Month: April 2017

April 28: The Saucer Magnolia at the end of the street is in magnificent bloom, so I’m saying that Spring has officially arrived. This is fully 10 days earlier than last year, which surprises me a bit, given the relatively poor and changeable weather we have endured. Whatever the case, I say it’s time to commence wearing shorts and drinking rosé.

April 26: My Sister and I are dealing with an issue that confronts many of our generation: What to do about Mum ? Is it time to move her from “independent living” to a place where care is provided ? It’s stressful and emotional for us; this is our Mother and we want the best for her, yet we know that she will resist moving because she believes that she can still care for herself. However, her mental state is not good, and she has had several falls ( with no apparent lasting effects so far ). It feels a bit like we are delaying taking that next step until events clearly show us what we already know we must do.

This situation has caused me to reflect on the probability that I too stand a good chance of being placed somewhere I may not wish to be.

I believe that I lead a relatively independent life. In particular, the last few years have allowed me the freedom to live as I wish and do things as my schedule and finances allowed. It’s a privileged life and I’m fortunate to have the forbearance of many people to make it possible. Still, my age and my involvement in risk-taking activity ( motorcycling ) makes me a good candidate for assisted living, possibly in the not too distant future. As my Father said: “These things await you…”

My recent experience at the Shouldice Hospital ( see following post ) opened a brief window on what that future might hold. The simple fact that large numbers of people need to be fed, bathed, medicated and entertained means that life becomes much more regimented. Meals at specific times, events on a schedule. Many facilities that I might be able to afford only offer semi-private rooms so sharing space and events with someone else is a fact of life. At Shouldice, medical visits were a daily routine and we joked that we would automatically drop our pants when a Nurse came into the room. While that’s a bit extreme, more intrusive care can be a part of your daily life. With diminished ability there is also loss of mobility. Your world becomes progressively smaller and you are forced to rely on others to get around.

“So what ?” I hear you say. “Get over yourself.” And you would likely be correct. Many of my generation have led a self-centred (“independent”) life, believing that we are entitled to do what we want as we please. Contemplating a time and place when that is no longer possible is frightening. It’s hard to conceive that such a life could be acceptable when we’ve had things our own way for so long.

And so perhaps the decisions around Mum’s situation reflect a dilemma I face myself: It’s OK for her to go there, but would it be OK for me ? Her reactions and my own are probably pretty much the same. Something to have in mind as we face those decisions in the not-so-distant future.

April 17: I’ve spent a significant part of the last week at the Shouldice Hospital having a hernia repaired. A hernia occurs when tissue (often intestines) protrude through a tear in the abdominal muscles. This usually happens in or near the groin area. Aside from the fun of giving your internal organs a brief bay-window view of the world, hernias can become dangerous if the protruding organs become twisted and starved of blood. Since the thought of that happening somewhere high in the French Alps was too horrible to contemplate, I knew my hernia had to be fixed.

The Shouldice Hospital is the world leader in hernia repair. Says so right in their promotional material. I show up at their clinic, and after a lengthy questionnaire on my health history, and blood and cardio tests, I find a strange man fondling my bollocks and asking me to cough. Hernia confirmed – you did see that egg-shaped lump in my groin didn’t you ? – I’m offered an operation date 2 weeks later. (This is due to a cancellation and a huge bonus as the usual wait is 6 to 8 weeks.)

At this point, possible complications are explained. My personal favourite is the 1% chance that your testicle will become extremely enlarged and very painful. This may last for more than a month when it will diminish to its’ normal size, or it may disappear entirely. I’m left wondering whether it’s better to have a nut resembling a pomegranate, or no nut at all.

On arrival, there is the same questionnaire, more tests, and a different man fondling my wedding vegetables before I’m assigned a bed. While the Eeyore in me had expected a farting, snoring, lice-infested axe-murderer as a roomy, my bunk-mate was none of those things. We got along well and shared much gallows humour over our on-going treatment and recovery.

On the morning of the operation, a briskly efficient nurse arrives to shave my nether regions – try having a friendly non-committal chat while that’s going on – and then I’m walked down to the pre-op area. I’m then given a sedative that apparently does nothing at all.  In time, the surgeon appears and I’m frog-marched into the OR. I remember a brief chat with the anaesthesiologist about the freezing temperature of the room  – bacteria don’t thrive in cooler temperatures – as she fitted the IV to my arm.

“When I woke up” I was back in the room. Standard procedure is to get off the operating table and into a wheelchair for the return journey, yet I (and most of the other patients) remember none of it. After a 4 hour nap and a further fondling of your googlies, the process of getting out of bed and recovery begins.

You might be tempted to think that the rippling six-pack you call your abdominal muscles are simply there to enclose your stomach. You would be wrong. The slightest movement like rolling over or sitting up triggers a searing pain that extends from pubic bone to rib cage. It feels very much like all of the sutures are being ripped out every time you move. In itself, this is hard to imagine since the sutures are stainless steel “staples” (for lack of a better word). There are about 15 of them holding the 12 cm incision together in a raised ridge down the left side of my body. As well, there’s a massive area of bruising that extends from my hip bone right through to Stevie and the twins. They must have been using tire irons during surgery to do that amount of damage…

After 3 days of recovery, getting slightly less tender and more mobile each day, we are allowed to escape. I’m still doing the Shouldice Shuffle, and getting out of chairs and rolling over in bed is still a bit of a production. I’m told that, in a month, everything will be back to normal. I’m looking forward to that time and hope that this whole experience will truly be one of “short-term pain for long-term gain”.

April 11: Not to jump the gun here, but it is starting to look like Spring is showing its’ face. It may not be a happy face all the time, but there are signs that she’s at least making the effort. The weather continues to be changeable; yesterday’s early sunshine and warmth gave way to a brief and fierce thunderstorm. Unfortunately, I was enjoying the first “serious” ride on my brand new and freshly-waxed motorcycle at that precise time and I was thoroughly drenched. At least I confirmed that my new riding jacket is waterproof…

The crack-heads are back in the courtyard grinding mortar and working on tuck-pointing the bricks. They’ve been at it a couple of days now. A generator has fired up again at the house they are building across the street. It only seems to run from 8 AM to 5 PM on sunny days, so it’s not like it’s bothersome all the time. And yesterday the City announced its’ Summer road construction schedule. Cue jokes about the two seasons of “Winter” and “Construction”. Terribly droll.

But there are other signs which are more positive. A robin has been singing every morning for the last week or so, frequently joined by the cardinals and the hawks nesting at the end of the street. And the blossoms are starting to emerge from hiding. This place is in south Rosedale. The whole front lawn is covered from one end to the other with blue scillas.  It’s pretty impressive now, and will be more so in a week or two when the Saucer Magnolia and Forsythia join the display.

Finally, I would just mention in passing that the LCBO is now stocking some of its’ allocation of rose wine. In my local store there is now a heart-warming section fully devoted to lovely pink wine. Patio days can’t be that far off. It’s enough to make you want to come out of your Winter hiding place and join the fun ….

April 7: Yesterday afternoon I began organizing travel arrangements for my trip to Europe this summer. I’m going back to revisit some of the highlights I saw in 2015, and to explore new adventures.

The trip in 2015 seemed like the realization of aspirations I had held for a very long time. My previous trip to France was in 2003 – 12 years earlier – and it seemed aeons in the past. I characterized the 2015 trip as a “reward” for reaching the ripe old age of 65 and beginning my retirement years.  I had thought about it for so long, and imagined how spectacular it might be, that I felt entitled to go. Somehow I had waited long enough and “deserved” it.

This year the trip feels a little self-absorbed. I’m very aware of the issues I’m leaving behind. My Mum has early Alzheimer’s and her condition can only get worse. At 94 years of age, any number of medical issues could arise without warning and I’m effectively leaving my sister Nancy to sort it all out. She is a Nurse and a real rock in my life, so I have absolute confidence in her ability to deal with whatever might happen, but it feels like I am abdicating my responsibility to her and my Mother for an extended time.

My daughter Marisa is expecting a son in early August, just before my intended return date. I was away in 2015 until just before she had the girls. My feeling is that there is not much I can do to help her, beyond figurative hand-holding and being present (which, of course, I won’t be…). She is practical and strong-willed and confident, so she too will deal with whatever happens, but I feel that it is somehow inappropriate for me to be away as this wonderful event in her life unfolds.

I’m also aware of the potential of messing up in Europe and becoming a problem for others to solve, and given that I am spending almost 2 months on a motorcycle, some would assert that the likelihood of that happening is higher than average. Still, I feel confident in my ability to ride safely, and I’m comfortable with the risks that the trip involves. As Tazio Nuvolari is reputed to have said: “Thousands of people die in their sleep, but it doesn’t stop me from going to bed.”

Ultimately I suppose this is nothing more than a self-absorbed rationalization for doing something that I want to do, at a time when I want to do it. If not now, when?  I’m not getting any younger, and given my family history with Alzheimer’s, I may not have long. Whatever the case, it’s absolutely a “first world problem” of the highest order.  A problem that I am fortunate to confront.