Posted on April 15, 2025 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with 2 comments

 

You scratch my back…

 

Life is one long, continuous learning curve.

A week and a half ago, I suffered a rather nasty injury. I tripped on a curb and landed hands free on the sidewalk in front of Sobey’s. It was quite the scene. Only loyal Sobey’s customers will get the double entendre. I’m on the mend but it is going to require time and patience.

Besides the pain, the worst part of this is missing my students. The 600 or so students at SAJS are like family to me. I like being around young people. They give me energy and hope in a world filled with chaos and despair these days. One egotistical, self-absorbed, bloviating, boorish, braggart who is the epitome of narcissism, has the entire world gasping at his stupidity and his ability to do untold harm.

When you have lots of time on your hands, you tend to think a lot. This is quite dangerous if you are a grumpy 73-year-old man! I have tried to read during the past 10 days, but the combination of pain and pain medication has left my powers of concentration wanting. The Masters golf tournament last week was a wonderful distraction. I have consciously tried to avoid watching the news. There’s only so much pain a person can endure. I have been watching a wonderful series on CBC Gem called The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.

My big writing project has stalled. I was on such a great role. It’s bad enough trying to hunt and peck with one good hand, but when you are reduced to typing with your left hand, the non-dominant one, the task becomes daunting.

I am not the most tech savvy person in the universe, but I was aware of voice to text. I tried the dictation feature on Microsoft Word and wasn’t totally enamored. Then I tried Google Docs which was marginally better, but I soon discovered that typing and speaking operate in different pathways in the brain. I simply can’t compose sentences while speaking into a microphone. So here I am, hunting and pecking with my left hand. At the clip I’m going, I reckon that I should finish my autobiography by 2030, or I could just skip the last 30 years of my life!

I can’t say enough of the kindness of my family, my neighbors, and my friends. Everyone has been so supportive, and I want to acknowledge all of the messages that I have received, along with an abundance of food.

I had a visit from Continuing Care last week. As you can well imagine, these folks are run off their feet. I was extremely grateful for their visit, as I risked eviction from my apartment building if someone hadn’t come to wash my armpits. I learned how to put on a shirt, and I will receive a shower aid from the Red Cross.

I travelled to New Glasgow last Friday to meet with an orthopedic surgeon. I can’t say enough about the experience. Everything ran on time and every person I dealt with was super helpful and professional. I was very fortunate to be accompanied by my daughter, Ellie, who took copious notes. Before meeting the surgeon, I had an intake interview with a fracture liaison Registered Nurse. I never knew that there was such an individual, but this person deals almost exclusively with fractures to the arms and hips. She was extremely helpful, and she laid out the next steps in the process.

I had a nice chat with Dr.Prassad. I had met him several years ago and wrote a story about his journey from India to Antigonish. I was relieved to learn that I wouldn’t require surgery. A few more months in a sling and 4 months until I completely recover. Sadly, this will prohibit me from participating in the Scottish heavy events at the Highland Games this summer!

I was fitted with a new sling which is comfortable and brilliant in its simplicity.

I remain grateful. My injuries could have been much worse. I’m receiving great care.

I won’t be strumming my guitar any time soon.

Life is good.

I’m armed with a new sling and a better attitude.

Have a great Easter weekend.

Posted on April 9, 2025 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with one comment

Time for some new threads

 

This is a humorous story, but it is no laughing matter.

When you’re older you tend to be more cautious. Getting in and out of the shower is a balancing act. You pay more attention when you’re walking up and down stairs. Even getting out of bed is an act of faith. Many seniors are prisoners in their own home in the wintertime when the sidewalks get icy. Once we were young and surefooted. Now we are old, and the only certainty is that we’ll make at least one trip to the bathroom during the night, being careful that we don’t trip on our slippers or the cat.

Having had three knee surgeries and one shoulder surgery, I tend to be extra cautious. I survived two, 800-kilometer walks across Spain, occasionally over rocky and mountainous terrain. I walked to and from school all winter on snowy and icy sidewalks with nary a spill. For an old fart, I consider myself reasonably agile.

Or so I thought.

Last Saturday, was like many others. I was on the go early. I had my morning coffee and a slice of raisin toast and watched a sports recap. Then I stood at my computer and wrote for nearly three hours. I decided to go for a walk to clear my head. Walking along the new walkway that runs parallel to the former Trans-Canada highway, I got a call from Lawton’s Drug Store to go and pick up a prescription for a friend. I told the pharmacist that I would be there in two minutes as I was just about at Sobey’s.

I stubbed my toe on the curb in Sobey’s parking lot, and before I could say ~@#$%&* I was on the ground, writhing in pain. Of course, my yelping instantly drew a crowd of curious onlookers. The moment I hit the sidewalk, I knew I had broken something in my upper arm. Someone called 911. The manager and two staff members who had first aid training were on the scene quickly and did their best to quell my screams so as not to frighten off customers! Seriously, they were wonderful and kept me warm until the ambulance arrived.

When I look back on this day, there are many things for which I am grateful. First of all, I was extremely grateful that it only took the ambulance 15 minutes to arrive. Secondly, I was attended to by Greg Gilroy and Colin Greene, two of the nicest and most competent paramedics one could hope for in trying times. They scraped me off the sidewalk, and put me in the back of the toasty warm ambulance. They were incredibly professional and went through their well-rehearsed procedures. Of course, I was salivating for some good drugs to alleviate the pain.

They had no choice but to cut off my winter coat and my long-sleeved running shirt which I’ve had for more than 20 years. Both of these items were due for replacement so now I have the impetus to get of my arse, and make these purchases.

They put a port in my hand (no, not that kind of port, silly!), and within a few minutes, they were administering pain killers.

Greg and Colin warned me that the worst part was to come – the drive to the hospital. The streets aren’t in the best shape in spring and every little bump radiated sharp pain. When we were about to cross the train tracks, they told me to take a deep breath.

They delivered me in one piece to St. Martha’s Hospital. We had a few laughs during this whole ordeal. They were great guys, and I owe them a debt of gratitude.

The third thing for which I am grateful is that we have a Regional Hospital in our community. The level of care that I received from the moment I was wheeled into the building was nothing short of exceptional. I will spare you all the details, but I could not have received better care. The diagnosis was a broken humerus bone in my upper arm. If that doesn’t tickle your funny bone, nothing will.

I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the help and support of my daughter, Betsy and her partner, Terry. They stayed with me the whole time.

The fourth thing for which I’m grateful is that this accident could have been much worse. We older folks have very few fears. Breaking a hip would be near the top of the list. A concussion might be tied for first. Running out of red wine, a close third!

I’m not going to suggest that this was a picnic. Anyone who has suffered an injury knows that the second day is as bad, if not worse when the adrenalin rush and the effects of morphine have worn off.

I certainly wasn’t looking for a pity party when I posted the picture of me in the hospital, but your messages of support were very much appreciated. I am grateful to have so many friends.

I won’t be strumming my guitar any time soon and won’t be back in the classroom until I can dress myself!

Have a great weekend.

P.S. Having to use my left hand is challenging. A bidet might be my next purchase!

 

Posted on April 2, 2025 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with no comments yet

Man at work

 

“The best laid plans of mice and men.” Robert Burns

How I spent the first day of my vacation.

Travel these days is, well, unpredictable. There are many reasons for this, but I think one of the major contributors is the fallout from Covid. Every industry is plagued with staff shortages and when you can find staff, they are often inexperienced.

After a very busy winter, I decided that a little vacation was in order. A friend who hadn’t been south in a long time (against her better judgment (!) decided to join me.

Sun, sand, sipping pina coladas.

But before the sipping, and the sun, you first have to get to your destination. That’s where the fun began on a recent trip to the Dominican Republic.

Most of us who have done a lot of travelling, know that the days leading up to a trip are usually busy. There’s lots of last-minute things to take care of. An overactive brain, which is normally not a problem for this old geezer, led to a couple of nights of shitty sleep prior to the trip. “No sleep, Len” is not the prettiest of sights.

We had an evening flight. I was up at 5;15 a.m., my usual time, on travel day. I knew it would be a very long day but having flown to and from India (a 35-hour trip), I wasn’t too concerned. I would be just slightly crankier than usual. I took a bus from home to Stanfield airport in Halifax where I rendezvoused with my friend.

We were sitting in the departure lounge prior to the flight. My back felt unusually warm. I had just consumed a bowl of premium Tim Horton’s chili and wondered if maybe they had added extra spice. The heat persisted and then I started to wonder if I might be coming down with something which would be very bad indeed. I even posited that I might be suffering male hot flashes. I was perplexed. Just when I was about to take off my shirt, which would likely have led to my expulsion from the airport, the lady sitting directly behind me tapped me on the shoulder. She was all apologetic. She had been using a heating pad to loosen up her back before the flight and half of the heating pad had ended up on the back of my seat. Mystery solved. So grateful that it wasn’t hot flashes!

The flight itself was uneventful. My only observation was that our flight attendant seemed bored and disinterested, possibly unhappy.  I have a soft spot for people who do this work. Any kind of client service work is hard. Flight attendants are not treated particularly well. When there are long flight delays or cancellations, they don’t get paid.

The arrival in Punta Cana couldn’t have gone smoother. Customs was a breeze. They didn’t even check our entry papers which we found surprising. We collected our bags at the carousel and headed for the baggage inspection area. I had some homemade granola and cookies in my suitcase and some bread and cheese in my mini backpack. I expected this to raise some alarms, and I was fully prepared to have these items absconded. We approached a large screening machine. There were three agents managing the station. They were far more interested in their cell phones than annoying passengers and didn’t even look at their screens to see what was passing through the device. I believe that a massive herd of wildebeests on their Serengeti migration, could have passed through unnoticed. In very short order we were on our bus and on our way to our resort.

It was now late, 10:15 local time, way beyond my bedtime. I had faded a few hours earlier and was now just hanging on for dear life. We entered a massive, open-air lobby. Happy travelers were partying hard at the far end of the lobby. We were in the middle of a group of approximately 40 travellers. Twenty of them were in front of us and they were a group. A wedding party, perhaps? It was extremely warm and muggy. It didn’t take long for the mosquitoes to find us. I’m not sure if it was the mosquitoes or those nasty hot flashes, but I could feel my temperature rising.

The check-in counter was long and serving these 40 or so weary vacationers was one young man. No. He wasn’t old enough to be a man. Honestly, he looked no older than 16 and it is quite possible that he had just begun shaving. He was in “way over his head”. The party in front of us was trying to rearrange their room assignments so that they could be closer to each other. It wasn’t difficult to detect the frustration levels of all parties escalating. The line in front of us didn’t move for half an hour. At this point, a second desk clerk appeared on the scene, much to everyone’s joy. Things started to move but it was still close to 90 minutes before we reached the front of the line.

We got our wristbands (which double as your room key) and were heading out to one of the trolleys to take us to our room. We were just pulling out when the desk clerk came running through the lobby. He had forgotten to give us back our passports.

The concierge dropped us off at our building and escorted us to our door, a “tip worthy” gesture. My friend tapped her wristband on the door. Nothing. She tapped again. Same result. The concierge adjusted her wristband and still no open sesame. We tried mine and it worked like a charm. It was now just past midnight, local time. This lad had been on the go 20 hours and my patience was razor thin. We turned on the lights and discovered that there was a  convention of mosquitoes ™ in our room. Of course, we were too tired to do an actual count but eyeballing it, there were certainly 100. They were everywhere. It was disgusting.

We expressed our alarm to the concierge and he immediately  got on his phone to get maintenance to come over and spray the room. Some of the lights in the room didn’t work and two of the very tiny dresser drawers wouldn’t open. They were tiny drawers fit for a midget. I can’t put it any other way. We were infuriated (pissed). The thought of having our room sprayed just before going to bed was repulsive. The concierge left and we waited half an hour. No maintenance man. We called the front desk, and they explained that our guy couldn’t find any spray and was checking with a neighbouring resort. Surely, we weren’t the first guests to ever encounter this issue in a place with 1,000 rooms.

At 1:00 the spray man showed up. We were clinging to exhaustion and our sanity. “You will have to leave the room for 20 minutes while I spray.” Fearing bodily harm, we suggested that this man leave our room immediately.

When we were finally shutting things down, my friend accidentally turned off the overhead fan, a move that could have possibly endangered her life! I asked her (politely) to turn the fan back on. There were several switches and a pad near the door. She hit the pad by mistake, and we lost all power. We spent the next 10 minutes trying to figure out how to get the power back on. My friend got a star for figuring it out.

You’ve heard of “Dancing With The Stars”?

The sequel could be called “Sleeping With The Mosquitoes.”

Have a good weekend.

P.S. Three days after our arrival another group of happy tourists arrived at our resort. There were about 40 of them… plus or minus 1! There were seven (7) desk clerks on duty and all of them were old enough to shave and hold a valid driver’s license.

 

 

A convention of mosquitoes