Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Monday, August 24, 2015
Re-Making Old Bones
It has always
been my view that it’s a really good idea
to stay away from hospitals and in my younger days, the only time I broke that rule was because I was not a fan of
home births. You agree to that and you may find yourself cooking dinner right
after because you’re such a good sport.
That’s bad
planning in my opinion.
This is my
way of leading up to my operation. This was a big deal because I still have my
tonsils for goodness sake and I had been pretty firm about the no-hospital
edict.
A couple of years ago I developed tendinitis in my left leg, and that was the right leg’s way of calling for help as it was doing
all the work.
The right
leg joint was worn out, abetted by arthritis.
Surgery was
the answer for my problem so that meant a hospital visit.
During the
preliminaries I was declared a remarkably healthy specimen and in fact, while
some patients are encouraged to recuperate in a nursing home or with a willing
relative, I was told I’d probably be fine with someone there for the first couple
of days and then I could manage.
This is what
happens: the hip joint is tidied up (actually
they remove it and put in a false one) and this is what the artificial joint
looks like
Still with
me?
Here’s what
I know: I exhaustively interrogated everyone I knew who’d already had the op and
they all were pleased with the results.
I was the
oldest of the bunch but I didn’t see this as a problem.
On my
well-prepared for day, There’s a picture of me looking cheery and
double-chinned as they wheeled me to the OR suite and then there’s the picture
taken of me the next day. At least the double chin was gone.
It all went
well; I had a spinal which was amazingly easy. I did ask the guy not to let me
hear the sound of hammers and saws though, and he complied.
I was still
cheery and determined to be the most alert, healthiest patient who ever crossed
that threshold.
When I woke
up the next day, there were oxygen prongs in my nose and when the nurses tried
to get me up and walking, I fainted.
Next, I had a transfusion and I got very
sentimental about that; some kind person volunteered his/her blood just so someone
like me could have the needed blood. That was so kind.
After a day
of re-grouping, in quick order I learned to use a walker and that I didn’t
handle codeine very well. In fact I bounced off to la-la land to the amusement
of the nurses. So I settled for something less la-la and managed. I was there
an extra day because of the transfusion so I went home on day 4, with my from-out-of-town daughter in tow.
She planned
to stay for the suggested two days and she finally got away on day 7.
I felt about
120 hard years old and no longer looked like a candidate for head of the class.
When I was
home, visiting nurses came regularly to change the dressings and a
physiotherapist came to get the exercises on track. After a few days the
staples were removed and that’s a piece of cake.
Despite my
good intentions and the fact that the operation was a success, I am now
permanently on a walker.
For my final
visit to the surgeon he was satisfied the surgery was a success so his work was
done. He was right—his surgery was a success although I was complaining about a
lot of pain.
He politely
said arthritis had done a lot of damage in my lower back and it would take altogether
too much surgery to repair the damage
and I was too old for all that anyway.
So here I am
still feeling 30 in my mind and my body is not keeping up.
Nine months
later I’m still glad I had the operation but would have preferred a better
outcome
So I’ve
decided that I’ll keep the thirty-year old mind and try to live with the much
older body, and I now have my very own handicap parking pass, which makes
grocery shopping a whole lot easier.
Best of
all. I’m 25 pounds lighter.
And that’s
my reward
Saturday, August 22, 2015
Well Hello
After I produced five sterling sons, I turned to the thought of producing a daughter and here she is.
Okay, we were extremely happy and possibly relieved that number six was a daughter.
At the left is her youngest and tallest, who is about to enter grade twelve
Next is the one who was worth the wait.
And next to her is her eldest, who just defended and earned her Masters this week
At the right of the lineup is the boyfriend of Miss striped top and he is a pre law student at Carlton University.
Hope to see you all again soon
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
My Pal Jesse
In a minute I'll tell you about former Blue Jay Jesse Barfield. and why I have a crush on him.
The Blue Jays came into my life about the time we moved from the boonies into downtown
Toronto.
On Saturdays, when the team was in town, we started attending the games with our son Mike .Oh those gorgeous afternoons getting seriously sunburned in the outdoor exhibition stadium .
During one of the first games, there was some sort of tension building between the teams and they all thundered out of the dugouts onto the field. It sounded like a herd of bison (remember, bison grow to a ton or more) and I was sure these players would kill one another.
During one of the first games, there was some sort of tension building between the teams and they all thundered out of the dugouts onto the field. It sounded like a herd of bison (remember, bison grow to a ton or more) and I was sure these players would kill one another.
Apparently
this is a guy thing and they all snarled and pushed a little but that was it.
Eventually the Jays moved into the newly built domed stadium and that was a treat in itself.
The team won
the world series in ’92 and ’93 and we were thrilled out of our socks
We were so
in touch with that team that we knew the names of their kids and what they ate
for breakfast. I can’t remember now who it was, but one player and his wife had a
noisy altercation in a hotel lobby in town, and two days later they had to sit
for a televised news conference to explain themselves.
That was
life with the Jays in those days
Then we had
this lengthy dry spell when the heroes all retired or went off to other teams
and it was re-building time which took a whole lot of years.
Last year
they began to show some substance and this year, the pouring- in of a bunch of
money and some new players and they are looking really good.
But I started
out to tell you about Jesse Barfield.
He was an
outfielder in their golden days with an amazing arm .
Well, recently I saw
in the local paper that he was coming to town for one night to give a talk at a
great place called THEMUSEUM, a unique non-profit center with visiting exhibits such as two-story tall dinosaurs, much smaller Egyptian mummies, and you can also hear talks from live people
like Jesse.
Above-mentioned son Mike is a board member so it wasn't hard to persuade him to take me to see Jesse for his one-night stand.
Was I
thrilled? Damned straight. There was my hero of the early 90’s, looking twelve
feet tall and charming. I got to meet him before his talk and he gave me a hug.
Here I am
looking short for the first time in my life, with my hero. Besides, how often do I get to be the only female among almost a dozen men?
Jesse is a
delightful speaker and a lovely man.
Saturday, August 15, 2015
Gardening Apartment Style
I'd had apartment life under
my belt for a year before I found myself seeking out gardening opportunities.
I yearned for things that were impossible to grow in a microscopically small balcony space, robust charmers like pumpkins, squash and cucumbers.
I pictured vines creeping their way to the balconies above and below me, and that posed a delightful picture as I recalled the shriek from the balcony below when a dribble from my watering can snaked over the side.
So. where to plant a veggie garden? My opportunistic mind immediately swung to #3 son, Steve
He lives a
five-minute drive away and up to a couple of months ago I’m
not sure he was aware there was a garden at the back of his place.
He built a lovely deck and they used
that, but it was best not to look at the tangled wasteland that branched out from
there.
The previous
owner had planted a big raspberry patch and we all were invited to pick our
hearts out, and we did. It took a compass and safety clothing to find the way
to the patch, but we managed.
It's possible I taking dramatic license here but you get the point. It wasn't pretty.
It's possible I taking dramatic license here but you get the point. It wasn't pretty.
“Hey,” I said over Sunday morning
breakfast, “ May I use a little of your back garden to plant some veggies?”
And
that’s how it started
Once the snow melted, I stood on the deck with Steve, surveying the back property. A couple of raised beds
would be lovely if he wouldn’t mind bashing some boards together.
Well, contractors don’t bash
anything. They get out a level and string and everything is perfectly squared.
After he installed the raised beds, he thought about the leftover paving bricks stashed under the deck and next thing you know, they were laid neatly around the newly organized raspberry beds.
When the first seedlings sprouted, the fun began.
When the first seedlings sprouted, the fun began.
Steve installed his tiny rose garden and so that they would look their best, he had the shed moved a tad forward and to the right.
The potatoes (not shown) are a story in themselves. When I noticed that gleam in Steve's eye I wanted something to grow fast to pique his interest. I rummaged through the potato bin and found some with eyes ; I cut them in pieces and planted them the same day in one of the beds. To my amazement, since I didn't follow any rules, they all took and they are flourishing. He loves to watch them grow
This picture was taken early on and shows how neatly organized things were rapidly becoming. The raspberries were even manageable.
I am fully aware that by next year I may have to scout out someone else's garden since I think Steve will have plans for every inch of his land.
If I keep this up, I may get a whole new generation developing green thumbs. and I can have some of the harvest without the grunt labor
Just as long as I'm allowed to get my hands dirty.
Just as long as I'm allowed to get my hands dirty.
This has possibilities.
Thursday, August 6, 2015
Gardening in Eagle Territory
The first
time I went apartment-hunting I took along two things: an explicit
bucket list and my real estate agent, who volunteered for the task.
I wanted to
live in the heart of the city so that narrowed the field. Most apartments
downtown are for people who live for their jobs and night life, so they need a
bed and a closet.
I wanted
space and a view.
News was out
about a newly renovated building; each apartment had its own own laundry and there was lots of guest parking, so we tried that first.
We checked
out a two-bedroom where the residents still lived before moving to a condo. My realtor
bluntly asked, right in front of our rental guide, why they were moving and
they rather bluntly explained; constant
elevator breakdowns, old windows that fogged and dripped all winter and too-small
rooms so they kept tripping over one
another
I was
mortified that my friend would be so blunt—and really glad he was.
Next we tried an old building a few blocks away and it almost fitted my bucket list like a
glove.
Corner suite, knock-out view, hardwood floors,
good- sized rooms, windows that still don’t drip and so far the elevator has
been faithful.
But there
was a problem: my bucket list included a roomy balcony where I could have a small potted garden. This balcony weighed in at 7. x 11 ft. The door opened at one end where the plants would have to go and the best
stretch of area is interrupted by the window air conditioner.
I envisioned a small table and two chairs fitted around the a/c and good luck to the plants
The gorgeous
view and hardwood floor had me hooked so I irrationally believed I was creative
enough to make that balcony flourish with plants and people .
This was my first garden spot; veggies and flowers and my knee co-mingled
|
no more trumpet vine |
honeysuckle and barbecue a thing of the past |
I loved those peonies Keep in mind moved in in June. I thought I adapted rather well and there was time to work out a better plan for the next summer. |
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Apartment Life
For me, apartment
life is completely new and an adventure.
Life on one
floor is much easier; everything is at at reach and doubling up is the norm. The
computer goes into the bedroom, along with desk and semi four poster bed. The
guest room is also the sewing room and storage for anything that doesn’t fit
into the four storage closets in the hall.
When my six
kids were young and eating like starved mules, I used to dream about having two
stoves in my kitchen. Two ovens, eight burners—sheer heaven. Now that there’s just
me, I bought a stove with two ovens and I use both. Okay, I have the family
over for dinner most Saturdays so I really have a need for two ovens. I’m
sticking to that
There`s a
protocol for sharing an elevator. You nod or say "hello," and whoever gets off
first says, "have a nice day,``or a simple “goodbye” will do.
Pets are
allowed in apartment buildings and this does not sit well with all residents. Dogs
are inclined to bark while their owners are absent and that might be for nine
hours or more.
They're all pretty cute in my opinion. I am wary of the creepy guy who lives on my floor and apparently has a few weasels and reptiles, which he mentioned one day while we shared the elevator. I never took my eyes off him in case something slithered out from his sleeves.
They're all pretty cute in my opinion. I am wary of the creepy guy who lives on my floor and apparently has a few weasels and reptiles, which he mentioned one day while we shared the elevator. I never took my eyes off him in case something slithered out from his sleeves.
Early on the
mornings that I’m trundling my laundry
down to the second floor, dog owners are
heading out for the morning run.
Apparently it’s stylish to wear flannelet pyjama pants when walking the dog. I
guess they’re comfy and the animals are really anxious to get outside, but it looks a tad strange
.
.
I knew that
laundry machines cost two dollars so I was armed with a bunch of toonies only
to find that the machine takes two loonies,. Nothing but.
My building
is on the old side as are the majority of the residents. In the late afternoon,
the lounge on the first floor is the gathering place for many. Walkers are
parked in the corridor, coffee is purchased in the variety store next door, and
everyone shares the day`s events before moving off to make dinner.
As yet, I haven't joined this group—I`m a loner remember, but it could happen.
As yet, I haven't joined this group—I`m a loner remember, but it could happen.
An ambulance
shows up often and sometimes someone is carted away for repairs and sometimes there
is a police presence to keep pet owners and non- pet owners from bashing one
another with their canes or cell phones.
There`s a
pool and I plan to try it out one of these days. There`s also a small gym and ----well,
it could happen.
Across the
street there`s a small, beautiful park and on either side there`s the theatre for cultural events and the main library.
How perfect is that?
I remember
with glee strolling across to see a Diana Krall concert and thirty minutes
after the final curtain call, I was in bed.
It’s because I’m the way I am, but before I felt
so isolated and now I feel like part of a the whole. It’s a good feeling.
Saturday, August 1, 2015
Big Changes
I’ve been absent
while I dealt with shaking up my life
For some time the plan was that I would take over the main floor of son #3’s house; he and his wife would make an apartment for themselves
on the second floor and son #1 would take
the existing apartment in the basement
We all get along extremely well and we tend to live like hermits with visiting privileges
All of this
was based on son #3 building a bathroom on the top floor and then we’s all be
self-sufficient
Well, son #3
is a carpenter/contractor and he was really, really busy with his work so the extra
bathroom didn’t materialize and I returned to planning the next phase of my
life.
I had been
living in a 900 square foot semi-detached house. This was a deliberate plan—down-sizing
from my four-bedroom and pool to this tiny
place with a bare bones yard for me to turn into a garden.
Still, that
itch was there and I needed something to attack.
It finally
happened on a bitterly cold Ontario winter day when I looked out the frosted front
window in time to watch a car slide
sideways down the narrow road.
The driver
didn’t look particularly alarmed so I went back to thinking about me and I realised I related to that sliding car
You
can’t get too hyperactive when hip replacement surgery is looming but something
had to change,so I skipped the notion of tackling a mountain
range in Tibet while battling
hyperthermia and considered what might be a tad more realistic
It was time
to consider apartment living and I’m not sure I’d ever even been in one
I put
together a bucket list of what I wanted (lots of windows, a great view and an
en suite).
Then I put the
tiny house on the market and it sold in one day.
Clutching my
bucket list I went apartment hunting and found a venerable old lady smack in
the heart of the city
It turns out to be the best thing I’ve done in
years and there was no hyperthermia involved,
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