I could not believe what I was seeing all morning yesterday. At 7:30. I cleaned off the car and by 9:00, it had accumulated 7 cms of snow, making the total, from Tuesday night and the morning, 25 cms. The snow was relentless. The library was closed, and so was the post office. Even Nester’s, our only grocery store, opened late and only had a skeleton staff, so they were asking people not to come in unless it was urgent.
I felt badly for Sheba, cooped up in the house all the time. When I went out for the second clearing of snow off some shrubs, I walked with her for a short distance on the street—there was not a single car track on the road! There was no way I was going forest walking. There were massive dumps of snow falling when branches shed their snow load, and there was a danger of falling trees. Plus, just walking around the yard caused me to slip and slide, re-injuring my piriformis muscle. Shizah!
The South end of the island had a power failure and Hydro was unsure if they’ve be able to come to the island to fix it. I felt extremely lucky to have power through the day. My one brilliant move of the day was loading up the wheelbarrow with wood, and hauling up to the back door, under the eave. It made feeding the fire very simple.
Ali dropped by in the afternoon, and while she was here, neighbour Deborah chose to shovel the snow from my front door to the road. I will have to do something nice for her. She was so kind to do that. Ali and I talked for about an hour. It was very tough for me. I had to let my arms shake to get words out, but it was a nice surprise to see her. (She’s the woman who’s husband, Pete, fixed the foundation of my deck.)
By 2:00, the snow had stopped, thank God. More is still anticipated, but at least it’s started melting because it was +1°. It still wasn’t snowing when I went to bed.
In the evening, I watched The Effect, on the National Theatre at Home streaming service. It is riveting theatre. It’s unimaginably good. The playwright, Jamie Lloyd, is a literary genius. It’s the most brilliant, and very intellectual, look at love I’ve ever seen. It’s extremely clever writing. Then then … the direction and lighting and sound. The whole thing just took my breath away. I’m sitting here, shaking my head, because I feel as though I just stepped off a roller coaster ride.
The Guardian review of The Effect is here.
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Shaking lurks just below my surface. As do bobbing and jerking. Some of these elements are sneaking back into my life after a 10 hiatus. However, I still feel more in control. I tried to stop them. But when Ali was here, something odd happened. Honestly, I hate that I have discovered it.
Yesterday, during Ali’s visit, I was in extremely bad shape. Speech was impossible at first, and my physical symptoms started coming out. I think it was when I went to reach for something on my desk, that my arms started shaking, and when they did, I became much more fluent. Dr. Shoja said, ‘let it go.’ She said fighting my symptoms makes them last longer. But letting my arms shake rather violently to speak …would you want to live like that?
Regular readers (both of you): When I write about my condition, you realize how present my condition is on this blog. It’s because my symptoms are constantly changing, and that means I can’t make any assumptions about how I’ll function at a social event, or on Zoom, or Facetime. Sighs of exasperation are part of my repertoire now. It just happens sometimes when I get frustrated because I can’t say a word. I experience frequent blocks that vary between 1-12 seconds, when I speak. And I often can only say one syllable at a time. If I were a horse, I’d be shot.
Still, I am welcomed by my friends here. I met Karen and Gavin at Kris’s house, and they had me over for dinner. That made me feel pretty good. I had a seizure there and felt like a dog who pooped on the rug. They absolutely didn’t care. And Karen’s work was easy to enthusiastically, and honestly, praise. I really liked it, and I really liked being with her and talking about techniques.
One thing I like about my lifelong love of words, is how they can facilitate inclusion in so many ways. Along time ago, I went on a tour of theatres, some in the USA, some in Canada. And I realize how much the specialized vocabulary of theatre making and production serves to give credence to whatever your purpose is.
I made friends on that tour, and I got free seats to productions and often had meals in homes of the people I met. It built on my experience with the Arts Club Theatre, where I found my people. Perhaps that’s why theatre people are called Gypsies because we treat each other as family. And for my orphan soul, heaven.
I’m part of the stuttering community now, too. I have 7 online friends with speech disorders with whom I Zoom once a month. I love our sessions, but most of all I love all my friends who’ve stuck with me through my storm of symptoms for almost 8 years. I’ve had a lot of love and support.
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