Over the course of Monday, I moved into what had been Steve’s room or part of the room. Plenty of space and lots of windows. About the only thing it is short of is space for posters.
During my Occupational Therapy session on Monday, the O.Therapist test my planning and maneuvering skills in a kitchen environment. In the therapy room next to the gym, there was practice kitchen set up. She had me move various objects around the area. At some times, I was to use only my right foot to propel myself while holding ceramic crockery in either hand. The ultimate test came when she asked me to put a plate and a bowl into a raised cupboard. The plate was easy. However, the bowl was to go into a stack, the top of which was beyond even my reach. The bottom bowl wasn’t beyond my reach so I took it and the rest of the stack out of the cupboard, put the bowl on top and replaced the stack. The Therapist had been hovering nearby, ready to prevent utter ceramic catastrophe. While debriefing me, she asked me why I hadn’t been worried about breaking the bowls. My response was that the bowls weren’t fine porcelain and that the institute must expect some crockery to be broken now and again. I might have been a shade arrogant or perhaps was meta-gaming the situation, but she was amused.
She then asked if I would like to join a Thursday morning “breakfast club”. The group works to make breakfast for themselves and thus practice O.T. skills in a real world environment. I said I would.
I had been feeling good about myself that afternoon, but a bit before supper, I happened to watch a Facebook video of a bad car accident. That triggered a major crying jag. One of the attendants tried to bring me out of my grief by saying people had lost more limbs than I and had gotten over it. She herself had suffered a workplace injury to her hip which had her in crutches for nearly three years. It was well meant, but it made me feel like a crybaby. I knew I was going to get better. I still felt like crying.
I think anxiety over Tuesday’s shopping trip contributed to reaction. I had worried about whether I was really ready as well as whether Mummy was the proper person to accompany me. One the issues that worried me was that she isn’t very familiar with malls in general and the Underground City in particular. I had inquired if there was anything in particular she was looking for and she said no.
So, around noon, the taxi-van came and picked us up at the Lindsay and dropped us off at the corner of McGill College and de Maisonneuve. We went into Indigo and used their small elevator to go up to the main floor. Then there was a phone call from the taxi company that I didn’t quite understand which resulted in us going back down the elevator to wait for the driver. After several minutes and a couple more phone calls, it suddenly clicked that the driver was looking for someone at the Montreal General Hospital. He had been given the wrong phone number.
Back up on the main floor, I headed to a favourite spot to find a particular species of non-fiction book I like. There wasn’t anything appealing. When I turned my head, Mummy wasn’t there. I made my way back through the shelves and caught sight of her walking into young adults some distance away. After some industrious wheeling, I caught up with her. In hindsight, I should have asked to let me know if she wanted to go off on her own. There was some more usage of Indigo’s elevator as we went down to pay, then back up to pay after an employee told the queue that the upstairs cashes were open and waiting for customers.
We left Indigo from the upper floor and into the Place Montreal Trust. We used its larger elevator to go down two stories to the “Metro” level and then went into the adjoining Carrefour Industrielle Alliance for lunch. The Valentine in its food court has a particular and tasty burger that I haven’t seen at any other Valentines. It is called the Doritos Cheeseburger and consists of a cheeseburger with spicy nacho flavour Doritos and spicy sauce. Yes, not the healthiest thing, but it was I wanted.
After lunch, we went to a Hallmarks’ store in an unsuccessful bid to find bulk Christmas cards that I liked. Then it was back through Place Montreal Trust to the Eaton’s Centre. Mummy was amazed and surprised by the signs indicating that work was in progress for the new McGill REM station. I pointed out that the Mount Royal Tunnel had been under us for a century. Evidently, the REM doesn’t get much coverage in the Sherbrooke Record.
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| Moose mural in the Place Montreal Trust |
Mummy then wondered if there was anywhere that sold nighties. As luck would have it, there was a “La vie en rose” lingerie shop on hand. I left her there with the instructions to meet me at the SAQ a little further along. I was finishing my transaction when Mummy joined me. We then went into a drugstore. It had rather narrow aisles, which were made worse by end displays which caught on the wheelchair. I think the staff were relieved when we left with body wash and facial tissue. That was the end of my list.
Mummy hadn’t been successful in her quest for a nightie so I suggested we go to the Bay. She was reluctant as it was the other side of the Anglican Cathedral, so I let it slide.
I was getting a bit tired even though we still had about an hour. We headed back toward Place Montreal Trust. I asked her if there was anything she wanted. She said she wanted coffee. What type? Espresso type. So I pointed to a fancy coffee stand while I took a picture of a chair that looked like a Christmas tree ornament.
As I went to join Mummy, a kindly older woman approached me with sympathetic words regarding my injury. I made the mistake of not only thanking her but chatting with her. I say mistake because I briefly described what had happened which summoned up a bit of a crying jag that I only just suppressed.
We went up to the street level of the Place Montreal Trust to wait. Mummy was struck by the desire to check out a store called Decathlon as a store by the same name in Switzerland had sold nice merino shirts. I let her go. However, it turned out it was in the Eaton Centre, not the mall we were in. I suggested she go over, but she said no.
At about the time the taxi was due, we crossed over Ste-Catherine Street to shelter in the atrium of what used to be Basha’s. It has now become a Sports Experts. I was tired and was a little short with Mummy when she wanted to go up to look for a merino shirt. Not only is there a Sports Experts in Sherbrooke, there is also one of their associated Atmosphere stores which is owned by a good friend of my Mother’s.
I was dead tired by the time I got back to the Lindsay.
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