Monday - Wednesday

Monday:
Monday was a good day, not only because of the incredible sunshine and warmth, but because having started these morning fitness classes (for seniors) is reminiscent of going to school. The class starts at 9:15, so I am out the door a little after 8:30 am, and at that time of the morning, the air smells so good the birdsong is so bright and there is hardly anyone on the streets. And although I cannot say I like the class, I know it is good for me and I love the leisurely walk home in the heat.

Also, although I find it very hard to believe, after only one week of classes, I can see results—there is definition in some parts of my arms and chest that was not there before and my posture is improved.

When I began going to fitness classes around 1980 and I started by going to classes at the local Community Centre. I progressed to private clubs that offered more classes and greater diversity of activities. I stayed with the classes until around 2000, but then I stopped.

Now I am back at the Community Centre and I couldn't be happier. It is so very much more relaxed, human and fun at the centres whereas at the private clubs you get overexposed to all that is revolting about testosterone.

Tuesday:
"How was your surgery?" The lovely woman asking me the question was a resident assisting my pulmonologist, Dr. Dorscheid. I told her that she must have the wrong file and gave her my name.

"No, it says here that Dr. Mann recommends some surgery and I can see the CT scan here that he ordered. Do you remember getting the scan?" Of course I did, I have breathing not cognitive problems doctor, but I have had no surgery.

That was how I found out I appear to be headed for some surgery inside my head to help my breathing. APparently something went wrong with communications, so Dr. Dorscheid will be contacting Dr. Mann to reignite my case.

I spent all day in an altered state. I can't stand the thought of surgery but my every experience with it has been so amazingly positive: I had a dead arm revived, I had my breathing hugely improved with surgery almost 30 years ago, I had a finger reattached, etc., so if it is true and I am offered a surgical solution, I know I will take it.

Wednesday:
I began writing for Opus Framing & Art Supplies in 1986. I invented their newsletter and have been writing its editorial ever since. It has won awards for cultural journalism and won me awards for my service to the local arts community. The job changed my life.

Yesterday, I got an email from my boss there, Scott, inviting me to lunch. We often have lunches, but it has been a while. We were going back and forth trying to find a date that worked for both of us and it wasn't being easy and because it was him who was so eager to get together, I got suspicious—it is usually me wanting to get together and it was always because I wanted something.

So I wrote back: "If its about the cheque, just mail it. If it's about firing me, just call me." Well he didn't call, he wrote back amazed at my prescience. My contract—the best gig of my life—will end in March.

For about 40 minutes I was sad/angry/hurt, then my wits levelled me. It had been a very long and happy relationship that opened innumerable doors. I will be forever grateful to Opus.

Then I noticed one of my favourite fishes was likely dying and it was probably my fault from overfeeding. I felt awful and it has been a surprise to me how much my affections  have been triggered by my little wet and beautiful friends. As I write this on Thursday morning at 6:30 am, it is dark and I fear that when I go in to feed my friends this morning, one will be on the bottom.

But I am an adult. I did not over-react. Then my friend Sue called to tell me our mutual dear friend is in hospital with a blood clot in her lung and congestive heart failure in both ventricles. After that news, I need to get into the healing sunshine, so I walked to Costco to get two inhalers.

At my Tuesday appointment, Dr. Dorscheid doubled my dose of inhaled medication so I will be going through my puffers twice as fast and I only had two more days of meds left at that rate. Hence my trip to Costco.

The walk was good. It calmed me, but when I got there I found out that my prescription was expired, so I walked all the way back to Dr. Dorscheid's office to discover he is only in once a week and that the day before was his day for the week. I won't bore you with how complicated it was to sort out getting a prescription. Instead I will just say that when I got  home, soaking wet from sweat on a hot, hot day, and frustrated, I discovered my favourite watch had fallen out of my bag somewhere en route and that took me down. I slid into the worst mood I have experienced in years. It was not a great day.

It ended decently as I ate a fresh pesto dinner in the stunning sunshine, finished The 100-Year Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared and then watched the absolutely fabulous Maxine Peake bring extraordinary life to QC Martha Costello in Silk, a brilliant TV series in which she plays the lead character. The show is brilliantly penned by writer, Peter Moffatt.