The C Word

"Courage is fear that has said its prayers" - Dorothy Bernard

On Tuesday, my darling sister Nancy had another mastectomy. This time the mastectomy was an act of prevention. A recent biopsy turned out to be non-cancerous but still atypical and medical experts encouraged her to have a mastectomy to stop the development of the cancer they were reasonably certain she would get. So Nan took a deep breath, swallowed hard and said okay.

I had to have Nan at the hospital by 6:30 A.M. on Tuesday for her scheduled surgery at 8:00. I slept very little the night before and felt nervous and worried. By 7:00 Nan was taken for pre-op prep and I was advised she would be out of surgery by 9:00 so I grabbed a cup of coffee and sat in the surgical "waiting room". Women's College Hospital gives good care but the hospital is old and unattractive. There is no real waiting room to sit in while a family member is in surgery but rather a dozen chairs in a taped-off area of a corridor where a sign has been posted asking people to keep the area as the "surgical waiting room". There are dozens of other chairs and a large waiting room across the hall for others who are there for appointments. The hospital relies on people to respect the boundary taped on the corridor floor.

So much for the honor system. The "waiting room" was more like a three-ring circus. People who should not have been there, chose to sit there regardless, leaving too few seats for the people who were waiting for hours while their family members were in surgery. The intruders were laughing and talking loudly. There was a young mom and her mother with a small baby in a buggy and a six year old shouting constantly. The mom was there for an appointment. Why in God's name she didn't just leave the kids with her mother while she tended to her appointment was anyone's guess. One man was with his nineteen-year-old daughter who had her boot shod feet firmly planted on her chair while he played games on his smart phone with the volume turned up while simultaneously talking non-stop, every other word beginning with an "F". I was trying to say my rosary quietly in the corner and trying not to cry. By 9:00 I was getting antsy. By 9:30 worried. By 10:00 I was sick. Finally the doctor appeared around 10:30. Nan did very well. He went directly from her surgery into his next and hadn't thought to come out and tell me all was well.

The remainder of the day was long and isolating though the staff treated us with absolute compassion. Nan was in the recovery room for three hours and then moved to surgical day care where I sat with her for another three. She was tired and in pain. I took care of her the best I could and the nursing staff pretty much left me to do that. Around 4:00 she was discharged and I brought her home to Cath's to recover for a few days.

She is doing great. She's eating and sleeping. She has taken no pain medication. She looks well. Of all the "C" words I've been thinking about - cancer, circuses, crying, compassion - I look at Nan and really think of only one - Courage. I'm so proud to have her as my sister.

Glow, Gunshots, Governor - Adventures in Puerto Rico

"Happiness is hard to recall. Its just a glow." - Frank McCourt

We had some interesting adventures in Puerto Rico that included a few excursions to different parts of the island. One of the rarest of those adventures was night kayaking on a bio-luminescent bay. A bio bay is a body of water that contains millions of micro-organisms, called “dinoflagellates”, that glow in the dark for a second when agitated. Until a couple of days before our excursion, I did not know that bio bays existed. There are only three bio-bays left in the world. One of them is in the Bahamas and the other two are in Puerto Rico.

We were picked up at our hotel at about 4:30 to make the 90 minute drive to the bio-bay. Our driver told us that the highway traffic was snarled due to an accident and he didn't know how long we would be delayed, but the traffic was fortunately stopped in the other direction and not in the direction we were heading. Less than a kilometer after we had entered the highway, we passed the roadside problem. It was not an accident but rather a shooting. A car was stopped in middle of the highway with about a dozen gunshot holes through the driver's window and door. Pretty scary. It turned out that the assault was on two government investigators who were investigating the activities of a recently arrested drug lord. Surprisingly we learned the next day that both had survived though the driver had been hit six times.

Our kayaking adventure turned out to be far more strenuous than either of us had anticipated. It's one thing to kayak on the lake at Cath's lake house which until this trip was the sum total of my kayaking experience, another thing to kayak on the Atlantic Ocean. In total we were paddling for two hours. Part of that time was on the open sea, part through a narrow channel of mangrove trees. Some of it was in the light of day but much of it was in the pitch dark. I couldn't see two feet in front of the kayak. We certainly felt the pressure to keep up with our trip mates, especially when moving through the channel as the kayaks were required to move in single file and even a moment of hesitation or rest would result in a bump from those in our rear.

The time on the bay though was pure magic. The slightest roiling of the water resulted in its glow. Scooping up a handful of water and blowing it off my palm, looked like scattering sparks through the air. The only unfortunate part was that there was a full moon on the night of our trip and it's much easier to enjoy the sites in as much darkness as possible. To compensate, the guide brought a tarp for us to throw over our heads on the kayak to block out the light. It was fascinating.

The day after our kayaking adventure we went on a rainforest exploration that included a two hour, very challenging hike. Once again I found myself in a situation that pushed my physical capabilities to their limits and beyond. By the end of the day, I was spent.

On our last full day on the island we decided to rest and recuperate on the beach. A very handsome man that we hadn't seen before was helping out with the resort staff to set up chairs and beach umbrellas so Merv walked over to request his assistance with securing our umbrella. As it turned out, he wasn't regular staff. He was instead, a candidate for governor of Puerto Rico and he had taken a couple of days to work at the resort to get a feel for the tourism industry and the people who work in it. He was there again the next morning - much to the benefit of the young family who allowed their children to go into the raging ocean, far too deeply for their safety. Four children were swept into the sea by the strong undertow. The candidate and one of the other hotel workers, were out of their shoes and shirts within seconds after the cries for help began. Each of them swam through the current and each of them saved two children. All the more amazing was to learn that this was the second save of the morning for the candidate. I spoke to him for a little while. He is a decent man. The political pundits don't give him a chance to win the race. But he believes and so do I. And I certainly wish him well.

Exam Results

“He who devotes sixteen hours a day to hard study may become at sixty as wise as he thought himself at twenty.” Mary Wilson Little

On the 28th of September last year, I decided to apply to become a licensed paralegal through an exemption program that would only be in existence for another two days.  Why I do these things to myself, I'm not quite sure.  But if indeed I applied and was accepted, I would be able to write the Law Society of Upper Canada's Paralegal Licensing Examination on February 6, 2012.  There would be no classes to attend (normally a two-year, full-time, in-class experience).  So, I applied.  In and of itself, the application process was onerous.  It required that I run around the city getting various pieces signed by my professional association and notarized by a lawyer.  I had to provide a copy of my birth certificate (the only acceptable credential), have passport photos taken and swear out a number of statements.  And pay a hefty application fee, of course.  Having done all that, I waited for a decision on whether or not I would be admitted through the exempted program.  I was.

The next step was an on-line study program which was predicted to take 50 hours.  It took me a lot longer.  I don't process information quite as quickly through my fifty-six year old brain.  There were fifteen modules in the study program and hundreds of pages of material.  I was required to do at least one exercise and pass a test in each module before I was permitted to move on to the next.  It took a lot of hours but I finished in two weeks.  Once done, I obtained the study material I would need to write the exam on February 6.  It was a whole lot of very dry information.  I essentially had two months to teach myself all I would need to know to write the exam.  I was nervous and at many times unsure if I could do it.  I was nineteen the last time I wrote an exam.  I also decided this was a one shot endeavour for me.  If I did not pass, I would not put myself through the angst of another exam attempt.

On February 6, I attended the licensing exam at the Metro Toronto Convention Centre, along with 342 other hopefuls.  They were primarily students who had just completed their two-year in-class program.  They were young.  Very young.  I noted two other mature faces in the sea of exam writers.  I did my best and began the wait for results.  We were advised we would be notified by snail mail within six weeks and that there were only two possible results - Pass or Fail.  So I was surprised today to find that my results were in fact, provided to me by email.  Surprised and relieved.  The result:  PASS.  I guess this old girl still has the stuff in her.

Walls

"Men of sense often learn from their enemies. It is from their foes, not their friends, that cities learn the lesson of building high walls and ships of war. " - Aristophenes

The city of San Juan is five hundred and ten years old.  It was built as a walled city to protect it from attacks by sea.  There are two huge forts in Old San Juan, both of which we visited yesterday.  Learning from the night before, we took a cab to the harbor rather than do the 90 minute walk from our hotel.  The harbor is at the lowest elevation of this very hilly city.  The forts, of course, are at the highest elevation.  It was another ten kilometer day spent in exploration of Puerto Rican history, punctuated by stops for tapas and beer.  We started out in the early morning hours, before the markets were set up and the stores open.  By 4 o'clock we had both hit the wall so we headed back to the hotel for a pre-dinner nap. Even after a rest I couldn't find a short walk left in me so we ventured no further than one of the hotel restaurants followed by a brief interlude at the casino.

It is pouring rain here this morning.  Showers are predicted for the next three days. Tomorrow evening we are booked for night kayaking on a glow-in-the-dark lagoon.  The following morning we're headed out for a rainforest hike.  I need to find a drug store today so I can buy blister bandages.  Pretty as my newly pedicured toes look, these old feet aren't faring well.

Old San Juan

We walked into Old San Juan for dinner.  No wonder the hotel security guard looked at us like we had four heads when we told him were were planning to walk into the old city.  He recommended we take a taxi or at least the city bus but of course, my dear husband had a map and he was not to be dissuaded.  Turns out the map wasn't exactly to scale.  I don't know how far the old town was but it took us an hour and a half at a brisk pace to get there.  It was hot.  Merv was soaked and my feet are now blistered. Once there we had cold beers on a charming patio and  then found a fabulous restaurant for dinner.  Fois gras, lobster risotto and coconut red snapper rounded out our sumptuous feast. 

After dinner we took a cab back to the hotel. We were both too tired to try our luck at the casino.  We are now in bed, watching TV and reading.  And feeling ever so old.  Tomorrow is a new day.

Puerto Rico

"If the U.S. flag in Puerto Rico covers an American territory, we Puerto Rican, by natural rights, are perfect U.S. citizens. U.S. citizenship should not be imposed on a Puerto Rican if he does not want it, but if there is a law making all Puerto Ricans ipsofacto U.S. citizens, then the ideals of the people of Puerto Rico would be achieved." - Jose de Diego

It's American and it's not American.  I can shop at Walgreen's and Payless Shoes.  I can get my morning coffee at Dunkin' Donuts, but set shopping aside and Puerto Rico is clearly a Caribbean nation.  Everyone speaks English and Spanish.  Merv is always greeted in English but of course I am not.  It is assumed that I am native to the region.  It's a different kind of southern vacation than those we usually take.  While we are situated on the beach, we are in the heart of the city.  And San Juan is hopping.  The nightlife is busy and loud, our hotel casino crowded, the lobby bar filled with beautiful young people with far too much money and party hearty attitudes that are too lavish for their own good.   The wait staff can be observed at all times of the day and night, serving expensive bottles of Veuve Cliquot to groups of twenty somethings - even on the beach.  Everything here is expensive from the bottled water to the martinis.

Today we booked a couple of tours.  Merv has been studying what's on offer and there is much adventure on the menu.  As much as he'd like to participate in some of it, he's not prepared to do it alone and some of it is clearly beyond my physical competence.  So we're going to do some scaled-down adventure - still challenging for me.  Thursday night we will be kayaking on a bio-luminescent lake.  Friday we will be hiking through the rainforest.  We won't be doing the hike up the 4,000 foot high mountain but it will be challenging all the same.  There is one more nature reserve Merv is hoping to get us to.

Tonight we will don our comfortable shoes and head into Old San Juan for dinner.  It is about five kilometers from our hotel.  Merv would like to do it as a nightly ritual but we'll have to see.  I'm not entirely sure I will have a ten kilometer walk in these feet every night, particularly after all the daytime explorations we will have made.  But I'm trying to be a good sport and remember there will be lots of time for resting when I'm dead.

War Horse

In Flanders fields the poppies grow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place, and in the sky,
The larks, still bravely singing, fly,
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
~John McCrae

To say the theatrical production of War Horse is magnificent is to damn it with faint praise. War Horse is more than magnificent. It is nothing short of magic. As hard as it is to imagine, we were a scarce few minutes into the production last night before I ceased seeing the horses as puppets and began to see them as horses. The story is poignant and moving, brilliantly acted and mesmerizing.

Set in World War I, War Horse is the tale of a teenage boy and his horse who become separated. The boy is determined to find his horse who has been drafted into battle. Far beyond these central characters we meet other soldiers fighting on both sides with a common humanity, common fears, common loves. By the end of the show I was sobbing.

War Horse is on at the Princess of Wales. It is a show not to be missed.

Bathing Suit Shopping - The Sequel

"My Dad was so open creatively that I was off in search of black turtleneck bathing suits with long sleeves." - Moon Unit Zappa

In a final act of desperation, I went to the obscenely expensive bathing suit store at Bayview Village yesterday. The sign in the window said 70% off but of course there was nothing on the sale rack that was more than a string and a triangle. I saw lots of beautiful suits. Though the store was empty other than the two sales clerks who stared at me blankly, I had to ask one of them to help me find a suitable option in my size. I knew it wasn't going to be a wonderful experienced when she frowned and took me to a back corner where they kept the larger than model-sized suits. If the suits at the front of the store looked like the height of swimsuit fashion, the back corner looked like the place where old suits went to die. There were only a couple of options - one gray and one black with a smattering of turquoise. The gray suit turned out to be far too large and I needed to go down a couple of sizes in order for it to fit. Somehow though, even in the right size, I couldn't wrap my head around a grey bathing suit. The black and turquoise fit acceptably though it is a bit boring. For the price of it, it should make me look like a swimsuit model. I sucked it up, handed over my Visa and promised myself to make the suit last a lifetime. I can't imagine I'll ever be willing to go swimsuit shopping again.