On a wind blowing me some good

On Tuesday I went to my optometrist for my yearly eye exam. We discussed the fact that I hadn’t worn my contact lenses since the collision. After my eyes were examined, the optometrist concluded that the absence of contact lenses had caused my eyes to change shape somewhat, but otherwise my eyes were in good shape. I showed my car bent reading glasses to him and he had someone straighten them in a matter of a few minutes. If I known that it would take so little time, I would have had them done earlier!

The optometrist shop was out on Ontario East Street. I had expected the adapted transport driver to take me back the same way as I had come. However, she drove South to Notre-Dame, then got on the Ville-Marie Expressway. I got a bit alarmed as we seemed to be going past the Glen super hospital and off to the West Island or beyond beyond we turned onto the Décarie Expressway and so back to the Lindsay.

I got back to find that despite my efforts to clear my schedule on Wednesday afternoon, I had been assigned a meeting with a psychiatrist at 2:30. I wasn’t at all clear on why this was.

It was only the next day with my meeting with the psychologist that it was explained to me. It seems that the consensus was that my mental health need more pharmaceutical help and the psychiatrist would be the one to assess and prescribe as needed. 

It did limit the amount of time I had with the Mole and Mummy for lunch. In hindsight, with the timing, the choice of a restaurant in the Alexi Nihon Plaza was a mistake as it took a bit too much travel and eating time. It was a good meal, however.  The Mole showed off his vegan wallet, i.e. it looked liked leather. I quipped that it meant that the wallet was made out of Naugahyde and did he know how many naugas had given their lives to make that wallet? Old and probably outdated joke.

Coming home, we went past the Montreal General Hospital. Someone, my Mother I think, quipped that I should be left at the door of Orthopedics until they tell me when my operation will be. I counter-quipped that it was a bad idea as they might feed me. I did not enjoy the food at the Montreal General.

The psychiatrist suggested a couple of changes to my medication schedule for reasons that made sense. I am not going into much detail aside from that I am going through a stressful period.

The weather changed radically overnight. It went from 13 above to 13 below, or thereabouts. It was blowing very hard around the time I turned my lights out. It made the windows rattle, so the point that one of them blew open!

The shortened expedition yesterday meant that I didn’t get around to mailing the Fredericton documents to the SAAQ or delivering work insurance documents to HR, not to mention some other bits of shopping I wanted to do. So after lunch, I took a taxi to work where I first delivered the documents and discussed the possibility of returning to work part-time. 

I then went over to the Library where I was very pleased to find that I had lucked out as my visit coincided with my co-worker Elisabeth’s visit with her nearly year-old daughter Gemma. Unfortunately, my picture doesn’t do Gemma justice as she is just absolutely adorable. She wasn’t sure about me, so I didn’t get to cuddle her, but it did my heart good just to see her. I caught up with colleagues, as well as mention the possibility of a part-time return to work. I am quietly pleased that some things DVD related have gotten behind in my absence.

I then went across the street to mail the Fredericton papers as well as do some minor shopping. Then I caught a taxi home.

There is the saying: “It’s an ill wind that blows no one good.” Well, I feel it applies as the change in schedule yesterday meant I got to see gorgeous Gemma today. She is a total cutie.

On navigating a bureaucratic maze

My work insurance wanted a medical evaluation form filled out in order that I qualify for long-term disability. No problem, I gave to my doctor on Thursday. On Monday, the floor clerk said it was ready but I had to pay the processing fee in the Gingras part of the Institute. Okay, where in the Gingras? Somewhere in the basement. He didn’t seem to know anything useful, like room number. He told me to ask the receptionist at the Gingras main entrance.

So, wallet in my backpack, I rolled over to the Gingras where the receptionist proved to be in ignorance of the location despite phoning someone else. I then prowled the basement in search of the fabled office. I found one place which gave me blank stares, then found the “Direction Générale” office. There, someone was able to guide uncertainly to an unremarkable door with a sign listing the fees for filling in forms. The first person wasn’t exactly where my form was, but a second woman wearing a hijab knew all about it.

I pulled out my credit card to pay only to be informed that it was cash or check only. The hijab wearing woman began to explain where a cash machine was, before I produced the requisite number of twenties from my wallet. She then wrote a receipt for me.

Coming back, I proved my take on information distribution part of librarianship, by going to the receptionist and the floor clerk and letting them know what the room number was! Unlike the Institute, my take on information distribution is that information should be pushed.

On walking in the hall

During the weekends, I practice using the walker in the hall in front of my room. It has distanced signs giving it a length of 35 meters so a round trip is 70 meters. I had spoken about walking on the weekend to the Mole. Thinking I was doing this in the gym, he questioned me as to whether it was safe. I enlightened him including the fact that orderlies, nurses and doctors prowled the corridor. I then quipped: “In fact, if I am lucky, there will be orderlies en route to help me before I hit the floor should I fall!”

I mentioned the quip to the Physio last week. She said that I was wise and smart enough not to fall while using the walker. One of the ways I make it easier for me is to put my water bottle on a table at my end of the hall so I can drink during my walks without the hassle of carrying the bottle.

I rather pushed my limits today. I made 7 return trips to the end of the hall without sitting down for a total of at least 500 meters if you include the distance from my room and the hall which is more than 5 meters. I felt rather pleased with myself and said as much to my roommate Gilles.

On some first thanks to board gaming

Today marked a few more firsts. I went by taxi to my friend Michel’s new apartment for a gaming session, the first since the accident and the first since Michel moved from his old apartment. Dave was also there. We played a round each of two different games: the cooperative version of Unmatched in which Squirrel Girl, played by your truly, put the kibosh on the Mothman using a Horde of Squirrels, and Acropolis, which was the first time I had played it.

While I was there, I managed to use Michel’s tiny bathroom thanks to having the foresight to bring along my walker for just such an event. That was another first. I should also mention that I had figure out how to maneuver the wheelchair over thick carpets for another first. (I think I should mention that maybe thick carpets should be added to the wheelchair use syllabus to the Occupational Therapist.)

A good time was had by all. Some real beer was consumed by me for yet another first. It was a welcome taste of normal.

On a glimmer at the end of the tunnel

Things are getting better on the whole. This afternoon, I managed 8 laps around the gym for a personal record. Furthermore, I managed to renew my Communauto membership.

Later in the afternoon, my replacement occupational therapist came by with some important information. The first thing was that she and others in my team were able to determine that I had been operated on 4 times at the General. So at least that is sorted out.

The second was that they were trying to get in contact with my orthopaedic doctor at the General to see if it was possible to get a reasonable estimate as when my operation will take place as they describe my condition as stable, meaning I can’t get much better. If the answer is that the operation is a significant time from now, then they would like to explore the option of sending me home, or at least, a reasonable facsimile of home, given the issue of my stairs. 

There would a lot of things to sort out, as well as untold “if”s to overcome, but it is at least a glimmer at the end of the tunnel.

On things forgotten

One of the things that I find disturbing is what I haven’t remembered. I realized that I don’t have an accurate count of the number of operations I have had since the accident. There was the big one in Fredericton. There was also the one for which I fasted for to whole days which was a clean-up operation. That one was at the Montreal General and was towards the end of my stay there. Those ones are clear. However there were about 2 to 4 operations in-between at the General which I don’t remember all that clearly as when they happened and what happened in them. It is disconcerting to say the least.

Then yesterday, I received a copy of my charts from my week in Fredericton along with information from Moncton. It is over an inch thick which only goes to show how much paperwork hospitals generate and why medical librarians are a specialized breed. I have to send it on to the SAAQ. However, I leafed through it enough to come across something that disturbed me greatly. It listed my injuries in medical terms, including a fracture to my left femur. I was very surprised by this as I do not remember knowing that. Yes, I have scars above my left knee, but I assumed that was just the accident. However, it turns out that at least one of them was made by a surgeon working on my femur. How did I not know or how did I forget? It feels very weird that there is this gap in my memory.

A lesser gap in my memory that the stack of papers revealed was the concern the doctors had over my kidney function. I do remember there was an issue, but as it was more complicated than I could cope with, I had simply put it down as “kidney problem: for the doctors to fix.”

The chart was part of a batch of mail that Mummy had brought in her newly acquired second hand Toyota Prius Prime. This marks the first time she has bought a second hand car since the van that Margo bought on her behalf in 1984 for the trip to California! She had just come from picking it up and as it had summer tires in the back, I didn’t ask her to take me somewhere.

I did ask her to escort me to a pharmacy on Côté des Neiges and back. Coming home, the sidewalk was blocked to me by a hose going from a fire hydrant to a City of Montreal water truck. The driver of said truck cheerfully got me over the hose. After thanking him, I asked why was he filling up his truck with water? I had previously seen a truck (possibly the same one) filling up at that hydrant from my bedroom window. The answer was in order to flood outdoor skating rinks which made perfect sense in hindsight.

One piece of mail was a card from Lady Mary in Edinburgh. It was a card hoping I would weather my storm like the ships on the front of it. I must confess that I could not decipher many of the words.

Earlier in the day, I had spent a certain amount of time dealing with SAAQ related paperwork and trying electronically submit some claims. I was not impressed with the SAAQ’s website which requires one to jump through too many flipping hoops. Furthermore, once one has successfully submitted a claim, it dumps you in a dead end page with no link back to the beginning. I was helped by the Lindsay’s social worker who is used to patients having trouble with the website. I was put in mind of a with the teaser joke of a Sunday Calvin and Hobbes cartoon.

In other news, I gained a roommate yesterday. Gilles is a retiree whose presence in “my” room is a transfer from another room in the Lindsay for reasons that have yet to be revealed to me. Our conversations have established the groundwork for a peaceable coexistence. 

Just before my physio session started, the Physio needed a few minutes to sort some things out. I said that I’d soak up some vitamin D while waiting, i.e. park the wheelchair next to a window. It so happened that the window was next to a set of bars attached to the wall like a ladder. The Physio said, “Actually, I think that you should do some exercises using those bars.” First, I stood with my right side next to the bars and holding on with my arms, I lifted my left leg out to the side while balancing on my right. She then had me turn my back to the bars and practice balancing on my feet while pushing out my chest. She wanted me to let go of the bars which I did reluctantly. She said it was safe giving that I was leaning back on the bars. I replied that I believed her, but my head wasn’t so sure! She laughed and accepted my anxiety. She had me lift my arms and legs to the sides. I quipped that I was feeling like a Leonardo  da Vinci drawing.

On a few lesser items

The Mole has remarked a few times about the cleanliness of the Lindsay (as well as the Champlain). On Saturday, I chanced upon a sight that put the gloss on the shine as it were. I noticed a janitor (or whatever the appropriate term is) cleaning a “Warning Wet Floor” sign with several others either awaiting their turn or waiting to be put back into to service. I stopped to compliment her on her thoroughness as well as to offer a more general thanks for her service to the Institute.

In other news, Caroline left on Wednesday. She was only going to be here for a little while, but I am sad that she had gone.

I was off my stride doing laps of the gym this morning. I did 1 lap before realizing that I hadn’t taken my pain meds. I went back to my room to get them and to wait for them to take effect. When I came down, I was still off of my beat and only made it twice around the gym before I quit in a bit of a jelly. After lunch, I made another attempt. This time the equipment orderly, asked if I wanted to be accompanied. I said yes. We chatted about a number of things, including dangerous antipodal animals. She had been under the impression that there lots in New Zealand. I informed her that in my guidebook to New Zealand, it said the only dangerous land animal was a relatively rare spider. If it bites you, it recommended you seek medical attention after bragging about it to your mates at the pub. I did say that Australia did have more that its share of dangerous critters. I also explained my Australian snake decision matrix.

On a couple of small victories

I’ve progressed to the point where I am only getting physio three times a week from now on. Yesterday was the first weekday without a physio session. Therefore, in the morning, I tried break my record of gym laps using the walker. The record was five and I beat it by two, for a total of seven. It was a small victory as seven laps equates 350 meters which I don’t think gets me from my apartment to the Metro. It was a victory nonetheless and it was hard earned. 

So hard, that it was only after lunch when I had transferred to my bed for a rest that I noticed that the gym orderly had put a neatly folded towel on the back of my wheelchair! When I returned to the gym to get some cardio time on the Nu-Step machine, I made a point of thanking her for her stealth kindness. She was amused by my use of the word “stealth” in my thanks.

At the beginning of January, the replacement Physio had me stand on two scales in order to see how much weight I could put on my left leg. The most I made was a little under 30. During today’s physio session, I asked if we might do that test again. So we did. This time, I could easily put 40 kilos or more on my left leg. As my left leg is currently rated at 50% of my weight and said weight is currently in the high 80s, I didn’t try to put any more. Another small victory.

On justice, thoughts

Friday started well. I went on an organized excursion to the Carrefour Laval mall. Three patients (myself included) escorted by three occupational therapists went in taxis. Arriving at the mall, the occupational therapist who had ridden with me, asked if I was ready to go shopping for what I needed. I surprised her by saying that I didn’t need anything. However, there were several things I wanted!

It was my first time there, and the grandiose atmosphere of the place put most of the malls I’d been to to shame. Unlike several I have been to recently, I saw no empty store fronts. My first stop was a bookstore where I bought a couple of recent BDs, including a new Gaston Lagaffe. The latter was written and illustrated not by Gaston’s creator, the late Franquin, but Delaf, the Québecois co-creator of Les Nombrils. I hadn’t been aware of the new Gaston’s publication, but the presence of cycling gag noticed a cursory thumb through sealed the purchase.

Lunch was butter chicken wrapped in nan bread from Spice Bros. Quite tasty it was too. I washed it down with a Thums Up cola in a bottle which the legend “Bottle for beverage use only.”

A good outing.

Just before super time, I got a phone call from the RCMP. It seems the Driver had finally entered a plea before the court. Unfortunately, the plea was “not guilty”. So the affair will go to trial. The gentleman from the RCMP informed me that I would be served a summons to attend the trial as a witness and that some of my expenses would be paid by the Crown. I responded positively to the request, but noted that I could not identify the suspect by sight. He said that they knew that. Given the assorted backlogs in the justice system, the trial is set for the 10th, 11th and 12th of March of 2025!

After I hung up, my initial reaction was to check Via Rail’s website to see how the dates would fit into the trial’s schedule. However, it is not currently possible to book tickets for March 2025. I then thought of what my testimony would be, which proved to be a mistake. I began reliving the events including the drudgery of staying in hospitals for the last five months along with the pains I have suffered. An orderly came in with supper and saw me staring out the window. She asked how I was. I told her, then began crying.

Various people have since commented about the injustice of the Driver pleading “Not guilty”. I must admit, I think I had been expecting such a plea. I don’t quite know why, but something in the little I know about him (which is say next to nothing) suggests someone who doesn’t admit to responsibility. And, by law he is entitled to the presumption of innocence until proven guilty. I really hope that by wasting people’s time and money, he will get a much stiffer sentence, including jail time and being banned from driving for life.

That was Friday. Today (Sunday), I looked at a calendar for March 2025 and then looked at how much a return ticket would cost for the necessary stay in Moncton. I then tried to get an idea of how much a plane ticket would cost on Air Canada. There is something odd with Air Canada’s website as I got the impression there are only irregular flights to Moncton from Montreal. Rather interestingly, the cheapest economy tickets on Air Canada seemed to be a shade more expensive than the most expensive Sleeper Plus tickets on Via! A subsequent rechecking, revealed this not to be the case, but otherwise apart from the low frequency, the Ocean seems a better deal on the whole.

On a brighter note, I managed to put a sock on my left foot without the help of the doodad this evening. A small but useful victory.

On riding in the car

Take me riding in the car, car;
Take me riding in the car, car;
Take you riding in the car, car; 
I'll take you riding in my car.

From “Riding in my car” by Woody Guthrie.

It is not one of Woody Guthrie’s most profound songs, but not all songs need to be profound and it is appropriate to how I am feeling right now. After various plans that didn’t pan out, Mummy drove into Montreal today which is where the plan nearly went awry when her car suffered a problem with its transmission. She managed to get to my apartment, where she phoned the Volkswagen help line. They sent a tow truck which hauled the car off the nearest VW dealership. They in turn lent Mummy a car. 

In the meantime, I was having physiotherapy. I had successfully climbed up and down the test stairs four times before, when I was asked to try climbing the stairs only using the left hand railing as my internal staircase only has a railing on that side. Hanging onto the railing, I put my right foot on the first step and pushed. I rose an inch or two before my right leg suddenly couldn’t provide any strength at that particular angle, and I started going down. I held onto the railing with a death grip as the Physio rushed to steady me and give me a boost upright. I got back into my wheelchair. The Physio insisted on icing my knee and then cutting the session short.

Mummy arrived during lunch. We chatted until about 1:30 when we went to the gym. There, the Occupational Therapist greeted us and we went out to the borrowed car. The OT stood by as I gingerly maneuvered the wheelchair close to the front door, then carefully transferred my body onto the front passenger seat. I lowered the back of the seat, then maneuvered myself backwards until my left foot could clear the door frame. I was seated in the car!!! 

While the OT demonstrated to Mummy how the wheelchair should be folded for stowage, I practiced how to get my left foot out of the car. Then, with the OT’s approval, Mummy and I set off on a modest trip around town.

Our first stop was at a fabric store. I inherited my living room sofa from my Great Aunt Lorna. (Another candidate for an Adventure Auntie type show.) I believe it had been bought when she built her house around 1970. In a very Aunt Lorna-ish fashion, it is covered with a red and orange checked cloth which she concealed with a floral patterned cover during the summer. I never particularly liked the feel of the red and orange cloth, so I left the outer cover on all year. At some point after years of lying on it to read or sleep, the cover ripped. It had been a project for several years to have a new cover made and Mummy precipitated it into happening. So we went fabric shopping. 

I ended up choosing what I think of a loose floral pattern in muted colours in a yellow and green section of the spectrum. When we went to get the necessary length of material cut, we learned that it was 50% off on top of being 50% off. Unfortunately, this did not mean it was free, merely 50% off the 50% off, e.g. “only” 75% off in total. We ended up buying some extra material just in case.

We then went to the Library to return a book and say “Hi” to some of my co-workers. Two of them remembered my mother from various events, most of them twenty plus years ago. It was easier for me to visit this time around.

Next, I paid a visit to the drugstore across the street where I went a mild shopping spree for some basics such as laundry detergent and toothpaste, as well as some “extravagances” such as fizzy water and honey roasted peanuts. Then it was back to the Lindsay.

The thing about practicing getting in and out of ordinary cars is that it makes it easier for me to getting around. I don’t have to carefully plan ahead with the relatively expensive adapted taxis. I can take regular taxis. I might even get lifts with various friends and relatives. It might not be a case of the sky’s the limit, but the ceiling has certainly been raised.

On Adventure Auntie or Auntie Adventure

A few days ago, I was pondering life, the universe and everything when my thoughts wandered over to the memory of a short comic designed to introduce kids to orienteering made about twenty years ago. The protagonist is introduced to orienteering by Margo drawn as a fit, active, grey haired woman. 

Thinking further, I was struck how someone clever might make a TV series for kids entitled Adventure Auntie or Auntie Adventure. Each episode would have the titular character introducing a kids to various outdoor activities such as orienteering, camping in tents, rock climbing, kayaking and bike touring. (Admittedly, the last one is a bit of stretch.) The clever thing about having the teacher be a grey-haired woman would be that it would remove any macho elements from the show and bring the subject matter down to earth to the point that it says that with the right gear and knowledge, anyone can do this. You don’t have to be an ultra-fit young man. The emphasis would be one having fun doing these things. As well, some things should go wrong in order to show how cope with mishaps as well as that bad things do happen.

Why the activities mentioned? Well, Margo was the one who with whom I did each one for the first time. Margo, my Auntie Adventure (or maybe Adventure Auntie, I can’t decide which way works better.)

Thank you, Margo.

On five months in

Well, it is now five months since my life was changed. I “celebrated” by doing five laps of the gym in the walker without taking a sitting down break. At least, I might have. I was doing laps by myself to the point that I decided I’d had enough and went back to the wheelchair. I thought I’d done four laps but my Physio who’d been attending another patient nearby said I’d done five. I would have thought it was hard to lose count for such small numbers but the 50m circuit of the gym takes a fair bit of effort for me to circumnavigate, especially when I try not to be an obstacle to other, faster patients. Also, I’d stopped to ask someone to take a picture of me.

One of the faster patients was Caroline. As I was catching my breath, she got on the treadmill with a physio in attendance telling her to take it easy. I jokingly said: “Plus vite! Plus vite!” then imitated the crack of a whip. An old joke, and one that made her grin.

There followed various exercises on a bed. I was vaguely hindered by the fact I have difficulty counting if I don’t speak out loud. At one point, I commented that “You would expect someone with four post-secondary diplomas to be able to count.” There was one exercise that required me to wait three seconds before returning to the rest position. I began by counting “One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi” before patriotism led me to go through the provinces and territories instead. I counted to four for the provinces with shorter names and Labrador was separate from Newfoundland. I made a point of going through the provinces East to West and the Territories by date of establishment. Anything to kill the boredom.

Earlier this week, I was told that the Occupational Therapist had taught me everything deemed necessary at this time, so I was no longer going to have any more session with her except in the event of anything new or if I had questions. On Thursday, I had question session with her which covered a few things, most importantly, the techniques of getting in and out of cars. I right felt that I probably could get in or out of a car. I knew that the IRGLM has part of a car in for just such a purpose. Admittedly, it is not representative of modern cars as it features a bench seat in the front (and only row), however, it was near enough for the OT to teach me the recommended technique as well as some important do’s and don’t’s. 

I took my shower in the late afternoon. Beforehand, I inevitably spend a certain amount of time examining my wounds. Today my attention was drawn to two bits of surgical stitches that hadn’t been removed owing to some oversight or other. They were partially exposed and had been mentally bothering me for some time. I gently tried to budge first the larger one then the smaller one. To my surprise, pressure on the sides of the smaller one caused enough of it to come out that I could easily pull it free. I attempted the technique on the other one and lo, it came out to. I put the pieces on the counter and proceeded with my ablutions. On further examination, I was surprised to see that both pieces of surgical thread were about the same size, roughly 1 cm. It is weird to think that they may have been in me for five months.