One year ago, I started a regular routine of walking several times each and every week. What I did not realize is that it was going to become one of the most important activities in my life.
When I began, I walked a 4 km route in my neighbourhood which I enjoyed at first, but it became a little tedious as the winter months arrived. As life became more complicated in January of 2010, I took my walks to a nearby trail where I felt I could find privacy and solitude. The trail was stunning, private, and protected. It was easy and enjoyable to build my endurance, one step at a time, as my distances steadily increased. My usual routine involved two shorter walks on Tuesday and Thursday, usually 8 – 12 km and a longer walk on Saturday or Sunday, ranging from 16 – 28 km, always maintaining a steady pace of 10 minutes per kilometre (not exactly a record breaking pace)
This nearby trail is now an addiction, a necessity, and a familiar friend. Throughout the seasons, I have watched the forest transform from the cold moss-rich winter, where I have witnessed the awesome power of the raging Sooke River, to the blossoms of spring, the buzzing heat and trickling river of summer, and the golden crisp coolness of today’s autumn splendor. I learned that there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing (thanks Brian).
This trail has seen me transform from my worst to my best. On the trail I have created goals, unravelled confusion, welcomed grief, found strength, resolved anger, weighed career choices, and simply enjoyed and appreciated this amazing part of the world.
I hope that walking this trail never feels like a chore, because at this point in my life, I have made walking a priority, often leaving the dishes, laundry, or cleaning for the evening. I cannot imagine how I would have survived 2010 without it....
One of my favourite songs over the past few months has been “Meet Virginia” by Train. Although I had heard this song when it was more popular several years ago, I never actually listened to the lyrics until this summer. And I fell in love (again) with the song and with “Virginia”.
I see Virginia as a quirky, awkward girl who lives her life against the grain: “her hair is always a mess”, “she only drinks coffee at midnight”, “she doesn’t own a dress”. The beauty of the song is that the singer loves her for all of her faults; in fact, he seems to adore her. It’s not that he doesn’t notice the fact that she’s different, he sees it and embraces it. That’s what I love about this song – it’s such a refreshing message!
The problem lies in how Virginia seems to view herself and where she is going in her life. “She wants to be the queen, and she thinks about her scene. Pulls her hair back as she screams 'I don’t really want to be the queen'... finishing with a far more serious conclusion 'I don’t really want to live this...'”. The interpretation of Virginia’s view of herself seems much more vague and leaves more to speculation. She is obviously conflicted. Is it that her true “quirky” self is conflicted with who she wishes she were, perhaps a more refined Virginia? Or perhaps, she is frustrated with others expectations of her, as she knows she will never be who others want her to be. Either way, she is faced with the burden of self doubt and, despite the adoring writer, she does not hold herself in such high regard.
But, to me, the general impression of the song is that we should embrace the “inner Virginia” in ourselves, because being true to yourself is beautiful, sexy, and magic. Personally, I feel that the video produced for this song is extremely disappointing! (I was unable to share but it can be viewed on Youtube) The video features a modelesque Virginia who is far too mainstream – way too perfect - she certainly does not fit the description of the free-spirited Virginia that I envisioned.
After an extensive online search, I have found the girl who represents the perfect Virginia in my mind. Her name is Yael and she is a Franco-Israeli singer/songwriter. To me, she exemplifies quirky, yet beautiful.
So, even at the dawning of middle age, I am ready to embrace change, find it in myself to express the inner Virginia, who I have hid for years behind khaki pants, V-neck T-shirts and sensible running shoes!! I’ll let you know what happens when I find it in myself to welcome her home....
Once in awhile, a discovery of music is made, only by chance (with a little help from online search engines). Such a discovery was made tonight. This song, Becoming, by April McLean, fits well into this moment in time, and I fell in love with the lyrics immediately. (For the record, the theme of "failing your partner" is not really applicable to our life - I didn't write the song, but I love the rest of the lyrics, nonetheless...)
Becoming
I know I made you cry I failed you left and right And I've been too hard inside to see you hurting And I guess all I can say Is that even at my age, I'm still learning
And I know it's hard to believe But there's been a change in me And what I could not give you then I can give you now
I'm becoming whole And I'm becoming healed And I'm becoming something beautiful to see I'm overcoming fear And I'm overcoming shame And I'm becoming so much more than me
That's why I'm here tonight To try and set things right And rebuild the bridges I once left burning I cannot change the past I cannot change your mind I guess all I can change is me
So I'm becoming strong And I'm becoming wise And I'm becoming what you thought you'd never see I'm overcoming pride And I'm overcoming blame And I'm becoming so much more than me
I'm becoming whole And I'm becoming healed And I'm becoming something beautiful to see I'm overcoming fear And I'm overcoming shame And I'm becoming so much more than me
Last week, I briefly met a physio who had recently engaged in a meditation practice which involved immersing oneself in silence for 10 straight days. Although I wanted to find out more about his speechless venture, I did not get a chance to clarify. However, I’ve since been thinking about the concept of silence.
Silence can mean so many different things in so many different situations:
For a young mother of a teething toddler, silence is welcomed respite.
For a teacher, after the first day of elementary school, silence is joy.
For a teenager, born in the late nineties, silence is boring.
For a quarrelling couple, silence is the epitome of frustration or power.
For a friend, waiting for a reply, silence is heartbreaking.
For a musician, silence is poverty.
For a scared child in the middle of the night, silence is horrifying.
For the mother of a six year old who catches her son with his hand in the cookie jar, silence is guilt.
Well, we’re officially almost two-thirds of the way through 2010, one of the most challenging years of my life.
I’m so happy to share that the past 2 months have been really great – summer has been filled with glorious sunshine, cheerful birthday parties, rewarding work, and personal fitness. I even went so far as labelling August 16th as the “best day of year” after a wonderful time celebrating my daughter’s birthday.
During the previous day, I had the “Glee-ful” experience of choreographing, teaching, and performing a “flash mob” with 11 kids during our daughter’s pancake breakfast birthday party... Talk about total and complete silly fun!!
I felt that all was well, until lunchtime at work the following day. I was hungry, but hadn’t had time to pack a lunch, as the fridge was full of pancakes, pudding and cupcakes! I was craving a turkey sandwich and was running out of time before my next patient was scheduled. So I headed off to the closest lunch spot – the cafe at the BC Cancer Agency.
I briefly hesitated, knowing that this building was the site of several previous visits with my dad, during his illness. But I thought that I’d be fine – I’d been parking in front of that building for weeks and had no emotional reaction .
So, in I walked, feeling hungry and confident that everything was going to be okay. I was wrong.
I ordered a turkey sandwich, then glanced briefly down the corridor. Unfortunately, I let my guard down for a brief moment, and the memory of my last visits there flooded back. I thought about how my dad needed help filling out the computerized well-being questionnaire and how he said he was feeling unbearably nauseous. Mom and I had chatted about the decor and friends she knew who volunteered there. Dad was wearing his Kahki pants - the belt fastened with a buckle featuring an RCAF emblem – the belt which was so important then, as he was losing weight rapidly. I remember his slow shuffling gait, and how he waiting impatiently as I retrieved the car from the staff parking lot - I insisted that he conserve his energy. That was only a relatively short time ago, in February. Now, it was August and he was gone. February was a lifetime ago.
“Turkey Sandwich ready.” The lady behind the counter spoke. Oh no. The simple hunger that I felt a few minutes before was now replaced by the intense visceral burning of sadness – the kind of hopeless grief that can only be relieved by a period of tearful solitude. A period of time which was not booked into my afternoon schedule. So I forced down half of the nauseating sandwich – with only my left brain to encourage me to chew. I took a few deep breaths and concentrated on the walk back to the outpatient building so that I could fully focus on my afternoon patients. I successfully held the tears back until a more convenient time.
Now, I am able to put this episonde into perspective. This was an intense moment of sadness during a great week. In May and June I was experiencing these moments several times every day. For much of 2010, it felt rare to experience true happiness for an extened period of time, but now, I am enjoying hours, even days of joyful energy, as I regain the ability to be fully present with family and friends.
But I will likely be unable to eat a turkey sandwich for a long time. It will get added to the list of everyday objects now associated with sadness and grief – an Olympic hoodie, Mom's silver serving tray, Dad’s belt, the scent of cranberry scented bamboo sticks, and “Mr Bojangles”
Perhaps, next time I'm hungry at work, I'll go to Subway.
Eight years after I was “bumped” (displaced due to downsizing in our regional healthcare system) from my job at the Royal Jubilee Hospital’s rehabilitation unit, I was back as a casual physiotherapist, filling in for a friend who was on vacation. My schedule was set for 8 days of coverage.
I couldn’t believe it. There I was, in the social worker’s office, gathering with the rest of the team for a brief discharge planning meeting. The charge nurse, occupational therapist, and social worker were the same three faces that I left eight years ago! I was, once again, home at work.
After the pleasant and productive meeting, I glanced at the clock and saw that it was 9:00, two hours from working with my favourite patient, Mr. X. I provided physical therapy treatments for Mr X between 11:00 and 11:55 daily for eight days. The lunch trays arrived at 11:45 but he didn’t mind extending his physio sessions. I didn’t mind either, because every extra activity/exercise with him was time well spent.
What he accomplished during the time that we worked together was nothing short of astounding. When I began working with him, he required the assistance of three therapists to move from sitting to standing, as his weakness was profound and his endurance was very poor. By the end of my time there, he was able to stand up from a 24 inch height, with minimal assistance, and walk with the aid of a two-wheeled walker 150 feet to his room! He progressed from requiring a mechanical lift to transfer in the bathroom, to using a floor to ceiling pole to stand and pivot around. He co-operated with the skilled professionals 24/7 and every discipline had valuable input into his progress: nursing staff, occupational therapists, rehabilitation assistants, and the many physical therapists who guided him through his rehabilitation, and continue to do so.
He was one of the kindest, most motivated patients I’ve ever met. He worked tirelessly, through palpable fatigue to complete the exercises I asked of him and he never shied away from a new challenge.
In those eight days, he gave back to me as much as I offered him. He gave me the honour of being a part of his success. His goals became my goals and we worked hard to achieve them together. I felt extremely proud, as a physiotherapist , to be able to contribute to the recovery of such an extraordinary person.
To Mr X, I wish you continued success in your recovery and I thank you for all that you gave me in our brief time together. You have been my professional inspiration and, for that, I am truly grateful.....
With all of the walking I've been doing this year, I've been listening to a lot of music. I love my folky, singer/songwriter type music, but I also listen to a lot of pop, for the upbeat tempo that allows me to keep a good pace.
For fun, I have developed a short simple quiz to highlight the differences in lyrical composition between different types of songs. Each question highlights a short passage from two recorded songs - is it "pop" or is it "poetry" ---- you decide!!
1. Timbaland VS. Jewel
Beats so Baby, you're lookin' fire hot I'll have you open all night like an IHOP I'll take you home baby, let you keep me company You give me some of you, I give you some of me
VS.
Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch Watching the clouds roll by, they remind her of her lover how he left her and of times long ago, when she used to color carelessly, Painted his portrait a thousand times, or maybe just his smile, and she and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go
2. Dave Matthews vs. Cascada
Walking along in this haze of confusion Sometimes I can laugh But sometimes it takes all of my strength Just to find enough reason to take the next step Step but I will, but I will 'till I do
VS
Evacuate the dance floor I'm infected by the sound Stop this beat is killing me Hey little DJ come burn this place right down underground
3. Lady Gaga VS. Jann Arden
I won't tell you that I love you Kiss or hug you Cause I'm bluffin' with my muffin I'm not lying I'm just stunnin' with my love-glue-gunning
VS
The salt inside my body ruins Everyone I come close to My hands are barely holding up my head Oh, I'm so tired of looking at my feet And all the secrets that I keep My heart is barely hangin' by a thread
4. Joni Mitchell VS. Black Eyed Peas
Daylight falls upon the path, the forest falls behind Today I am not prey to dark uncertainty The shadow trembles in its wrath, I've robbed its blackness blind And tasted sunlight as my fear came clear to me
VS.
I'm steppin on leprechauns Shitin' on y'all you with the (Boom boom) Shitin' on y'all you with the (Boom boom) Shitin' on y'all you with the.. This beat be bumpin' bumpin' This beat go boom boom
5. And for the grande finale: Usher vs Justin Nozuka
Watch out! My outfit's ridiculous, in the club lookin' so conspicuous. And Rowl! These women all on the prowl, if you hold the head steady I'm a milk the cow
VS
Listen to the words you see You are blind to what you hear Listen to the words you see Do not fear the truth beneath Reach for roots beneath the trees Listen to the words you seek Don't listen to a word they say Do NOT listen to a word you've heard Do not listen to a word you've heard People are people we live for our own Live how you think not by what you've been told
I hope you enjoyed the lyrics quiz - it was fun putting it together. In the end, I would suggest browsing through some song lyrics by Joni Mitchell and Justin Nozuka... both amazing and insightful storytellers. Usher and Lady Gaga, not so much.
I often wonder if music means as much to other people as it does to me. I always listen to music when I drive, cook, walk, sew, or just hanging out by myself or with friends. A song can instantly bring me back to a past event, or set the mood for a special evening. When discovering a new favorite song or artist, I can’t help feeling excited. Getting the chance to see a favourite artist on stage performing an epic song is one of life’s great gifts.
As with most people, my favorite music moves me - it can make me feel a little more alive, almost like a jolt of caffeine, or it can calm me. Music validates my joy, my sadness, my passion, my pain, my spirit. When I find a song that reflects a certain emotion, I feel as if I am being understood, which is often very comforting.
However, even from a very young age, I’ve been drawn to ballads and “sad songs”... Back in the 70’s, when my friends were listening to upbeat disco, I loved listening to “Still”, by the Commodores or anything by Karen Carpenter.
With that in mind, I’ve decided to try to narrow down my top 10 favorite songs of all time. (Quite pointless because by tomorrow, it will have changed, oh well...)
10. Hallelujia - Loved k.d. lang's version at the 2010 Olympics
9. Since You’ve Been Around – Rosie Thomas - discovered this song on a Grey's Anatomy playlist - since then, have fallen in love with Rosie Thomas' simple, folky music
8. Baby - Dave Matthews - I reserve the right to cyclically rotate my favorite Dave Matthews song - there are too many to choose only one...
7. Falling Slowly - Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova - the newest discovery on my list - this song takes my breath away and I secretly love the American Idol duet version even better than the original - who knew?!
6. True Companion - Marc Cohn - this song about being married to your soul mate for life still gives me shivers.
5. Fields of Gold - Eva Cassidy - I must admit, I haven't listened to this song for a while because it would make me cry during this emotional year. Enough said.
4. Answer and/or Hold On and/or Wintersong - Sarah McLachlan - saw Sarah in 1989 open for the Grapes of Wrath in Edmonton and have been hooked since... Angel would be on this list except it is still overplayed.
3. River - Joni Mitchell - Everything about this song is perfect, even during the summer....
2. With my Own Two Hands - Ben Harper and Jack Johnson - Makes me believe that I can make peace on earth, with my own two hands
1. Your Song - Elton John - Timeless, classic, has been my favorite song since the late eighties - yet to be defeated!
Runners up include: Absence of Fear - Jewel, Into the Mystic - Van Morrison, Christmas Song - Dave Matthews, Imagine - Mercy Me, Little Green - Joni, Don't Give Up - Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush and Twilight Moment - Samantha Schultz
Home sweet home. That’s how I feel about arriving home after a wonderful vacation. Except when I travel to Portland, Oregon, because being there also feels like home to me. Departing Portland for Sooke is like leaving home and heading home at the same time. It’s so confusing!
I love Portland - it’s that simple. Fortunately, when I lived there between 1995 and 1998, I spoke of my love for Portland frequently. I’m very aware that I’m guilty of “the-grass-is-always-greener” syndrome, so I frequently verbalized how much I loved it there - that way, I consistanlty planted my passion for Portland in my memory. I’ve always said that if Portland were in Canada, I’d move there in a heartbeat! During our two and a half years there, we definitely soaked up much of what the city had to offer – great day hikes in the city, the coast, the Columbia River Gorge, or Mt. Hood, frequent backpacking trips to the “nearby” Cascade mountains, great restaurants, markets, coffee shops, theatre, shopping, parks and much more.
As I recall the good ol’ Portland days, I vividly remember that wonderful time in my life. I was a young physical therapist, engaged to be married, fit, healthy, and very happy. Despite living in a tiny, post war apartment, sparsely decorated with garage sale furniture, it was probably the happiest time in my life. I spent my free time hiking, working out in a local gym, studying manual therapy, planning our wedding, planning a backpacking trip to Europe, and hanging out in great cafes, restaurants, and theatres. I grew out my bad perm, watched new episodes of “Friends”, and listened to the Counting Crows, Blue Rodeo, Alanis Morrisette, and Sarah McLachlan. Although my partner and I didn’t entertain much, we met some wonderful local friends, who I regret losing contact with.
Portland was rich with cultural diversity. Generally, the people there were friendly, earthy, and laid back with an outdoorsy, “west coast” style that I tried to emulate, and often still do. My shoes in those days were clunky and comfortable, that is, when I wasn’t wearing Tevas or Birkenstocks...
Fast forward 12 years and I am now calling Portland a “great place to visit”. However, this year, I viewed my love for Portland in a different light. I still love the city, as we try to cram two years of good times into four days, but I am left wondering: Is it the city of Portland that I love, or is it the association with that time in my life that I enjoy revisiting? It was such a happy time – when most things were less stressful – when my husband and I had long, uninterrupted conversations late into the night, when we didn’t have to arrange a babysitter to go out to a movie, when we planned where to hike on the weekend based on a pretty picture in a hiking book, when we used our computer for email and Tetris, when my Mom could see, and no-one I knew had cancer. Those were the days when I thought 30 was old, air travel was fun, and I was positive that everyone was going to live happily ever after.
As the years go by, I still love my life, my family, my friends, and my home on Vancouver Island - but there is a lot I miss about those days in Portland. I look forward to going back next year. I wonder how green the grass will be?
(Here are some pictures to prove how beautiful Portland is... )
Near Pacific City on the coast: 4th of July in Portland, near the Williamette River: Portland Zoo: Rose Test Gardens (Smells as good as it looks!) Eagle Creek on the Columbia River Gorge: Dinner and a show (the Lion King was AMAZING!) Laurelhurst Park in the heat wave!
Well, it has been a really great year for the container garden. I love the Canna lily bloom - it really is a bright feature as I look out my kitchen window while doing dishes. I'm also happy with the choice of petunias this year instead of geraniums. I also chose to avoid yellow and pastel flowers - although there are two accidental lavender colored petunias which probably bothers me more than anyone else. Can't wait for the annual sage to bloom. Otherwise, everything is happy and healthy! I will add the river rock soon to tie it all together... perhaps this weekend...
Early in May, our family learned that a lifelong friend of my Dad’s passed away. His name was Lionel “Mac” McCaffrey and they had been friends since they met while both serving in the military. I recall hearing stories of Mac's infamous St. Patrick's day parties, which my Dad attended annually during the years they lived in the same city. Mac and my dad kept in touch over the years and shared the occassional visit. Mac was in my dad’s thoughts frequently over the past year as Mac often sent interesting emails - links to funny jokes, websites, youtube videos, etc.
When we found out that Mac passed away on May 1, we decided not to tell Dad. He was in the advanced stages of cancer and we felt that this news would be devastating and might dampen his already fragile spirits. As well, my family and I were all diligent about watching for “signs” that can be given by those nearing the end of life. These signs, or final gifts, can be spoken in dreams or while the person with the illness is in a state of delirium or altered conciousness. We felt that if Dad described seeing Mac, this could be an indication that his journey was nearing the end.
However, Dad never described seeing his friend. He asked about him when talking with mutual friends, but those involved were instructed to politely avoid telling the truth about Mac’s passing.
Then the miracle occurred.
After my dad passed away on May 27th, I called the funeral home to arrange transport to pick him up from my parent’s home... When the van eventually arrived, my sister glanced out the window toward the driveway. Her voice was shaking when she spoke “Oh my God! You have to come and see this!” We joined her at the window and we all looked out toward the ominous black van. Then she said “Look at the license plate”.
The letters on the plate read: M-A-C.
I suppose this could be considered a co-incidence. One can mathematically calculate that the possibility of this combination of letters occurring by chance is one in 17,576 (or 0.0057%). But this co-incidence gives my mom, my family, and Mac’s wife a profound sense of comfort. Not only do we know that they are together, but we feel that they wanted to let us know that they are safe in each other’s company.
Now that my dad’s battle with cancer has ended, it is time to reflect on the whirlwind of events that the past several months has brought. Although this has been a terribly difficult time, as we watched my dad deteriorate over a period of a few short months, I have also witnessed the goodness in those around me, in my family, friends, and almost strangers. It is with heartfelt gratitude that I attempt to extend my thanks to those who have reached out and offered support to make our journey a little less difficult.
It is impossible to name the countless healthcare workers involved in my dad’s care over the past several months, but I’d like to name a few:
• To the community nurses especially Linda and Sue who gave us so much comfort, support, and hands on care.
• To Lucie, who guided me on a profound personal journey of forgiveness and compassion, before it was too late.
• To the countless nurses and councillors with the Palliative Response Team – your expertise was always delivered with caring hearts, and we thank you for allowing us to keep our dad at home and leave with dignity. Especially those who taught us to recognize the final gifts my dad communicated to us through the episodes of delirium in his final weeks.
• To the doctors, especially Dr. Jones and Dr. Ryan who came into our home and addressed Dad’s needs. And to Dr. Tara Pickering, my sister -in-law who patiently answered every question and concern.
To all the Sooke Moms (and Dads) who took care of our daughter, usually on short notice – I hope that she brought the same joy with her visits as your children bring to our home - especially Carrol, Leanna, Daphne, Ryan, Jenn, Deb, Andrea, Britt, Gorana, Keri, Caryn, Trish, Lori, Suzanne, Shannon, Heather, Tracey, and Noah.
For the hugs, phone calls and messages of support, as well as the memorable laughs and good times – Carrol, Jason, Leanna, Colin, Daphne, Ryan, Joan, Lori, Kendall, Jenn, Caryn, Aaron, Melanie, John and Joanne. To Andrea, Jessica, Deanna and Our Lady Star of the Sea CWL - thanks for the wonderful meals!
And to the support at schools and classes - Mme Robertson, Trish, Roseanne, Shan, and Niki.
To my co-workers, the therapy services and 5A staff at the VGH, especially Mubeena, Debbie, Linda, and Melissa - for always being there, professionally and personally.
To Pat, our family friend who did so many tasks for us – especially for scanning so many photos, thoughtfully labelling each photo and burning discs for all of us. Thank you for the coffee and snacks and all of the driving duties...
To my online friends – your messages of support, general kindness, and hugs always made me feel like I wasn’t alone, especially Cathy, Yukari, Janice, Laura, Jodie, Carrol, Kevin, Scott, Cris, and Dom.
To my sisters – I cannot express how much it meant to be a part of Dad’s inner circle with you. You both visited dad daily and committed your time and availability 24/7 for months. We all “pitched in” and shared in the decision making, visiting, food prep, clean-up, organizing, archiving, information gathering, gardening, emailing and so many other necessary duties – yet it felt good to give back. You showed the meaning of going the extra mile.
To my brother – your uber energy and inability to sit still for five minutes allowed us to all breathe easier when you were visiting from Calgary. Your competence is mind-boggling, whether you’re cooking, housekeeping, lawn-keeping, running, playing with the kids, or shopping, you always remained calm and offered support to everyone around.
There are no words to describe how much love and respect I have for my Mom. It’s been an especially difficult time for her. I could write a chapter but will say only this: Your strength is astounding and we were all moved by the love and patience that you tirelessly gave Dad – you were the sole caregiver for a significant portion of Dad’s illness and it wasn’t an easy job but you did so well. I am so proud that you are my Mom.
To Roger, my amazing husband - you were always there for me and my family; you offered everything, always. You have been a rock to all of us. You have stood by me when I didn’t deserve you; you rubbed my back on countless sleepless nights; you allowed me the time to pursue my hours of walking; you bit your tongue when dinner was less than sophisticated... again! . You have the most gentle spirit, you are as kind to me as you are to everyone else. For you, I am forever grateful.
And to all other friends, extended family, church members and supporters - I THANK YOU...
Here are just a few photos of my garden taken in May. The main back garden is in it's forth year! The rock wall was built by hand (still so proud of my husband and a lovely Albanian man named Leonardo) using rock "obtained" from a nearby quarry - it is dry stacked and filled with rich garden soil. The shade garden has done very well but the sunnier side in the first photo still lacks the substance that I have envisioned. A work in progress! My husband loves maples (lucky me!) so when he found this chartreuse color beauty, he knew it would look great in this spot in front of our entranceway. He created this little raised feature in 20 minutes and I think it looks perfect... I've yet to plant some colorful annuals around it to highlight it and to remind us to keep it watered...
My favorite garden activity is container gardening... I have always planted Cordyline as the central feature in this pot (below) but it often becomes literally overshadowed by some of the agressive annuals later in the summer, so I chose a healthy Canna and it looks great so far!
(I don't have words to express how I'm feeling this week but this poem is so moving, I wanted to share it.... I think about how my Mom must be feeling and I weep)
I Walked With You As Long As I Could
I walked with you as long as I could The years were many, our days were good. I watched you fade slowly day by day; My heart wept tears, I hid them away. I could not show you weakness or grief, I gave you strength and staunch belief. God took your hand and we had to part. He eased your pain, but He broke my heart. I wanted you with me for a few more years. God knew how I felt, but He knew best. He took you home so you could rest. Life goes on, I know it’s true, But it’s not the same since I lost you. Your beautiful memories, I will treasure forever, Of the happy days when we were together. With an aching heart I whisper low, I love you and miss you so.
February 9, 2010 was a day I’ll never forget. It was two days after the Superbowl and the festivities had already faded. My dad was being discharged from the Victoria General Hospital, not because he was well enough to go home, but because there was nothing more “they” could do for him. In late January, he was admitted with symptoms of nausea which turned out to be a serious bowel obstruction for which he required surgery. Peri-operatively, the surgeon discovered widespread metastatic cancer, which had gone undetected in a CT scan a few weeks earlier. So the operation was completed and Dad spent a few more days in hospital recovering .
With the prescription of T3’s in hand, I prepared his transport wheelchair so that we could get to the car and go to the BC Cancer Agency. It was our understanding that a PICC line would be started so that Dad could begin immediate chemotherapy. Dad was grumpy that day and he refused the wheelchair, choosing to walk out of the hospital on foot – I could not convince him to conserve his energy.
However, the PICC line was never inserted. The oncologist at the cancer clinic explained that chemotherapy was not indicated as the cancer was far too widespread to be affected by chemotherapy, and the negative side effects would likely outweigh the benefits. So the “fragile” conversation began. Carefully worded questions were followed by painfully vague answers. I just wanted to know how long. EVERYONE will want to know: how much more time does he have? I knew that my parents were shocked, worn, fatigued, and sad - my job was to get this information right. I knew I would be repeating this story over and over and over again and I HAD to get it right!! I was the only trained healthcare professional in the immediate family – I was the self-designated quarterback, for now ....
So I made sure to listen carefully and clarify: “A few months – as long as there is no major event” A FEW MONTHS!?! But he was fine at Christmas, 6 weeks ago!! Then bloodwork was done, nausea set in, and he was taken to hospital -- now you are telling me a few months!! I switched off the emotional side and thought of clarifying questions that “people” will want to know. I had to keep it together, help, support, think, remember, and listen. The visit didn’t stop there: there were prescriptions to fill (forget those T3’s, it was time for the deluxe narcotics), appointments with home nursing and the outpatient pain clinic to be made, and paperwork to be completed. Who knew that I’d be filling out the Palliative Care Benefits paperwork only 6 weeks after Christmas!
I dreaded going home to an almost empty house to make those phone calls to share the devastating news with my siblings. Now I was going to have to be the one answering carefully worded questions with fragile, vague answers – I was, after all, the quarterback.
(Despite the gravity of that day, I still feel honoured to have been there. Our family was treated with overwhelming compassion and support from all the staff, professionals and volunteers at the BC Cancer Agency. It made the whole experience slightly more tolerable to be surrounded by caring and kind strangers. A huge thank you to all of the individuals who dedicate their time and energy to helping patients and families with the experience of cancer)
So, there I was on Mother’s Day, minding my own business, having a nice dinner, when my sister asked me “Have you seen the ‘Telephone’ video with Lady Gaga...." We grabbed the computer and watched:
With eyebrows furrowed and head shaking I sat through the nine and a half minutes of vulgar skank. Although I still feel relatively young at heart, I know I’m totally out of touch with pop culture. I don’t get it – and I guess there’s no going back! I can handle the “pop divas” from a few years ago like Fergie and Christina but that’s where the line was drawn and I turned into my mother.
I just don’t get Gaga. It’s just wrong. I don’t want my daughter watching this crap. I don’t think it’s art – I think it’s attention grabbing stunts, “costumes” (if you can call police tape a costume), and choreography disguised as music. It’s all about shocking the audience and getting people talking, and downloading... There is nothing about Lady Gaga that I would want my daughter to emulate. Most of the women in this video look anorexic, deadpan (submissive?) expressions, in some sort of freak prison/ homicidal greasy spoon cafe... It’s just wrong.
If my Mom could see well enough to watch this nasty video, I’m sure she would mutter the word: “whores” (she would pronounce it Who-ers) and I would politely correct her and say “Mom, these days, they’re called Ho’s.” Then she probably would have grounded me. To appease, I would show her the video from another artist with the same initials as Lady Gaga, Lesley Gore. Okay watch this if you can stand it!!
Okay, not my idea of a great video either. But it shows how far the music industry has come and how the audience now demands ridiculous to be entertained. Imagine what would have happened if Lady Gaga got on that bus!!
Well, I did it! No, I did not complete an Ironman or stand on any podiums, but I got off my ass consistently 3 days a week for months to get my feet and legs in shape for a 32K walk from the Juan deFuca Rec Centre to the Sooke Castle! My first "Linear Walk"...
I must admit, it was not as hard as I thought it would be, primarily because I stuck to a formal training schedule, for the first time in my life... The schedule was not very technical, but it was created by 2 physiotherapists and a marathon runner, so it was well thought out. For 3 months, it was shuffled around my kitchen, as I had intended to type it up formally, but I grew to love the doodling and coffee stains. It was my guide to fitness as my training became one of the most positive aspects of my crisis-filled life. It was my time to think, cry, reflect, re-energize, and listen to my ipod without any distractions!
My training gave me some sanity through two of the most difficult months of my life, as my father was found to have a recurrence of an aggressive form of colon cancer, from which he received a whirlwind of tests, subsequent surgery, only to be followed by a poor prognosis and rapidly declining health. At times, I thought that my walk in May would become a memorial walk for my dad, but he is continuing to fight to this day. I was proud to visit him the morning of the walk to administer his medication and to tell him "Today is the day I do my walk, Dad". From his bed (where he spent 23.5 hours/day on average), he smiled, nodded his head, and said "Don't forget to drink lots of water".
It's hard to believe that when I started training in January, he was up and about 16 hours/day, and puttering in the yard every chance he got, working on my sister's truck, tinkering with old electronics or doing yard work. I almost felt guilty during the following months - as I was working on gaining strength, my dad was losing strength so profoundly. I never skipped a day of training, other than taking a week off with a bad cold, and not a kilometre went by when I didn't think of him and his enduring strength....
One year ago, I started a regular routine of walking several times each and every week. What I did not realize is that it was going to become one of the most important activities in my life.
I hope that walking this trail never feels like a chore, because at this point in my life, I have made walking a priority, often leaving the dishes, laundry, or cleaning for the evening. I cannot imagine how I would have survived 2010 without it....
Portland Zoo:
Eagle Creek on the Columbia River Gorge:
My husband loves maples (lucky me!) so when he found this chartreuse color beauty, he knew it would look great in this spot in front of our entranceway. He created this little raised feature in 20 minutes and I think it looks perfect... I've yet to plant some colorful annuals around it to highlight it and to remind us to keep it watered...
