On medicine and merde

I saw my ortho doctor this morning. After looking at freshly taken X-rays images, he pronounced me fit enough to start putting my whole weight on my left leg and to throw away the Zimmer brace. About the only bit of bad news was that I will have to wait another four weeks before taking my first bath since the collision. Mummy had wanted to know how common the surgery I had was. The doctor, who has a deserved reputation as something of a hot shot said that for him, it was common, but that otherwise it was relatively rare.

Afterwards, I took the bus down to Maisonneuve, then walked along Ste-Catherine Street where I ate lunch at an Indian restaurant. I walked to the Alexis Nihon, doing some grocery shopping, along the way. At the Alexis Nihon, I went into a nail salon to see if they might trim my toenails for me. I can only do my left toenails with extreme difficulty and today seemed like a milestone. They had the time and I had the money. With tip, it was just under twenty dollars.

I took the Metro home, where I had my first shower since the removal of the external fixation. I followed up by putting on regular trousers for the first time since the 2nd of September.

After attending to a few things, I had settled in for a rest on the sofa when the doorbell rang. It was Alexandre, my downstairs neighbour. He informed me that my ground floor neighbour Theresa had been found on her floor the day before and had been taken to hospital. She then passed away today. I hadn't been aware of any of this. Alexandre was very upset by all this, having been a witness to some of the drama of police, ambulance and social workers. I apologized for not being so affected explaining that I was riding a personal bubble of happiness.

On luck and laundry

Nearly two weeks ago, I took a taxi to the Alexis Nihon Plaza to run some errands. As the day was warm, I remember getting out of the taxi and using my crutches without gloves. I then did a number of errands, including visiting the Post Office to have my identity verified in order to vote for who should lead the Liberal Party of Canada. When I had finished, I sat down to rest for a few minutes. I suddenly noticed that I didn't have my gloves with me. I tried retracing my steps, but no luck. Fortunately, there is a Sports Experts in the Alexis Nihon, and I knew that they had my favourite brand and model of gloves in stock. As it turned out, there was an end of winter sale on so I got a discount on them which was good as Auclair Lillehammer gloves while very good aren't cheap.

When I got home, I phoned the taxi company as I had summoned the cab with the company's app. They, in turn, phoned the driver who hadn't found my gloves.

One of the things I did during my enforced time off was to finally get around to getting a repairman in to look at my dryer which was making a huge amount of noise. So much noise that I had bought a clothes drying rack and only used the dryer for my sheets. Anyway, I phoned a company and sent them a picture of the builder's plate with the model number on it. A few days later, a repairman came around. He replaced one part explaining how it was defective and lubricate a couple of rollers as well. It now dries quietly. 

Afterwards, I decided I would Google the model number. It turns out that my dryer was made in 1986. Somehow, I thought it was older than that. I acquired it around 2002. It was at least second hand as my Mother bought it and a washing machine with the same paint colour on my behalf from family friends for $50. Repairing it cost 6 times as much! Still cheaper than buying a new one! Part of what makes the age interesting to me is that I have now owned it longer than the previous owners.

I have been wanting to see the film "A complete unknown" for several months. However, I was also hesitant to see it as I knew it would not be an easy film to watch. This afternoon, I decided that I had to pull myself together and watch it. 

I summoned a cab using an app. As it turned out, it was the same cab driver that had driven me to the Alexis Nihon mentioned earlier. As I was about to get into the taxi, I noticed one of my lost gloves wedged behind the back seat! The driver searched the behind the seat and found the other one! What are the odds? Needless to say, I gave him a good tip.

I was in a very good mood when I got to the theatre, which helped as the film was challenging. A complete unknown deals with the early years of Bob Dylan up to the point when he famously and problematically went electric at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival. Among the people Bob deals with is Pete Seeger who comes across as saintly in the words of Saint Michael the Holy Mole. Contrast between the two is likely part of the reason the movie failed to win any Oscars as Bob Dylan is described in the movie by Joan Baez as an asshole. He also alternates between being utterly vague about who he wants to be and very egotistical. This frustrates most of the characters around him with the notable exception of a drunken Johnny Cash. Pete tries to mentor Bob, before going very nearly ballistic and wanting to take an axe to the sound cables at the 1965 Newport Festival before being dissuaded by his wife Toshi. 

That, of course, is artistic license on behalf of the filmmakers. Another bit of artistic license is the way that Woody Guthrie is depicted. He is hospitalized for Huntington's and the hospital is depicted as an extremely bleak place almost a prison. (Having spent eight months in hospitals, I related to that.) The only people who are seen visiting him are Pete and Bob. The large room he is in serves to heighten the sense of isolation. This ignores the fact that he had a wife and kids and many friends who would come to visit him. From what I've read about Arlo Guthrie, I doubt he is very pleased with the movie with its assorted Hollywood-isms.

One of these is the dourness of Bob, as he rarely cracks a smile. I don't think it rings true as I remember a fair bit of humour in "The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan" album which comes out during the movie. Interestingly enough, Arlo complained about this sort of depiction of his father by David Carradine in the film "Bound for Glory" in which Woody never smiles.

One thing that I wish the filmmakers would have included would be a scene where we see Pete singing with absolute conviction and passion. A good song would have been his take on Bob's "A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall" such as the one he performed at Carnegie Hall in 1963. The film presents Pete a bit too passively, and doesn't really capture his passion.

On a different note, while it is probably historically accurate, the filmmakers could have toned down the amount of smoking that happens. There is so much smoking in the film that I would have insisted that the movie be preceded by an anti-smoking ad.

Also, there were a fair number of patrons in the theatre, mostly older than I am. I think there were only two people at the screening whom I would consider young. After the movie was over, I was tempted to ask my fellow patrons who had seen any of the three main characters perform in person, e.g. Bob Dylan, Pete Seeger or Joan Baez. 

With regards to the timing of this blog entry, today marks one year to the day since I was allowed to use crutches.

On kindness and kinship

In the eighteen months since the collision, I have come to the conclusion that most people are generally kind.

I am probably repeating myself in order to keep up the "On [letter] and [letter]" sequence, but the fact of the matter is that I have only had to ask for a seat on the Metro once or twice, whereas I have had to turn down offers of seats dozens of times. I've been using taxi drivers enough that a number now know me and a usual destination. One of them drove me to the Montreal General early in the morning last Tuesday, for what should be the last procedure.

I'm not sure if it should be called an operation or not. It wasn't a big procedure but for pain control the easiest option was to put me under via relatively light sedation rather than do a spinal block which would take several hours to wear off. Also, a spinal block is itself a bit painful. During the pre-op briefing, I was asked twice if I had any piercings. The second time, I quipped that I had some, but I was there to have them removed! At least, I think I did. To be honest, I had slept badly that night and was justifiably tense. The Doctor talked to me in the hallway just outside the operating room and among other things, jokingly asked me which leg was he supposed to operate on. "The ugly one", I replied. I know he was asking the question partly out of standard practice as it has been known for surgeons to operate on the wrong limb. In this case, as the procedure was to remove the external fixation, it would take a very bad surgeon to get my two legs mixed up.

The operating table was surprisingly narrow with the result that I transferred myself from the gurney a bit too far, before shuffling myself to the center. I felt a bit chilly, but a mask was put on my mouth and I was quickly out of reality. When I came to, I was being moved by gurney and I had the urge to turn on my side to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, this put my left foot outside the edge of the gurney and it caught on something. In the recovery room, I waited as the effects of the gas went away. My cousin, Saint Micheal the Holy Mole, arrived, having been phoned twice by hospital, the first time to say all had gone well and the second to let him know it was about time for him to take me home.

There was a longish talk with a medical specialist whose name and even general job description escape me. She explained what I should and shouldn't do for the next two weeks. My leg was covered in a large bandage over which there was a removable brace. She repeated an earlier instruction of not putting more than 50% of my weight on my left leg. She also explained how and when to take off and put on the brace. Indeed, she had me take a video of her putting on the brace. The short version is that I am only to have the brace off while lying down on my back. As I tend to sleep on my side, I have to wear it at night. 

All this is a bit of metaphorical pain, as it is frustratingly hard to remember to use both crutches at home and difficult to move things from A to B while using both crutches. In all honestly, I know that from time to time I slip up and put too much weight on my left leg. I really hope that doesn't really make a difference! The why of not putting too much weight on my left leg I assume has to do with the holes left behind by the removal of the Taylor Spatial Frame. In theory, the holes could propagate cracks in my tibia if too much stress were put on them.

If I am lucky, then when I next meet the Ortho Doctor on the 13th, I will be allowed to shed the brace once and for all. To be followed by physio, for a certainty. 

While the brace is a metaphorical pain, it isn't a physical one. After a few days, I tapered off my prescription opioid. That is a relief as I had concerns about opioid dependency. 

Getting back to the day of the procedure, I was discharge into the care of the Mole. He got me a taxi and we drove to the Alexis Nihon Plaza to pick up a prescription and to have an early lunch. The Mole was his usual wonderful self. It was a very enjoyable meal. We later took a taxi back to my humble domicile where he escorted me up the stairs. In my living room, he noticed a slightly rusty old blue colander sitting upside down on a chair. He then asked "Is that your old uncle Henry's First World War helmet? Sure is shot up bad!" Knowing my cousin, I decided to play along, "No, it is from a peacekeeping mission that went wrong!" I really enjoyed the easy kinship and kidding of the Mole.

Before he left, I had him stand nearby as I tried to see how easily I could sit down and get up from the toilet. There were no issues and he was getting his boots on when I repaired to my front room to lie down on the futon for a nap. After I sat down, I called on him to wait a moment before leaving. I then made sure I could get up easily, which I could. I have since made much use of the futon.

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.