worrying bones to no purpose, she is spunky.  This morning as I was doing my physiotherapy exercises on the balcony, she arrived lugging a pail half full of water for the plants.  I helped her and then she started worrying again about how I was going to carry all the heavy groceries into the apartment.  I had to remind her that I am 25 years younger; she almost seemed surprised by the fact.  Ever since the time about 30 years ago when she returned from a trip somewhere south with a bikini for Cathy, Bill’s wife and I grant you about 5 years younger than I, and a bathing suit for me that was the same in everything but color as the one she had bought for herself, I’ve suspected that she’s slotted me into an age bracket so similar to hers that it’s hardly worth noting.  Enough!  For sure this time.

Dad has had a bit of real luck.  The people at the hospital have decided that rather than send him directly to the Aberdeen Rehab. Unit, they will keep him where he is, only moving him from the recovery to the rehab section of floor 6.  Now he’s in a room with a nice man named Steve, and he will be getting really good physio.  The exercise room that they have would be the envy of any health club.  He seems to be in better health and spirits every day but still worried about his ability to ever get moving.  He was nervous about going to the Aberdeen, but he may not have to.  As mom says, he didn’t walk well before the fall, so if he can just get back to that point, they can continue as they were for a while longer, or forever, in their apartment.

It’s one of those, ‘wait 5 minutes,’ days in Victoria today.  I’ve just returned from a walk along the shore that included: blue sky, sun, rain, wind, hail and merely grey.  Now I hear hail again tapping lightly on the window as I type.

A heron walking along the shore at low tide this afternoon

The Oak Bay Beach Hotel across the street from mom and dad's

It’s April 8, Jim’s birthday, the third anniversary of his funeral and still he’s helping me with my difficult family relationships.  He was the one who kept me in touch with mom and dad by suggesting and largely organizing their visits to us in Mexico and for 2 weeks each summer for years.  Even within those 2 weeks, he would plan a 2 or 3-day road trip to Montreal or Stowe or some other nearby place of interest.  Today, he seems to have influenced our lives even from the urn. 

Dad seemed to be in pretty good shape yesterday, so mom was in good spirits last night and this morning we enjoyed our breakfast and talked a bit of Jim.  Then she went off, pushing dad’s walker, piled with dirty clothes in an ancient crumbling plastic basket tied on with a shoe lace that saw many years service on a runner before it was taken by my dad from his drawer of old things too good to throw out and attached to that walker for that purpose, to do the ritual 8am Mon. morning laundry.  I took advantage of this blessed moment of action over worry to drive to Canadian Tire to buy and have installed 2 new windshield wipers.  I picked up a few groceries and returned home to find mom in the laundry room folding underwear, her face a mask of misery.  When she saw me, she burst into tears.  I got her back to the apartment and sitting down.  When she stopped sobbing, she explained that a nurse had phoned to say that as dad wasn’t doing well there would have to be a meeting about his case and that they were considering sending him to the Aberdeen Centre.  Mom knew nothing about that place and assumed the worst. 

She told the nurse that she couldn’t talk about it and said she would be at the hospital every day between 11 and 7.  She sobbed that she couldn’t take it any more and that ‘they’ weren’t taking very good care of dad, etc.  And this is where Jim came in, or rather I pulled him in.  I began to talk about a few moments that he and I had lived through as we were slowly coming to terms with his cancer.  Mom actually listened without accusing me of being on ‘their’ side.  She calmed down, and we talked.  Then she got dressed and made up and invited me out to lunch at Kate’s Place across the street from their apartment.  I drove her to the hospital and went home to make macaroni and cheese for our dinner and Skype with the Pollocks and Jay.  It was good to see and talk with them and Jay, as usual managed to find the humor on the dark side.  He told me I had to appreciate that what mom is going through is similar to what a criminal does when released after 40 years in jail.  She and dad have been ‘institutionalized’ together in their own little world for almost that many years, and she is afraid of being out in the big world alone.  He made me laugh with stories of some of the cons. in the half way house he worked at in Ottawa one summer who would try to make a pay phone work with a nickel or narrowly escape being hit by cars as they crossed busy streets as if they were the exercise yard in the jail. Much relieved by these chats and laughs, I picked mom up at the hospital and she also was in better shape.  She and dad had actually discussed the situation.  Up until then, they had each tried to protect the other from the truth and both worried without any idea of how to settle the situation.  Now mom has talked with her friend, Marilyn, who told her good things about the Aberdeen, and I have talked with Mo who has given me some insights into the medical system and how to make it work for you, so we enter the battle with a few weapons this time.

Meanwhile, dad’s still tired and weak, but he was sitting up in a real wheel chair today.  That’s the good news.  The bad was that my new wind shield wiper on the driver’s side didn’t work in the serious rain that was falling this morning, so I had to drop mom at the hospital and go back to Canadian Tire, straining to see through the passenger side, to exchange it.  I think that I have learned to master my temper to a certain extent.  The man in the service centre even commented on how calm I was.  I told him it was the result of spending hours in hospitals and practicing Yoga breathing and balance moves.    

Matti, Burke and Cleo in Matti's new truck.  Note how the Tim's cups make this the quintessential Canadian family photo.