Hospitals Suck

Don't get me wrong...I am SO damn grateful every day of our world class health care system; the doctors, the nurses....all fantastic. But hospitals suck.

I guess if you're in the pediatric wing it's not so bad....you get new life.  Little babies....fresh, healthy, happy, and really scared parents!  But the rest of the hospital sucks....people don't really smile.  Nurses, doctors, patients, visitors.....everyone is pensive...heavy like they are walking around with a weight on their shoulders.  That's how I feel every-single-time I walk down the hall.  Hospitals are a soul sucking place despite all of the excellent care that is being given.

I knew this before when Dad was in the hospital but it takes a really special person to be a nurse because everything is always a problem.  Bed 3 needs their lunch, Bed 2 needs to poop, Bed 1 needs their blood checked and then their insulin.  Bed 3 needs to be put back into be before they eat lunch.  Bed 1 needs lunch.  Bed 2 needs bedpan taken away, new person being brought in for Bed 4 and everyone needs vitals and meds.....and on and on and on and on....holy shit-balls!  The nurse takes care of 4 patients during the day, 6 at night....rounds take an hour and half and you need to read each chart first....and things get missed.  There's not one shred of consistency.  So we say the same things over and over and over again to each nurse that comes on staff and we breathe a sigh of relief when a nurse comes on that we have seen before!! 

And things get missed....my sister and I are constantly reminding the nurses that mom is a brittle diabetic, her insulin levels are very sensitive and if they start to drop, they could potentially plummet very quickly.  She has a broken arm!! How do nurses NOT know this??  Now especially that she isn't wearing her sling.  And where's the god damn air mattress??  Every time we want one it takes a week to order.  That's frustrating. 

Nurses put up with a lot of shit....verbally abusive patients that are coming out of anesthetic, physically abusive patients that are coming out of anesthetic, patients that are trying to escape, patients that won't eat,patients that weigh lots, patients that scoot to the end of the bed, rip out nose tubes, IV's and catheters......for 12 hours a day.  What an exhausting job.

I don't smile when I'm here.  I try to stay positive for my mom's sake but I don't smile....my face feels drained and when I go home at night I feel like I have left a little piece of my soul on that hospital floor. I help others that are here because the nurses are so damn busy.  So I help my mom's room mates get water with ice chips.  I console others who are scared and confused.  I help move tables, arrange phones, get bags because there is nothing like the feeling of helplessness and nobody should feel that way, ever. 

So, I continue to sit vigil with mom in her now private room.  I advocate, I talk when she can't, I am just a body so my mom doesn't feel helpless....or alone.....and I leave a little bit of my soul every day.

Because hospitals suck.

Fortune and Frustrations

I have the best job!  As a teacher, I belong to a union who has done their very best at looking out for the interests of their members.  Part of our contract enables staff to pay into a self funded leave and take either one semester or a whole year off.  What a great concept!! The board helps you save money so you can take the time off and still get paid. While I'm off, other teachers hired in my place get valuable teaching experience and most importantly I GET TO REJUVINATE!

I really really do love my job, but, to be a connected and inspirational teacher, one needs to spend an incredible amount of personal time giving timely feedback on evaluation, making daily lessons relevant and interesting (not short of a song and dance), volunteering lunch hours, doing fundraisers, coaching.... But basically using up all of your positive energy on everyone else's kids but your own.  So while I'm enjoying the ability to travel on my self funded leave (and I'm doing enough of it), I am very much enjoying the chance to spend time with my kids where I don't feel tired and spent and grumpy all the time. 

Travel....in between spending quality time with my kids, I am travelling.  I relish the chance to learn about other cultures, see amazing scenery or just relaxing enjoying a latte or a slushy drink on a beach! My close friend and I managed to explore Scandinavia,  Russia and Iceland on our last adventure and we are currently on our way with another friend to Palm Springs to explore the area and also relax by a pool. 

Travel doesn't need to be complicated or a hassle if the company you are travelling with knows their shit and has good infrastructure, business models and quality equipment (bus, train, aircraft).  Travelling for 6 weeks in Scandinavia was EFFORTLESS other than having the weight of my backpack, everything worked like clockwork.  Travel in North America is NEVER effortless.  We speak English for God sake and it's still confusing.  Whyyyyyy?!??!

Here are my complaint:

1 - flying to the USA takes FOREVER at the airport when we leave Toronto to clear security and customs. Europe,  hop on, clear customs at the other end, smaller numbers to deal with. 

2 - In Europe and Scandinavia,  ALL modes of travel were always on time, not so much in North American.  Why the fuck can't we be on time.  Our flight lands early (shocker) and we wait for an HOUR on the tarmac waiting for our gait to clear.  What??? And then we're late...would never happen in Europe. 

3 - In flight entertainment.  What a great idea, let's provide WiFi for our customers....but if you're running Android,  too bad, you need an older OS version.  What??? So I'll watch a movie provided on the plane....I have to pay???? WTF?  Don't we get it up the ass alrwady paying for the seat and luggage and upgrades and food?? Goddamn, just make the movies work.  ALL planes in Scandinavia, free entertainment, USB ports in seat backs.  Not complicated.  (This issue has me very hot under the collar right now).

4 - people following rules.  I like people who abide by the rules, like sizes for carry on luggage.  How the hell does a fucking guitar fit in one of those carry on boxes....oh wait, how about 3??? 3 fucking guitars?! Jesus, who let these people on the plane.  What if I wanted to bring my golf clubs...same thing?  MAKE THEM CHECK THEIR GUITARS AS FRAGILE OVERSIZED LUGGAGE.

5 - large people on planes.  While I feel sorry for their situation they make MY experience difficult.  I'm sitting in an aisle seat.  Not a very wide aisle.  Guy on opposite side of aisle takes up half of the aisle....which means every time someone walks by, they have to invade MY seat space to get passed him.  EVERY...TIME! I have to share my space and I'm not even sitting next to him. 

6 - accessing luggage during the flight.  If one more man puts his penis in my face I'm going to dick punch.   Seriously....this was also said large man accessing his luggage and another man squeezing my way because of large man....JESUS!

End rant...

Palm Spring airport is amazing.  Off we go in our convertible under sun and palm trees with amazing vista's in the distance.  Let the games begin!

Time Passes

It's been a year since I started my leave to be with my dad in his final days.  I now find myself on leave again, but this time to deal with my own health issue...my bum knee.  This is not what I bargained for at this age...but here we are and I have a knee that has decided to go tits up, beyond certain repair. But I've had surgery in the hopes that I will be able to create a little bit of tissue to coat the surface of my bone and add a bit of cushion so the knee will last at least another 7-8 years before I need a partial replacement.

This is all terrible news to me.  I'm quite devastated.  It seems like I went from being very able bodied to very broken in the span of a week.  And by very broken, I mean VERY!  I can't do ANYTHING I used to.   No kneeling,  croutching, bending, no sports at all, no standing for long periods, and basically no walking properly which is wreaking havoc with the rest of my body and making me an entirely undesirable person to be around. 

Yup, I'm a straight up bitch.  Grumpy and tired all the time!   But that's what chronic pain does to humans... It wears us down, makes us irritable and unhappy.   This is what dad felt for the last 10 years and it scares me!! I am finding that I'm thinking about him a great deal while I'm off recovering from surgery.   I grunt and groan as he did getting off the couch and he was 35 years older than me!  WTF.  I rub my knee a lot and I'm sitting around in comfortable loose pants.... Just like him. So I am then forced to ask myself, how will my healing and dealing be different than dad's.  I'm still working on that one.

I read a funny post from a friend today.... The human body can create a fully functioning little human complete with a respiratory system,  circulatory system, and nervous system and all of that but it takes us 7 years to heal from a sprained ankle and it will never be the same again!! Like seriously?   I created 2 tiny little humans but my body can't heal a tiny spot on my knee.   Doesn't seem right.

And just to add insult to injury, I've been forced to start taking blood thinners because of a post surgery clot in my leg. The prescribing nurse at the hospital warned me not to hit my head..... ☑, not to fall or bang into anything.... ☑, not to cut myself (shaving is now a high risk sport).... ☑ BUT the kind woman neglected to fill me in as to how blood thinners would negatively impact my body WHEN I HAVE MY PERIOD!  Holy hell is all I have to say!!  I hope it stops soon before I become anemic!

So, time certainly passes, at a very quick pace.   But a day doesn't go by that I don't think about my dad.   Most of the time it makes me sad, but more frequently, I laugh about what dad would have said or done in certain situations.  I loved his Gino-isms.  Just last night I was frustrated about something and it had me quite upset, so I had to hobble around the island in the kitchen a few times on my crutches.  Dad would have asked why I was 'pasteing', of course he would have meant to say pacing but it never came out that way. I laughed very hard.

I am hoping that the lead up to Christmas this year will be less painful than it was last year... It was almost unbearable at times.  Overwhelming sadness that I didn't know how to compartmentalize.... And then just like that after Christmas, it was gone. I miss him terribly... It'll be a tough few weeks ahead I'm sure.

But I'll reflect....and given time, this wound too will heal and be replaced with a thousand new memories...good or bad...it's how we humans role. Now if only we could figure out how to grow a new knee....

Healing

So many things to write about...so many confusing thoughts.  It's overwhelming on a daily basis.  I don't see the simple beauty, I'm not looking.  I've been back to work for 2 weeks...and I'm done.  Although, it's a good distraction and everyone has been so awesome, I'm done.  I always feel like I have to put on a happy face and that my wallowing time is over.  As if the sentiment is "OK, you've had your time, it's over now.  Move on."  And I can't....I simply can't.  Dad is everywhere and yet he's NOT THERE.

I physically hurt.  My chest constricts, breathing seems difficult.  This happens many times during the day.  And I always feel like I'm on the verge of tears.  It sucks....it fucking sucks.  Losing a grandparent is one thing....but losing a parent.  Nothing compares.  Nothing comforts.  Nothing can prepare a person for the hurt, the loss, the sense of emptiness, a feeling of being incomplete and the CONSTANT wish for more time, the CONSTANT looking back and wishing you could have said more, done more.

I hate it.....this whole process fucking stinks. And what I can't get out of my head is the image of my father's soulless body laying in the hospital bed.  Proof that he won't be coming back.  And I'm waiting for my head to heal, for my memory to replace that image with Dad playing with the boys, painting, having coffee on the deck, enjoying the sun on the porch swing.  And yet, those images hurt too, knowing I won't see them any more.  The most devastating image is Zac looking for his Opa on the couch...

I cry daily...I'm severely dehydrated.  I should drink more water.

And yet, I am healing.  I ask myself all the time, what would Dad do.  And I am trying to find humour...and I'm trying to laugh.  There have been funny things.  Like the call Mom got on the morning of Dad's gathering from the heart monitor people in Peterborough saying that they haven't been able to get a reading for the past week.....well duh!  Followed by the Purolator person delivering a package and requiring a signature from Dad....funny.

I try to let myself relax and enjoy conversations.  I'm so very appreciative of my friends and the staff at school.  They have all been wonderful.  I have a better understanding of what others have gone through before me, younger staff members losing younger fathers/mothers.  I am so grateful for their support and understanding.  I'm lucky to have this extended 'family'.  The best indicator that healing is happening is laughing so hard it hurts.  I have my friend Sara to thank for that one.  Her regaling a story from the weekend about a body scrub, a plastic sheet and only 2 face cloths....that was some funny stuff!  She too lost her Dad a few years ago...I guess we all just need time.

But it all still fucking sucks.  Still so many thoughts that I will struggle with and that I will struggle with alone.

I miss my tangible Dad.  Someone I could hug....someone I could hear, the small nuances of his language, his hands the way he would hold a paintbrush or squeeze my shoulder.  The smell of Old Spice.  I miss him.....

Finality

The evening before my father died (which was in fact after my intoxicating sunshine day), my sister and I decided to meet and hang out with Dad for a bit.  She could fill me in on the happenings of the week - which was a shitty week for sure.  It was rough for her and Allana and Mom, spending nights sleeping at the hospital, not sleeping, watching Dad slip further and further into a state of non-responsiveness.

But on this night, Jacqueline decided that we were going to have a living wake.  So she brought martini glasses and we had white chocolate martinis at Dad's bedside while watching the sun set over the lake and listening to his music on the radio.  It was a wonderous feeling.  Dad had been unresponsive to me all day but as he lay in his bed on his left side facing the window, there was a strange sense of calm.  Dad looked very relaxed and peaceful.  I was prepared to stay the night, but after Jacqueline and I talked, we decided that he was in VERY good hands with two of his favourite 'nurse angels'.  I talked to Dad at various times during the day, telling him about our trip to Myrtle Beach, thanking him for sticking around for me but, I also gave him permission to go.  I told him it was time to go and explore his next adventure, give them trouble where ever he went.  I expressed to him that the kids would be ok.  Zac would grow up and achieve things we never thought he would achieve and that Andrew would be the best that he could be and that he would be 'great' - as Dad always said he would.

Dad died peacefully at 3:15am.  The first day of spring.  I'd like to think that he was hanging on this past week to hear from me one more time as I said I would return on this day, but I rather think it was because we had decided to disengage the defibrillator portion of Dad's pacemaker as it was giving him great discomfort over the past few days.

We got the call at 3:20am. The rest of the day seems so clear but was really a blur until you realize it's 11:30pm and you've been up for almost 20 hours.  Things that happened in the morning feel like they happened yesterday.  The 'process' of dealing with a deceased family member seems SO SURREAL!  Like you're in the movies.  At times it feels quite callous, superficial, like it really isn't happening.  But it is....

There are many phone calls that day.  Incoming and outgoing.  My toughest phone call is to Andrew. Knowing what a special bond he had with his Opa, I know that this news will be particularly crushing for my kid.  And while I stay matter of fact on the phone with him, I have so much hurt in my heart and I know I can't cry at that moment, because I know it would be difficult for me to stop.  And I am sorry I can't be there to give him a big hug, hold him and tell him that Opa loved him very much.

Crying....I'm not much of a crier....never have been.  Maybe a little more lately and for sure more now since I've had children (hormones).  But damn!  There was a lot of crying today....which I found unexpected, at various times and for a wide variety of reasons.

I was grateful that I could be there for mom, to help her field phone calls and just keep it together in general.  Then there's the trip to the funeral home in the afternoon and a whole shit-tonne of decisions to be made.  One should not be making decisions on 3 hours of sleep after a loved one has died.  It just doesn't make sense.  And I find it strange the funeral business has to work so damn quickly.....what's the rush?  The person is dead....

There is also humour during the day.  I've said it before, that laughter is very important.  It's something our family does so that things don't get too somber or morose.  Yuck, who wants that?
Dad was quite liked by the staff at the Haliburton Hospital.  The nurses could generally get a smile out of dad each day and visa versa.  Dad was larger than life, even at his sickest.  When the funeral home finally picked Dad up from the hospital, Carol was right on the ball and captured the fact that Dad had a big personality by saying, "GINO HAS LEFT THE BUILDING'!  It was very fitting.

I had MANY people share their kind comforting words with me that day as they too have experienced the loss of a parent.  The one comment that stands out the most for me is from my friend Joyce who said that while we knew his death was not unexpected, the finality of his passing is what is so difficult to accept.

The sadness continues but healing and acceptance has now got to begin.

Intoxicating Sunshine

I've had 10 wonderful days of drinks, sand, sun, friends, and hanging with Andrew.

I sit now again at my father's bedside, being a presence, talking to his far away conscience while his room is flooded with glorious sunshine.  You know, one of those days that Dad and I would have gone outside to enjoy.  One of those days I would have had to try not to get him sunburned.

The crystal that Mom has hung in Dad's window is showering his bed in a sea of colours.  Spots of rainbows all over.  It feels primitive, the sun.  Energy, the basic unit of life.  The sun shines on the beautiful rose that mom brought.  The rose with it's deep deep velvety red colour, that sits watch over Dad, undaunted in it's task.

We naturally crave sunlight.  Those of us that live in Canada travel to warmer climes so that we can fill our souls and rejuvenate all of the sunshine that we have been deprived over our long winter.  I sit in the sun....it makes me sleepy....it is truly intoxicating.  I get tanned so I feel better, radiant.

Sunlight....it opposes darkness.

My Mom was very lucky this morning.  The sun was bright and warm, and after another sleepless night at Dad's bedside, as mom was driving home from the hospital, the intoxicating sunshine lulled her into a sleepy state and she decided that the road was no longer a suitable surface to drive on....so she went for the snowbank.  I am glad that there still WAS a snowbank.  The car came to rest very precariously on the side of the hill of snow.  All is well, Mom was not hurt, only shaken up, a lot.  She's pissed about the damage to the car, but we are all very happy that she was not injured.  I'm not sure that this family could take much more in the way of tragedy....

Intoxicating....

I feel intoxicated...and no, it's not from all of the drinking with friends this past week.  Intoxicated from this process of dying.  Not understanding it, being overwhelmed by it, never knowing what to think about it.

As I stand in the late afternoon sun shining into Dad's room, I have a thought.  Death seems to be a force...with energy....I just can't explain it.

I am happy to have had my sunshine intoxication this past week....I am glad the sun shines today.

Death, morphine, sunshine and laughter

Oh what a strange 36 hours this has been.  (Written Thursday March 9th)

Mom and I received a very early phone call from the hospital that Dad had suffered a stroke and we were to come as soon as possible.  Not quite sure how I managed to get dressed...or even put my contacts in.  Shaky hands make those tasks quite difficult, especially the contacts.

Mom and I made it to Haliburton within the hour.  This is quite the feat considering Mom is diabetic and needs to eat and shoot up before we leave....and if you know my mother, eating is not her favourite thing to do, especially before 8am 9am.  The sun was very bright and warming as we drove.  I was a little pissed that the sun decided to shine today...I had wanted sun earlier in the week so I could take my chances at giving Dad another sunburn.  Did I mention the sun was very bright?  It was one of those mornings where it was almost difficult to look at the sparkle of the water because it was so bright.  But I was grateful for the sunshine.

So this was it.  This was the day I was going to lose my father.  Doc was very clinical about the fact that Dad is suffering a brain bleed and we had choices....ultimately our decision was to not go to any extreme measures and to keep Dad as comfortable as we could.  Keeping Dad comfortable included injections of morphine!  The morphine did it's job and Dad slept all day.  He had a pained look on his face for most of the day.  He wasn't moving, I couldn't understand what he was saying...at all....but a few people managed to get a smile out of him.

Many people came to give us support and give Dad hugs.  It was a long day....a very long and uncertain day, but with the long day came visible signs of improvement by Dad.  Shortly after dinner Dad's face no longer looked pained and he was resting comfortably.  Someone took Mom home (can't remember) - Mom needed to rest.  A long and tiring day causes her blood sugars to go all out of whack.  Allana (my niece) brought us dinner.  Feels weird setting up Dad's hospital table with a potluck type of spread....but then I realize, we still have to eat.  We are still in need of giving ourselves nourishment to face the days to come.

Dad continues to rest peacefully so at about 10:30 I send my sister home so she can get rest.  Dad is looking relaxed and sleeping very comfortably...so I didn't feel like we were in any danger of losing Dad this night.  However, I committed to staying so that he would have company through the night.  All of the nurses have been super helpful all day and our long time family friend/nurse Carol, made sure that we were looked after with a recline type chair, blankets and pillows.  So I cozied up beside my father's bed and watched him sleep; kept an eye on his breathing, listened to him puff relaxed breaths.  I didn't want to turn off the light....I wouldn't be able to see him then.  I did eventually find Dad's nightlight and kept that on for the night.  I felt like I do when I'm watching Zac sleep after he's been sick...a parent watching their ill child....except the rolls have now been reversed.  How often had Dad taken care of me while I had been sick?  How many sleepless nights had he experienced worrying about me?

So...we slept...he more than I but I still managed.

I knew Dad was feeling better early the next morning when, while wetting his mouth with one of those little mouth sponges, he almost sucked the sponge right off the stick!  This was repeated several times over the next couple of hours until I was given permission to give Dad sips of water through a straw!  What a remarkable turn-around!  His face was relaxed, he didn't look distant and foggy, he was clear and focused.  The best part of the morning was when Dad tried to say something to me...I had to have him repeat it 5 times because of his weak voice and his lack of teeth...but he said, "water is such a precious commodity?"  What the hell??  DAD!!!!  Precious commodity??  With no teeth?  That was a tough one to decipher.

Wow...what an incredible morning.  Dad actually has a bit of a glint in his eyes...somewhat of a mischievous look about him.  Nurse asks how he is, and he just shrugs and raises an eyebrow as if to say "Meh...been better".

"Dad, can I get you anything?"  "A nice cold beer...." he says quietly and longingly.  Seriously??

Doc comes in and asks him to raise his left arm, squeeze his left fist together...and he does it!  Doc is stunned...isn't as worried as he was yesterday and doesn't quite know what's going on in Dad's brain...but there IS something going on. 

At some point, Dad asks for his teeth back in, sometime before lunch.  He also purses his lips...like a kiss...3 or 4 times.  I ask if they are dry and if he would like some sort of chapstick on.  He says yes.  But the whole action is hilarious to me and very surreal, considering yesterday, we thought he was going to die.  

The physiotherapist comes in...WHAT??  He was on his deathbed yesterday and now it's time for a bit of exercise?  Ok, what the hell....

It continues to be a busy day of of people streaming in and out.  Dad is like a little kid.  In between visits, I tell Dad to close his eyes and rest....so he closes them...and then peeks through one to check if I'm looking at him....and then closes it and opens the other and keeps switching between eyes.  I am seriously wondering if the morphine is causing him to act like this.  But I don't think so...I think this is just his impish self showing through, and my heart is filled to the brim with love for this man.  I smiled many many times that day.

Dad actually had an appetite today.  He hasn't eaten in 3 days.  I heard his stomach growl.  So he had applesauce for breakfast, soup and mushed pasta for lunch.  And then....later in the afternoon... I tried to kill him with a potato chip.  Not just any potato chip...but my chip of choice:  Miss Vickies sea salt and malt vinegar chips!  He was looking at me enviously, as I munched a chip.  Like a kid.  "What do you need Dad?"  "One of those chips" he replied.  So, I gave him one.  And he made it through the first 3 (small) chips just fine....I shouldn't have offered him the fourth.  It was a that moment he started to choke....probably from the tartness of the vinegar.  OH NO!  HE'S MADE A MIRACULOUS TURN AROUND AND I'M GOING TO KILL HIM WITH A FUCKING POTATO CHIP!  Or at least cause pneumonia....wtf.  But, he made it through, after about 10min...no more potato chips for you!

Well, my week came to a close with Dad.  I told him several times that day, just so that he would remember, that I was leaving to take Andrew on our yearly trip to Myrtle Beach and that I wouldn't see him for a week.  He smiled each time and said have fun.  I said 3 times, "I love you Dad"....and he said, "I love you too...."  So I took my leave and drove home, my heart full of love, my eyes full of tears, my head full of memories.

Lots more living to do before thinking about dying...

It is easy to slip into a kind of funk while sitting in the hospital surrounded by the elderly.  I can't decide whether it is depressing or soul-filling.  I try not to fall into the trap of wallowing in the sadness that envelops this place.  I have to keep reminding myself that this is a process.  This is what getting old is about.  It's about living life to it's fullest.  The question is....how do we, in this western society, grow old with class, with dignity, with pride.....with grace?

Everyone here has a story...where have they been, what kind of mischief has each one gotten into in their lives.  So many stories....and I bet if they are like my dad, each one has some very interesting stories indeed!  Who documents these stories?  I bet nurses meet some fascinating individuals...

Anyone who knows me, knows I've asked this question...how am I going to continue to live the best life I can live.  How can I be the best human that I can be?  Alternatively, I need to ask myself more often...what kind of mischief can I get myself into?  I've already discussed earlier trying to find the wonder in each day...how will I find the laughter?  We need to laugh more....as humans.  Not be so damn serious all the time.  My students think their world is falling apart for the smallest of things....

On another note...as I sit here keeping Dad company, I am joyfully watching George eat EVERYTHING that he is served for dinner.  Good God the man must be hungry!  He has meticulously opened the sugar packet and emptied that into his mouth.  He looked quite pleased and a little surprized that it was sweet.  The salt was next!  Not such a pleasing face, and....last but not least, the pepper was greeted with a bit of a coughing fit an almost sneeze and a runny nose...but he got it all packed away!  Damn!  THAT, was my chuckle for the day.  Gotta love me some George.

Here's to LIVING each day....

Sounds and smells

Today I am keeping company with my very very tired father.  He has been napping for most of the day.  Very thirsty, no appetite.  It's tough to see him like this.  No love for the coffee I brought this morning, no yearning for a nice flaky croissant.  So, I sit and make him as comfortable with blankets and drinks as I can.

I am sitting beside Dad's bed, he sits in his chair leaving the bed empty.  It's a special mattress that is constantly inflated with air to prevent Dad from getting (more) bedsores.  He's so skinny that the extra padding is a wonderful relief to his aching bones.  So I am sitting beside the hum of the pump....it's lulling me into a sleepy mode.  Good white noise.  It's good that George is deaf so he can't hear the hum.  The hum is decidedly better than the constant noise of the construction going on all around us.  Floors, drywall, painting, trucks outside it goes on and on.

I listen to Dad snore, George whistles as he schleps down the hall, Joe moans and groans to try and communicate, and still there is the hum of the mattress pump.

Which brings us to smells.....holy Jesus! Walking into a hospital is an olfactory onslaught very much like stepping foot into an elementary school after a wet, warm spring day.  *Barf*  Last week I had the pleasure of doing both all week.  Please realized that I am a hypersensitive person (I keep saying to my friends that I'm sensitive and they laugh - I'm not sure why...) so I can smell things.  My sister has the same keen sense of smell....like a tracking dog, she can smell a french fry stand from a mile away!  Haha!  She'll kill me for that one.

So walking into this hospital daily brings about a nasal battering...antiseptic, urine, poop, other bodily fluids, and some indistinguishable combination of floor cleaner and flowers...I think.  Each day I visit Dad I bring coffee, mostly for us both to enjoy but it's also a wonderful way of blocking the smells.  I got into habit last week of stopping at the convenience store in Carnarvon.  I would go in and buy a small bag of Miss Vickies sea salt and malt vinegar chips and a can of diet Coke.  At first I thought it was to keep me awake....but then I realized it was to disinfect my nasal passages from the hospital smell and to prepare myself for the wet, soaking, sweaty boot, sock stank of the elementary school where I picked up Zac.  Oh god those chips were cathartic!  By the end of the week I said fuck it and bought a big bag!

The onslaught to my nose didn't stop with hospital and Zac's school.  I was able to take Andrew to a badminton tournament this weekend.  Have you ever smelled wet, sweaty, gym shoes that don't have a chance to dry and the stinky feet that come out of them?  Do all teenage boys have sweaty, clammy, gross smelling feet?  DAMN!

It's time for a walk....I'll see what other sounds and smells I will come across today.

Routine and the joy of coffee!

What a stark contrast today's weather is to the past 2 days.  Dark, dreary, rain, warmish and foggy.  This will give way tonight to freezing temps and more snow.  I had hoped we would be getting rid of the snow at this point.  The weather has been good for driving.  I appreciate that.

I don't look at the scenery today.  I don't find myself scanning the roadside vistas for anything interesting as the light is flat and dull.  The one amazing piece I see is when I pass Boshkung Lake...the fog has enveloped the distant shores and just left white sky with white snow and some black trees in the foreground.  It's quite stunning.

Dad and I are developing quite a routine.  He is awake today when I get to his room and he smiles and his face lights up when he notices that I have brought hot coffee.  He asks if there is something to nibble on....I brighten his day once more when I tell him I have also brought a croissant with me that he can dip into his coffee.  Often, Dad can't wait to have the coffee but it is always too hot!  I have to distract him so it can cool off.  Eventually we get to dipping and sipping without spilling or burning.

Yesterday Dad was moved back into the room with the view of the bright blue tarp that covers the fence outside of his window.  It's not a bad room, kind of away from the general noise of the nurses station.  Not that noise matters anyways.  Dad shares his room with very old George.  He's a quirky kinda guy.  Not unpleasant, but not too social either.  Dad was with George before and when Dad would be out of the room George would take to making sure Dad's bed was neatly made.  I'm not quite sure if George missed Dad when he was taken to a different room for 5 days.

We move all of Dad's things into his space by the blue tarped window and I notice that George has Dad's TV on and has absconded with both TV remotes.  Ha!  Apparently George shops around on his wanderings around the hospital.  A week or so ago, Dad's magazines went missing.  George had stashed them in his side table!  I try not to be too obtrusive to George when I visit Dad because this is his 'home' too.

I reflect on this yesterday....hospital for health or death...tough call.  Tough place to work.  Can't imagine.  It's time again to take Dad for a tour...perhaps a run through the drizzle.  Heat up his cold coffee and give him the last of his croissant to enjoy before I have to go and pick up the kids.

It's been a good day...again.

Colour and Sunshine

(Written February 27th)

Another sunny day!!  I was able to take Dad outside again....yes I put sunscreen on him!  It was a bit of a chilly wind but we found the sun beautifully warming and very bright.

Today is my sister's birthday.  I ask Dad if he knows that...he said yes but I'm never sure if he's covering up the fact that he might not remember clearly.  I'm never sure if I should ask him if he remembers something...I don't want him to feel bad if he has actually forgotten.  Dad reminisces again of walking the shores of the Zürich-see....at least I think that's what it is.  I have a deep regret in me that I never toured Zurich or Switzerland with Dad so he could explain all of his hang outs and favourite spots.  I know that at some point Andrew will take a trip there and want to go skiing on Zermatt....again...I think.  Dad has instilled this desire in my son and if I don't get a chance to take Andrew myself, I hope that he will have the travel bug and some great friends and go and explore Switzerland and Europe on his own.

When we came inside to warm up in the little glassed in seating area, I hear these two young people (I say young because they are younger than I am.....likely in their 20's) and they are talking with the young man's grandfather.  I chuckle at the conversation that goes something like this...

"Are there still loons on the lake Gramps?"  (I wonder if he means in general or like RIGHT NOW, which would then make it a pretty stupid question.  Of course there are no loons...they migrate dummy)

"Ya" the grandfather answers.  There's a substantial pause...

"What's a loon" the girlfriend asks.  Seriously????  It's on our fucking dollar coin!  Are you Canadian?  I hear she lives in BC and apparently they don't have loons out in BC....but...IT'S ON OUR DAMN "LOONEY". (Sorry about the potty mouth, it slips out every now and then)

"It's like a duck" the boyfriend says.  WHAT???  Now I'm just trying to hide my face and the incredulous look that I most likely have smeared all over it!

I won't go into the rest of the conversation, it was just weird.....and sad.  I find myself being a little too judgy.  That's my new word - judgy.  I hate judgmental people so I am very critical of myself when I find I am being THAT person.  It's hard sometimes to hold back the judginess....so I admonish myself and try to find excuses as to why these humans that I am judging are behaving the way that they do.  I am not sure if I fear being judged by others.  I believe that if your actions are with good intent, than ye shall not fear judgment!  Whoa...that sounded a little too religious for me.  Where does judgement come from?  A lack of knowledge or education?  A lack of experience?  Worldliness? I don't know.  I've stopped worrying about it for today.

I got Dad settled into his room again in a nice warm beam of sunshine (like a cat) so he could rest before Mom came over the dinner time.  With the beautiful sunshine, it was a wonderful drive home, very rich in colour and picturesque scenery.  I think about stopping the car a couple of times to take a photo but I always fear that the picture I take won't really do the scene justice.  So I carry on, telling myself that there will be many opportunities to see such things again and that my memory is as good as any camera...we'll see.  In my minds eye I snap photo after photo of scenes with long blue shadows cast on the very clean and unblemished surface of snow created by very stark, dead and grayed trees of pine or cedar.  It's wonderful!

My day ends driving to and from Barrie to take Andrew to his volleyball practice.  It's a good one and he is practiced well.

It was a good day.

Should I ever win the lottery

(Written February 26th)

Of course, one would have to play the lottery in order to win the lottery.  But if I did play, and if I did win big, what would I do with the winnings.  What would you do?

If the jackpot was substantial enough, I'm at a point in my career that I would quit my job.  There are enough young teachers out there that are eager and willing to fill my shoes.  As I am often reminded, everyone is replaceable.  I would pay off all of my debts.  I would give a large portion to my other family members to do with as they wish.  I would invest and I would travel.  Winning the lottery would be an easy way to solve some financial issues.

Ultimately, if I had unlimited funds, I would grant my father a dying wish.  There are 2 really, one he has voiced and the other he has spoken of at length as a wish he could have done at some point in his life.

Yesterday, Dad voiced his wish to get on a private charter plane and travel to Zurich, hire a driver and tour all of his hangout places, fly back to Canada and come right back here to his hospital bed.....not so difficult really?  What kinds of funds would that require?  I dream.....how hard would that be to pull off?  Mom told him he would need to take 2 nurses with him....which he would be ok with.   Dad also said that it would be very nice for mother to join him.  So how, without having unlimited resources and being a multi-millionaire with connections, do people actually make a request like this happen....? Quite simply, you don't.  So my only wish is that I can fill Dad's last precious moments with richness in other ways since I don't think I can make the Zurich visit happen.

Dad's second lifelong wish has always been to visit Russia.  Moscow, St. Petersburg, the Hermitage Museum.  I've heard about these places for as long as I can remember.  I fear that if I was to ever visit any of these places, that they wouldn't live up to the images Dad had painted for me in my mind (kind of like trying marroni - a chestnut paste which Dad always thought was quite devine) Perhaps these places hold a special mystique for Dad of places far far away. Places he thought were difficult to visit.

Well, I didn't play the lottery, I'm not a millionaire so I guess I too will dream.....

Everyday is not just another day

The day comes to a close and in my head I'm thinking, "Whew, I can finally relax".  It's 10:30pm for god sake!  What the hell!  It's a Friday night and I'm in bed.  How did it come to this?  I'll tell you how it came to this...it's called PARENTHOOD.

I decided to take a day at home today and not visit my Dad.  I had many things to do that needed to be done on a weekday and had to be done soon.  Part of my responsibility was coming home and taking care of my kids during my week 'on'.  Time to shower them with unconditional love, advice and food! (I've been told it's important to feed my kids).  And for a day off, it was quite the whirlwind!

In general, my day went like this: get up because dog has to pee....take dog out, bring dog in, feed dog so she doesn't make those droopy puppy dog eyes at me, make lunches, wake younger kid (who is 11 and special needs - I'll likely chat about him a lot), wake older kid (I'll likely talk about him a lot too), go back and make breakfast, get younger kid dressed and moved to kitchen so he can have his liquid breakfast, go back and wake older child, take both children to school (usually it's only the younger one as the older one can walk but it's raining today and I'm off so I can treat the older one to a ride), come home, do business on computer, go to town to do business there, go to another town to do more business there, come back to first town to do business at a couple of other places including shopping, go home do one last piece of business on the computer, go and pick up younger kid from after school program, go out to Forest home (my ex's house) to pick up the older kid (he had to go there to get his shoes for a dance tonight - it's a 20 min drive each way), come home again, cook dinner, feed kids, help older kid get ready for school dance, drive kid to dance, feed younger kid more food, put younger kid to bed, entertain older kids' friend that is staying over (older boys have volleyball tournament tomorrow), pick up older kid from school dance......and here we are.

If you ask any other parent with involved children, or multiple children, I'm sure they will all have a similar if not more involved day and yes, I have left out all of the things we all do daily like eat, let the dog out and catch up on  news and social media.  So why am I going on about all of these mundane things?  Within all that is normal and routine, there are wonderful moments that I have to stop and absorb and it is these fleeting moments that make each day special....we as humans need to harness the 'special' that happens EVERY DAY in our lives.

My first special moment was hearing Zac (my youngest) laugh as he woke up this morning.  I love when he laughs, it makes me laugh.  I went to the library and got an audiobook (for all of the long drives I am taking - I need a break from radio play music).  As I started to listen to it, it featured a cello solo....it was beautiful and rich.  I get an update on Dad from Mom who says that it was an uneventful day.  This is great news in the world of Dad!!  It means nothing was wrong today.  I watched Andrew (my oldest) get dressed in his suit for his semi-formal dance....hair, shirt, tie and he let me help him put his jacket on.  He looked so handsome!  And finally, before I went to bed, I checked on Zac sleeping...so relaxed, so content, feeling safe, feeling cozy under his big duvet.  I love watching him sleep. I puff up when I see him all vulnerable like that, as a protective parent should, I guess.  All of these happenings helped enrich my day, helped me appreciate all that I have.

Which brings me full circle to my Dad again.  As I am shifting a sleeping Zac under his duvet, I can't help feel bad for Dad who has expressed deep sadness in the fact that he will miss out on so many things if he dies.  It's a wisp of a thought, fleeting out of my head as quickly as it arrived.  But it was still there.  I suppose what I am experiencing is similar in nature to Oprah's practice of writing down each day what you are grateful for.  No doubt there are some days when finding the 'special' seems impossible, but I think we need to try and find the special, if not in something that we did, than in something that happened to someone else for there is special everywhere.  One day after a beautiful drive on my way to see Dad, I posted this, "The world is full of incredible simple beauty...if we just take the time to really look."  I am really looking, not searching, but looking.....seeing....noticing....

Day 2 of many....

Dad got his teeth back, I won a Tim Horton's coffee!  Everything is good in the world!!

However, I am finding out that Dad is full of shit!  Hasn't stopped pooping all morning.  Which really cuts into our rally time in his wheely chair.  He must have kick started his colon again yesterday with the quantity of food he ate.  Amazing how a man can eat so much spaghetti without teeth! So, we're waiting for a break in the action so we can tour the halls.  

To take dad's mind off of things I set up his table and got out his sketchpad and charcoal.  He had an image in his mind.  How wonderful it was to see the concentration on his face, the small strokes of the charcoal, think lines,  edges, thin strokes and the gentlest of smudges from his aged hands.  An underlying commentary of, "that's supposed to be a birch tree"  still sketching...."I'm envisioning a field, smokey grey with mist and fog"...."I used to be able to draw trees...".  Nothing was said with anger or frustration.  Just matter of fact, never wavering or glancing away from his paper. 

My father is a pretty good artist.  When I was about 7, we were camping in Wildwood Park near Honey Harbour on Georgian Bay.  Dad would bring his big art box full of oil paints and tools.  I loved the smell of that box.  It's brass locks and hinges, all of the wood inside covered with flecks of oil paint from tubes of paint that might not have been closed properly.  The small Heinz babyfood jar full of dirtied varsol.   Stubby brushes, a pencil and the ever important painters spatula and his palette full of smears and blobs and wonderful colours.  I yearned to use that stuff, to manipulate the paint as dad had done so many times.  

So on one sunny summer vacation day, I asked dad to teach me how to paint.  He said ok.  I was so excited!  He set me up with a pencil and a coarse piece of paper and said, "Ok, draw a circle." Around I went with my pencil....voila!  "No, do it again and again without leaving the page" I looked at him questioningly but didn't say anything...so a drew circles.....again and again.  After 10min or so I thought I was an expert and I was ready for paint!....Nope, all I got was another piece of paper.  Needless to say, I never got to paint.  I got bored and decided to go fishing instead (some may argue that fishing would be just as boring...I might agree!). To this day I have not used dad's oil paints but I can still draw a damn fine circle!

It seems to be a bed day for Dad. He's resting, somewhat uneasily. Full of hand twitches and snoring puffs.  He desperately wants to go outside but we can't until his bowels give him a break.   These are the times I feel sorry for Dad and the elderly in general.  Loss of control, loss of dignity, loss of awareness, loss of movement...feeling like a prisoner not only in the room with its close 4 walls but captive and stuck in a body unwilling to work properly, lost in years gone by.  And yet, here I am, very much in the present making memories that I am sure to remember when I am 86 years old...

It's a beginning...

I could take my musings to a very deep level....but maybe not today.  Life is funny with its twists and turns...some light and radiant, some dark and gloomy.  All make for an interesting journey.   The joy in the journey comes from within and how each individual reacts to their daily happenings.

So, here I sit, in the Haliburton Hospital,  listening to my father gently snore as he rests after looking at some impressionistic artwork.  It's not a hard task.  Some might say it would be boring to this 7 or 8 hours a day.  But it's not.  I just imagine how Dad's 24hr day would be boring and then complaining about my day becomes a moot issue.

Dad had a good night last night. Said he slept well, he's says mostly due to the meds they gave him.  We've taken a walk to our favourite little nook to enjoy the view outside.  We're waiting for the sun to shine...says he needs to roll up his pant legs to get some some sun on his legs.  I'll try not to burn him like I did this past Saturday....but what glorious sunshine there was!  And who was I to deny him his rest in the sun.  My Mom has made sure that there is ample sunscreen available for him now.

The denturist came by last night...took his top teeth away for 24hrs.  Food services woman said she'd make a note for his food to be soft for the next 3 meals....so they served him toast for breakfast!  Dad said, "They served toast for breakfast.... It looked good...but I couldn't eat it!"  Damn!  That's rough for a man that isn't eating much anyway.  We'll head back shortly to see what crunchy stuff they'll serve him up for lunch.

This morning Dad said he is homesick.  I asked for where, hoping not to invoke too much sadness in him.  He commented that he was missing Zürich,  where he lived and grew up.  He still has sisters there, be them all but estranged from him.  Not sure if he wants me to make contact with them. 

Time passes....

Dad ate lunch very well today and was able to use his right arm to feed himself.  Cream of celery soup....with 2 packets of pepper.  They gave him an extra soup to make up for the tease of toast they sent him for breakfast. 

What a luxury!  There's hot water today!  I was able to soak Dad's nicely browned face with a hot towel to get him ready for a shave.  Must remind myself to buy some new razors...and not to pull and lift off the skin at the same time!  I've been quite spectacular at giving dad a shave...haven't knicked his jugular yet!  

We are currently sitting outside hoping for sun.  Dad is restless, and awake which is more than I can say about yesterday.  After running around in the morning getting things packed and driving over from Bracebridge,  I was able to spend the better part of the day hanging out with Dad.  At around 7pm I called it a day and left him in the hands of my sister.  Shortly after I left, while talking to mom on my sisters' phone my mom asked, "Did you have a nice visit with Corry?"  "Yeah, she was only here for a little bit..." Dad replied.  So much for me thinking he was more aware.  Maybe today will be different.  But I guess when one sleeps that much, time has a way of playing funny tricks on you.  Day becomes night, night becomes day, each nap is a day complete.  A hospital is like a city, it never truly sleeps....