My dog has become my barometer.
I love my dog. She's a great companion. If it wasn't for her I would never have chucked everything and spent a year travelling. Before she came along I was tied to owning my apartment. It was the first home I had ever bought. I loved it. I pictured myself a blue-haired old lady trudging up the back steps to my apartment with my tin of cat food in my hand, wearing a hair net. But, when my coop board offered me the choice between keeping the dog and staying in my apartment I chose the dog.
At the time, losing my home was terrifying. Later, when I was drinking wine with new friends in Portugal I was thankful for her. After all, besides being the impetus for the move she introduced me to my new friends.
Now, before you panic and think I've had as stroke and become one of those people who imbues their animal with "special powers", I mean this whole barometer thing in a totally concrete way.
I no long have any confidence in my internal thermometer. It could be -12, 12 or even 42 degrees outside, I couldn't tell the difference. Sweating is no longer indicative of hot temperatures.
Lots of people have advice on how to avoid and manage hot flashes.
Avoid caffeine.
No hot drinks.
Don't eat chocolate.
Spicy or hot foods are a no-no.
Worst of all, they tell me no alcohol.
Really, do you even know me? These are all things I love. You can take my uterus, but you can't take my pleasures! Maybe I should call them vices? Either way...
When the dog and I get ready to head out to the park or for a walk I look at her. Is she panting? How far out of her mouth is her tongue hanging? These are clues I use to help with the big decisions. Puffy vest? Wool sweater? Or sweat shirt?
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Monday, May 30, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Hysterectomy!
Hysterectomy. Hysterectomy. Hysterectomy.
There. I said it. I have been dancing around the word for the past three months.
Operation.
Surgery.
Medical problem.
Those have all been answers I've given to various questions asked of me.
I am not been a person who keeps secrets. If it has happened to me you usually know about it. I have a few dirty secrets that involve surfers, wine, and foreign men, but generally if you ask I'll tell you. But, then came this surgery and suddenly I found myself dancing around what was happening to me.
My sister and I shuffled about the mall a few days after "the operation". I needed to get out of my apartment for practical reasons, new underwear had to be found as everything I owned rubbed and got caught up on my staples, and I needed a mental health quickie, I couldn't stare at the same four wall one more day without throwing a plate through my apartment window. To avoid a dramatic and costly over-reaction to confinement we headed to a nice covered mall that offered underwear and diversion.
First stop was Starbucks. I was overdue for a London Fog. And Treesa need a Chai latte. We are both much nicer people when we feed our vices. A little popcorn from Kernels helped as well.
Then we made our way to pick up underwear. That was about all the excitement I could imagine surviving on my first outing.
I shuffled along found some suitably ugly but comfortable underwear and then made for the car. Between me and the car was a Mac cosmetic store. The combination of exhaustion and the loss of my uterus that caused an undeniable urge to own a new lipstick. A good lipstick and a nice pair of shoes can always cheer me up. A new handbag can help as well.
Treesa stood by and offered her critique of the various shades of retail therapy.
Too pink.
Too purple.
Too dark.
Makes you look yellow.
I settled on "not bad". It was all I hoped for given the circumstance.
The sales attendant wasn't sure what to make of us. Treesa and I are quite content conversing in sarcasm, but it scares other people.
I don't… But… Well… If you're sure. The clerk uncomfortably responded to our sister patter.
At one point I turned to quickly and laughed too hard. Pain caused what little colour I had drain from my face. Treesa quickly responded with an arm and a chair.
I just had abdominal surgery, I told the worried looking clerk.
Oh. I had my appendix out last year. She smiles.
I thanked her for her help and Treesa got out my bank card and paid for my purchase. It is a comfort to have a sister so close she can use your bank card without asking you for your pin code.
With lipstick, popcorn and underwear in hand, we slowly made our way to the car.
Abdominal surgery? Treesa asks.
I know. I couldn't think of what to say. I shrug.
So now I am practicing saying it. Hysterectomy. Hysterectomy. Hysterectomy.
I do say, all this honesty is giving me the vapours.
There. I said it. I have been dancing around the word for the past three months.
Operation.
Surgery.
Medical problem.
Those have all been answers I've given to various questions asked of me.
I am not been a person who keeps secrets. If it has happened to me you usually know about it. I have a few dirty secrets that involve surfers, wine, and foreign men, but generally if you ask I'll tell you. But, then came this surgery and suddenly I found myself dancing around what was happening to me.
My sister and I shuffled about the mall a few days after "the operation". I needed to get out of my apartment for practical reasons, new underwear had to be found as everything I owned rubbed and got caught up on my staples, and I needed a mental health quickie, I couldn't stare at the same four wall one more day without throwing a plate through my apartment window. To avoid a dramatic and costly over-reaction to confinement we headed to a nice covered mall that offered underwear and diversion.
First stop was Starbucks. I was overdue for a London Fog. And Treesa need a Chai latte. We are both much nicer people when we feed our vices. A little popcorn from Kernels helped as well.
Then we made our way to pick up underwear. That was about all the excitement I could imagine surviving on my first outing.
I shuffled along found some suitably ugly but comfortable underwear and then made for the car. Between me and the car was a Mac cosmetic store. The combination of exhaustion and the loss of my uterus that caused an undeniable urge to own a new lipstick. A good lipstick and a nice pair of shoes can always cheer me up. A new handbag can help as well.
Treesa stood by and offered her critique of the various shades of retail therapy.
Too pink.
Too purple.
Too dark.
Makes you look yellow.
I settled on "not bad". It was all I hoped for given the circumstance.
The sales attendant wasn't sure what to make of us. Treesa and I are quite content conversing in sarcasm, but it scares other people.
I don't… But… Well… If you're sure. The clerk uncomfortably responded to our sister patter.
At one point I turned to quickly and laughed too hard. Pain caused what little colour I had drain from my face. Treesa quickly responded with an arm and a chair.
I just had abdominal surgery, I told the worried looking clerk.
Oh. I had my appendix out last year. She smiles.
I thanked her for her help and Treesa got out my bank card and paid for my purchase. It is a comfort to have a sister so close she can use your bank card without asking you for your pin code.
With lipstick, popcorn and underwear in hand, we slowly made our way to the car.
Abdominal surgery? Treesa asks.
I know. I couldn't think of what to say. I shrug.
So now I am practicing saying it. Hysterectomy. Hysterectomy. Hysterectomy.
I do say, all this honesty is giving me the vapours.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Vignette One
-Ding. Dong.
-Hello I say opening my apartment door to two young men in black suits. Each of them is wearing a small telltale name tag on their left lapels.
-Sister Treena? It's so nice to meet you. Your aunt asked us to visit.
-Hello boys. This would be my auntie Jennie I suppose.
-Why yes.
One replies. But for the fact that only one mouth moves, the two faces are indistinguishable from each other. One could be the other. Although, they are identically unique within our age group. Clear skinned, bright eyed, and joyfully free of any stimulants, these are nice young men.
I can't resist young men on their missions. Our world views are the antithesis of each others. But, it feels like home to have them at my table talking about hockey, books, travel and God. They avoid saying I'm a hell-bound heathen and I avoid saying they are naive and superstitious. For an hour we chat. I drink tea and they sip Ovaltine. I mentioned they are stimulant free didn't I? Then it comes...
-Sister Rivard mentioned, that with the temple so far away, you are finding it difficult to make sunday services.
-She did huh. Distance.
We smile at each other. No hard feelings. They had to ask.
--------------
This friday afternoon she will finally get me to temple. I hope there is no lightening around. A thunderbolt from the sky might challenge my current state of atheism. Although it would be a neat trick and my hat would be off to you Jennie.
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-Hello I say opening my apartment door to two young men in black suits. Each of them is wearing a small telltale name tag on their left lapels.
-Sister Treena? It's so nice to meet you. Your aunt asked us to visit.
-Hello boys. This would be my auntie Jennie I suppose.
-Why yes.
One replies. But for the fact that only one mouth moves, the two faces are indistinguishable from each other. One could be the other. Although, they are identically unique within our age group. Clear skinned, bright eyed, and joyfully free of any stimulants, these are nice young men.
I can't resist young men on their missions. Our world views are the antithesis of each others. But, it feels like home to have them at my table talking about hockey, books, travel and God. They avoid saying I'm a hell-bound heathen and I avoid saying they are naive and superstitious. For an hour we chat. I drink tea and they sip Ovaltine. I mentioned they are stimulant free didn't I? Then it comes...
-Sister Rivard mentioned, that with the temple so far away, you are finding it difficult to make sunday services.
-She did huh. Distance.
We smile at each other. No hard feelings. They had to ask.
--------------
This friday afternoon she will finally get me to temple. I hope there is no lightening around. A thunderbolt from the sky might challenge my current state of atheism. Although it would be a neat trick and my hat would be off to you Jennie.
www.adogabroadayear.wordpress.com
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Jennie
-Hello
-Hi Treena. We lost her today.
-I'm sorry Andrea. How are you doing?
-I'm okay. She went peacefully. The funeral will be either Friday or Saturday. I'll let you know when things are confirmed.
Jennie introduced me to angel food cake. For two years, once a month my parents and I would drive to Vancouver. I would spend the week in the hospital undergoing chemo. Jennie would make me a congratulations your week of chemo angel food cake with whipped cream and strawberries. She and Norm, her husband would host all the Vancouver family for a heading out of town dinner.
Board games. Badminton. Bar-b-que. Angle food cake.
It was always a celebration. Making it through the month, making it through chemo, and finding ourselves together again, eating laughing and to celebrate living.
Good-bye.
-Hi Treena. We lost her today.
-I'm sorry Andrea. How are you doing?
-I'm okay. She went peacefully. The funeral will be either Friday or Saturday. I'll let you know when things are confirmed.
Jennie introduced me to angel food cake. For two years, once a month my parents and I would drive to Vancouver. I would spend the week in the hospital undergoing chemo. Jennie would make me a congratulations your week of chemo angel food cake with whipped cream and strawberries. She and Norm, her husband would host all the Vancouver family for a heading out of town dinner.
Board games. Badminton. Bar-b-que. Angle food cake.
It was always a celebration. Making it through the month, making it through chemo, and finding ourselves together again, eating laughing and to celebrate living.
Good-bye.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Overheard on the Bus
-No!
-Really? Come on.
-What?
-No, really?
-Oh. My. God.
-Come on. Like, really?
-hahahahahahahahaha
-Yeah, I know.
-You know I hate that.
-I fuckin' hate when that happens.
-Cheese.
-She said what?
-I would break up with her for that.
-No really. Burger King makes the best burger.
-Really? Come on.
-What?
-No, really?
-Oh. My. God.
-Come on. Like, really?
-hahahahahahahahaha
-Yeah, I know.
-You know I hate that.
-I fuckin' hate when that happens.
-Cheese.
-She said what?
-I would break up with her for that.
-No really. Burger King makes the best burger.
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