I woke around 6:40 a.m. nicely beating my alarm which was set for 7. I have a much better day if I don't wake up artificially.
I stepped out of bed certain that my balance would be more stable today, but as soon as I stood up I lurched sideways and had to grab for support. Ah well, I guess these things take time.
I began preparing for an early morning visit to the Cardiac Echo Lab at St. Paul’s, but although I planned to wait until afterwards to have breakfast I still managed my exercises and prayers beforehand.
I have a lot to be thankful for!
I dressed, grabbed my cane and wobbled up Mr. Magoo style (Waldo, is that you?) to Saint Paul's, taking my time.
They took the scheduled heart ultrasound at 8:15 a.m. It was one of the rare instances where a hospital exam took place without the wait. I guess in this type of test, any stress caused by waiting would affect the results.
The young technician had me take my shirt off, asked if I had any health problems and when I told her lymphoma she asked if I had lost weight.
“Ghastly isn’t it?” I quipped in re my skin and bones physique...and then I assured her I had always been this thin.
The good news was that my heart is in such good shape she wanted extra shots of it.
She told me the muscle and shape of my heart was near perfect.
“I don’t usually take this long” she gushed, “but I wanted to get more pictures.”
Who needs big biceps and a 6-pack?
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
A gift from Zeus
It is Tuesday morning and I am home from the hospital. Wednesday night I was hit by a thunderbolt that literally knocked me off my feet. And I have been suffering vertigo ever since. Unfortunately this is only partially metaphoric.
As I mentioned in my blog Wednesday morning I was going off to locate the E. Pauline Johnson memorial in Stanley Park. I intended to have a short visit with the poet “in company” with my late mom who was a writer of poetry herself and an admirer of Ms Johnson. It would, I thought, be a perfect ending to my days off before returning to work Thursday.
I located the memorial with little problem near 3rd Beach in Stanley Park. It is a large rock in a grove of Maple trees inscribed with the poet’s Christian and Native names, and a likeness of her profile carved into the rock. There is a stream of water running through and over the rock face and into a shallow basin and another larger pool at the base of it.
I ran my hands over the rock and the contours of the poet’s carved face and examined all sides of the rock to gather more detail. On the right side I noticed what appeared to be a jutting shard of rock about 6 inches long, which on closer examination proved to be the carefully carved prow of a birch bark canoe emerging from the rock, and resting inside the canoe a small paddle.
I bathed my face in the water and said a few short prayers of thanksgiving before proceeding along the newly constructed trail/walkway on the ridge above Siwash Rock. This is one of the areas that are being restored after the destructive storm 2 years ago and it is a beauty.
After this I walked home, made dinner and then went down to the beach to watch the sunset.
About 7:30 p.m. I went home to check emails. I sat down at my computer and that is when Zeus threw his thunderbolt.
Everything on the computer screen began to scroll from right to left, I could not focus and I felt that I was going to fall off my chair. At the same time I was becoming violently nauseous and knew I had to get to the washroom. The only way to do that was on my hands and knees.
In a few seconds all my beautiful home cooked dinner was down the toilet but I continued to heave for about another ½ an hour. When the heaving stopped I attempted to stand up. There was absolutely no inner co-ordination and I just toppled over to one side, like a stuffed toy.
I got back up on my hands and knees and rested my forehead on the bathroom floor. I stayed that way for about another 15 minutes and then tried to stand again. Same thing! And to make matters worse, the heaving up began again.
I knew I had to do something quickly but didn’t want to involve family members and worry them and so I called 911.
Rather than go through all the details I will just compact everything by saying I spent 5 days in Saint Paul’s, during which time I had hardly any sleep, was told I might never walk again, had numerous doctors and nurses poking and prodding me at all hours of the day and night, and was suffering severe hallucinations from the Gravol they had mainlined into my veins.
Eventually an MRI scan confirmed that I had not suffered a stroke.
The attending doctor’s prognosis was that it was an inner ear viral infection which is sometimes mistaken for a stroke.
The vertigo problem continues though. On my second day home I am still wobbling around as though I am drunk, and have to use a cane when I go outside for a walk. If the vertigo persists I will have to visit a Neuromuscular Disease specialist.
I have to go back to Saint Paul’s tomorrow for a heart ultrasound test.
When Zeus tosses a thunderbolt, he doesn’t mess around. And it can sure screw up your whole routine!
As I mentioned in my blog Wednesday morning I was going off to locate the E. Pauline Johnson memorial in Stanley Park. I intended to have a short visit with the poet “in company” with my late mom who was a writer of poetry herself and an admirer of Ms Johnson. It would, I thought, be a perfect ending to my days off before returning to work Thursday.
I located the memorial with little problem near 3rd Beach in Stanley Park. It is a large rock in a grove of Maple trees inscribed with the poet’s Christian and Native names, and a likeness of her profile carved into the rock. There is a stream of water running through and over the rock face and into a shallow basin and another larger pool at the base of it.
I ran my hands over the rock and the contours of the poet’s carved face and examined all sides of the rock to gather more detail. On the right side I noticed what appeared to be a jutting shard of rock about 6 inches long, which on closer examination proved to be the carefully carved prow of a birch bark canoe emerging from the rock, and resting inside the canoe a small paddle.
I bathed my face in the water and said a few short prayers of thanksgiving before proceeding along the newly constructed trail/walkway on the ridge above Siwash Rock. This is one of the areas that are being restored after the destructive storm 2 years ago and it is a beauty.
After this I walked home, made dinner and then went down to the beach to watch the sunset.
About 7:30 p.m. I went home to check emails. I sat down at my computer and that is when Zeus threw his thunderbolt.
Everything on the computer screen began to scroll from right to left, I could not focus and I felt that I was going to fall off my chair. At the same time I was becoming violently nauseous and knew I had to get to the washroom. The only way to do that was on my hands and knees.
In a few seconds all my beautiful home cooked dinner was down the toilet but I continued to heave for about another ½ an hour. When the heaving stopped I attempted to stand up. There was absolutely no inner co-ordination and I just toppled over to one side, like a stuffed toy.
I got back up on my hands and knees and rested my forehead on the bathroom floor. I stayed that way for about another 15 minutes and then tried to stand again. Same thing! And to make matters worse, the heaving up began again.
I knew I had to do something quickly but didn’t want to involve family members and worry them and so I called 911.
Rather than go through all the details I will just compact everything by saying I spent 5 days in Saint Paul’s, during which time I had hardly any sleep, was told I might never walk again, had numerous doctors and nurses poking and prodding me at all hours of the day and night, and was suffering severe hallucinations from the Gravol they had mainlined into my veins.
Eventually an MRI scan confirmed that I had not suffered a stroke.
The attending doctor’s prognosis was that it was an inner ear viral infection which is sometimes mistaken for a stroke.
The vertigo problem continues though. On my second day home I am still wobbling around as though I am drunk, and have to use a cane when I go outside for a walk. If the vertigo persists I will have to visit a Neuromuscular Disease specialist.
I have to go back to Saint Paul’s tomorrow for a heart ultrasound test.
When Zeus tosses a thunderbolt, he doesn’t mess around. And it can sure screw up your whole routine!
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Another short tour of my world...
Yesterday, I made an early morning decision to try again. I tried once before but failed.
My mission: get school clothes and supplies for my son Kadir who is now going into grade 10 this September thanks to a detour through summer school to pass Science & Socials, which he managed to do.
We have already agreed to go together in a couple of weeks, but thinking of the back-to-school bargains we might miss if wait until the month end, I made my way in the humid morning to the Pacific Mall where within walking distance there are a multiple choice of shops.
By the time I had made it through Sears, I gave up. There is no way of choosing suitable clothes for a 14 year-old that will work from the viewpoint of a 14-year-old. In about a half hour I was dead tired and burned out from my attempt to power shop and so made my way down to Coal Harbour.
The first thing I noticed was that it was warmer outside than it was in the mall, but I needed the exercise and still not sure of my game plan, I walked down Howe to the Pan Pacific Hotel and then segued into the food court as I hadn’t eaten that morning.
The sight of all that fast food and people eating with gusto is enough to make anyone lose their better judgment and this time, despite health issues I opted for a serving of Taco Time Mexi-Fries Deluxe. This is a sloppy mix of fried reconstituted potatoes topped with melted cheese and sour cream. The only saving grace was a small portion of diced fresh tomatoes over the top of everything.
It is the sort of dish that guarantees an instant rise in cholesterol levels but when I looked at the picture of the A&W Hamburger that kept whispering my name I felt my choice wasn’t too bad. This would be less filling but give me the strength to continue my walk, and the motivation to walk off the calories with some gusto.
By the time I reached the Harbour Air flotillas I realized that I was going to attempt a full loop of Stanley Park in the opposite direction that I normally walk it. Mind you, I don’t usually begin my walk after already walking for an hour.
So, keeping the water on my close right, I inched my way along the seawall finding out for the first time that if I circled the Westin Bayshore (keeping it on my left) I did not have to cut away from the water to get to the park. And I also discovered for the first time that this walk is part of the Trans Canada Trail.
These days all sorts of high level toxic construction is going on around Canada Place with the new Convention Centre and so I was also spurred on by the realization that once I rounded the lighthouse at Brockton Point the ocean air would kick in, refreshing my lungs and spirit.
By the time I got to the Yacht Harbor and was approaching Lumberman’s Arch I could feel my body flagging. This was where I had to begin to focus, watching my posture and just putting one foot ahead of the other. They seemed to be coming down on the pavement rather clumsily and hard.
So I picked up the pace, passing a few young woman who were stretched out in a line taking up most of the walkway.
Clipping past all that young energy and beauty gave me a further boost and I started to get a second wind.
Before I knew it I had passed the bowsprit of the Empress of Japan, the littlest mermaid with those brazen eyes looking out from under her facemask and was entering 17th century China.
Along the seawall on both sides of the bridge a dozen or so middle-aged Asian Canadian fisherman in floppy hats were sitting on 5 gallon plastic buckets and casting their lines into the surf.
A few of them appeared to have small catches but I curbed my inclination to ask how the fish were biting. After all they were blissfully enjoying the peaceful silence, the sound of the waves, a temporary release from the big city energy…and did I really want to know?
On the Western side of the bridge a light drizzle began but fizzled out in the bright cloudy haze above Siwash Rock where in 2003 I threw flowers from mom’s funeral wreath into the surf. Every time I pass this way I think about the poet Pauline Johnson (The Song My Paddle Sings) and remind myself that one day I must find her memorial in the park.
My mom wrote poetry too and Pauline Johnson was a contemporary she admired and in my mind the two of them are connected. If I do find that marker, I know mom will be visiting her with me.
In fact, maybe it is still early enough today to go and search for it…
My mission: get school clothes and supplies for my son Kadir who is now going into grade 10 this September thanks to a detour through summer school to pass Science & Socials, which he managed to do.
We have already agreed to go together in a couple of weeks, but thinking of the back-to-school bargains we might miss if wait until the month end, I made my way in the humid morning to the Pacific Mall where within walking distance there are a multiple choice of shops.
By the time I had made it through Sears, I gave up. There is no way of choosing suitable clothes for a 14 year-old that will work from the viewpoint of a 14-year-old. In about a half hour I was dead tired and burned out from my attempt to power shop and so made my way down to Coal Harbour.
The first thing I noticed was that it was warmer outside than it was in the mall, but I needed the exercise and still not sure of my game plan, I walked down Howe to the Pan Pacific Hotel and then segued into the food court as I hadn’t eaten that morning.
The sight of all that fast food and people eating with gusto is enough to make anyone lose their better judgment and this time, despite health issues I opted for a serving of Taco Time Mexi-Fries Deluxe. This is a sloppy mix of fried reconstituted potatoes topped with melted cheese and sour cream. The only saving grace was a small portion of diced fresh tomatoes over the top of everything.
It is the sort of dish that guarantees an instant rise in cholesterol levels but when I looked at the picture of the A&W Hamburger that kept whispering my name I felt my choice wasn’t too bad. This would be less filling but give me the strength to continue my walk, and the motivation to walk off the calories with some gusto.
By the time I reached the Harbour Air flotillas I realized that I was going to attempt a full loop of Stanley Park in the opposite direction that I normally walk it. Mind you, I don’t usually begin my walk after already walking for an hour.
So, keeping the water on my close right, I inched my way along the seawall finding out for the first time that if I circled the Westin Bayshore (keeping it on my left) I did not have to cut away from the water to get to the park. And I also discovered for the first time that this walk is part of the Trans Canada Trail.
These days all sorts of high level toxic construction is going on around Canada Place with the new Convention Centre and so I was also spurred on by the realization that once I rounded the lighthouse at Brockton Point the ocean air would kick in, refreshing my lungs and spirit.
By the time I got to the Yacht Harbor and was approaching Lumberman’s Arch I could feel my body flagging. This was where I had to begin to focus, watching my posture and just putting one foot ahead of the other. They seemed to be coming down on the pavement rather clumsily and hard.
So I picked up the pace, passing a few young woman who were stretched out in a line taking up most of the walkway.
Clipping past all that young energy and beauty gave me a further boost and I started to get a second wind.
Before I knew it I had passed the bowsprit of the Empress of Japan, the littlest mermaid with those brazen eyes looking out from under her facemask and was entering 17th century China.
Along the seawall on both sides of the bridge a dozen or so middle-aged Asian Canadian fisherman in floppy hats were sitting on 5 gallon plastic buckets and casting their lines into the surf.
A few of them appeared to have small catches but I curbed my inclination to ask how the fish were biting. After all they were blissfully enjoying the peaceful silence, the sound of the waves, a temporary release from the big city energy…and did I really want to know?
On the Western side of the bridge a light drizzle began but fizzled out in the bright cloudy haze above Siwash Rock where in 2003 I threw flowers from mom’s funeral wreath into the surf. Every time I pass this way I think about the poet Pauline Johnson (The Song My Paddle Sings) and remind myself that one day I must find her memorial in the park.
My mom wrote poetry too and Pauline Johnson was a contemporary she admired and in my mind the two of them are connected. If I do find that marker, I know mom will be visiting her with me.
In fact, maybe it is still early enough today to go and search for it…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
