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.

On a different note, while it is probably historically accurate, the filmmakers could have toned down the amount of smoking that happens.

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 phone 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.