Robin Nesting!

Tuesday brought glorious weather. We took our morning walk early, and we went on a lovely long walk together. Why not, I thought, nothing is pressing and it’s a very beautiful morning. We walked for an hour, and I wished I had brought my camera because we are at the height of growth right now. Everything looks spectacular 

When we got home, I started puttering about in the garden and watering parts of the edible and front garden beds that were desperate to be wet. And while I worked, I wondered if, and when, I would hear next from Connect 360 about the insurance conversations.

I took some time for myself in the sun. I love the recliner I got when I hurt my back; it’s wonderful for shilling in the sunshine. Otherwise, I did a lot of puttering, getting small things done that I’d long wanted to do: some pruning, some training of the Virginia Creeper, fertilizing favourite plants, tying up bending branches, providing support for some Raspberry canes, etc., etc.

Perhaps the best part of the day was watching the Robin who has built a nest in my trellis. She is constantly coming and going; it thrills me to be hosting her in Pinecone Park. And perhaps the bravest thing I did, was climb the ladder to the second highest step, and I trimmed the ivy from around my Pinecone Park sign that’s attached high up on the side of the shed facing the street.

A big, beautiful mama Robin has built her nest in my trellis. I’m taking it personally; I am trusted, Pinecone Park is trusted. I’m so thrilled to have a nesting birdie in my yard. I can hardly wait to see her babies flying around.

At 3:00, I finished my puttering. I am very pleased with all that I was able to do in the gardens. Plus, the entire front yard and the edible garden is well watered. I shall attend to the beds in the backyard this morning. I’m back to loving this simple life of mild labour all day, and good early and deep sleeps at night. The prednisone has made breathing easier, but when I do anything too demanding, I crash and rest.

Sheba and I went to Elder Cedar to walk, and when I got home, there was an email from Connect 360 asking about my availability for the insurance calls. I answered Abhi (whom I thought was Avi), saying any time, any day, and then I got into a discussion about my speech and video chatting. It’s his call, but I thought I should warn him that if he wants me to do much talking, it should be via Zoom or FaceTime.

Woo hoo. Things are moving quickly. I may be having my first conversation with Abhi and my insurers tomorrow morning. And the second one may be later in the week. It’s a cloudy day. I’ll be watering and puttering today. 

RIP 'Cousin' Ann

They can hurt from the grave.

I never thought of Don and Connie’s relatives as my relatives, but Connie had a niece whom I really liked. Her name was Ann, and I adored her. Like all the nephews and nieces of Don and Connie, she was almost fifteen years older than me. All through my childhood, she kept in touch, often sending me exotic gifts from her travels around the world. Her husband was a Canadian diplomat. 

When I reached a point of breaking when I was in grade twelve, I quit school, told Don that I was sick of looking after his house, and I fled to Trinidad where Ann was living at the time. She welcomed me and I stayed with her for quite a while. Eventually she negotiated a return for me that meant I got back into my classes without penalty. 

And then she suddenly she stopped answering my emails and calls. I was hurt and shocked. I traced down her eldest son in California, and called him, only to find that he, too, was out of favour with his mother. She did not speak to him for six years, and Rhos, her son, kept assuring me it was her, not me.

Ann stopped talking to me almost 30 years ago. I’ve been keeping in touch with Rhos ever since. He knew how much I loved and missed his mom, and yet when she died this past December, no one contacted me. I discovered that she had died yesterday when I Googled her. I’ve been doing that for years, always hoping I’d find a way to connect.

I was sad all day yesterday, and angry with Rhos, but I think that is the last time any member of the Tyrell or York family will ever hurt me.

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My big accomplishment yesterday was watering. I also got some lovely chill time in while on my recliner in the sun. It was cool yesterday, especially in the house, so late in the day, I lit a fire. In June! But for the rest of this week, and next, I doubt that there’ll be another fire. It’s predicted to get up to almost 30° on Sunday.

I shall putter in the garden today, and as I did yesterday, and I will likely go to bed quite early as the labour of the day tuckers me out.

A New Chapter

My Day was fabulous. The sun shone all day. I Zoomed with my theatre friends, napped in the sunshine, walked Elder Cedar with Her Highness, and I watered the edible garden and front yard beds. The plants there were wilting after one day without rain. This is what gardening under trees is: endless watering.

It was nice knowing that no one would call me about asthma. Monday-to-Friday, I am always checking my phone and email to make sure I don’t miss any messages. I wonder when Avi is going to call, and when I’ll have to talk with my two insurers (with Avi). I wonder when the hospital is going to call. I’ve got to get a grip.

This whole asthma thing is taking up a lot of brain space. Today my plan is to keep busy doing things in the gardens and not think about asthma. It’s not easy to weed and aerate while not thinking about my health. Reading would keep thoughts of asthma and funding and insurance out of my head.

It’s been blowing like mad for two days, and just as I finished raking the yard of all the forest fall. It’s like I never raked at all. Half an acre to rake again. The work is endless. I reckon I’ll try to find a helper and get caught up. But that is now rather complicated.

I have a neighbour, Sandy. She has lived in this neighbourhood longer than anyone. She has a son who lives with her. I suspect he’s mid-twenties. His name is Dylan. When I moved here, I started waving to him. Waving is big here amongst neighbours. He never waved back, so I stopped waving. Once, I stopped and to ask if he wanted a ride (he was walking into town), but he wouldn’t stop walking as I slowly pulled up beside him and he didn’t look my way, so I felt uncomfortable and drove off.

When I advertised on our local Facebook page for help with my garden, I found Henri. But the day I posted the ad, Sandy came over to see me to ask me to hire Dylan. His idiosyncrasies trigger my symptoms. I think Dylan may be on the Autism spectrum. When I asked her, she said Dylan had no gardening expertise or experience. I told her I wanted to learn from whomever I hired. Now, I feel uncomfortable advertising for gardening help again.

•

April 9, 2016, I woke up having a seizure. The ensuing year was the worst year of my life. People say that when a few things go wrong in the year. During my bad year, all day, every day, was a shit show. Half-way through it, I got my diagnoses. The next six months was modestly better, and then I saw an ad for this house I live in.

I saw it on a Tuesday afternoon, and my condo was sold by Friday of the next week. I had no plans to move until I saw that photo. It was the logs. Everything was emotional/instinctual. Seven weeks after seeing the ad, I moved in. My brain was not involved in the decision to move here. Snap. It happened. Some of my friends were worried I was being irrational as part of my breakdown.

When I told Dr. Shoja, she said, “That will do more for you than I can.” I thought she was incredibly generous and kind to say that. I feel some unconscious force within me helped me heal by getting me here.

Fuck. I cannot believe how my breakdown had a ripple effect, like a tsunami rolling through my life’s memories. Dr. Shoja has been my coach through tough physical and psychological rebuilding. It’s been enlightening and exhausting. This coming April, I’ll have been seeing Dr. S. for ten years. It made me cry to write that. She is my life ring.

Now, that all feels kind of ‘last chapter,’ and the new chapter is asthma. The end of the journey, as I imagine things, is the day I go to the clinic in Nanaimo for my first injection. An even better ‘end of story’ comes a month later, when I self-administer the medication for the first time by myself. Then I’ll be free! No more medical tests and appointments.

But there are hoops and hurdles to get through. There is ambiguity, at present, not certainty, about achieving the dream objective.

I believe that come Autumn, I’ll be wearing a mask in public. I don’t really do much with public events. I visit the market with Sheba, but we don’t stay long. But come Winter, I’ve decided to tell my friends here, with whom I socialize, that I feel I must reserve the right to leave, without offence, if someone seems sick at a gathering.

I’ve always been nervous about viral infections because of my asthma. I’ve always wanted to lead the pack when walking with friends to that I am upwind of everyone. But now, my fear of infection is even stronger. However, back to the logs, my solitary life here lessens the risk of infection significantly. Moving here was the smartest thing that I have ever done for myself.

My Day

Saturday, it rained all morning. The afternoon was cloudy, but it slowly got brighter and brighter. I ate too much during the day because there was precious little to do, and I napped twice and had good long rests. In the afternoon, I took Her Highness to a favourite trail, but she was having none of it. She would not walk, so we went to Rollo where she loves to play fetch and that went well.

Today is My Day. It’s glorious and sunny and it’s likely to be beautiful all week. I’ll have to get back to watering, but not today after all yesterday’s rain. So, I shall putter in the garden and have a slow, easy day. I may nap in the sun briefly, and I may read more of Margaret. I’ll do whatever I desire all day.