On jubilation and judgements

 I've been meaning to the "On I. and I." entry since I returned from Ottawa, but today's news takes precedence and it works well with J. I will write the I entry and reschedule it at a latter time.

I had my appointment with my ortho today which had its annoyances including a long wait for an X-ray that wasn't really needed. That was the bad news. The good news is that my tibia has healed to the doctor's satisfaction. This means that my shackle (medically described as a Taylor spatial frame) can be removed! It will be done on the 25th, which will mean I will have had the thing in for nearly 11 months! It was hard for me to compose my thoughts and to make sure to ask the right questions based on the answer, along with a few that I had written down beforehand.

In the conversation, I made a comment which resulted in confirming a suspicion I'd had about my doctor for some time based based on his last name and what his accent sounded like to me. Namely, that he was a Jewish Montrealer from Côte Saint-Luc. Admittedly, he now lives in Hampstead (which is next door) but he has fond memories of the Library.

I sometimes worry about voicing such judgements. I don't really care about his religion or ethnicity. I care that he is a good doctor. I was curious about his background just because so many of the things about him suggested X, but I didn't really care one or another. Actually, that isn't quite true. If he had been a member of the Library, I would have offered to move him up any waiting lists he was on, but otherwise...no.

Likewise, this morning, because of the snowy weather, I summoned a taxi using an iPhone app to get to the hospital. The app showed me that the driver's last name was Dieulefort Dieulesait. I kid you not. I had a suspicion that he would be a francophone of colour, which he was. It turned out that he had driven me to work at least once or twice as that is where he thought I would ask him to drive me. However, he was quite prepared to informed that his judgement was wrong, and took me to the General despite the slippery and snowy conditions.

On innovation and irritation

This post is predated as I wrote after the following post.

On my first full day in Ottawa, I went to the Aviation Museum. Even though I don't enjoy traveling by plane, I love aircraft. (So, I am complicated, live with it.) I went full geek and booked a tour of the Reserve Hangar as well as the regular visit. The regular visit was much as I expected it. There were some "old friends" in the form of some working models of retractable landing gear that I know had once been in the Science and Technology Museum. There were some new bits, mostly in the shape of an adjunct of a Space Travel section, mostly tucked away on a higher level. Because of my leg, I didn't feel the urge to go upstairs. On the lower level, there was a Canadarm as well as Chris Hadfield's space suit on the seat from the Soyuz capsule, he was in when he went to the International Space Station. The position it was posed in, looked essentially fetal. Even though the Museum was wide open, I felt claustrophobic just thinking about how cramped the Soyuz capsules must be.

I was one of two people on the tour of the Reserve Hangar. The other was an older Brit who had been a helicopter mechanic in the Royal Navy. He was particularly interested in seeing the CC-130E Hercules as he had a tale to tell about the aircraft type. A helicopter he was responsible for, a Westland Sea King, had broken down in France. After going through the repairs, it was discovered that the true fault lay in a certain gauge which was a defective. If I understand correctly, in theory the helicopter could have flown in an emergency, but in peacetime, it was go/no-go fault. That is, if the device doesn't work, you don't fly. The Fleet Air Arm had the relevant part, but it was in the UK. So, to get it to the helicopter in France, they sent an RAF Hercules. The part delivered, he and his fellow airman felt it would be a shame to send the Hercules back empty. So they visited a local liquor store and bought a considerable quantity of wine and beer to take back to base, if effect turning the RAF into a smuggling operation!

I was feeling a bit like the second banana on the tour, until we turned into a corridor between the dense arrangement planes, and I saw this plane:

I am referring to the the large mostly white turboprop in the background. It is a Convair 580. This was a conversion of an 1950s era piston engine airliner to turboprop power. My interest was piqued by the fact it belonged to Environment Canada and had a radar located under the rear of the aircraft. Said radar was a side looking radar designed to take images of the ground. I had been involved with that aircraft in 1990 when my father hired me as a field research hand for a week. Along with a pair of his graduate students one of which was Huabin Geng from China and another from Africa, we drove to Woodstock, Ontario and spent a week doing the basic groundwork with others. Our job was to collect vegetation and soil samples from various fields just as the plane flew over with its radar. The samples would then be weighed to determine how much moisture they contained when wet and the again when dry. Thus, the radar images might be calibrated so that computers would know that signal strength X meant so much water was in the vegetation. At one point, I was on radio duty, and I still remember talking into the radio saying: "Convair 580, this is Oxford ground." Because of cloud over, I hadn't actually seen the aircraft until then.

The Reserve Hangar held a variety of aircraft and bits of aircraft that the Museum had received but didn't have the space to display. As well, some aircraft were being restored such as this aircraft, the only surviving Canadair North Star. One of her sisters in BOAC service as Atalanta brought the newly acceded Queen Elizabeth II to England upon the death of her father, King George VI. It also had an outer wing panel from an Avro CF-105 Arrow and an Orenda Iroquois engine used by the same. The later was flight tested by attaching it to the rear of a B-47 bomber lent by the US Air Force. When it was returned to the Air Force, it was promptly retired. The story goes that the power of the engine had bent the air frame. This is not impossible as the aircraft wasn't designed to have an engine in that location. It is also possible that the modifications to the aircraft made it unsuitable for further operational use. As well, the aircraft may have been considered "old" to begin with as it was an early model and therefore expendable.

There was one object that pretty much stumped all three of us, e.g. the guide, the Royal Navy guide and me. I am pretty sure it is Canadair CL-89, early form of surveillance drone.

The next day, I went to the Canadian War Museum. It was pretty much as I expected, including somewhat silly rotating dials with different takes on controversial subjects in history. Having two degrees in history, I didn't bother with them. I particularly avoid the section on Trudeau, Senior's invoking of the War Measures Act as the fundamental reason for using it was something that couldn't be said at the time, namely that Trudeau knew that the police and intelligence of Canada were useless at the Federal, Provincial and Municipal levels.

I was also irritated that they hadn't fixed a flaw in their section on the Canadian Armed Forces Search and Rescue functions. They had few strips from Lynn Johnston' For Better or For Worse where Jon and his brother-in-law are rescued by a Twin-Otter. Unfortunately, the plaque described them as having been in a plane crash, when in fact they had suffered a canoe accident.

In another gallery, there were the remains of a covert German automated weather station that had been set up on the tip of Labrador. For the time, the technology employed was something of a marvel. However, the execution had several flaws. Most notably was the fact that people behind it were remarkably ignorant for all their cleverness. They thought to disguise the origin of the devices by painting false markings on one of them as illustrated in the picture below.

There are two problems with the label. The first is that the station was placed in Labrador, part of the Dominion of Newfoundland, not the Dominion of Canada. That might have been overlooked by the casual observer as Canada was active in the Dominion of Newfoundland during the War. However, the Germans seriously goofed by using the word "Meteor" instead of "Weather".

It was only officially found in the late 1970s. However, it had been destroyed and ransacked before then by persons unknown. I remember reading about it in Canadian Geographic. If my memory serves, the author suspected that the Allies knew about it as German reports said the signal was being jammed, before stopping entirely. There is no mention of it in Canadian or British military archives, though perhaps the Americans investigated and didn't mention it to their allies. Because of wartime censorship, the finding and destruction was kept secret to the point that it was forgotten. Another possibility rests in the fact that the location wasn't as deserted as the Germans thought. I've read that the local Inuit considered it a great place for fishing. 

The next morning, after checking out of McGee's Inn, I put on my outdoor shoes and was sitting on the chair when I had the urge to re-check my room. However, I couldn't be bothered to change shoes again. So, I got in my rented car and went to first return it, then take a taxi to the train station. This time, I accepted the help of a staff member. As we walked along the platform, I noticed that there no less than 4 of the new Venture trains sitting in wait. I also noticed that the young woman pulling my roller luggage was wearing Auclair Lillehammer cross-country ski gloves, just like me.

The trip back was uneventful, other than the sight of a field specked with wild turkeys. As the train neared Montreal, I checked my email only to find a message from the McGee's inn to the effect that I had left my glasses behind! Quelle frustration!

On horsepower and hours

Last Thursday for no real other than I had the time and I was slightly bored, I went to the Montreal Auto Show. As is often the case, the logic of various corporations seemed distinct skewed. One company, whose existence is likely designed to promote class warfare was displaying several dozen models of Ferraris spanning several decades. 

These included a 308GT as driven by Thomas Magnum on the show Magnum P.I., and almost both models of Ferrari driven by Sonny Crockett on Miami Vice. I say almost as his first car in the series looked like a Ferrari Daytona. 

However, it was in fact a Chevrolet Corvette modified to look like a Ferrari Daytona. When Ferrari heard about this, they offered the show a new Ferrari Testarossa on condition that the fake Ferrari be destroyed. This was done on screen during an episode. Possibly the one with Liam Neeson.

In the same room there was Lamborghini with a room bin. The mind boggles. 

A little later there were several older Ford Mustangs, including one from the first generation. Unlike the later models, it had usable rear seats!

There was a relative lack of actual cars at the show, as companies prefer to sell SUVs. This was particularly true with regards to electric cars. I decided to approach the show as if I were shopping for an electric car. There was a depressing dearth of reasonably priced vehicles. One of my favourites was the Polestar 2. Polestar is the electric brand of Volvo. Another surprisingly affordable contender was the Dodge Challenger R/T which is an electric muscle car with a horsepower rating well North of 500!

During my first week off, I clean out a box containing things that I had on my ill-fated trip, including my watch. The strap had broken from the impact, so I hadn’t worn since. I did some minor searching for a suitable replacement band. The time was a hour and a day out. The hour out was likely due to a time change, whereas the day was because 2024 was a leap year.

Today, I took one of the Venture trains to Ottawa. I have been waiting to try them for years. The experience demonstrated the challenges face by Via Rail. Cars, and the business class ones in particular, are designed with user experience in mind including the handicapped and the business traveler. So the washroom is huge so someone in a wheel car can use it easily. However, there are one per car, so what happens if there is a problem? There is a semi-private section with four seats where business-people or politicians might have a semi-discreet meeting while on the train. However, the only occupants I saw were Via Rail employees taking a break. I went business class because I wanted the treat and because of my mobility issues. Partly because there were relatively few passengers (it was a midweek trip during the winter) but the car felt a bit austere. There were lots of blank and otherwise empty spaces. There were also some quality control issues as my tray table flipped down at an angle which the attendant feared might result in my lunch landing in my lap. He asked me to eat in an empty seat across the aisle. 

The meal itself was a bit problematic. They were out of my first choice namely salmon. I settled for veal meatloaf which brought with it certain unhappy memories. To be blunt, it resembled the food I endured while hospitalized. I particularly remember having to hold my tongue almost exactly a year ago when a staff member gave me a list of foods that were high in iron as I was slightly anemic ignoring the fact that I had precious little control over what I ate and that a fair percentage of the meat they served was veal, noted for its relative lack of iron! In defense of Via Rail, it was piping hot, unlike the hospital food.

The trip was supposed to take two hours, leaving at noon. Unfortunately, the service had begun in Quebec City, and arrived at least twenty minutes late, if not more. The Montreal passengers boarded and we back out of the station, almost to the Victoria bridge so we might switch the designated head of the train towards Ottawa. This is actually a really silly procedure as the Venture train sets are double-ended. There are driving cabs at either end. In fact, the locomotive portion (i.e. the diesel prime mover) was at the rear for most of the trip. I can’t help but wonder if a better procedure would be to take the train set straight into Central station, then change its direction of travel which passengers get off and on. It took a while to get off the Island of Montreal, having to wait for a freight to go by. Up to Coteaux, the train took its time. After Coteaux, the train got onto tracks there are almost only used by Via so there were few new delays from that point on. We still arrive about an hour late. There was an announcement that we had a travel credit worth 50% of what our tickets had cost valid for future travel within twelve months. 

I am staying at the McGee Inn, as recommended by Mummy. I had tried to book a room on its main floor to minimize the number of stairs I would have to face. However, the only room available during my stay was the extra deluxe Egyptian room whose major advantage was of little use to me. While I was a signing in, the young lady asked if I would like to upgrade free of charge to a larger room on the upper floor, before then offering the Egyptian room as it was on the main floor I accepted with pleasure and a facetious comment that the huge bathtub would mock my inability to use it! The young lady thought I was serious at first, before I explained my meaning. Predictably, the room has various fake pharaonic era decorations, including a painting framed in concrete and rebar.

I had supper in an Indian restaurant where the person in charge of decor had slipped up.

On gifts and gratitude

It may be partly my librarian's instinct which seeks to match things with people, but I find that gift giving can be lots of fun. I found that Alice's Anna, Maria and Kerry to be a fun batch to give to last Christmas. I had lined up the latest edition of the Player's Handbook for Anna early on, I had a bit more trouble with Maria though I did score an axolotl shopping bag from the Vancouver Public Aquarium while in Vancouver Airport as a stocking present. Unfortunately, her main gift of books got delayed owing to issues with the Canada Post strike. Consequently, I sent her a moose-themed singing Christmas card with an apology note. 

I had forgotten about the card until I got a thank you card from Kerry, Maria and Anna this week. I have received permission from Maria to quote her thanks: "The singing moose managed to annoy everyone! Best gift ever! - Maria the Great." I'm rather pleased about that.

On another note, I'll be honest that I often feel dejected and frustrated with the slow pace of my recovery, I am recovering. This evening, I went out to supper at a nearby restaurant for the first time since the accident. Afterwards, I walked along Notre Dame to a drug store before returning home. I'm not sure about just how far that was, but it was significantly further than just to the local grocery store and back. Last summer, I remember having to stop to rest during simple grocery runs. Tonight, there was nothing to it.

I am grateful that I have healed as far as I have. I am grateful that I live in a decent country with proper public medicine, even if it falls short of what it should be. I am grateful for a good job which has waited for me.

On frustration and Fredericton

I had not received a call from the Hospital about a CT scan appointment by the advent of the New Year. Consequently, I sent an email to my ortho surgeon on my first working day to complain about this. I got an email back suggesting that I phone the scanning department to set up the appointment. I started doing so during my lunch break on my iPhone with the earbuds plugged in. This meant that I could do other things, such as work, during the wait to be connected. It took an hour and a half before I could speak with the person who made the appointments. It was then a few minutes before I was given a booking for this morning (January 21st) at 8 AM. There has to be a better way of making appointments. Unfortunately, LeGoat wants to cut a thousand jobs out the healthcare sector.

The actual appointment itself went fairly smoothly. I showed up at the right time, despite the seasonally appropriate but frigid weather. I went to the appropriate waiting room, and had a CT scan done with little hassle. About the only thing that was problematic with the procedure was that the technician wanted to help me put my left shoe back on once the scan was complete. I demurred saying that it would be easier if I did it myself. The information has in all probability been sent to my ortho doctor who will look at it, put his hand on his chin and go "Hmm." I will find out what that "Hmm" means on the 13th of February.

If any sovereigntists are reading this, please don't think I am Quebec-bashing. Other provinces also have their healthcare issues. Most notably New Brunswick, at least according to concerns of this blog which is, quite frankly and honestly, particularly concerned about those things which affect or have affected its writer, viz me. There was an article on the CBC news for New Brunswick website about how Fredericton is now in need of a vascular surgeon as the old one has retired. This is significant to this blog as the person question, Dr. Claus Schaus, was the one who saved my lower left leg by taking a vein from my right leg and grafting it in as an artery in my left. (One of the fascinating things about this is that he put the vein in "upside down" as veins and arteries have one way valves in them. Therefore if you want to successfully substitute one for the other, then you have to flip them.)  

I hope I thanked him. I also hope that Fredericton finds a suitable replacement as soon as possible. I'm not sure I would still have my left foot if they had been obliged to send me to St-John, Charlottetown or Halifax. Or wait until a vascular surgeon came on duty. Time was of the essence. One sign of that was that I remember asking the ambulance crew that took me from Moncton to Fredericton if they would be using the flashing lights. They said "Yes". The fact that I asked the question is also interesting as I was allowing myself to indulge my boyish side knowing that it was a boyish question as well as a trivial one. I feel justified as I was suffering from shock, scared that I might die and thus wanting to distract myself, and I believe I asked politely.

On eggnog and exhaustion

I must confess I am very tired of waiting for my leg to improve. While the leg is getting somewhat better, the blasted spatial frame keeping my tibia aligned makes it hard to relax. I am often worried about how it should be placed versus what would be a comfortable position for the time being as well as how long a given position will be comfortable. Sleep is not easy to come by and the quality of it is oft times poor. I had hoped that the Christmas holidays would a chance to truly relax but alas, it didn't turn out so. 

I had rented a car from my usual rental place. Despite having reserved an economy car, I was first offered a Jeep Cherokee. I settled for a Chrysler 300. This model is no longer in production, but diligent research (i.e. checking on Wikipedia) revealed that it was considered a full-sized rear-wheel drive car. This puts it in the very small number of rear wheel drive cars I have driven.

I drove out to North Hatley on an appropriate day that I could enjoy the homemade eggnog at Lebaron's store. What is more, my visit coincided with that of the owner's family. This was probably a bit of additional stress for Elliott as his kids have an assortment of food allergies. Most notably that of his middle son, Orran, who has milk and possibly egg allergies. However, Elliott had several clementines lined up and fed them to his eager son. Clever parenting, that.

Unfortunately, I found it hard to relax at my Parents' house. I'm not going to into any details besides saying egos clashed. I ended up spending a lot of time in bed, either sleeping or wishing I was sleeping. However, I was still somewhat mentally exhausted by the time I returned to Montreal.

On duty and dogs

By luck and my sense of duty, when I left on my fateful vacation in August of 2023, I had left my work more or less up to date. There was nothing truly outstanding. I had several electronic carts of DVDs and Blu-Rays lined up for purchase for the various upcoming months in which they would become available. Most were relatively obvious or non-essential. This was good as it made it easy for my superior at work to take over in my forced absence. However, there was a certain exception. This was the recent movie “Golda” starring Helen Mirren as the titular character Golda Meir, prime minister of Israel during the Yom Kippur War. It was due out in October and programming department wanted it for a screening in December. I take a certain pride in my work, so I actually phoned my superior to ask her to make sure she ordered it.

When I returned to work in July, I discovered that the Library’s usual supplier had decided not to get it, despite the fact that they had advertised it as “coming soon” at one point. What with the effort of restarting work, I didn’t pursue the matter any further.

For some reason, on Friday, my last day of work before the holidays, I looked it up on Amazon and was surprised to see that they were selling it. I immediately asked my superior if the Library might buy it once we are authorized to order things in the new year. She said she would have to get approval from the Director of the Library as are all purchases from Amazon. Pleasingly, the Director approved it more or less immediately. I felt like I had been given an early Christmas gift, as my sense of duty had been fulfilled.

After work, the Library held its Christmas staff party. At one point, the Director was sitting beside me, so I made a point of thanking her for her prompt decision. In the following conversation, it came out that she had thought I was asking to purchase the older movie “A woman called Golda”. However, when I enlightened her, she was intrigued and asked if the movie was available through Netflix. I confessed I didn’t know. When I told the story to Saint Michael the Holy Mole the following day, he asked the same question which only goes to show that I am behind the times as far as digital media is concerned.

(Please note that the opinions stated above are my own and do not necessarily reflect those of my employer.)

On Sunday, I drove over to James’ house to deliver Christmas presents and to see his parents, currently living in his basement as Judy, his mother, is terminally ill. I was greeted by Jennifer as well as Duffy, James’ dog and Rufus, James’ his parents’ dog, respectively. Both dogs are terriers or at least mostly terriers. As bad luck would have it, the pants I was wearing didn’t fit well over my external fixation and thus my lower left leg was very exposed to their noses. They both tried to lick my wounds despite the best efforts of various people, including myself. Both Duffy and Rufus are nice enough dogs though somewhat undisciplined.

I made my way carefully down the stairs, for as luck would have it, it was a good day for Judy so she was able to receive me. I hadn’t seen her in over two years. It had been over a year since I had seen Robin when he came to visit me during my first stay at the Montreal General. We had a very nice chat and caught up on various subjects. I was very pleased to be able to see Judy as I may not have another opportunity.