The flowers are all dying.  Sigh.  It's that time of year.  

My friend that I went to Vancouver with in July, collapsed in the shower yesterday.  She managed to call her daughter in Vancouver, who then got hold of me.  Her daughter called an ambulance and I drove over there.  I got there in 25 minutes which was pretty good, it's a forty kilometer drive.  My friend had managed to get a housecoat on and crawled into bed.  She was so dizzy she couldn't move her head, which is how she ended up on the floor.

We sat and talked, waiting for the ambulance.  An hour went by, no ambulance.  By this time she was feeling much better.  I took her blood pressure and it was fine so we decided to cancel the ambulance.  It was also her birthday yesterday, so we visited some more.  She called telephone triage today and the nurse thinks it was her blood pressure, so she is to monitor her blood pressure, reduce her meds, and see her doctor.  She's ok.

We're in the process of watching the first season of "The Pitt".  I love medical shows and this one is well done.  It's set in an ER in Pittsburgh and each episode is one hour of a shift; the entire season is just one day shift in the ER.  Last night there was an old man with dementia dying.  His children were having a hard time letting go of him but finally decided on a natural death for the old man.  Once the decision was made, they didn't know what to do so the main character told the children about a traditional Hawaiian prayer that is said when someone is dying.

Ho'oponopono is a Hawaiian word that means to make things right.  It involves 

1. Saying sorry- acknowledges a perceieved wrongdoing or obstacle

2. Please forgive me- asks for forgiveness, creating a safe space for resolution.

3. Thank you- expresses gratitude for the resolution that has occurred.

4. I love you- an act of love and understanding, fostering a sense of connection.

The prayer is repeated over and over.

I think this is probably a good practice to use for more than just death, and I think I'll try it out.

Otherwise not much.  I switched the dogs to grain free dog food because Charlie often has diarrhea.  There's no more diarrhea but he does have meat farts now.

Jack bought himself a skateboard and now considers himself a pro.

Katie is well but misses her favorite caregiver who has been off sick for awhile.

The goat rodeo continues.  

I continue to go through the 963 blog posts that I had.  Of course as I go through them, I read them and then decide whether or not to delete them.  I can tell you some things.

I complain a lot.

I was sick a lot.

I was depressed a lot.

I feel my mental health is better now, and certainly way better than it was while I was going through menopause.

Work was hard and caused me a lot of grief because of understaffing, working with a couple of horrible nurses, useless managers, and patients who were sick and dying.  I didn't realize what a toll it took on me until I read some of my old posts.

Work was hard on my body physically too.

All this and I haven't even gotten to the pandemic yet. Only 605 more posts to go through.  I have learned though that if I don't edit the post, and I move the post to draft, I can just hit publish and it will have the original publishing date on it.  A lot of the posts I can't be bothered to republish, but some I have.  I'm glad I have the time to do this now, I never did before.

I am going through my blog, deleting anything that references one of my children, as per their request.  I've being meaning to sort through things anyway, because of Jack who is starting to read, so now I'm doing it.  Will I continue to blog?  Yes, it's how I sort out the shit in my head.  I love the community.  I love putting my photos out into the world for others to enjoy.  Many people don't understand it, but we're all different.  This works for me.  

Yesterday was hard.  Jack and I had our ADHD class which is an excellent class, but it also brings up so many regrets about my own child rearing in the past, and also makes me sad my parents weren't able to give to me what they had not received themselves.  The other parents are wonderful, struggling to do their best (aren't we all?), and the instructors are so good, and so kind.  I wish I'd had this course before having any children, but would I have listened as a young woman?  Doubtful.  The hubris of youth:)

I work with a woman who drives me crazy.  She is a control freak, a victim, self centered, self righteous and oblivious.  I have a very difficult time dealing with her.  She pushes all of my buttons and I am my worst self around her, no matter how hard I try to be professional.  The thing is, I don't want to do this, to be this person.  But I cannot figure out what buttons she is pushing so that I can disconnect and be rational and sane around her.

I'm a good nurse, compassionate, hard working and skillful.  She distrusts me, despite the fact that she makes many mistakes and acknowledges none of her mistakes.  When I make a mistake, I apologize, I fix what I have done and then I endeavor not to make that mistake again.  We all make mistakes but what really burns my ass is that she not only doesn't acknowledge her mistakes, she keeps making the same fucking, stupid mistakes over and over again!

There are only four nurses where I work.  We are a small group and this causes problems and I realize that I am part of the problem.  Her lack of trust pushes my buttons but I can't figure out why.  I've been thinking about it for the last day and can't figure out why.  Usually I know when I've hit upon a truth because I start crying.  I haven't started crying. 

I don't want to be the person I am when I'm around her, small, mean, resentful, passive-aggressive.  I want to be a better person but I keep getting sucked into her vortex and then spiral down. 

What I should be doing right now is studying but I'm not.  I'm reading blogs and cooking potstickers for a luncheon tomorrow.  One of my coworkers is retiring. 

It's been snowing here all day.  There was a promise of spring last week but that seems to have gone by the wayside.  Winter is back, hopefully not for long.

Miss Katie had three wisdom teeth out last Wednesday and we all survived.  She was pretty good considering her surgery was delayed by two hours.  When we arrived at the hospital she started screaming bloody murder when I put some EMLA cream on her hands so that the IV wouldn't hurt when it was started.  The screaming turned out to be a blessing because the nurses quickly moved us from a stretcher in the middle of the unit to a room with a door and Katie got a couple of Ativan in the bargain as well.  When her and I went downstairs to the OR she started flirting with the young, good looking dentist.  She got a hug from him and she had him blowing up gloves because she wanted a balloon. 

After she came back from the recovery room she vomited up some blood and this green thing.  I couldn't figure out what the green thing was so I put on a pair of gloves and dug around in the vomit (you can tell I'm a nurse and a mom).  I pulled the green thing out.  It was a sticker that you give kids as a bribe or reward.  I have no idea where it came from but it's not unusual.  Katie's caregiver found a tack up her nose a couple of weeks ago.  Where she got it, god only knows.  Once I found her teacher's keys inside the sock Katie was wearing.  Katie had ridden home on the bus with keys in her sock and her shoe on as well. 

I've been battling the menopause and the menopause has been kicking me in the ass.  I felt like I was in a fog, I had insomnia, which I've never really had, I was getting depressed, weepy, bitchy, not to mention the hot flashes from hell.  I felt like a train wreck.  Menopause is a natural thing, it's what happens to women.  But I couldn't do it.  I saw my doctor and got an estrogen patch and some progesterone pills.  The fog has lifted thank goodness but the hot flashes remain.  I'm okay with that.  The fog made me feel like I had Alzheimers.  I couldn't concentrate, kept forgetting everything, couldn't do simple tasks and work was becoming difficult. 

The potstickers are all finished, time to do a little studying. 

I took this photo with my phone.  It reminds me of a painting;  I think it's the light.  That was the river valley last weekend.  This weekend it's covered in snow and ice.  Sigh. 

I haven't been writing much but I have been thinking a lot.  I just found out another friend has been diagnosed with cancer.  The total is three now, all of them younger than me.  I know we all die.  I know that 2 in 5 people will get cancer during their lifetime.  Facts aren't people though.  Facts don't work with you, don't call you when you're feeling depressed, don't go shopping with your or have you over for supper. 

I've been very lucky really.  My children are healthy.  I'm healthy.  The big guy is healthy.  I have a job.  My mortgage is almost paid off.  But what I wants is my friend to not be dying.  As I type this crème brulee is cooking in the oven for her.  She loves crème brulee.  It's got lots of calories for her and she can taste it. 

I just feel kind of lost lately.  I'm past middle age now.  I'm fifty-two.  This is the last act of my life and I still feel ill equipped.  It feels like time is running out for me, although I'll probably live into my eighties, it still feels like the clock is winding down.  To what purpose?

I have three children.  I did a barely adequate job of raising them.  I have hurt those I love.  And I just really wonder what is the point of this whole thing.  I had a dream last week that seemed to go on forever.  Like most of my dreams it included all kinds of bizarre shit but the final bit of my dream was me falling to Earth in a spaceship, being told that I would have to keep going back (to Earth) until I got it right.

And that's what I've been doing for the past few weeks, months, for the past year it seems.  I guess I expect there to be an end point, like the end of a race.  And there will be something waiting for me, a prize for a medal or something, some way to know that I have made it, that I have gotten it, that I have figured it out.  When in reality there is no end point but just a continuing journey, of which this life here, is only one small part. 

I work with a woman who just wants to have a good time.  I'm not judging her, it's just the way she is.  She wants to go out on the weekends, loves parties, wants to have fun.  And part of me envies her but a much bigger part of me wouldn't want to live like that, the not seeing.  It's hard this looking within and it wears me down but I wouldn't give it up. 

i walk beside the river
sky gray, trees bare
the ground littered
with leaves

but today the river is green

snow begins to fall
the flakes melting
as they touch the ground

but today the river is green

next week
or next month
the river will be
frozen over, white

but today the river is green

I'm taking a course right now in oncologic nursing and this is what I wrote yesterday in my journal for the course.

January 28

My aha moment today came down in RT (radiation therapy), not just during the tour, but before work while I sat with my friend and listened to her as she whispered to me.  I didn’t realize or understand how much work went into planning RT prior to the patient receiving her first treatment, nor did I think much beyond the toughened looking skin on a chest or neck of one of my patients.   I knew that many of my patients get radiation but it was an abstract concept until this morning.  

This morning I sat with my friend as she waited to be called for her treatment.  She was told yesterday that she probably won’t get her taste buds back, ever.  Which doesn’t seem like a huge deal in the grand scheme of things until you start to think about supper with your family or teaching your daughter how to cook or the simple enjoyment of flavors.  I think about never tasting limes again, or chocolate or even fresh bread and butter and I realize my life would be diminished without flavor because eating and enjoying our meals is part of being human. 

I had to lean close to my friend because her throat is too sore to speak louder than a whisper, the same friend whom I talked to everyday on the phone for years when our kids were young.  Our voice is how we communicate, how we keep in touch, how we tell someone we’re angry or happy or sad.  And now my friend’s voice can’t rise above a whisper. 

I don’t want her to know that her skin is going to stay looking like it is now, that she will probably lose her teeth, that life will never, ever be the same again.  I imagine that she has been told all of this but our brains are so good at protecting us from pain, even mental pain, that our brains will deny the truth.  Each new loss is a shock to her,  the G-tube, her taste buds, her skin and the shocks will continue, one by one.  And then I magnify this by the number of patients that come through our doors every day and it’s a wonder  that the Cross does not collapse just due to the mental anguish that is wrought there every single day.  And that’s what I remember today, that every patient is my friend, that every patient is losing something, that every patient is fighting not just a great battle, but small ones as well.

 

 

 

Dear Mum,

I called your sister today.  When she answered the phone she sounded a lot like you, only more English.  I told Fran that I missed you.  She misses you as well.  You guys hadn't seen each other for four or five years but I know you guys talked for hours on the phone every couple of weeks.  Fran said that sometimes she thinks of something and wants to ask you about it, something from growing up, and then she realizes she can't ask you anymore.  I get that too.  The other day I wanted to ask you something and then I realized that I couldn't ever ask you and I wondered why I never bothered to ask you while you were alive.

It's getting close to Christmas and it will be my first Christmas without you.  I feel like such a child but I'm missing you a lot.  I was at Safeway today, buying some groceries and I thought of you.  We shopped together at Safeway every weekend.  I was going to buy myself an orchid but I couldn't, they reminded me too much of you.  You were always trying to get those orchids in the plant room to bloom.

The African violet that you bought not long before you died is sitting on my dining room table, in full bloom.  You would have loved it.  The flowers are a pinkish-purple with white edges.  I'll never look at an African violet, or an orchid, without thinking of you.

I was down at the dog park a couple of weeks ago and somebody had hung up homemade bird feeders for the chickadees;  they were flitting about, enjoying the sunflower seeds.  I tried holding some seeds in my hand, hoping that they would eat out of my hand but that didn't happen.   I'm glad we were able to take you down to the river for a weiner roast last fall, so thankful that you got to feed the chickadees out of your hand.  I know you enjoyed that day a great deal.  I think it was your last good day.

I wish I had been more patient with you, not gotten so irritated with waiting for you to put on your gloves or do up your zipper or "quickly" go to the bathroom.  It seems I was always in a hurry, why I don't know.  We are a long time dead and now I have no way of saying "I'm sorry."   I may have been impatient but I never considered you a burden mum, nor did I consider taking care of you a duty.  You were my mum.  What I did for you, I did out of love.

I miss you and I will be thinking of you this Christmas.

Love, D.

Random thoughts on a Sunday morning.

I had a patient last week, in her late thirties, early forties.  She had a brain tumor that was just discovered last month.  She had felt sick for a month and then had a massive headache.  When she had a CT scan they found a brain tumor and emergency surgery.  She says people tell her "how awful" and she tells them, "No, I woke up.  Everyday is amazing."

I miss Miss KT, miss seeing her sleeping at night, miss sitting with her before she goes to bed, her head in my lap which she eats a bowl of popcorn.  I miss listening to her sing, a strange sound that she makes when she is contented and happy.

I don't miss everyday starting with her feet hitting the floor of her bedroom and me having to be "on".  I don't miss having to be constantly vigilant while she is awake.  I don't miss being assaulted by my beautiful, anxious daughter.

I know Miss KT is safe and happy enough where she is but I still worry.

I am beyond tired of dealing with a passive-aggressive co-worker.  She makes work miserable, all the time.  When she starts work I can feel a dark cloud descend upon the department and it's not just me, we all feel it.

My son and is girlfriend are coming over for supper tonight, they won't be here for Thanksgiving so I'm making a big meal tonight.  My son is growing up and I'm so proud of him.  He's going to school and doing well.  He's supporting himself, taking care of himself, he's clean and straight and he has the love of a good woman.  I got pregnant with my son when I was only twenty years old, far too young to be a mother, especially me.  We survived though, he and I.

And the photo above, Tangle Creek Falls on the Parkway Highway between Jasper and Banff.  It's one of my favourite waterfalls.  We always stop here.  The big guy watches as I scramble around on the hill.  I love climbing this hill and one day want to make it all the way to the top.  I feel like a kid again as I climb.  I think he knows this and that's why we always stop there. 

A walk in the woods.

Things I'm grateful for today.

I finally believe that I am worthy.  Why now, I don't know.  I believe we all possess a spark of the divine within us.  The fact that we are born, that we live, means that we are all worthy, worthwhile, that we matter, even if others have convinced us otherwise, we still matter.  Every one of us.  Me too.

Even if I make mistakes (it's how I learn, how we all learn), I am worthy.

Even if I hurt others, sadly I do this, sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose, often because I'm hurt and want to lash out at others or because I am selfish and want what I want, when I want, or because I'm tired or hungry or in pain.  But I hurt others, I know this.  I am still worthy, although this one gives me a hard time.

Even if I disappoint others, don't do as they want, have different ideas, beliefs, wants, needs, I am still worthy.  What I need still matters, it may not be what you want or need but it is what I want or need now.  I am worthy.

What I see, what I hold dear, what I love, what I believe, these things are all worthy simply because they are mine. 

 

 

 

Me and my mum, a year and a half ago.  The big guy and I took her for a weiner roast, her first, down in the river valley.  It was a wonderful day. 

 

 

She got to feed the chickadees out of her hand.

 

 

 

And eat roasted marshmallows.  

 

It will be a year next week since she died.  I miss her still, especially her laugh.

We ran away to the mountains this past weekend.  I like to imagine living here, where this photo was taken.  It's an old homestead and it's so peaceful there.  Except life is never really peaceful for long.

I work with a woman who is passive-aggressive.  She drives me crazy because I am like her in some  ways.  I cannot change her, I cannot even reason with her.  Dealing with her terrifies me, my heart pounds, my palms sweat.  She does not like me and anything I do will not make this any worse than it already is, so what's the problem?

The real problem is that I dislike her because of what she represents to me, my own worst nasty bits.  The judging, critical, dogmatic, passive-aggressive bits that I would like to pretend don't exist.  Except they do and because she makes me look at myself and see these nasty bits within, I dislike her.  I feel like a bitch around her and I probably am to her.  

But there is another side to this.  She is passive-aggressive and by working with her daily I can see how destructive passive-aggressive behavior is.  She is a chance for me to change how I behave.  She is a constant reminder to do better, to practice speaking up assertively, to tell others what I need and what I want.  

Change is so hard.  It's scary and I hate scary.  I like nice, I prefer nice.  Conflict makes me very anxious, it reminds me of growing up, it reminds me of being a little girl and being scared because my dad was yelling and I didn't know why.  Which makes me cry.  

So I need to be scared and keep going.  I'm not a child anymore, I can chose to behave differently.  I want to behave differently.

I was at work yesterday afternoon, standing in the hallway, trying to start an IV on a patient, when I looked up and saw an old friend.  I smiled and hugged him and asked him what he was doing in my hospital.  His wife, my friend, has cancer he told me and I promptly burst into tears.  I asked him how bad it was and he said stage four.

I work with cancer patients all day long.  I love my job.  My patients remind me everyday how precious life is, how random life is and for the most part I'm okay with that.  Occasionally I cry with a patient, but it doesn't tear me up inside.  I understand that we all die.  I'm a nurse.  I've taken care of many, many dying patients.  It think it's an honour to be with someone when their soul slips away from their body.

But all that seems to disappear when it's someone I know and care about.  My friend and I spent many hours together, talking, shopping, laughing, crying.  I missed her when I got divorced.  We drifted apart.  Why did I let that happen?

I sat and talked with my friend a bit yesterday.  We cried, just a little, got caught up.  I showed her photos of my kids, we talked about her kids.

I don't know what will happen to her but I hope for the best.  Mostly I want to make sure I keep in touch with my friends, those people who cared for me and supported me during some very difficult times.

Note to self.  Tell my friends how much they mean to me, keep in touch. 

This is part of the harbour where my parents' ashes are scattered. Last night I went for a walk and went by my mum's old apartment. There is someone else living there now. I haven't been back inside the building since I turned in her keys. I can't. Everything brings back memories.

Last night when I went to bed, I started crying. I still miss my mum. Not the sick mum who was suffering so much but the mum who would go for walks with me, who liked a dirty joke, who had such a wonderful sense of humor. I thought I was okay but I'm not. The black dog is back. I hate depression. It is a soul sucker.

I took myself down to the dog park this morning for an early morning walk.  I listened to the birds, spotted a procrastinating robin who has not yet left, watched the mist slowly evaporate as the sun rose.  Part of the river bank collapsed with the flooding we had this summer and there is now a sandbank part way out into the river where there was none before.  The leaves are turning color, gently falling to the ground. 

Even with all this beauty around me, I still miss her. 

I found this lovely sunflower down in the river valley about a month ago.  People, myself included, leave sunflower seeds for the chickadees down there.  The birds will eat right our of your hand.  A year ago the big guy and I took my mum down there for a wiener roast, her first and last wiener roast as it turned out.  Mum loved the wiener roast but she especially loved feeding the little chickadees right out of her hand. 

It's Thanksgiving weekend and I do feel thankful this weekend.  

I work in cancer care which sounds like an awful place to work but it is the opposite.  Although I work with an awful co-worker, it's my patients that keep me there.   Everyday I see people who have had the worst news they can imagine and everyday they get on with their lives.  They laugh, they cry, they work, they love but most importantly, they live. 

Just last week I had a patient, thirty-five, with two young children and metastatic melanoma.  She will die and she knows this but she is alive right now and the vibrancy of that life shimmers around her.

I am thankful that I love and I am loved.

What are you thankful for this weekend?

This is a view from Sulphur Mountain;  Banff lies in the valley that is mostly obscured by the tall tree on the left in the photo.

It's beautiful.

Things I'm thankful for today.

The caregiver who cares for Katie full time.  He is gentle, kind and patient.
Katie has an appointment for her dental care, she requires a general anesthetic.
She can also get the mole, that continues to grow and change, removed under anesthetic.
Friends.
Friends who hug.
Friends who listen.
Sunshine.  The days are getting noticeably longer.
A fire in the fireplace because it's cold outside.
A cat curled up in front of the fireplace.
Lunch with my son last weekend.
The oncology course I'm taking right now.
I figured out how to get a photo on my blog with my new PC.  I still miss my Mac.
My health.  I care for people every single day who don't have their health. 
My friend's radiation treatment is finished.
Hugs from the big guy.

What are you thankful for today?

I was here last weekend, Lake Louise.  Very beautiful.  What you can't see in the photo is the huge hotel behind me that overlooks the lake. 

It's been a busy week.  This morning we had a patient come down for a line and he looked like death when he arrived.  When we laid him flat he stirred and then became very anxious, hallucinating, crying, moaning.  It broke my heart.  We never did the procedure.  The tech and I decided he wouldn't be able to withstand the procedure.  But we took about an hour and a half out of his life.  Shortly after we took him back upstairs, he died.  He was two years older than me. 

Last Thursday I had a young man, only twenty-two, with metastatic cancer everywhere.  The kind of cancer old people get, not young people.  His mom talked to me, told me that she was going to make sure that whatever time he had left would be good time.  She was going to cook all his favourite meals.  He was diagnosed in December.  It broke my heart.

A favourite patient of mine, I baked him a cake last week when he came in, came in to tell me that his news was not good.  His cancer had spread to the bones in his hips, his ribs, his spine and his skull.  He cried and I hugged him.  I was honoured that he would go out of his way to come and tell me.

There's been a fair bit of this breaking of my heart this week, good things as well.  Patients I haven't seen in awhile showing up for scans, and they're not dead.

Things I'm grateful for tonight.

Bed.
The sun getting higher in the sky everyday, we drive home in daylight now.
Homemade spring rolls for supper.
Bed.
Dishwashers.
Washers and dryers.
Katie is safe and well cared for.
My son and daughter are happy, going to college and living with loving partners.
Hugs from the big guy.
Friends.  Good friends.

What are you thankful for tonight?

I went to Miss KT's yesterday morning to pick up coats that she had destroyed.  Two staff were there but not her regular staff yet.  When I walked in I could smell poop and when I asked the ladies, they said Katie was up but still in her room.

I went up to her room and said good morning.  I took her to the bathroom to clean her up;  she still likes to poop in her diaper.  As I cleaned her up, she asked for a bath.  I had time, didn't have to start work for over an hour so I ran a bath for her and gave her a bath.

I can't believe how much I enjoyed bathing my daughter.  I washed her hair, washed her body, checked to see if she was too thin or just regular thin and sang her songs.  She's not too thin, just regular thin.  Her favorite song is Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer but she also likes the Wheels on the Bus and O Canada.  I dried her off and helped her get dressed.  I remembered to give her two choices and made her choose.  She ended up with orange jeans, a turquoise t-shirt and a red sweatshirt.

We went back downstairs and I brushed her hair out and gave her morning pills to her.  Then when it was time for me to leave, I strapped her into her wheelchair, to keep the two ladies safe.  Just as I was ready to leave, her regular caregiver, Joseph, came in.

It was such a simply thing, bathing KT but I felt reconnected to her.  She hasn't lived with me in almost four years and there are things I miss.  I don't feel like her mum sometimes but rather an administrator.  She's still my baby girl, even at twenty-one.

When her and her roommate were evicted in June they ended up moving much closer to my hospital.  I see her more often now, can just pop in before or after work without having to drive across the city.  I think I'll make an effort to stop by and give her a bath when I work the late shift.  I need to touch people for them to be real to me.  I spent sixteen years bathing, dressing and feeding KT, it's part of how we connect to each other.  I want that back.

Things I'm thankful for today.

Helped out a patient yesterday, didn't make him feel stupid for doing what he did (even though it was a stupid thing to do), saved him hours in emergency at a different hospital.  He's dying, he has better things to do than ricochet between hospitals.

Tried to practice my assertiveness skills with my co-worker but was only marginally successful.  But I did try and I protected my patient which was the important part.

Spoke with another young patient, a nurse, just diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer.  We spoke about the randomness of life.  I couldn't have faced my own death with such equanimity when I was her age.

Our lovely fall weather continues to hold.  The windows are all open and I can hear a magpie talking outside.

Homemade Thai coconut curry chicken soup.  OMG!

Hugs from the big guy.

The week, a rather difficult week, is over. 

Read a wonderful book, "The Signature of All Things" by Elizabeth Gilbert.  I enjoyed it immensely.

Slept for eleven hours last night.  I do love to sleep.

Get to see Miss KT tomorrow.

What are you thankful for today?

I saw this on Denise's blog today and it made me want to weep and pray.

Pray for Peace

Pray to whomever you kneel down to:
Jesus nailed to his wooden or plastic cross,
his suffering face bent to kiss you,
Buddha still under the bo tree in scorching heat,
Adonai, Allah. Raise your arms to Mary
that she may lay her palm on our brows,
to Shekhina, Queen of Heaven and Earth,
to Inanna in her stripped descent.

Then pray to the bus driver who takes you to work.
On the bus, pray for everyone riding that bus,
for everyone riding buses all over the world.
Drop some silver and pray.

Waiting in line for the movies, for the ATM,
for your latte and croissant, offer your plea.
Make your eating and drinking a supplication.
Make your slicing of carrots a holy act,
each translucent layer of the onion, a deeper prayer.

To Hawk or Wolf, or the Great Whale, pray.
Bow down to terriers and shepherds and Siamese cats.
Fields of artichokes and elegant strawberries.

Make the brushing of your hair
a prayer, every strand its own voice,
singing in the choir on your head.
As you wash your face, the water slipping
through your fingers, a prayer: Water,
softest thing on earth, gentleness
that wears away rock.

Making love, of course, is already prayer.
Skin, and open mouths worshipping that skin,
the fragile cases we are poured into.

If you’re hungry, pray. If you’re tired.
Pray to Gandhi and Dorothy Day.
Shakespeare. Sappho. Sojourner Truth.

When you walk to your car, to the mailbox,
to the video store, let each step
be a prayer that we all keep our legs,
that we do not blow off anyone else’s legs.
Or crush their skulls.
And if you are riding on a bicycle
or a skateboard, in a wheelchair, each revolution
of the wheels a prayer as the earth revolves:
less harm, less harm, less harm.

And as you work, typing with a new manicure,
a tiny palm tree painted on one pearlescent nail
or delivering soda or drawing good blood
into rubber-capped vials, writing on a blackboard
with yellow chalk, twirling pizzas–

With each breath in, take in the faith of those
who have believed when belief seemed foolish,
who persevered. With each breath out, cherish.

Pull weeds for peace, turn over in your sleep for peace,
feed the birds, each shiny seed
that spills onto the earth, another second of peace.
Wash your dishes, call your mother, drink wine.

Shovel leaves or snow or trash from your sidewalk.
Make a path. Fold a photo of a dead child
around your VISA card. Scoop your holy water
from the gutter. Gnaw your crust.
Mumble along like a crazy person, stumbling
your prayer through the streets.

By Ellen Bass

My mother would be horrified by my previous post.  I know my mum loved me and I loved my mum.  She was deeply imperfect, as am I.  For all of the negatives, there were positives as well.  It seems I forget that so easily, part of my nature sadly, or just part of being human. 

My mother taught me to laugh and to find humor in most everything.  When she was child she was often sent out of the room for laughing.

She was the black sheep of the family, leaving England to follow a Canadian she fell in love with.  She didn't fit in anymore after she left England.  In Canada, she was English and in England, she was Canadian.   We have that in common, being the misfit in our families.

She loved animals, especially dogs and had a dog until she couldn't live in her own home anymore.

She taught me not just to garden but to love gardening.  I never did love roses the way she did though.  I think they reminded her of home in England and to me they're just thorny bushes, although I do love the smell of rugosa roses.

Mum taught me to love walking as well, probably part of being English as well.  She was a great believer in the health benefits of fresh air and walks.  She hated not being able to walk like she used to. 

Mum also taught me that family is everything, that you take care of each other.    All of mum's kids moved back home at some time in our adult lives, sometimes bringing with us children, husbands or girlfriends.  When Mum was my age she had a thirteen year old and an eleven year old at home as well as her grown daughter and her three year old grandson.  She wanted to keep her family close to her, maybe because her own family was so far away.

Mum taught me to bake, to knit, to sew and to can.  I helped her make jams, jellies, pickled beets and pickled onions.  I could never knit as well as she could.  When I was a child I thought that all women could knit like my mother but I was wrong.  She was an amazing knitter.  When she died she still had a toque on her needles that I finished up for her. 

So she gave me the good with the bad, that's how it works I guess.  It's like our own bodies.  Our cells have the ability to mutate, which is a good thing because that has allowed human beings to evolve over time.  However, the ability to mutate also means that cancer cells can form.  But we can't have it both ways, one comes with the other.  The good with bad, inseparable, human, imperfect, loving and lovable. 

I am always in awe while in the mountains.  Water falls everywhere, rushing downhill towards the sea. The very same sea that we scattered my parents ashes in only two weeks ago.  It feels like the end of a chapter in my life.  Both of my parents are now dead, my duty towards them fulfilled.  And now?

Last week I walked beside a river and thought about my life.  I am more than mid-way through it which brought to mind a book I had read, although not finished, awhile ago.  "Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life" by James Hollis.  I picked the book up a couple of nights ago and started reading it again, determined this time to finish it.

I just read a bit about midlife crisis.

There are reasons why these disturbances frequently manifest at what we typically consider "midlife."  One has to have separated from the parents long enough to be in the world, to make choices, to see what works, what does not, and to experience the collapse, or at least erosion, of one's projections.  By this age, the ego strength necessary for self-examination may have reached a level where it can reflect upon itself, critique itself, and risk altering choices, and thereby values as well...To engage with the summons of our souls is to step into the deepest ocean, uncertain whether we will be able to swim to some new, distant shore.  And yet, until we have consented to swim beyond the familiar lights of the port left behind, we will never arrive at a newer shore.  For some the entry is gradual; others are pushed suddenly into deep waters. ( Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life, James Hollis, Pg. 25)

I often wonder why it is that I am fifty years old and questioning everything I believe and think and do.  Why did I do the things I did?  Why did I believe what I did?  Why didn't I question things before now? 

It's time, once again, to start looking at myself.

I tried to take Katie to Fort Edmonton on Sunday because I know it closes for the season soon.  We got there at 10:30 and it was closed.  Apparently they changed the hours of operation but I didn't know until we got there.  We weren't about to hang around for an hour and a half, so I took her for a walk along the river for some fresh air.  She got to pet some friendly dogs and said hi to everyone who was running the race that was going on.  We also ran into someone who knew Katie from Little Bits Theraputic Riding.  Edmonton is a large city now and it always surprises me when we meet people who know Katie.

I had my birthday on Saturday.  I always find birthdays don't meet expectations, a lot like Christmas day.  I'm sixty-three now.  Still waiting for my wisdom:)

I went to pottery yesterday and had a lovely time.  The ladies there are wonderful, supportive, and funny.  The two new ladies are sisters which I didn't realize.  They are also funny as hell.  I managed to make a large fruit bowl.  It wasn't perfect but I stopped messing with it because the longer I mess with things, the more damage I do.  I let it go.  It's a good lesson for life and perhaps pottery should be a mandatory course in school.

The Wednesday course that Jack and I are going to too had a slide about what children want/need.

1. Love

2. Empathy

3. Connection

It made me think about my son and I realized I want to repair our relationship.  He's says he's sober, but time will tell.  I'm not about to rush into anything, but I do love him, despite everything.  I put a wall around my heart years ago when it came to dealing with him, but walls don't really protect people, they just keep us apart from others. The same with anger and grudges and resentment.  All of those keep us from letting people in.  We hold them close like they are the most precious things in our lives, when really all they do is isolate us, making it even harder for us to love, and be loved.

My dad could never let anyone close to him either and it caused so much pain and suffering in our family, for all of us, and most especially for him I think.  It's no way to live, or die.

Enough sad for now, made myself cry.

The fall equinox has come and gone.  The sun rises in the east again, briefly, before it heads further south in the sky.  It's that time of year and I love the golden light that shines into my kitchen.

And a funny.

 

 Hops from my walk the other day.  Apparently hops are female and naturally bitter, much like myself:)

I've had a cold for a couple of days, nothing terrible, cough and phelgm, hasn't slowed me down much thank goodness.  Charlie got a slightly shorter walk yesterday as a result, and I only worked in the yard for about 45 minutes.  I'm in the process of picking up all the tiny pears that are falling from our tree.  The pears are not big enough to eat, about the size of a small plum tomato.  Tedious work.  The front yard has tiny, tiny crapapples, the size of small grapes that need to be raked and picked up as well.

A couple of days ago, while walking Charlie, I spotted a man standing in the midle of the road, talking on his phone.  He was there for awhile and as I got closer, he still didn't move.  I went up to him and gently suggested he move to the sidewalk.  He told me to get away, then called me crazy, and then called me a Karen.  I yelled back at him, "I hope you get run over", because I'm classy like that.

As I walked away from him, he was still yelling at me.  WTF!  I was worried about the guy, wondered if he had dementia.  Turns out he was just an entitled, old, white guy.  If he's still married, I feel sorry for his wife.  I'm tired of entitled men who think the world is all about them as they cut you off in traffic, or tailgate you while you drive the speed limit.  

Of course I started crying as I finished my walk home, because strong emotions do that to me, make me cry.  The last time I came across a man standing in the middle of the road he was a very sweet man who was confused and had a head injury.  Nobody stopped for him, they just drove around him.  I stopped for him and called 911 and stayed with him until help came.

One man was indegenous, one was white.  That says a lot right there.

I'm so tired of the racism, sexism, ableism, ageism, homophobia, transphobia, and religious discrimination.  trump and his ilk (Danielle Smith in this province) promote this sort of division because it suits their purpose.  Give the people someone to hate, to blame all of their problems on, and they'll leave the politicians alone to pursue their own agenda.

It's horrible and I can't block it out because it's everywhere right now.

As I told Boud, I'm going to buy some wool and start crocheting again, and walk my dogs, because dogs are better than people.  And I'll work in the yard where nobody calls me crazy and my plants grow beautiful flowers for me.

Sunflowers on the deck.

My hubby's sister and her partner came over for supper last weekend.  We found out that apparently we are trying to force his mother into a nursing home, not something either one of us was aware of, at least that's what the other sister is telling people.  We haven't heard from or seen his mother since his father died two years ago.  I hate people spreading lies about me.  

I started up my pottery classes again yesterday.  There were two new ladies there, both widows, lovely, funny women.  One of them is a death doula which I found fascinating, the other is an artist and they moved into together four months ago to keep each other company.  

I thought about my son and Gracie the other day, how they want to spend time with Jack, but both of them wanting it to be more exciting than it really is.  Child rearing is so boring, schedules, routines, and boredom.  I had forgotten how boring it was.  It was much worse with Katie, I had three children, always tired and stressed, but she needed so much predictability and stability, so much sameness.  Every night was the same.  It was a daily grind.

And now I feel the same way again.  Bored.  I need to find something to do in the evenings.  I'm restless and it's only September, usually I don't feel this way until February and winter has dragged on for far too long.  

I'm bored, which is funny, considering how stressful this month has been so far, but now that the house has been dealt with, I'm "now what".  I'm retired.  I'm raising a six year old.  I have limited adult contact during the day.  I need to find something else to do.

Fall is upon us, although the weather doesn't quite match up.  The days are just as hot as this past summer, but at least the nights are cool, which means the house can cool off.

I made the mistake of working in the rental house yard on Friday and ended up with a mild case of heat stroke I think.  It was hot and I was working hard in the sun, and I'm not young anymore.  I was very wobbly, dizzy, headache, nausea, dry skin, and just generally felt awful.  I came home, had a shower, lay down in the basement and still didn't feel better.  Then I got cold and went upstairs to lay on my bed, with my fleece pyjamas on.  I couldn't sleep but I couldn't get up either, just lay there feeling crappy.

Finally after a few hours I felt a little better and had ice cream and toast for supper.

I'm feeling gun shy about being outside in the heat now, with still more work needed.  Slow down I guess.

Jack went to visit his grandma yesterday and stayed overnight so we had a little free time.  Hubby's sister and her husband came over for supper.  They're nice enough, but a couple of odd ducks.  They also both talk as much as Jack:)

I took Katie out for lunch today and she's doing well.  Her forehead skin as actually healed for the first time in what feels like years.  She has permanent scars on her forehead and usually has either an open wound or scabs.  She's happy, happy enough to not bang her head on the floor.  Big win.

The cleaners are still working on the house but the best news is that all the cat pee and poop have been cleaned up.  I may buy some sage and smudge the house before the new owners move in.

Otherwise, life goes on.  

Because the world needs more smiles right now.  

 

Some before and after photos of the rental's backyard that has been neglected for the past eight years (this one is on me and the hubby).  Aspen has invaded the yard and my lord those things grow fast.  The mountain ash tree is dying so it sent out hundreds of suckers it seems.  The apple tree had gotten out of hand too, not to mention the fact that the renter had not cut the grass in the last two years (I know, we should have inspected the property on a regular basis but we didn't).  Steve would have loved the yard.

I've been depressed for the past couple of weeks, tired beyond belief, and feeling so down.  Yesterday in the shower I thought, I could just drown myself, and then it hit me, Pepcid.  I have reflux and I take Pepcid occasionally but I've also been taking advil for sore muscles from the yard work which means more Pepcid.  One of the side effects of Pepcid for me is depression with suicidal ideation.  It's a fine line between reflux and depression for me.  This time depression won again.  I've bought more tums and will treat the heartburn with tums again.  I've stopped the Pepcid and feel better already this morning.  Fuck I hate depression.  

We've sold the rental house, or conditionally sold it I guess.  We didn't need to use a realtor as the next door neighbor's son wants to buy it.  We had cleaners come in yesterday, they'll be back today and tomorrow if need be.  Apparently they've seen worse.  I don't see how people can live like that.  I think part of how I feel is betrayed and resentful.  We went out of our way to help the young woman who was living there and this is how she repaid us.  It feels like a slap in the face and we've had a lot of those.

I had three renters in my condo and the first two left if filthy.  Hubby's daughter lived in the rental, rent free, and left in a huff and told us we could never see her children again.  Then Gracie, flooded the place, destroyed the flooring and some drywall, walked away from all her garbage, and now this last woman.  It felt like no deed goes unpunished and I think that contributed a lot to how I felt too.  The past came flooding back.

One of things about people with ADHD is that they have strong feelings about justice, and all of this garbage and crap left behind from everybody else, left for us to clean up, feels unjust.  I clean up my  messes.  I can't even imagine leaving behind the mess that was left behind for other people to clean up and I'm so tired of cleaning up other people's messes, not just garbage, but emotional messes too.

The other day Jack was asking questions about his mama and we ended up having a discussion about her addictions, her abuse of him, her arrest, his time in foster care, and what came next.  I kept the discussion at a level for a six year old but I shouldn't have to have a conversation with a six year old child about shit like this and that makes me sad and angry too, cleaning up Gracie's mess.

I guess it's been a stressful month, I just didn't realize how stressful.  

Some ladybugs I found under a tiny piece of wood that I moved.  A loveliness of ladybugs, huddled together to stay warm.

I've been so tired lately, shockingly tired, dragging my ass tired.  Not sure why.  I feel down too but not sure if it's just depression or something else.  The beauty of mental illness, you're never really sure:)

I worked at the rental house again yesterday, cutting back trees and bushes that had gotten out of hand.  I have a large pile which will need to be removed and I'll call a service tomorrow and see if they will come and put the stuff through a chipper.  No sense in all that good stuff going to a landfill when it could be used as mulch.

I also have a crew of cleaners coming on Tuesday and Wednesday to clean the house, including the cat pee and poop in the basement.  I'm thankful they're going to clean it all up and not me.  Our renter has said she will pay some of the cost of garbage removal, half of it was her stuff.  Gracie refuses to pay anything because she never takes responsibility for her actions.  She only blames others, and even said it was our fault because if we hadn't claimed Jack as a dependent, she would have the money (I'm damned sure she wouldn't have paid for anything, even if she had the money, because it's always someone else's fault).

Jack can read a little now and he happened to see a file on my desktop that said his name and CRA (Canada Revenue Agency).  He asked what that was about and I told him that we had to apply to the tax agency to have him as our dependent.  He said, "So you can keep me?"

I said, "Yes, so we can keep you.  Do you want us to keep you?"

He said, "Yes".

So we're keeping him.  He's so sweet sometimes.  The rental house and all the junk in it was a treasure trove for him and he ended up bringing some balls home, a MarioKart game, a golf ball, a key, a marker, a penny, and a few other treasures.  The MarioKart game kept him busy all morning.  You lay out an AI assist track on the floor, and then the car has a remote control.  He loved setting out the track.

The big guy has gone over to the rental because the neighbor's son is interested in buying it.  Both the neighbor and his son are contractors (builders in England), and the work that needs to be done on the house doesn't scare them.  Good.  I guess we'll see.

I need a laugh:)  I should probably get that shirt.

I'll be missing in action for a little while.  We have to get our rental ready for sale.  The young lady moved out and left a mess, not all of it hers, some of it was from four years ago when Gracie walked away from all of her shit.  

We had a company come and haul away 7 loads of garbage and furniture for a cost of $4000.  I know.  The place is still filthy, including cat pee and poop back from when Gracie lived there.  Apparently her cats pulled the insulation off the walls in the crawl space and peed and pooped all over it.  It will take more money to clean the place up.

I'm in the yard cutting back loads of growth from the last eight years, that ones on me, or us.  We should have kept up with it but didn't.  It's often easier to just close your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

So I'm cleaning up the yard which will be at the very least one more load to the dump.  I came home because I need my chainsaw:)

Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary, although we don't celebrate it, and often don't even notice it was our anniversary until after the fact.  This is my hubby, the big guy (he's 6'5"); it's so nice to see him smiling.  We've been together for fourteen years now.  We were both divorced when we met and I swore I would never remarry, but I did.  And now we're raising a six year old which has been hard on our relationship and hard on us in general.  Neither one of us thought we'd be raising a child at this age, but here we are.  

We have different ways of parenting, as do most parents.  We've also done this before and seen the results.  Jack has ADHD, and I have the advantage there, as two of my kids have ADHD, so I think Jack is pretty normal (fucking tiring, but normal).  My husband did not raise a child with ADHD and finds it difficult at times; fortunately he is a calm, patient man.  Both of us feel unappreciated by the rest of Jack's family, we have that in common.

Otherwise, not much.  Jack started school and promptly came down with a virus.  He's better now, no fever today, just a cough.  We saw his doc this morning and she confirmed he has asthma and put him on a steroid inhaler, along with the ventolin when needed as a rescue inhaler.

I'm so tired.  I don't know why.  I do the same things, but I drag as I do them.  I just took the dogs for a walk and it was hard to keep going.  Now I feel like having a nap, but Jack will be home soon.  The threat of a teachers strike looms large as our useless premier blames the teachers and schools for all the problems of underfunding.

My husband built this beautiful shed this summer and I love it.  I'm calling it our anniversary gift to each other.

And now for some funny, because god knows we all need it.