Keep Calm and Carry On

I had four seizures yesterday before I got into Dr. Shoja’s office. 

I told her I’d been living with hope: I’d made a deal with “God” to accept the stuttering if my seizures stopped. And I believed they would go away because they’ve diminished since beginning in early 2016. But I have no hope for that anymore.

 “So what now? Is there any point in coming here any more if I have no hope of improvement?”

“It’s up to you.” 

She moved her chair close to me; I could feel her trying hard to help me. 

“I’ve reconsidered my diagnosis. I believe you have an extreme anxiety disorder and that the source of your condition is genetic. I think your life events exacerbated the problem, but didn’t cause them…. You managed your condition successfully until you couldn’t any more.”

So I’m going to continue to see her. And she’s going to write to my eye surgeon to ensure I’m sedated when I have my cataract surgery—and thank God for that.  

She said “it” must not win; “it” cannot trap me in my home. She applauded my plans for day trips to other islands.

I went to bed exhausted and had a good long sleep.

I have a meeting this afternoon with the Arts Council about organizing their raffle for the upcoming music and theatre festival.

I must heed the cliché, “Keep calm and carry on.”

Last Sunday's dog walk.

We passed a wild Walnut tree.

This lovely man brings a huge tub of water for all the
dogs at the end of the walk.

Marina making ravioli

Costin making ravioli.

People Can Be Fabulous

I saw this gentleman, Tim, in Boston's Logan airport with the sister he'd been visiting. It appeared he was both deaf and blind, as I observed her signing into his hand for him to feel her words. When he came aboard the plane he had been assigned the middle seat of my row. 

The kind gentleman named Eric, who had the aisle seat, graciously gave it up for him. At this point Tim was traveling alone. 

The flight attendants sincerely wanted to assist him, but had no way to communicate. I watched as they didn't flinch when he reached out to touch their faces and arms. They took his hand and tried so hard to communicate with him, to no avail. He had some verbal ability, but clearly could not understand them. 

Eric did his best to assist him with things like opening coffee creamer and putting it in his coffee. When Tim made the attempt to stand up and feel his way to the restroom, Eric immediately got up to help him. 

The flight attendants were talking among themselves and someone suggested paging to see if anyone on board knew sign language. That's when this lovely young woman came into the picture. 15 years old, she learned ASL because she had dyslexia and it was the easiest foreign language for her to learn. 

For the rest of the flight she attended to Tim and made sure his needs were met. It was fascinating to watch as she signed one letter at a time into his hand. He was able to 'read' her signing and they carried on an animated conversation. 

When he asked her if she was pretty, she blushed and laughed as Eric, who had learned a few signs, communicated an enthusiastic yes to Tim. 

I don't know when I've ever seen so many people rally to take care of another human being. All of us in the immediate rows were laughing and smiling and enjoying his obvious delight in having someone to talk to. Huge kudos to the flight attendants of Alaska Airlines who went above and beyond to meet Tim's needs. 

I can't say enough about this beautiful young woman named Clara who didn't think twice about helping her fellow passenger, and Eric's instant willingness to assist as well. It was a beautiful reminder, in this time of too much awfulness, that there are still good, good people who are willing to look out for each other. 

6/21/18 Addendum: This has come to the attention of Alaska Airlines and they are in touch with Clara's family, the facility where Tim lives, and Eric. I have been so touched by the response to this story. We are all starving for good news and this was just what we needed. Thanks all!

~ From the Facebook account of Lynette Scribner:

To Vancouver!

Costin, Marina and I had a great day in magnificent weather on Saturday. We went to the market, took in Sandwell beach, had lunch at The Surf and came home to spa and enjoy champagne, hammock rides and dinner together. Costin—miracle of miracles—cooled the hot tub and showed me how to shut if off to make it quiet when I want total silence. 

Sunday morning I went to the community dog walk and Costin prepped the ravioli he made on the pasta machine he and Marina gave me. Then we went to Drumbeg and passed the rest of the afternoon just chilling as the weather turned cool and wet. 

When we were at Drumbeg, Sheba got absolutely filthy. The soil is black like old firerpit ash and she turned black in places. As soon as I got home, I had to give her a bath and then she was a total love bucket. She smelled so good and her hair was so soft and fragrant (I used Lavender soap), I could not stop cuddling with her.

Leon, my late kitty cat, was a lover. He was always on me or right beside me and it inculcated an incredible bod. Sheba is like that, thank God.

Marina and Costin were absolutely smitten with my pets. They are wining the “best guests so far” title at Pinecone Park. They loved playing with them all the time.  They left on a 7:15 flight last night and I came home for the new season of Endeavour but I couldn’t stay awake for it.

Today I’m off to the city to see Dr. S. Then I get a couple of days to chill on my own before Bruce arrives on Thursday to spend a few days here. 

•

My hips and feet are shot. They hurt all the time—especially my feet. One finger won’t work at all, one eye isn’t working and I have seizures. As a child, I dreaded death; I had no idea about the slow decay that precedes it. 

When I look out at my yard and think of all the wood stacking, gardening and garbage sorting and toting, I wonder how long I can sustain it. I have to get onto some kind of exercise program. That will be something to undertake soon.

I also want to try to get to visit some friends on other islands with Sheba. I’m hoping to do some day trips; visiting Dianne was such a wonderful adventure. 

Having C-PTSD means, for me, being almost a prisoner at Pinecone Park; I’m reliant on friends visiting me. Day trips will stimulate me and become another portal to friends and more socializing—and the visits will be short.

Costin & Marina

Costin and Marina arrived joyously at 9:00 last night. It was Costin’s first seaplane ride and he sat in the co-pilot’s seat. He was super stoked.

Now, about Costin...

I went to a friend’s house a few year’s back and asked to use her phone. Right beside her phone was a fish in a bowl with a huge plant growing out of the bowl. The fish swam through the beautiful roots of the plant.

That led to me getting an aquarium and I liked it so much I got a bigger one; I liked the second one so much I got a huge third one and hired a consultant to help me manage it. His name was Costi. I called him Fish Boy and we hit it off right away.

For the next three years he was a regular visitor (every second week) to my home and over the course of a zillion conversations I came to feel incredible affection for him—and his wife, Marina. I see unbelievably welcome affection for me in both of them. 

I’m delighted and astounded by how remarkably well we “click;” they are in their mid-thirties. But I think they may be “old souls.” We thrive together.

They brought me presents: A pasta maker and a sachet of lavender. And they brought “000” Italian flower so that tonight Costin will cook using the new pasta maker.

It’s a beautiful sunny day so we’ll go to the Farmers’ Market together and afterwards we’ll have a quick visit to Sandwell beach while the tide is low. Then we’ll go for lunch at the Surf, then Drumbeg park and home for happy hour, a spa and dinner.

•

I’ve said “yes” to being a house manager for a venue at the August music and theatre festival here, and now I’ve also volunteered to do some fundraising for the festival too—a raffle. And I’m considering billeting some performers.

•

I have to back to the ophthalmologist on July 5^thand I can’t drive so just as happened yesterday, I get a TAPP form from my GP here that allows me to go back and forth—with my car and an escort—for free. What a great medical system we have!

Cataract

I was up at 4:30 am to water the gardens and exhaust Sheba before Patsy picked me up to take me to the eye clinic in Nanaimo. Sheba had to spend her first extended time left alone.

Seeing Dr. Goad was, in a word, efficient. I have a cataract and so the lens in my right eye will be replaced in a simple operation. I asked for a tranquilizer because I’ll be awake. I see the surgeon July 5^th but the operation is likely to be a long way off. In the meantime, I can only read if I shut one eye.

•

Imagine needing surgery and being afraid of it. A friend from way back in my life whom I admired and with whom I shared a love of sailing was in that situation. He shared his anxiety about of surgical repercussions with his friends. Then, as a result of his surgery, he died; he had a massive heart attack.  Death—loss—is a dreadful thing to experience. To lose someone to his expressed fear is worse.

Just weeks ago another friend passed away because he chose not to have a heart transplant and I found that very hard to parse—but no more.

•

As this old man looks back, there are two past experiences that :

1.    Walking in France. What I did not anticipate was how wonderful I would feel to have everything I needed in my knapsack on my back. Valderee, valderah, valder ahhahaha. I never felt better and freer than I did with nothing and no responsibilities except to keep walking.

2.    Going to Africa and India. What has stayed with me and infuses my life almost every day is the memory of being the only person awake and out walking at four-to-five am each morning, filling my senses and reflecting on my life and it’s purpose while the roosters and peacocks crowed and the lions roared. People develop deep affinities for inanimate things; they have passionate allegiance to specific foods or flowers, gems or scents. I have an unaccountably strong attachment to remote locations that have an important place in the history of mankind and faith.