A 26° My Day

My spa early yesterday morning in the silence of dawn was a great way to begin My Day. Thyen H.H. and I went for a lovely long walk that was new to us, and which was a lot of uphill climbing. It was beautiful and we saw no one at all as we walked. What a privilege it is to live here with the abundance of forest trails for us to wander along.

Then I came home and did an hour of gardening. I did little things, but they will add up over time. I go one garden bed at a time, switching to picking up things from the wildness of my open space. With the natural cover growing quite high, I must search to remove cones and dog dropping. When all my fruit trees have lost their blossoms, I’ll trim the ground cover.

Happily, I didn’t feel the need to water. Although I must water now, I need only do it every three days or so, as evaporation is slow. But it’s now staying much warmer, so frequency may have to be increased. I came inside to chill after a solid hour of gardening with a bent back, and I opened the front door that has a screen and let the fresh air into the house. This is the earliest time in the year that I have ever done that.

After my break, I did not want to bend over anymore, so I decided to do some watering. I wanted to be outside, but vertical so I watered the front bed, the edible garden beds, and all the plants on the deck and surrounding the courtyard. I did some of the beds left undone later in the afternoon, and I shall finish the rest this morning. 

Plus, I did little chores here and there that wanted doing. It was a heavenly day being outside and doing little things that make Pinecone Park look more beautiful. I’m so chuffed to be doing everything myself. But by mid-afternoon, I was ready to stop working and to take H.H. on a nice long walk. It was 20°. I was in shorts and a T. Heaven!

When we got home, I read until dinnertime, then I fed everyone and our usual evening was underway. This week will be busier than it’s been around here of late. Today, I Zoom with Dr. S. and 9:00, so I will miss walking with my friends. We’ll walk on our own, and then I Zoom with Aidan and 13:00, and then he and I Zoom with other stutterers in a workshop meeting at 19:00.

Tuesday, I get my Covid shot. Wednesday I’m in Nanaimo much of the day for lung testing at 13:00, then I’ll do some big island shopping, and then I meet Kris, Steve and Nancy at Mahle House for dinner. Thursday is my UK Support group that I co-lead with Tracey. Friday and the weekend are free to me, thank goodness.

It’s predicted to be 28° this afternoon, and there is no rain at all in the forecast, not even clouds. As each day arrives, I get more anxious about our Summer and losing trees and forest fires. It’s been the most extraordinary Winter and Spring. 

A Slow Summer Day

Saturday was a spectacular day. In the morning, it was 13° the warmest morning at 5:00 of the year so far. I felt good, but I still felt tired, so I passed the day slowly, but I began the day with a soak in the spa and then H.H. and I began our day together with a long, leisurely, and lovely morning walk. 

After that, I read a bit and then it was lunchtime. After lunch, I thought I’d take in some sun, but it was too hot, so I rose to do some light garden work. But I saw Dave, and waved, and he came over for a nice long chat, after which, I did a little more reading and then we went for another long walk together. It was 18°, almost getting too hot for my liking.

I’m still chuffed about how well I am speaking, and how much time I am spending alone. Not engaging with Aidan while he’s away, being free of the pressure to be practically helpful, and avoiding socializing, I believe all these things played a part in the recovery of my speech—not good speech, and only with friends, but there’s no doubt about my ability to communicate enough to feel good about being with or talking with friends.

The evening was as always.

This morning at 5:00, it was 15°. We’re in for a very warm afternoon. I shall be watering today, even though it’s My Day. When there’s nothing else on my plate, and the valve on my cistern is working and the cistern is refilling perfectly, watering is not bothering me so far this year. I’m outdoors, I’m feeding my friends, Sheba is outdoors, all is good.

There are so many things that I want to do. I just plod on and as I have no deadline, the work feels good to do. Every year, the yard looks better. This is the first year when I haven’t touched the front or back yard open areas. I’ve neither raked nor removed poo, so one walks carefully. However, all the ground cover is blooming with beautiful little blossoms, and I hope that helps to attract pollinators to Pinecone Park and that they fertilize my fruit trees and shrubs.

My blueberries and raspberries yielded a massive crop last year, and that led to a lot of work harvesting, cleaning and freezing (or cooking and then freezing) the berries. This year, the crop will be modest. Also, this year, the Climbing Hydrangea is exploding with blooms. This is a first-ever phenomenon and I am thrilled, and I reckon that my Polonia tree seems likely to bloom for the first time as well. That, I hope, comes true!

So another very warm solitary day for us, just what the psychiatrist ordered.

Vaccine Illness

thursday

Another sunny day in paradise. I was up at 5:00 and I tidied up the house and then, full of trepidation, I did some tech work on my computer. Dealing with technology causes me to stress out because I have no confidence and I fear the worst.

I recently upgraded my operating system to Tahoe 26.4.1, and since then I have been getting messages on my desktop from Apple telling me that my “Intel-based” apps would not work with the next Apple operating system update and that I should update them with an “Apple silicone” version of the software.

I used AI to learn how to remove the existing apps that I have and how to find and upload new versions. I appear to have been successful because when I open the apps of concern now, I no longer get the message to update my app. Phew!

I puttered around a cool house in the morning; I’m conserving firewood. And then I had a spa, even putting my arms and their bandages into the warm water. What joy I had getting into the warm, clear water while outside it is brisk (7°) and silent except for the odd rooster calling and sporadic birdsong.

And once the self-indulgent part of my day was done, Her Highness and I went for our morning walk while the laundry went through its cycle. I can’t water the gardens when the washer is on, so we walked, and when we got home, I went out to water the plants that I didn’t water on Wednesday. After, of course, checking the water level of the cistern.

I loved that I waited until the sun was high in the sky to walk. Feeling the sun on my skin and even through my clothes was divine. And the fragrance of the forest was sweet smelling with a hint of cinnamon. Oh, it smelt good. It is such a great, great way to stat the active part of my day.

And I even enjoyed watering the plants, both yesterday morning and on Wednesday. It has me checking in on every plant and finding things to do. I wanted to be able to stay in bed on Friday if I felt poorly because of the shot, knowing that my plants are not thirsty.

Soon, it was lunchtime, and then I read until the arrival of the dreaded hour to go to the clinic for my shingles shot. Sigh. I feared how sick I would be on Friday.

The evening was, as always, the same routine that is always a pleasure.

 

friday

Thursday night was rough. I was hot and kept waking up through the night, and when the whimpering and meowing called me to action at 5:00, I got up, fed everyone, let Sheba out to do her morning rituals, then, as soon as she came back into the house, I went back to bed and slept.

At 9:00. I pulled myself up and into clothes and took Her Highness for a short walk in the 707. I was death walking because I wanted to be in bed. I felt dreadful and hoped I would not see anyone. I didn’t, and soon I was back in bed.

They know when it is time to eat, so they were all in the bedroom wanting lunch at 11:30. I got up, fed them and went back to bed. I slept soundly until 15:00, when I had to take Shebie for her afternoon walk. Again, it was short, but not nearly so horrid as my morning walk, so I resolved to move to the chaise when we got home, and not to return to my bed.

I just lay there, eyes closed. I had no energy for reading or watching TV, so I just lay on the chaise with my eyes closed, sill and calm and content until it was time to feed the pets their dinner. I had no appetite, but I did manage to eat some toast and later, an apple. 

I eventually turned on the TV and I watched a movie that I had long wanted to see called Cactus Pears. It is the first mainstream Indian movie to deal with gay men, and I loved it. It was so gentle and moving; I was amazed by the film and the way it revealed the culture and rituals that are so much a part of Indian life, the rituals and believes that make a man not marrying so hard for a family to endure.  And then I went to bed and slept soundly through the night.

It’s lovely and warm outside this morning. Sheba and I will enjoy a long walk together this morning, and I will putter at yard work through the day. I’m taking it easy today, but I feel fully functional.

I’m so, so glad that getting my shingles vaccine is over. My next big event is on Wednesday when I got to Nanaimo Hospital for lung testing and then I’ll do some shopping while I’m on the big island, and then I meet Kris, Steve and Nancy for dinner at Mahle House. I’m very excited about dinner.

A year ago, when I had my lungs tested, they were functioning at 20%. That’s how I earned my right to Tezspire. It’s an expensive drug that the insurers don’t want to cover except for provably urgent cases. On Wednesday, Dr. Dorscheid is expecting me to discover that my lungs are working at 100%, and if I do prove to have maximum capacity, I’ll be taken off my two inhalers. I take 11 medications every day; to lose two of them is thrilling.

Today is going to be a good day. I’m looking forward to our walks because at this time of year, the temperatures are ideal. It was 13° at 5:00 this morning and the afternoon temperature is predicted to be 25°.

Woo hoo, 25°! I’ll be watering today.

My Condition is in the Driver's Seat

We don’t talk about the past, Dr. Shoja and I. Ten years of therapy boils down to one word: Neglect. 

I experienced seeing a long string of images of my life; what I saw in those images was that in every memory I was alone. I was 45 then, but that experience is what makes me believe in Dr. Shoja’s skill and diagnoses.

Neglect. It hurts. The truth hurts. It is really hurting me. Seizures, a nasty speech disorder. Truth is a burden for me. 

I have been looking back and seeing the past through a new lens. Specifically, I feel that neglect, unknown to my conscious self, distrustful of people. I feel it doomed me to be single, that’s what I knew. I’d never been completely open with anyone until I met Dwight and Steve in my early thirties.

We lasted 14 years, Steve and I. And we are in constant contact with each other still. I’m good at friendship. Love at a distance.

I love this house, having pets, having space and total quiet. I love my spa and the forest. I really love living in a log home right against the forest. It’s perfection. But I don’t feel it was my choice to live here. My breakdown made the overwhelmingly stimulating environment of downtown Vancouver unbearable.

My condition drove me here. 

I have a speech capacity that enables conversation but not discourse. I only have a speech disorder when I am with people. I have seizures when I’m with people. It seems to me that my condition wants me to be alone.

It’s fucking chilling to understand that ‘neglect’ is the engine of my life. Ove and over and over I say to myself, ‘I’m somebody I don’t want to be.’ I’ve been through this before, being born when being out took guts that I didn’t have, and it was a mortal sin in my faith.

It’s so fucking ironic that when I moved into the basement of the Tyrell’s house, the collected works of Charles Dickens was on the bookshelf.  His works were full of orphans.

 Walking yesterday afternoon in the sunshine with Sheba, on trails that are constantly changing in slow motion, and alone. We saw no one. It intoxicates me. I feel like the happiest, luckiest guy alive. I forget my troubles. I don’t hear my broken voice. I hear birds, I hear Sheba panting, so I know she’s close when she’s behind me. It’s a spiritually cleansing experience. It’s a healing experience.

My symptoms and my comfort only in solitude are driven by the constant of my narrative: neglect.

Given up by my birth mother, in an orphanage overwhelmed with unwanted babies, and then the Tyrells. I was doomed.

All my life, I protected them. I always said, ‘I don’t want to judge them. I don’t know their story. They have me a dreadful legacy, but the neglect by the Tyrells made me, more than anything, want to belong. I wanted to join the West Van Band because of the uniform. I valued love, and to be love, I felt I needed to try always to be ethical. I got a good moral education from my church.

That’s why I don’t defend The Tyrells anymore. They should have known better. If I can be loving, they could have been.

There was a time when I looked back on my life, I thought of the public theatre I design, and built with money I raised, a show, of my conception that toured Canada and got a review in Variety, and I was very proud of a series of four lectures that I presented in a large Vancouver venue, of outstanding female curators/creators, and with each speaker, I presented a twenty-minute playlet performed by professional actors I loved and respected, speaking lines extracted from the writings of four great female artists. It sold out.

Sadly, I think instead about this neuro-psychological mess I’m in, and that often makes me think about why I got it and how neglect affected by relationships. Yes, those things I did, happened. But they were things I did. Dr. S. attributes “compartmentalizing’ for allowing me to function well professionally.

So, this is understanding myself. And that is the result of the onset of my condition. It truly has changed my life and my life story, these two diagnoses.

I was watching a movie last night, and I was interrupted by whimpering from her highness. I stopped the movie and gave her a hearty massage back, neck and head massage. She begs for more. Instead, I propose that we go outside. I go out onto the courtyard, and I look at my landscaping, done without research or knowledge, just winging it, and now, eight years on, it is looking pretty damn good.

There’s variance of colour and height in the plantings, lots of open space left to nature, and I’m particularly pleased with the pathway and courtyard with its fountain and trellis.

I look at it all, and everything I see, other than plant the trees and some of the other natural shrubbery, everything is done by me. When I finally get the studio of my dreams, instead I create a mini park. And that makes me feel as good as I do on the trails. In the Winter, its books, pets and the fireplace that fulfil me.

What a ride my life has been, but it ends in paradise on earth: Pinecone Park.

Glass half full.

•

I got an email from one of the women in my dog walking group. It said: “I found an engorged tick in the sink drain when I was plunging that bathroom sink.”

I replied all: “You have no idea how much it delights me to receive an email with a sentence that I am very, very, proudly sharing with my friends: I found an engorged tick in the sink drain when I was plunging that bathroom sink.  Why am I proud? Because it’s a sentence that comes from living a rural lifestyle, and I am so proud to be here. I’m still, actively smitten with life here. And it’s also hilariously funny. Humour is an interesting thing to me. Denise saying “that” sink is what makes that sentence rock with colour and so, so funny. I think it’s a brilliant line for the right movie.”