Oh, the Gall! (Time to say goodbye, part 1)

September 30.  National Day for Truth and Reconciliation.  Lots to think about.  The day started off well enough.   Steve and I took shopping trip to replenish the pretty much empty fridge (down to condiments, and that was about it). Given just how any groceries we had, Steve wanted to split it in half, so we could maximize points!  His plan didn't work, since i didn't have my card on me (i don't think i mentioned that til we were cashing out, and realized he had to use his card for both purchases).  Nonetheless, it was a remarkable moment.  Or a moment of remark?   The cashier brought it to our attention.  We had split the groceries in half.  Perfectly.  Precisely.  Each bill came to $283.88.  What a lucky event!

Steve suggested we should take advantage of the moment to buy a lottery ticket.  I told him that we had already HAD the lucky event!  The fates had blessed us with this unexpected moment of perfect division.  We should just sit back and enjoy it!  I went to sleep reminding myself that it was Doral's birthday in the morning.

But it was stomach and back pain that woke me up in the middle of the night.  Nausea sent me to the bathroom.  I tried to manage the pain til I could't. When the whimpers finally woke Steve up and he asked if I was OK, I found myself acknowledging that I wasn't, and asking him to please take me to the hospital.  He decided that it was looking more like a heart attack to him, and decided to 911 instead. 

The fire/rescue folks were at the house within minutes.  Steve alleges that there were 6 different firefolks in our bedroom, but i don't recall seeing any faces.  Too busy curled into a writhing ball of pain.   I do recall an oxygen mask, and a bloodpressure cuff, and some very impressive vomitting (from me), attempts (unsuccessful) to place an IV in my arm (i think i was trembling too much and do recall seeing a stream of blood tricking down my arm), and needles going into both my shoulders (anti-nausea and painrelief, I think?).  Once some drugs started flowing in, they moved me out to ambulance and then off to hospital.  

The people helping me out were so calm and helpful.  One funny moment in the ambulance was so "typical Victoria".  The driver suddenly slammed on the brakes, jolting us a bit forward:  it was a deer on the road.   :-) The person accompanying me said thsy they had already had to swerve 2 times earlier in the morning (for another deer, and to miss a racoon).  Ah the joys of city wildlife. 

The hospital is not 10 minutes from our house, but I haven't generally entered from the ambulance side, rather than the ambulatory side. 

And thus, it was from the relative comfort of a stretcher that I got to experience them doing their triage magic. 

I got an ECG, and then blood work, and then more drugs, and then got wrapped in a warm blanket, and was able to join Steve who was waiting for me 'on the other side', in the 'oh-so-familiar-emergency-room' at the Royal Jubilee Hospital!  

And so we sat there together, waiting for the blood work to come in.  

I was reminded that I could go out to the "myhealth app" on my phone, and I would be able to see the results of the bloodwork just as soon as the doctors would be able to see it. 

And that is another piece of (technological) magic.  

Of course, being able to "see" it does not necessarily mean being able to "make sense" of it.   

Still.... it gave Steve and I something to do while sitting together in the waiting room (I was mostly dozing in and out of hydromorph sleep). Steve by this time was googling the various test results, and texting some to Catherine, and we were making guesses that pointed NOT to cancer, but to maybe a gall bladder problem (white blood cell counts, and liver stuff).  

We made our way up the triage queue, and in to see Dr. Little (no, we did NOT ask if his name was Stuart).  He poked around in my belly (ouch), and then told me he was going to do a bit of an ultrasound, to see if there were stones in my gallbladder.  He said the symptoms and bloodwork pointed that way.  He warned me that he was NOT an expert, just a generalist, but it might give him at least a preliminary idea of what was going on.  He set the machine up, asked me to take some deep breaths (ouch), and confirmed that there were stones enough for him to get me folded into the queue for the trained tech to do the formal evaluation.

Yea!   Gall bladder attack!  

CT scan of my belly from 2023

Just gotta say it.  Every time there is a stomach ache, it is hard not to have a little bit of fear on the pancreas front.  And so, just like I was DELIGHTED to have a bowel obstruction back in 2023, I was DELIGHTED to be told my gall bladder was being a shit.  That is so fixable!!!!  What a relief!    I did head back to the MyHealth App to look at my imaging results from that last bowel surgery in 2023, and yes, it was there!   Though I felt a bit disappointed that it described my pancreas and spleen as "unremarkable", Catherine tells me that in this context, unremarkable is a good thing!

Dr. Little left for a few minutes, and then returned to tell me he had just run into one of the surgeons in the hall, talked about the file with her, and she said depending on what else came in through emerg, she might be able to get me into surgery that night (rather than trying to schedule me for gall bladder removal in the future).  Still thinking about the nightmare that was the previous night's pain level 10, I said I was game!  He said he would get the official ultrasound ordered.  And so Steve and I returned to the waiting room.  By this time, I was starting to feel like I knew many of the other faces who had been spending the day in the same space as me (the young, the old, and the middling).

And then the ultrasound (superquick).  The results were as expected (stones, and thickened wall of gallbladder).  Because both chairs and hospital beds were tight, Dr. Little moved me to a slightly more comfortable area to wait.  

The surgeon stopped in, and said that she couldn't promise, but she might be able to get me in.  We started going through the consent discussion.   She started talking about the inside of my guts, and then looked around for a paper to draw things for me.  She couldn't find one, but noticed a paper hospital mask close by and started drawing on it.  OK.  Maybe it is not the most accurate drawing out there, but she was using it to point, and to explain to me all the different risks of the surgery.  It made sense to me!  

Plus, it reminded me of spending time in the Emergency waiting room with Arta during the cancer years, when Arta would grab one of those cardboard vomit bowls to doodle on.   Made me happy to remember that: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GlimgNkjso4

Catherine was not so impressed with the surgeon's drawing (I texted it to her), so she sent along one with better detail.  It is that green little eggplant looking thing that needed to come out.

In any event, I was good to go, and sent Steve back home so he could get off his own legs (didn't want him to have a DVT!).  They hooked me up to the IV, and started running the antibiotics through me, and getting the blood thinners ready.  They were still waiting for confirmation on a surgical bed, so I just hung out there in my chair, wrapped in warm blankets and waiting.  Again, it was a bit of a 'memories' affair for me, since I had also spent many hours sitting in precisely the same cubical with Arta.  

It wasn't too much later that the surgeon stopped by to tell me that she was not going to be able to fit me in tonight, but that one of her colleagues could put me on the list for the morning.   They had also found me a bed in on the 3rd floor in the North Tower, which meant I could get a good night's sleep first.   And so, off I went.  

A selfie with Celia

Because this is Victoria, 30 seconds of conversation with the nurse assigned to me confirmed that we had good friends in common (indeed, that she was one of Jess Asch's close friends).   Close enough to merit (with her permission) a selfie to send to Jess.   It is a funny world.

Again, a strange thing rolling back into one of those rooms that looks exactly like the one (on 8 South) we sibs spent so much time in with Arta.  This time, the view was out towards the parkade rather than towards Richmond.  I had both the tops of PKOLS and Mt. Tolmie in view, but by the time I was thinking about slipping out of bed to take a photo, I was asleep.  

And I slept like a log (yea to pain relief).  The morning nurse warned me that people were running pedal to the metal, and that while I was scheduled for surgery, she couldn't give me a precise time.  I let her know that I didn't care.  That is, I was happily in a bed, and would trust that they would fit me in when the time was right.  No worries.  

And really, there were no worries.  Someone came in to take me down to surgery before my nurse had even been told I had a time.  Steve was on his way to the hospital to visit, so there was just enough time to tell him to stand down.... and off I went.  Leaving him to take a photo of my now empty hospital room.  I didn't even have enough time to write down 'my plans' or add other commentary to the white board! 

Again, it was bizarre being in pre-op a second time this year.  I am starting to feel like I should get a surgical visits punch card.  :-).  Again, I enjoyed filling out all the consent forms (such lovely lawyerly texts), agreeing to blood products, etc.  I did ask the Dr. if it was common for people to ask for their gall stones.   He told me, "Yes" it was common for people to ask, and then with a smile added, "and absolutely not. You can't have them.".  :-). Ah well..... my hopes for jewellry to mark the event were dashed.

Not much more to say.  Dr. MacPherson and the team were great, and it was pretty much painless.  Sucking back the gas (that they described as smelling like a Canadian Tire store), and waiting for oblivion.  I managed to count my breaths (using my fingers) up to 20.  And that was it.  Waking up in the recovery room again.   And again, really enjoying the swirl of noise around me.  I think that has something to do with growing up in a house of 10 people:  I find the background noise relaxing/comforting rather than disorienting.

trigger warning!

It is something of a miracle really.   You fall asleep, and wake up with 4 little laproscopic holes in your belly.  Yes, I can say that those 4 puncture sites hurt a bit, and that I do feel really tired, and need a couple of weeks of rest, but I don't have to wait for a big incision to heal.  I have to wait a couple of days before bathing, and take some 'overdoses' of tylenol and advil, and have to make some changes in diet going forward, but somehow they have managed to slice up and suck out that very irritating organ!  No more gall for me!

Once I felt stable enough to want to go to the bathroom, I was stable enough to head back home.  Steve met me in a wheelchair down at the entrance.  So, 36 hours after entering the hospital, I was leaving again, minus one persnickety gallbladder.  Steve said he would get one last photo of me to send to sibs and kids.  While Richard suggested I was doing the "Ice in my Veins" pose that features in some of the kid's memes, I am only pointing at the absent gall bladder.  And then, shuffling back into the house to crawl into bed for more sleep.

the moon in the trees

In hindsight, I will admit that I had been having some unexpected stomach pain over the past months.  And I have been increasingly telling Steve not to put his hand on my stomach if he puts his arm around me during the night. But if you just ignore pain, it goes away, right?  So, while the idea of a 'bad gallbladder' never even occured to me, I have probably had several attacks.  One time (when Steve was out of the country a few months back), I had pain in my back and stomach that left me curled up on the floor.  When I finally decided I had had enough, I determined to call Gillian (who lives a few blocks away) to take me to the hospital.  But as I was crawling to get some clothes on, the pain started to subside, and so I just crawled back to bed and went to sleep.  No point going to the hospital once the pain is gone, right?  

...the moon out from the trees

And then the same thing happened last week, when I out at Sun Peakes for a workshop.  Again, I wondered about the hospital, but I was way out in a ski resort, and couldn't imagine trying to get an ambulance all the way back to Kamloops, so again I just waited it out.  And... after 3 hours and a bunch of vomitting, it seemed to subside.  I was cautious the following week, and just thought I would monitor things.  So, I did have two moments (probably both gall bladder attacks) where I THOUGHT about going to the hospital, but I managed to ride the pain out. This time?   Well.... Steve took the reins, and the rest is history. 

And of course, this song has been running through my head since the ultrasound results!

Now THAT is winning the lottery!

An Ordinary Day

Shirley Treleaven's gift to me --
a slip from her ruffled lilac tree

Rebecca and I went to London Drugs tonight to take in some prescriptions that the doctor had faxed to the drugstore and they were all ready for us. 

After picking them, I remembered that I also needed to by some Voltaren eye drops as well, and the druggist told us to wait 5 minutes, which Rebecca was happy to do, and in fact was willing to spend that time shopping. 

Five minutes of shopping, happy shopping on her part.

Since we had been to London Drugs the week before she knew there was a the International Isle of Food because we had looked at about one half of it. She was willing to look at every product in the other half of the isle. Unfortunately, the clerks had cleared the international shopping aisle out and are beginning to displaying seasonal items since spring is here, at least at London Drugs.

I had expressed an interest in looking at the cards, and she was willing to go down that aisle, but I knew at the end of the day I wouldn't be buying any of cards, having never bought any before. So we stopped at the aisle for the magazines. Both of us picked up cookbooks, me, one from America's Test Kitchen and she, one from Cook's Company. Side by side play she called it when we began to look at different magazines. I wanted to show her how many times there are different recipes for macaroni and cheese in the magazines. And I wanted to show her a pickled ginger recipe. But more importantly there was a great carrot salad which she seemed to be disinterested in. I told her look at all the great ingredients that we don't put in our carrot salad: serrano peppers, fish sauce and I can't remember the other ingredients .

... David Camps's apple tree in bloom ...

The best isle for me was the toy aisle. I found a beautiful Scrabble game there, wooden, the price, $150.

I wanted to open the box and look inside. It was carefully sealed and I could understand why. Nobody wants to buy a game like that and then have some of the pieces missing.

I told Rebecca that if I were living in Calgary, I'd buy that in a second and then play it with Michael, Betty and Alice.

... a view of the lake through cherry trees ...

I told her I know that Betty and Alice are too young to play Scrabble, but we would make up our own rules, and then play with that beautiful board and have our fantasies with words that intersect, parallel and vertical, and spell them any way we wanted, and not worry about who got the most points.

We would all win in the game we would make up.

... Moiya's tulips ...

In the isle that holds housewares, there were three different sets of knives, forks and spoons; one black, one with fluorescent colours that would sparkle as you moved the utensil, and the last set was gold. 

I could not help but pick them up and turn them over.

Again, I told Rebecca if I were home I'd be putting these in my shopping cart.

She replied, "The black ones are made from all of that coal we see drive by us on the railroad and headed for China."

What's the fun of having grandchildren right next door if you can't surprise them at every move.

... new material for bags
designed by Moiya and executed
'by her granddaughter, Sidney ...

It's been a really full day.

Physio in the morning, from which my shoulder is feeling a little tender and then Rebecca had a big conference call for which we had to sit in the car after physio since we couldn't make it home in time and she needed to listen in.

On the way home we stopped by The Farm, and then to Fairways to pick up some cream for Steve’s coffee.

Across the street I watched people line up for Fujiia’s (the Victoria equivalent of a fast food Japanese take-out full of wondrous items.

I was entranced at how fast people have learned the rules of lining up. All of them were keeping there 6 feet of social distancing.

"Grandmother, will you show me
how to make a bag," says
Sidney Wood to Moiya Wood.

In the afternoon we watched the film The Angry Inook.

I actually love that film. and then I went to her class from 3:30 pm to 5. pm.

For extra entertainment for the day, Canada Post delivered a beautiful set of books in the mail. Rebecca had to order them from a collective in the far north. When book is called Atanarjuat: the fast runner. Most people have probably seen the movie. The book contains the script of the film in both Inuktitut and English.

So today I read pieces of the larger script from which the film is made. 

There's another beautiful book arrived at the same time: The Journals of Knud Rasmussen published in a similar vein having both languages and stunning pictures from the film. I've had my hands in both of those books today, and then Gillian Calder dropped me off another book with a lovely card.

... close up of a new bag design
by Moiya and her granddaughters ...

I've read about the first 50 pages now of Hamnet and Judith by Maggie O'Farrell.

The card from Julian was so beautiful.

Written in a printed script. The note said that if I'd read the book, I could pass it on to Rebecca.

I know she hasn't read it. It's the one thing I see her not to do. She is never reading anything that is outside of her discipline, no matter but public opinion tells her to read.

She did say that all her friends have been loving this book, High Praise indeed. And to bolster my argument about what she does with her time, she is rarely watching Netflix.

Rarely means almost never.

... bags sewn and designed by Moiya Wood
with her Adam and Michelle's girl (Sidney and Nora) ...

Wyona and Moiya are going to come next week to Victoria

I know their presence will help me put a lot of things into my shopping cart.

Of course, I'm looking forward to that! 

I love shopping for things I don't really need.

Arta

The Champion

... a pause for a pizza, then a good game ...

 This is the spot at the table where Rebecca and I play a lot of the game called Azzul: Summer Pavilion.

we can get Duncan to play with us a bit, maybe 1 out of 20 times. Each time we add him to the mix, he is the winner in the game.

It doesn't matter if he sits ahead of Rebecca, or behind Rebecca, so this is not about who goes first, second or third.

Duncan has the ability to play his own board and our boards at the same time. Rebecca can do that a bit. I can only keep my eyes on one board, mine and even then I sometimes ask for extra points, or alternately, not enough point. That might be why I am sometimes as much as 40 points behind them.

I don't know what it is that provides the electricity between us when we play. There's not too much said. I probably watch their faces. They’re probably watching my board. I'm glad that winning doesn't mean that much to me. At least in this context. First, a good pizza. Then, a good game.

Arta

On Watching Juno

Photo Credit IMDB

Duncan has to watch Juno (Jason Reitman, 2007) for his class on Play Writing.

I've been looking forward to the night when he screens the movie, since Rebecca expressed interest in seeing the movie again. I have never seen it and it will be a fresh movie for Duncan and me.

When the movie was over, Rebecca had been thinking about the characters in the play with respect to Peggy McIntosh's paper “Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack”, question #5, Can I “turn on the television or open to the front page of the paper and see people of my race widely represented.”

Rebecca had noted that the six protagonists were white, and a plethora of supporting characters were different colours, think, the technician at the ultrasound, the nurse who shows the new mom her adopted son, the receptionist at the abortion clinic, the protestor outside of the clinic, one of Blinker’s friends. I didn’t see any of that. in retrospect I did see it; I didn’t think to be bothered about it.

In our after-the-film discussion, I was reminded of how every time I go to a film with a question, that question colours how I view the film.

Duncan had been questioning the film’s designation as a comedy since how can the word comedy apply to movie about a girl preparing to find a good home for the baby that she can't take care of.

I was remembering an old definition that I carry in my mind about tragedy, and that is that the protagonist has a tragic flaw that causes his downfall. Juno is not about a figure with a tragic flaw. Jun tis a movie that lets us watch someone making serious choices about how her life should go. Maybe that's what makes it a comedy.

Anyway, a good viewing time was had by all and Rebecca and I are looking forward to talking with Duncan about this some more. All three of us just haven’t been at the kitchen table at the same time.

Arta

Shared space

Rebecca shares the living room space,
resting on the couch, her arm suspended
to keep the blood running down to her heart,
counting the days until the cast comes off.

Eleven, today.  Ten, tomorrow ....

Before I came to Victoria, there were already four people in this San Lorenzo Avenue bubble. Two people work from home, and two are going to college or university from home. Shared space is carefully worked out so 4 people can either go to work or go to class in the same house. As well, I’ve arrived for 3 months. A fifth space has been created space for me: That would be a space for my books, my files, my New Yorkers, a place for my computer and a my bags, my files, my rule and stapler.

Steve bought me a new table at Canadian Tire: grey 8-foot, collapsible utility table. He put that in the room above the garage, the room where Duncan works: a grand piano in one corner, some exercise equipment against another wall, Duncan with a space on the east wall and me looking toward the south, out the window into the backyard.

I like sharing space with Duncan. I'm learning when his Duncan’s classes are and how to get myself to a different room when they are on, since I don’t want to be in his background during his Zoom meetings.

I love spreading my writing material out. I want to make all of the jobs before me, visible at all times, though I wouldn’t recommend this as a strategy to anyone else. As well, I want all of the accessories within easy reach: coloured pencils, yellow highlighters, an erasers, a stapler, and a hole punch. I don’t need a snack drawer. Next to my desk is the water cooler. Across the hall is a fully equipped kitchen.

My sister, Moiya, asks me on the telephone, how I am. She says, no really? How are you really?

Given the current circumstances, I can't think of what else would add to my happiness.

I'm learning to have some social encounters via Zoom.

And let's face it I have four other people here in the house that I can talk so a lot of social encounters could happen.

As well, Steve has a dog. I'm not a dog person. The dog and I are never in conversation. Still the dog has trained me to let it out to the back porch when it scratches on the door and conversely to open the door when it wants to get back in. No dog needs to go out and in every ten minutes, except this dog, Penny.

As an added bonus, f I get out of bed in the middle of the night, my noise wakes her and she comes upstairs, always using her nose to give a hard enough bang on the door that the latch on the lock gives way and she can get in.

I haven't quite sorted myself out, electronically. There must be some curmudgeon in me, or may it is just that learning any new electronic programme is hard. I had a cheque that needed to be deposited to Canada Trust. I've seen Miranda do this with her telephone. Steve tells me it's easy-peasy. So I do a tutorial one day and then make a valiant effort with my cheque which doesn't work out. The next day I do a few more tutorials, go back to that app on my phone and I try to see what went wrong. But I keep doing the same wrong thing over and over.

Again, still no success and I think to myself I could have walked down to the Canada Trust in 40 minutes, deposited the check, walked back, and got some exercise benefit from the walk.

On the third day, having created only anxiety, Steve rescued me. He showed me a drop-down box I didn’t see. As well, sometimes just the act of swiping my finger up on the screen down the screen can give me new choices that I need. I just have to remember that action of that swipe is available.

Like everyone else that is electronic, I make mistakes but none of that is Covid related. A few days ago someone taught me how to do voice recognition typing on Google Docs. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

Now I can sit and talk to the screen forever and the typing is don automatically. So great to be introduced to an electronic transcriber, who makes fewer mistakes that I do when I try to transcribe things.

Such a fabulous world.

Arta

I've Got Your Back: - Part II of Taking a Break with Arta

Catherine Jarvis requested the longer story of the ride home to Victoria, so here it is and it comes in two parts.  This is the secoond part:

The Longer Story of the Break / or
The Sunday Road Trip / or
Taking a Break with Arta

December 30, 2020

Part II

Standing in the rain in front of the two dysfunctional EV Station Towers, I had my phone and could see the help number but couldn’t manage to type that number in with one hand. I got back in the car and phoned Steve. While I had planned to withhold this piece of storytelling until my arrival back home, I needed some help finding where the closest EV Station was. There is of course the longer version to tell including his counselling me to just take a few deep breaths and relax at which point I decided it would be unhelpful to continue with the narrative in which I was encountering anxiety related to an inability to figure the problem out, so I determined it was better to make clear to him that the challenge was how to problem solve with only one hand available to me. With this additional piece of information at his disposal, he went into action and phoned back with the address of the next closest station. After circling around the block a few times, we located free charging station at Howard and 4th street and plugged ourselves in. While waiting, I knew it was time for Arta’s pain killer meds and thought that I might take advantage of those as well. What followed was a five-minute Laurel and Hardy Schtick with two desperate one-armed women trying to coordinate their efforts to open one child proof pill bottle of Super Strength Tylenol. Not as easy as one might imagine. 

Or, I encourage this as a party activity.

By now we had to find another bathroom and this time the DQ was fine. We didn’t buy anything. We entered with our masks. I decided I have spent enough money there over the years that this one will have to be called our free visit. Moiya had given us a bag of turkey sandwiches for the road, but now it was too hard to look for them in the packed car and it was getting dark.

We hit the road again. It rained all the way from Hope to Vancouver, but I was just so glad it wasn’t snow. I don’t want to sound like I am doing a car ad, but the Kia was wonderful. It has lane assist, which made one-armed driving so much easier, as well as adaptive cruise control, which means that the car slows down in response to the cars ahead of you. By this time my left arm hurt too much to be able to use the turn indicator, so I just stayed in the slow lane and let my one arm do the job.

We arrived at the ferry terminal 20 minutes ahead of the next sailing and with no line-ups. Yay! When I bought the ticket the ferry person told me that the boat was very low occupancy, so that was encouraging. We could have stayed in the car, but by this time, I was too cold, so we masked up and headed to the main deck where there was plenty of room to sit in a socially distant way from others. I plugged into a book on tape to distract myself and pulled out my last bag of mini-jelly beans. Arta did a couple of laps to keep her body limber and spent some time in the gift shop where there were no other patrons.

By 9:15 pm we were back home again. The two boys unloaded the car and I asked Steve to just to drop me off at Emergency Department at the hospital. I took 3 little blue fleecy blankets with me because I know that Arta spent four hours in the Salmon Arm Emergency when she went in with her broken shoulder. Arta had reported her pain at 5. She always under reports her pain level. I reported mine at 7, which I knew was accurate.

I told Steve I would cab it home when I was finished.

It ended up being a much quicker visit than anticipated. The hard part were the screening questions. I walked in with my mask on to encounter the first sanitizing station. By this time, my arm was really killing me. I had only had one little cry and this was after Alex came to hug me at the front door before I could signal to him that my arm was hurt. That bear hug of love did kind of push me over the edge. But I did hold the tears off until I was out of the house. At the hospital they asked me to first sanitize my hands. By this time, I was holding the sore arm up over my head in a protective mode and couldn’t figure out how to get the pump mobilized to apply the sanitizer in a hone handed way.

Oh, back to the DQ. As a note, when we had gone to the bathroom here we had learned that 2 people can wash their hands if one person holds the pump and then the 2 people use the soap to wash each other’s hands. But at the hospital, I was uncertain how to do this. The woman just asked me to do as best as I could so I used the elbow of one hand to operate the pump and then drizzled sanitizer on the top of the fingers of the other hand. Then came the screening questions:

1. Had I been off the island? I told her no, I had not. I had just been to the Interior to fetch my mother and bring her back to Victoria. The screening nurse then called across the room, yes, she had been off the island and then moved me directly to speak to the other screening nurse.

2. When I told them I had fallen hitting my head and my hand, they did the blood eye-ball pressure tests and immediately made me a mini-splint for my arm: a piece of plastic she unrolled, laid my arm on and then rewrapped it.

Then they had an x-ray requisition form available within minutes. They moved me immediately off to the x-ray room where I was the only person, was called into the lab within 5 minutes, and was returned to the ambulatory area. I was happy to have my blankets which made the chairs significantly more comfortable. Within 5 minutes they had called me again and placed me in another room, which said Casting; I was pretty sure the x-ray had sown a break. Five minutes after that Dr. Kelly showed up. She told me I had a radial styloid fracture. At first, I thought she said a stylish fracture and I was happy about that. She told me that unfortunately, I would need a cast, but that I would happily be able to choose the colour. How is that for glass-half-full thinking?

Courtney, she told me, would be in to help me momentarily. When Courtney arrived another 5 minutes later, I recognized her as one of the nurses I had seen in the intake area, because of the 2 marvellous tattoo sleeves on both of her arms. She asked me what colour I wanted. I asked if black was available and she said yes, it was. She said it was a good colour for hiding dirt, unless you are an alcoholic, suggesting it is harder to wash the bile off the black, for it turns red.

As she began the process of casting she asked me what I did for work. I told her I worked at the Law School and then she asked me if I had anything to do with the Indigenous Law Programme. I told her that I was just beginning work on a Trans-Systemic Business Associations Class for next year and she asked me if I knew Shayla Praud. I told her I did, since Shayla had just worked with my colleague Dr. John Borrows, O.C., on a report on Indigenous economies.

She went on to tell me Shayla was one of her cousins and how proud everyone in the family was that she was in the programme. She then went on to speak passionately about why the programme just wasn’t a benefit to the students in it, but was important for all Canadians and it was going to change the world. And she went on that it was time all Canadians understood the kind of racism that is currently present in our systems. That was unexpected, but also l loved to think about the JID programme being a source of conversation within the BC Health Care System.

By this time Steve had already arrived to pick me up. This was the shortest emergency department event I have ever had.

Now I have a lovely cast. 

I forgot to ask for pain meds, but telehealth came through the following morning. Thank you, Steve. The colour of the bump on my nose has been spreading out and I am developing a bit of a black eye. The bump on the head is settling down and it is still unclear to me how my face plant also gave me back scratches. It seems every muscle in my body really hurts.

Arta and I have our matching blue slings, our broken left arms and the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune have treated us rather well. No head injuries. No broken legs.

Life is good, especially while the T-3’s last. I would never have believed that I have the capacity to drive 7 hours with a broken wrist. I don’t precisely mean to say that that was on my bucket list. At least I can say, it is something I have now done.

Rebecca

I've Got Your Back: - Part I of Taking a Break with Arta

Catherine Jarvis requested the longer story of the ride home to Victoria, so here it is and it comes in two parts.  This is the first part:

The Longer Story of the Break / or
The Sunday Road Trip / or
Taking a Break with Arta

December 29, 2020

After 2 weeks in the Interior, Arta and I were ready for the return trip to Victoria. We had practiced getting her in and out of the car without pain, as well as learning how to put on the seat belt so that only the lap belt was engaged and the shoulder strap could go behind Arta’s head, rather than across her broken shoulder. So that was part of what was holding us there at Annis Bay. If you can’t get in and out of the car, there will be no going home to Victoria.

The car was loaded up and the house shut down, or closed up for the season. Moiya brought us sandwiches for the road. Glen and David Wood had ploughed out the driveway. The day before, I tried to drive out but I couldn’t get enough traction to get up the hill from the large snowfall. Our water had stopped running as well, so I was melting large buckets of snow on the stove. (Five ice cream buckets of snow melts into one pan of water on the stove.) But now the electric car was charged up and we hit the road.

We arrived at Merritt with 70 kilometers left on the battery. I will confess that I had been a bit worried, wishing I had stopped at Kamloops for a bit more power, but the final approach to Merritt was all downhill so we arrived at Merritt with plenty of power. On the trip out here, I had arrived at the lake with exactly 000 on my GOM (guess-o-meter) and steve, who was following my progress on his phone app (since i was driving his car), was freaking out.  After running it that close to the line, i felt i should be commended.

I knew we would have a 45-minute wait at Merrett to charge up before crossing the Cocquihalla (the  formerly toll road through the mountains built in 1986). But we had been watching to see that condition across the Cocquihalla would be good. According to the forecast, it looked like Sunday would be the best day. I was also wanting to drive it during daylight hours. The prelude to our stopover in Merritt coincided with Zoom Church with the Jarvis family. So, we phoned into Montreal from the car to listen in. They had 2 great questions for their lesson.

Question 1: 2020 has been a year that we have spent in large measure "socially distanced." How can we close those gaps in 2021? What will you do in 2021 to be less socially distanced from others? 

Question 2: What lesson did you learn in 2020? What words of wisdom can you share with others about surviving a pandemic?

Everyone from the oldest to the youngest shared their answers to the 2 questions. The first invited us to reflect on ways we had managed to stay connected with people during a time of social distancing.

The second invited us to imagine advice we would give to our grandchildren, 100 years in the future, about strategies for thriving during a pandemic. 

We had a lovely time listening to the thoughts of others and we pulled up to the charging station just as the phone call was ending.

With the car fully charged and Zoom church over we headed off. Steve phoned in to the car as soon as he saw we were driving again. We updated him on our progress as I headed off to the highway and I was reminded that I often can’t do 2 things as the same time and one of them is to remember which direction I am actually going. Thus, I took that turn off back to Kamloops instead of going onto Vancouver. The moment I made that choice I had a flashback of doing the same thing while driving with Duncan and Ben and I knew I had a 32-kilometer drive ahead of me before I had the opportunity to turn around.

Curses.

Thirty- two kilometres up the mountain and 32 kilometers back down. I knew this would mean stopping in Merritt again to fill the car back up to make sure I had power enough to get through the mountains and back to the other side. I knew this would add another hour to our time in total. We have a rule on our road trips. There are no mistakes, only detours, so I did try to hold the increasing anxiety I was feeling at bay, trusting that we still had adequate daylight hours ahead of us.

... the eye continues to blacken ...

We had already taken a bathroom break the first time we stopped in Merritt.

And we had successfully negotiated the ritual of getting in and out of the car and safely negotiated the icy parking lot to the gas station bathroom, so on this 2nd trip, Arta stayed in the car and I decided a coffee ritual would be good for my driving.

I headed into the gas station with my supersized Tim Horton’s mug and made the worst possible health choice: the super syrupy English Toffee Coffee Beverage.

I paid and headed back to the car, coffee in one hand, wallet in the other. And then the moment of choice: shall I take one more bathroom break.

Something in the switch of my eyes from the car to the bathroom door on the right led me to a miscalculation involving ice and the curb.

Down I went.

The Tim Horton’s mug managed to provide a cushiony barrier between my head and the sidewalk, dosing me from head to lower chest with warm syrupy, wet deliciousness. Yes, my first words rhymed with ruckedy, rucking, ruckity, ruckiness. I was astonished both by the volume of my expression and the creativity even for me of my conjugation of that famous f-verb. I am sure there were also past particles and subjunctives in the string of words as well. 

I guess I could add that the fall was somewhat painful and I was conscious that my left wrist particularly took a solid blow.

I rolled to a seated position on the ground but I was not yet able to stand. I was approached my someone who worked at the gas station who wanted to check on me and who offered to give me a free refill on my coffee. Two people were there, both with masks. 

The woman who stopped to help me looked somewhat familiar to me, from the nose up to the extent it is possible to recognize people in face masks times. I could see she was wearing a jacket emblazoned with the Secwépemc Elder’s Council logo. Her name was Esther. I didn’t catch her last name. She works for one of the Court Assistance Programs in Merritt and had a granddaughter going to UVic. I told her I was working on the Secwépemc law projects and we both agreed we had met at some gathering. She washed out my mug for me, though I was prepared to throw it away since the meeting of my head with the mug had knocked the handle off. I wanted to throw it away, but she told me it could still be useful. That left me too embarrassed to throw it out, so into the car with me it went. She also brought me some wet paper towels so I could wash off some of the syrupy mess dripping off of my face. I thanked her and returned to the car which was still charging. 

While it is generally a 2-hand-job to attach the electrical charger, my left arm did not feel useful, but I successfully detached the charger with one hand. I took off my coat before getting in the car to throw it in the back seat, since it was still dripping with coffee. 

I said to Arta, “So did you see any of that,” and she said, “See what?” She indicated she was only surprised by how wet I looked and had wondered if I had taken a shower inside the gas station. My head was soaking wet. I don’t know if there is any way to capture that.

So, we headed off again.  Take Two, this time involving the correct turn off towards Vancouver and the Cocquihalla. As we drove, I filled Arta in on a few of the details so we could strategize options. At this point I could see a massive contusion around my wrist and I was pretty sure I had broken something. I was also pretty sure I didn’t have any pathway forward, except for forward. I momentarily contemplated us taking a hotel room in Merritt, but Arta has spent the last 3 weeks sleeping in a medical recliner chair and I knew there were 3 more such weeks ahead of us. It would be difficult to move her into a lying position on a bed. To do that I would need both arms. I thought about going to the hospital in Merritt but knew that if I did that, we may wait 4 or 5 hours and it would be difficult to get us through the pass, so I decided to keep going, and take advantage of the daylight hours.

Warning: Partial Nudity
(with consent)
If Rebecca took a faceplant,
then how is it that she has large scratches
on her back that went through her ski jacket?

The scariest moment in the fall was if I had broken my glasses when I smashed my face on the ground for then I would not have been able to drive. My glasses were crooked but not broken. By now I had a contusion on my forehead, a black and blue nose, skinned knuckles on one hand and a large swelling at the wrist of my left hand.

The Cocquihalla Road.

In the Coquihalla, the weather was clear though it was a bit slushy. 

I kept myself a solid 20 kilometers under the speed limit, pretending I was a truck. 

I also suspected that I had sufficient adrenalin in my body that the pain would hit later, so I could take advantage of the adrenalin -- which was true. 

I was also conscious of not wanting to drive off the highway and take my mother and me out in a fiery ball of death. 

I was pretty sure that would leave my siblings very mad at me.

Throughout the drive we knew that the next stop would be Hope, which is always ironic. We did stop in Hope to recharge. That was more frustrating. Plugging in the car with one arm was a challenge, though I figured out how to wrap the chord around my shoulder to assist me, credit card tucked into my bra. By this time, it was raining, but my syrupy soaked wet coat was in the back seat and I thought it would hurt too much to negotiate my arm back into it. So, I hooked in the electric, got back in the car, and about one minute into the charge, I could see the message on the tower reading, Charging Stopped. Assuming I hadn’t pushed the charger in hard enough, I hopped out to restart the process. Within one minute it gave me the message, Tower Failed. So I disconnected the charger, hopped back in the car, backed up and moved over to the next station and tried again with a new machine. Again, I got the message, Tower Failed. There was a number inviting me to call Petro Canada to tell them that the tower was out of order. But I was finding it a challenge to use my phone with one hand while standing in the rain. I think by this time, some of the adrenalin had worn off because I had quite a bit of shaking in my body, so I got back in the car, and phoned Steve. 

I had not planned to tell him about falling until I got home because he tends to get panicky if I get hurt. Why worry someone if there is nothing they can do? But I did phone him to tell him to find me the address of the next closest charging station. I had tried for this information inside the Petro Canada station but the attendant had no idea.

(to be continued)

FOOSH - Fall On Out Stretched Hand

Rebecca's eye is beginning to blacken
from the fall on her glasses.  Oher minor
injuries are occurring as well:-
scratches on her back, knee and left arm,
pulled muscles, too much to document!
pulled muscles, 

My friend, Ria Meronek, sends Rebecca some information her break.

~~~~~ 

Chauffeur fractures (also known as Hutchinson fractures or backfire fractures) are intra-articular fractures of the radial styloid process. These injuries are sustained either from direct trauma typically a blow to the back of the wrist or from forced dorsiflexion and abduction.

The former accounts for its name; trying to start an old-fashioned car with a hand crank sometimes resulted in the crank rapidly spinning backward (backfire) out of the driver's grasp and striking the back of the wrist.

As well, a FOOSH injury is short for Falling On the Out Stretch Hand.

Ria

A Seasonal Break

Hi all, (Steve being the scribe for Rebecca)

Arta & Rebecca are back in Victoria and settling back into their respective routines.

However, Rebecca broke the Word of Wisdom on the Sabbath and stopped at Merritt, B.C., (for the second time after charging up and then quickly getting back on the highway going back to Kamloops rather than forward to Vancouver), for a syrupy English Toffee coffee.

The combination of ice and a curb lead to a face-plant.

Rebecca managed the drive home but the fall did result in a radial styloid fracture of her left wrist. 

The emergency crew at the Royal Jubilee Hospital offered her a choice of colours for her cast; black of course, as black goes with everything.

Now Arta and Rebecca have matching blue slings and will be shopping for some arrows in the near future (obscure Shakespearean reference). 

So the prognosis is between 4 – 6 weeks of healing, although the black and blue nose should fair a bit sooner. 

Humiliation achieved along with embarrassing every sailor within earshot with a masterful string of cursing. First to offer assistance was a women  from the Secwepemc Elders Counsel.

Arta missed seeing the main event but did question Rebecca as to why at this time did she decide to take a shower in the truck stop.

No water, all coffee (along with the sweet sugar).

The sugar did a wonder for her hair and reminded her of the scene from ‘Something About Marry’.

Moral: watch out if you break the Word of Wisdom on a Sunday, it might just return the favour.

A Snow Globe

It started to snow again today.

I opened my eyes, looking outside, remembering again that I am surrounded by windows, and I had this feeling that I have had before; I am inside a snow globe!

I have loved those snow globes ever since I was little. I picked one up a few weeks ago at President’s Choice.

It was in the space where there were small toys, 5 for $10.

I shook the globe a couple of times, and then picked up a small toy, a wooden beaded animal sitting on a pedestal.

The kind where if you push a button on the bottom, the strings collapse, bringing the animal into a seated/downward position. When you release your thumb, it pops back up to a standing position.

I put 4 of those and one snow globe into my cart, and continued to walk up and down the aisles of Christmas decorations. I didn’t need to be there at all, except I had accompanied Bonnie to a medical appointment and I had nothing to do for an hour.

But the time I had finished my Christmas shopping, I knew to return to that aisle to put the snowglobe and the animals back: they had reminded me of Christmases long ago, and this Christmas I will not be surrounded by little ones.

So those toys should go to other homes, not mine.

It was fun to think about that as I was sitting in the chair, watching the snow fall all around me through the windows.

That feeling that I was the subject of the snow globe.

I wondered if the snow was falling in Cornwall, Montreal, St. Albert, Lethbridge, Calgary?

A phone call from Duncan let us know that it was, indeed, falling in Victoria.

David Camps-Johnson came out to the lake today.

He told his mom he wanted to come and walk around the property for the day.

He was amazed at the work done on lots 3 and 4.

Last year, he cleared a small path between the two lots so that branches and vines did not whip the legs of Betty, Alice and Michael as they ran back and forth between the two cabins.

David loofed at the clearing and said “Well that was a waste of my energy last summer, because now there is not even a hint of my path, let alone groves of trees having been there.”

He was amazed at the different look between the two yards, and he looked at all the stones that are piled and ready to be moved – moving some of them.

I am amazed at the tones as well. I see them around the telephone pole and the two larch trees where they have been gathered.

They need to be moved to their final resting place. The job looks absolutely daunting to me, and yet I know that, in a couple of years, all that area will be grassed and mowed, and look as if it always existed that way.

At any rate, Bonnie and David Camps wandered up to David and Shawna Pilling’s house, and took a lot of pictures along the way. David brought out his own hamburger, telling his mother, there is no use going through the fast food when we can just buy some beef, and have a better hamburger at Grandmothers.

During the course of the afternoon, Rebecca introduced David to the movie “Pulp Fiction”, telling him it was a classic movie, one that all teens should be familiar with. She hung out in the kitchen with him, as they watched on the computer screen. She coached him along the way, telling him that the movie was comprised of small vignettes which would pull themselves together as they approach the climax of the movie.

It is a long movie (well over 2 hours), and before he went home, I sat in the room with David and Rebecca while he tried to answer 10 questions for 10 dollars. This is always such a draw, this 10 dollars. I felt I could see David working it out in his head (how much will go into his bank account, if he can watch a movie a day at this rate and be paid for it). He said if I had known there were questions at the end, I would have paid attention in a different way. He did head to google for one quick piece of information (the title of the book was Travolta reading on the toilet?), and then the David and Rebecca threw questions back and forward, laughing at the difficulty or simplicity of the questions. The answers were present either way. I have seen Pulp Fiction twice. For me, it is not a memorable movie. I can’t even think the of the name of the genre to which it belongs. 

Rebecca suggests: hyper-real-Kungfu-influenced-gangster-pulp-inappropriate-drug/mob culture genre.

Arta

Christmas for One: #3 Walking a Path of Partnership and Friendship

I was going to offer my thoughts about Christmas candy today, but now I think I can make that part of another day. 

Today I have contemplated a you tube performance by Professor Rebecca Johnson where she delivers the University of Victoria's Deans’ Series: Walking a Path of Partnership and Friendship. 

She offers a chance for both reflection and hard work. 

Forty-eight minutes well worth spending, I thought, as I celebrate Christmas and take up the challenge she offers. 

I think with a nice set of coloured pens I will go back to marking up my 94 Calls to Action as part of Christmas for One.

Arta

Just Pick One Job

This is a confusing telephone shot of
what it is really like to attend a zoom class
at the university.  Only the middle white part
is relevant to the class.  The rest of the shot is insterts.
Subject material? Clear.  Online delivery?  Difficult.

I am listening in on Rebecca's Business Associations Law class which meets Tuesday and Thursday afternoon.

If I wake before 4:30 am on one of those days, I need a quick nap before her 3:30 pm class begins. Bonnie Wyora asked me if I had any suggestions as to what she should do for those 3 hours ( not needing a nap herself).

I thought of 10 things I wanted her to do, and then said, “Of all of the things you want to do, just pick one, and when you are finished with it, spend the rest of the afternoon doing something pleasurable. 

The tree Bonnie cut is the one on the 
lower right hand side of the picture.

Do nothing for me.”

I couldn’t have done that second task I asked her to do: find something pleasurable and do it. 

Hard for me – that task of finding something pleasurable and immersing myself in it, at least when the work ethic is so deep in me, that pleasure is seen as wasting time, maybe close to sinning. Just moving to pleasure can fill me with the feeling of ongoing anxiety – shame that I am choosing that instead of the task of getting everything off of my job list.

So it wasn’t a kindness to put Bonnie to the same task – to find something pleasurable to do -- after checking off at one chore, of course, which she insisted she would do.

I only had time to brush my teeth and then I decided to bring my phone up from downstairs.

That is when I came upon her with our Christmas tree, already cut and dragged into the middle of the front room.

I burst out with laughter.

My first real tree, after deciding never to buy another real one back in 1970.


I don’t know if it was an environmental impulse then, or an impulse to be thrifty and reuse a fake tree over and over, or an action from a hope to never have to clean up pine needles all over the floor.

I don’t know why I really did something or anything 55 years ago. 

I am sure that now I don’t have to be stuck in a loop that is 55 years old.

“How did you do that in three minutes?” I asked.

“You had pointed out that you wanted that tree cut down. I walked home with Dave Wood this morning and he gave me his saw. we had measured the height of the place and where you wanted the tree. I had figured out that I had to lean into the tree as I cut it, so that it wouldn’t get jammed in the tree unable to move if I sent at it from a horizontal position. What more was there to do that to cut through 4 inches of its bole and drag it into the house.”

Bringing in the Christmas tree – a five minutes job.

Arta