A Surprise Visit

These are two blossoms from my Paulownia tree. I always knew that they were blue. I did not know that they had such gorgeous pale-yellow interiors. 

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Wednesday we were back to clear skies and warm temperatures. My goal for the day is to clean up three beds, have a spa or two and a nap in the semi-shade of the garden in midday. I felt so wonderfully relieved to see Sheba so happy. Her energy and joy are fully back; she was running around and very excited about feeling better.

I’m back to ‘normal’ as well, thriving on solitude. I’m back to once a month with Dr. S., I’m feeling stable in terms of my speech, and I haven’t had a seizure for a few weeks.  I shot myself up with Tezspire in the morning, and then I read for a while to pass time until it was time to walk with our friends. We hadn’t walked with them for over a week.

When Dr. S. was talking, she said as part of her answer to a question that I’d asked, “Your [nervous] system is telling you to keep to yourself, that people are dangerous, and that makes sense given your upbringing.” I felt she was giving me permission to be alone and to want to be alone.

When I talked to Dwight afterwards, he explained the delay in his visit. The battery of his electric bike is toast and a new one costs $1,500! But as we talked, I felt very, very good about wanting him to visit. Yes, my nervous system wants me to be solitary, but I will always treasure the visits of everyone who comes to visit. 

We had a short walk with our friends. I didn’t want Sheba to overdo things, but the change in her is miraculous. I think she’d been ill for quite a while because now she is prancing along the trails, often ahead of me, sometimes with me. For the past quite a while, she has lagged behind us, but no more and I am thrilled to have her ‘back.’

When we got home from our walk, I cleaned the barbeque it’s now ready for Summer. And then I did nothing all through the day until 16:00, when I watered the front beds and fruit trees. During the day, I took a nap in the sunshine. The house is cold without a fire, so I have a spa first thing in the morning to warm up. And then, after lunch, I often have a nap in the sunshine to get warm. Yesterday, that short sleepless nap tired me out so much, I came in and got into bed for a real nap.

At 15:00, Kevin and Shelly dropped by. They are former neighbours who now regularly leave the island completely between October and April. They spent this past Winter in Central America. It was great to see them. They liked my yard and really enjoyed touring the garden to know more about many of the plants. They went ape shit over the Laburnum.

When they left, Her Highness and I went for our afternoon walk, and our evening was the usual.

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Last night I took my first walkabout after dinner. It’s something I like to do in the cooler part of daylight fading. And, as I say whenever I talk about Pinecone Park, I feel very proud of what I’ve done. I feel attached to them. I chose each one, and I care for each one. I don’t use a sprinkler; I water each plant according to its need.

And it’s because of that care that I am so fulfilled by the yard. The biggest reason that I have a garden that is lush and beautiful is that I am a diligent waterer. 

I took the ‘thou shalt not kill’ to heart at an early age. I catch and release anything unwelcome comes into the house. All through the long burning season, I shake every piece of wood by tapping it on my chopping block. I do it to free anything attached to it, off it. I try to not kill things. I have a low-impact rating in worm land.

It seems consistent to be responsible waterer. Water is my partner-creator of Pinecone Park.

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About those long things about my thoughts that I post. I feel I need to explain myself. Every time I try to speak, when I hurt myself because I grotesquely over-react to sudden noise or movement, when I seize, I’m angry that my broken nervous system is due to the negligence of many people. 

My so-called breakdown wasn’t a moment, a week, not even a month, or a year, it’s been ten years so far. It goes on! And I’ve been seeing Dr. S. from the beginning. My symptoms and my therapy make me think a lot about me.

This has been a life-shattering experience. Functioning with very limited speech capacity is challenging. And to know that it’s due to the negligence of adults makes me furious.

I feel trapped in consciousness of my early history and the current consequences of that history. My therapy and my symptoms are constant reminders of that fucking history.

A Risky Post; Sheba Recovers

Yesterday got underway beneath overcast skies. I was up several times through Monday night with poor Sheba, so I was keen to get to the vet’s and get the analysis of her stool sample done so we could get treatment underway,

She got me up at 4:30 to go out, so I got several chores done in the house before we went for our morning walk at 7:30. Then I began watering the garden beds until it was time to leave to take her sample in. Again, it felt so, so good to be watering all my floral buddies. What’s amazing is how much tolerance for the endless job of watering, and how much energy I have for work. God bless Tezspire the miracle drug.

I was at the vet’s just as they opened. Her foot is much better. We walked one of our 707 trails like we usually do, and she was trotting along at full speed looking like her old self. And now help is on the way for her digestive problem. Karen, the administrator at the vet’s said that they would do some kind of scan and call me back. I got the feeling that I’d be hearing back later in the day and that was exciting news.

When I got home from the vet’s, it was back to watering, and I finished all the beds. My goodness it felt good! Then I did the vacuuming needing doing; it’s essential daily now that there are cone caps dropping out of the trees in vast numbers. They get caught in Sheba’s hair and she brings hundreds of them indoors.

Then came lunch, just before 11:00 (we’d been up since 4:30) because I saw Dr. S. at 11:00 on Zoom. We had a great, great session, and I am going back to once a month. It was such a great session, I wanted to keep going every two weeks, but I reckon once a month is the right way to go. I need to do some living. I can’t stay focused on my past and the challenges of my present. She said something she’s said before. This time I took note because I found it very interesting. She said: “Our brains are wired for safety not happiness.”

Right now, being outside and making Pinecone Park look good and keeping it in shape makes me very happy. Being alone makes me happy, so I want to do more of that. It feels as good as therapy to me. I love the feeling of being on top of maintenance at Pinecone Park. I’m keeping up with house cleaning and yard and gardens work. I’ve more garden beds to clean of needles, weeds and cones, and I hope to get to some of that today because all the beds are well watered. 

I’m highly motivated to work. And I’m almost up to speed with all my SPACE homework. Once my call with Dr. S. was done, I wanted to weed whack the courtyard, but first Sheba and I went into the village to shop and to pick up a prescription. When we got back, I cleaned my garbage and recycling containers that had developed a bit of an odor. 

And then I jumped into a controversy. I’m part of a What’s App group chat that SPACE runs. A person who stutters (PWS) posted an ad by a manufacturer of soda that had a cow mascot stuttering—in their ad, “studdering.” He and others were outraged, and the community was planning their angry response.

Social media scares me. I wanted to speak slightly contrary to the prevailing sentiment, but I was afraid of the response I would get. Here’s what I wrote:

“I’m not as outraged, but then I grew up gay when gay bashing was the way of the world. At times we are fighting to be represented. I’d consider the tactic of opening my correspondence with this company by giving them the benefit of the doubt. I’d acknowledge their awareness of PWS and our need to be seen and heard, and then I would go on to tell them how they missed the mark in their ad by not having an inclusivity qualifier that serves our PWS community. Simply bashing makes people and corporations defensive.  …Just a thought to consider.

Almost immediately, seven (!) people attached an emoji heart to my comment, and I relaxed and became proud of my contribution to the conversation.

I’d had plans to weed whack the courtyard and use my blower to clean it up afterwards, and to blow clean my pathway to the dump and my front sidewalk, but instead I got on the chaise, and opened my book to read. The overcast sky and cool air were not compelling me to work outside. I chose to chill for a while, hoping constantly to hear from the vet.

And no sooner was I installed on the chaise, than the phone rang. It was Karen from the vet’s office. Sheba indeed has a bacterial infection in her bowel, and so last night she had the first of ten doses of antibiotics. I’m so relieved to know that treatment is underway!

When I got home from the vet’s, I started reading, but when the sun came out, I decided to have a spa, my second of the day. It’s so relaxing and soothing, and the sunshine feels so lovely on my face. 

And then began an evening like every other. Not! Slightly fed up with television, last evening I did yard work. I weed whacked the courtyard and then I used the blower to gather all the crap into a pile that I’ll scoop up and tote to the organic dump today. I also aim to clean up two beds that need my attention.

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Well, what a wonderful night. Monday night I was up three times to let Sheba out at her request. Last night, at dinnertime, she had her first dose of antibiotics and last night she slept through the night! I didn’t have to get up once. She had her second dose this morning, but already she seems like herself again. I am going to take the bandage off her foot this morning. I’ll either clean her foot and put a new bandage on, or she’ll be going without a bandage. Either way, her limp is negligible now, and it feels so, so good to have her back and we can get back to long walks together.

Confident Doing; Non-confident Being

Monday was a perfect day (except it didn’t rain). It was 15° much of the morning and early afternoon—an ideal temperature for weed whacking the last of the yard left undone. The part of my front yard closest to my eastern neighbour (Colleen) I’d left undone for the pollinators. But now everything is blooming, so I felt okay about finishing off the clearing of the weeds.

We walked early in the morning at Rollo Park where she can walk on the grass. Her foot is clearly much better, but her diarrhea is still bad. My hope is to get a faecal sample this morning to take to the vet’s for analysis. I think she must have a bacterial infection in her bowel.

After walking her and doing half of the whacking I wanted to do, we had lunch and then went into the village for groceries. When we returned, we all had lunch and then I finished off the remainder of the whacking of the front yard. It does make the place look great to have all the weeds gone from the entire yard. 

After I toted the cuttings to the organic dump, I rested on the recliner in the sunshine. But not for long. I took Her Highness for our afternoon walk. I took a stool sample collector and luckily, she pooped. Sadly, I saw blood in her stool, but it’s red and that usually means a lower bowel infection that can be cured with antibiotics. I will take the sample to the vet this morning.

When we got home, it had clouded over, so I chose to chill. I’d had plans to wash my filthy car, but that, I decided, could wait until today. Today will be a water day: I’ve to water all the gardens and then I’ll wash the car. It’s been almost a year since I last cleaned it; the car is disgustingly dirty, inside and out.

Instead, I did some SPACE work, and I believe that I have done all that I am prepared to do on the development of a media list for SPACE. I have listed over 133 contacts, and they are all ideal for a disability organization seeking media interest.

The evening was the usual, but I lit a fire for heat and comfort. I am anxious about Sheba’s illness. I’m so attached to her. It worries me to see blood in her stool. Stress makes my symptoms flare, so I’m thinking positive. It’s red blood; it’s brown blood that’s scary.

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I see Dr. S. this morning. I’m going to suggest that we go back to once a month because although I still have a serious challenge to speak, my speech is consistent and has been for a few weeks. Whatever happened on March 28^th changed me, but I’m comfortable with my how my speech is now.

I use my yard and the spa to calm myself. I can open my back door, walk out on the deck and look down onto the yard. It must be close to a quarter acre, and I’d guess 85% of what I see is of my hand, and it makes me feel blessed to be living here. It makes me feel fantastically happy.

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I was such an odd duck when it came to confidence. I got the job to build the little civic theatre I designed and built by saying I could get grants to pay all the expenses, including my salary. They’d get a free theatre. How could they resist?

That’s how a fellow with an English degree and two hands that had never touched tools got the job. I had absolute confidence that I could do it, and I did. I then took over the gallery and made it successful as well. Yes, I’m proud of these accomplishments. I had total confidence in my ability to do as promised.

I was a regular at The Flame story-telling collective in Vancouver, much later in my life. I did full shows and appeared at The Flame eight times, plus I did a feature on TV. These are all things that I did. I was creative and I was clever. I’ve always had total confidence in the things I did. But all my life, I feel unworthy. I’ve felt insecure about myself, my person, all my life.

In movies and television, in music of every genre, in plays, poetry, literature, opera, at Christmas, on birthdays, there were stories of love, of mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, of family celebrations, devotion and support. I saw made me feel outside. I had no one—no support, no mentoring about life.

I focused on self-reliance. I kept busy doing things. And then I met Steve, and then I had a house, and then Dwight moved in, and without me knowing it was happening, my heart and soul made these two men my family. I didn’t truly understand this until, one day, realization came to me in the thread of rebuilding myself after my breakdown. My conversations with Dr. S. brought me to knowing.

There’s a saying: good things are bad for you. I had never experienced kindness, support, understanding as I had with Dwight and Steve. We were open books to each other. They know how much they mean to me; they are friendly but not close to each other. I bonded with them. That’s what Dr. S. calls what happened between me and each of them. 

I didn’t mourn what I was missing as I grew up. Even though I saw so many stories about relationships in the media and literature, I never thought about what I was missing really, except I wished I could have had a child. I focused on earning friendships, but I was insecure about being worthy of a friend. I felt it was because both of mothers abandoned me.

After about three years of living with Steve and Dwight, I got into the bath one night and I had a “your life flashes in front of you” experience. I thought, at first, I was hallucinating the “slide show” of images I was seeing in front of my eyes, but then I realized they were snapshots of my life with the Tyrells. But the Tyrells were absent in the slide show. That’s how I saw how isolated I was, how solitary I was. I suddenly remembered everything I didn’t want to remember.

Not long after that, I started getting laryngitis that would last for a long time and then go away. I knew it wasn’t laryngitis. I’d had a swab taken and had no infection. This is when problems with my speech began. 

First came bonding giving me a life-saving support team. And once I had the support in place, the truth came out. I had people to support me. I had a family and committed friendships to help me deal with it. Everything seemed to be working and then came my breakdown. Then I moved to Pinecone Park, got pets, made some friends, built a garden and lived in self-imposed isolation.

When I graduated from UBC, I signed a two-year contract with the high school I’d attended. I was hired to teach some academics, and two classes of drama. Plus, I had to put on two shows a year with my students. 

I loved the putting on shows. When my contract was up, I left my job and went on unemployment. I negotiated a deal with my unemployment officer, that instead of looking for work, I used my insurance to pay for an apprenticeship at the Arts Club Theatre in Vancouver. My agent said I could do the apprenticeship if the theatre company agreed to hire me when the year of insurance ran out. And they did.

When I joined the Arts Club, the person who I am today was born. I, capital I, became who I was destined to be. I found a home at the Arts Club. I found community, a network of thespians. I found my tribe. Having a boss and being part of a team putting on professional theatre was what I was born for. I worked the first season of that theatre. There was purpose, structure, a leader, audiences and magic.

When I was young, I was asked by someone I respected, what image came to mind that expressed how ‘in control’ I felt in my life. It’s my answer I remember. I said: “I am a bubble floating down a river. A river with rocks and currents.”

Later in life, I thought of myself as a silver marble that gets shot to ricochet through a pinball game. Now, I think the image would be of me walking after getting off a life-long rollercoaster ride into Pinecone Park.

When I was a teenager, I met Jeannie Comber. Her father was a VP at the PNE, so Jeannie and I went to playland with silver passes that got us into anything we wanted for free. We rode the roller coaster sixteen times in a row, and we had the front seat every time. I fuckin’ loved it. But when we got off, we were wiggly for a while.

I earned the peace of Pinecone Park. I am in regular contact with both Steve and Dwight. I’m at peace with my past and with who I am, and I’m grateful that I live in paradise.

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I don’t see Dr. S. until 11:00. I’ll be at the vet’s door at 9:00. I was up three times with Sheba last night. Today she begins her recovery.

Every Day is a Good Day

unday began with good news. Sheba made it through the night without pooping in the house. Oh, doggers! She woke me at 23:30 to let her out, bless her, and her success for the rest of the night suggests to me that her gut is settling down. Now, I await the healing of her foot, but there is progress there. It is slow, but it is there.

It remains cool. It was eight degrees this morning, so I lit a morning fire to heat up the house, and then I got busy with watering the gardens. There’s going to be a lot of watering this season because the ground is desert dry. It feels good to feed the plants. It takes a lot of time, but it’s very rewarding, and when I was done, I got all the remaining new plants into the ground. I was chuffed to get all that planting done, and I am gobsmacked by how beautiful Pinecone Park is looking.

Midday, Sheba and I went to Stacey’s to see what she’s done with her garden and to see her new deck. Her daughter is getting married there this Summer, so she wants her place to shine. Bryce was there with his spectacular dog, a Leonberger, whom I love. Then, after a good look around, we all went to Silva Bay for lunch at the food truck there. Eating at the food truck is one of the best things about Summer here for me. I love going there on Sundays. There’s music being played, there are artists selling their wares or foodstuffs, and there are kids playing. There are lots of picnic tables and umbrellas too, so it’s a lovely place for lunch.

When we came home, I had a siesta in the sunshine. Sheba needed a rest as well. She walked well today; she barely limped. One more bandage change and she should be good to go. Next up for me was a spa. It was a lovely warm afternoon in the sunshine, and our fire ban is on, so we hear no gas-driven machinery (like chain saws). All I hear is bird song.

At 16:00, I was done. It was My Day, so I needed no excuse to hit the chaise and vegetate in front of the TV. I fed the brood and made myself a huge salad and got comfortable on my favourite piece of furniture and then I spent two days (I never exaggerate) looking for a movie to watch. 

Some days, even though I do little work, I feel exhausted by the end of the day. Yesterday was like that. At 17:00, I was already looking forward to bed. However, I felt good about my day. All the plants were well fed, I had a great visit with Stacey and Bryce, and I got all the plants into the ground. I earned my night of leisure and an early night to bed.

I was so tired last night, I went to bed at 20:30! And the next thing I knew it was 12:15 and Sheba was waking me up to go out. I’ve been feeding her pumpkin pureé which is supposed to be good for curing diarrhea. She’s had it for too long. I fear she needs to go to the vet. I’ll see how things go today.

There’ll be garden work today, and maybe some SPACE work. There’ll most definitely be spa time and some sun napping. There’s still no rain at all in the forecast. It’s truly frightening, but soon we’ll be in June which has often been a wet month. Our forests in BC are going to burn badly this year I fear.