On a trim, the RCMP, and a wheelchair

Mummy came in with a pair of barbers’ scissors this morning. With them and the iMirror, I was able to trim my beard. Not particularly well, but it feels better to me. (Comments about electric beard trimmers will not be posted.)

Then we spoke with the RCMP via speaker phone. It seems the driver is due in court on November 15 to enter a plea relative to his guilt. If he pleads not guilty, then the trial would be in October 2024 or so. We also found out more about his arrest. It seems after his third hit and run that day, his car ended up in the ditch. The RCMP found the car and happened to have a tracking dog with them so they followed the scent and found him walking along the road.

Next my physio came in with a wheelchair. This was expected, but still cause for trepidation. The physio and her assistant discussed how to get me into the wheelchair, before putting their plan into action. It did not got smoothly. At least once, I felt I was about to fall to the floor, coccyx first. However, I was eventually seated in the wheelchair.

The Mole had arrived during the transfer. He, Mummy and I went down the corridor to the western end where there was a sofa and wide views of Montreal. Once there, I promptly broke into tears.

Fear, stress, worry, anxiety, depression. Take your pick. Maybe throw in dismay at how far I have to go. Possibly facilitated by presence of people I trust to comfort me.

We sat and chatted for about three quarters of an hour before the physio found us. I was about ready to go back to bed. Unfortunately, getting out of the wheelchair proved harder than getting in and had me at the edge of panic. The consensus was that next time some sort of crane will be employed given my weight, height, unwieldy limbs and weakness. Here’s to hoping next time goes better.