SMILES!

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I needed more weed-eater cord and some gas for the yard machines. The young man cleaning outside was doing a fine job, and I didn’t want his work interrupted by lack of material so, without changing from my very casual ‘working at home’ attire, I jumped into the truck and headed to town. I yelled at him through an open window on the way down the driveway, “I’ll be back in 30 minutes!”

It was only when I arrived at the village limits that it hit me. Today was Tuesday…Flea Market day. As I sat at the side road stop sign, waiting for vehicle after vehicle to crawl slowly by, I knew that there was no way I could do my usual rush around. Driving in our village on Flea Market day is as exasperating as trying to go anywhere in a hurry through city traffic! For many of the area farmers, it is the one day of the week they take the time…and plenty of it….to meander around town, doing all their shopping, or visiting, or treating themselves to a restaurant meal. Add their slow and careful driving to that of hesitant tourists looking for directions and you soon realize you are not going anywhere fast!

Hunched over my steering wheel, spitting and muttering to myself, I begrudgingly waved a thank-you to the courteous driver who stopped and beckoned for me to pull out ahead of him. Both he and his passenger, an elderly lady sporting a straw hat, waved back and...what huge smiles they gave me! Big, warm, cheerful expressions of glee! I blinked, and hardly had time to think about it before I was smiling back at them. My mood immediately lightened, my hands unclenched, and my breathing eased.

It took much longer than normal to reach the Canadian Tire store situated on the other end of town. It was crowded, and there was some negotiating in the people-filled aisles to reach the lawn care section. With my now more relaxed attitude, I noted that many of them were dressed similar to myself; jeans, checked shirt, and runners….and lots of caps or sunhats. No suits or heels here; these were comfortable country clothes.

Another thing most of them were wearing was smiles; smiles as they stopped to casually chat with a neighbor, smiles as they apologized and moved out of someone’s way, smiles as they teased the clerks who were assisting the hunt for that one particular article.

Yep – it was over two hours before I completed the 30 minute errand and could head to my house. The weed-eater had run out of cord, but the enterprising young man had found a pair of shears in the garage, and was trimming the hanging branches in the driveway when I arrived. He ambled over to help me unload the gas cans.

“Sorry,” I said. “It took a little longer than expected.”

“Yeh,” he answered. He’s a local boy, so he knew. “Flea market day.”

Grinning, he held up the shears. “These don’t need gas or cord. No sweat.” Of course not!

I was still musing on this learning experience when I returned to the pile of papers at my desk. This working from home will take some adjusting. No rush. No hassle. No sweat. Plenty of time to SMILE. Delightful!!

Sharing it with you!!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec

LA VISITE!!!

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Visitors.

I had forgotten that it is all part and parcel of caring for a sick relative – the number of people who wish to spend precious time with the invalid. My brother has many friends, and we have family spread all over the country. It was great to see his face light up when one of his best buddies showed up last Thursday. He stayed with the Bird until yesterday, and my bro was still smiling when he left. This weekend my younger brother from New Brunswick, hopefully with his family in tow, is expected to come for the holiday. If Bird’s strength is up to it, he’ll be having his first chemo treatment on Thursday, and we’re keeping our fingers crossed that he won’t be too sick to enjoy their company. He’ll be staying here, with the guests, and those are the moments when one is thankful for a roomy house! And no, I’m not going to mention housework... most of it is done with a lick and a promise anywaY.

The lease for the smaller office in the city has been signed. The move will be made whenever we find an hour to spare, unless we are fortunate enough to sub-let our present place before September. Financially it would be a boon, but adding that event to what is already taking place would be a hassle! I’ve been carrying documents home, which will permit me to work from the house except for the one day per week, when someone will stay with my bro as I do my 3 hour drive in and out to the city. Once again, because of my many absences and reduced staff, we’ve fallen behind. I’ve just accepted that playing catch up is the story of my life! I can’t count how often I take a deep breath and remind myself, “One day at a time!”

A bonus – Suzie is home!! She arrived Saturday from Detroit, and will be here for approximately two weeks. We spent a couple of hours chatting together on her first evening, and my, but it was good to hug that girl!! Even if we’ll only see each other off and on due to my heavy schedule (and hers - it being her hometown she is surrounded by family and friends during her stay), just having her around is good tonic.

That’s it for now, folks. Once again I want to thank everyone for their support. Bird asked me to say the same – he’s well aware that many are praying for him, and appreciates it. We both wish you a great day, and send you our biggest and grateful SMILES!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

"WHAT??"

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Bird had a bad day on Sunday; side effects from the radiation therapy probably. He wasn’t into going to the hospital, so I stayed with him and we waited it out. By the time Fran dropped in around 3 PM, he was feeling better, and when I returned to replace her around 7 PM, even better still.

On Monday he was in top shape, considering his condition. Yesterday, we were back at the hospital for his 2nd radiation treatment, and we shared the usual laughs on the long drive back and forth. He’s a terrible tease and, more often than not, bests me with his witty remarks. His voice is still hardly louder than a whisper, but he manages to make himself understood, in spite of my slightly deaf ear. Anyone sitting in the back seat would hear a conversation something like this:

“ Psst, psst, psst psst.”

“What? “ (Me, leaning my head towards the passenger side, trying to keep my eyes on the road.)

“Pssst, psst, psst.”

“Shut your darned window! I still can’t hear what you’re saying!” I’m frowning by now. Bird rolls his eyes, shakes his head slightly, and hits the automatic button to close the window, then raises his whisper a level. The spectator in the back seat will still not be able to discern his words.

“PSST, PSST, PSST!” I’m looking more at Bird than at the road. It’s a lip-reading exercise. I usually understand by the 3rd repetition.

“Of course I saw that pedestrian!” I answer. “Whaddya talking about? I missed him by a mile!”

I glance at the dude on the corner of the sidewalk. He does look a little white-faced, and is he staring at ME? The traffic light changes to green. I check in my rear view mirror, and note that the dude waits until we’ve rolled passed before attempting a second crossing. I’m not looking at the Bird now, but still catch every other word he’s whispering.

“Psst, psst…window closed...psst, psst…not smell…psst, psst…that poor…psst, psst….in his pants! “ He’s looking at me and grinning. The back seat spectator won’t have to lean forward to hear my loud retort of “F*ck you Bird!!!”, nor our laughter.

I should say hear MY laughter. Bird’s sound is similar to that asthmatic wheeze of the cartoon dog, Muttley. His head is nodding with the effort, but it comes out like a whispered “Hee-hee-hee-hee”.

This type of conversation happens over and over again during the drive. The spectator will probably lean back in the seat, lose count of the number of times the windows go down, then up , then down, then up; and, like me, he will strongly suspect that my mouthy bro’ times his remarks on purpose just to watch my reaction.

One thing for sure – this same spectator will feel the easy closeness between the siblings in the front seat. Even if he can only catch an occasional word of the repartee, I’m certain it will make him SMILE.

Sending mine out to you, folks, and wishing you a great day!!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

A BATTLE.

My sister, Gomer, Bird, and me. This was Gomer's last Christmas, 1994.
It‘s 4:30 AM, and the birds have a real concert going on out there. The beautiful weather we’ve had for the past few days means every window in the house is wide open, so the trills and tweets float in and around each room. Lovely. Perfect for early morning smiles.

I finally managed two full nights of real sleep – another reason to smile. The world is so much nicer when seen through eyes that are not glazed over.

The past two weeks have been centered in or about the hospital – every day - either hours travelling back and forth to it, or sitting waiting in it, or swearing at it…a lesson in frustration and patience. After conflicting reports from various doctors who were saying too much, yet too little, I once again had to resort to losing my cool and making nasty noises before they finally arranged a meeting with the head honcho – the lung specialist. That happened on Thursday. What was achieved? At least now we have the real diagnosis – it is non- small cell lung cancer, Stage 4, in both lungs. Bird has had one shot of radiation therapy, and will get another next Tuesday – to ease his pain and to help him breathe a little better. On June 30th, if the lung specialist finds Bird strong enough, there will be chemotherapy. None of it good news, but better than what we were told at the beginning of last week – that only two radiation treatments would be done, then….nothing. He’d be kept “comfortable”. No treatment to help him fight back. Acceptable for some maybe, but not for us. It has never been in our nature to take things lying down. Whatever the outcome, there will be a battle – it’s not over until the fat lady sings.

It’s needless to tell you that neither of us got a lot of sleep during this time. What is helping is the support and encouragement of so many people – Dawna and Malcolm who were here nearly every night for a week; Susie and Suzie who call every day; Line who is holding up the business practically on her own; Fran, whose presence does great things for my brother’s morale…and so many more. Not a day goes by without a note of encouragement from someone on Facebook, or an e-mail from my dear friend Kilroy, and the prayers and warm notes from members in my Blogit family. Bless you all – it makes such a difference.

Today’s plan is to dig into much neglected housework. My Cuban Friends will be showing up later to finish installing the long awaited vanity in my bathroom, and I promised Bird that I would make him cinnamon buns. I have a box of documents from the office to go through, and Grump needs attention too. A long walk and cuddles are on the agenda for him. Life does go on, and each moment is precious, even more so when we make it fun (I'm still trying to figure out how to get fun out of housework...)

I’ll be getting to it, folks. The sun is already peeking at my mountain, a beautiful sight that never fails to bring on my SMILE. I’m sending it out to y’all. A big, warm hug with that?

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

PS: I am in Blogit regularly – clicking and reading if not always commenting. I want to tell you too that Merkie-Margaret has finally published her book of poems. It’s on Amazon – “My Jingles – Merkie’s Muse”. My copy should be in sometime next week – YIPPEE!

WHO YOU CALLING OLD??

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My friend Kilroy was right when he emailed that posts to my blog were rare lately. I checked the date of the one before last, and realized how much time had flown by. I’m still scratching my head in confusion. Have the clocks gained speed, or am I just moving even slower? One thing for sure – I’m not keeping up like I used to.

Yesterday was a beautiful, sunny Saturday full of activity. There was a birthday party for my two youngest grandsons, Bali turning 4 on the 7th, and Tao, who will be a whole year old on the 12th. My brother, Bird, and I joined the rest of the family for a BBQ at noon. There were oodles of little ones running and playing and having a ball; mommies and daddies or aunties and uncles stepping up now and then to push the swings or a bicycle, wrap shivering little bodies in towels as they exited the pool, applying layer after layer of sunscreen, feeding, kissing, hugging, wiping the occasional tear…. delightful pandemonium! It lasted until naptime, and I loved every minute of it.

From there, I dropped a tired Bird off at his home, where Fran would keep him company, and made my way to the second occasion, this one held by four who were celebrating their ‘thirty something’. It doesn’t seem so long ago that their parties were very similar to the one I had just left, the only exception being that they were friends of my children instead of my grandchildren. It too was pool-side, the milk was replaced by alcohol, and the sense of fun was not lacking. I have known these kids since they were in diapers, receive an invitation every year, and I am spoiled rotten whenever I’m with them.

However, I believe I was the oldest person in both crowds.

And…although it was all very enjoyable…I had enough. Besides, the second game of hockey finals started at 8 PM. I arrived home, flicked on the television, then settled onto the couch with an ecstatic Grump, armed with a hot, sweet cup of coffee (finally!), and embarked on the familiar play by play text messaging with Sam444. A fitting end to an eventful day.

When it was over, Grump and I stood out on the gallery, star gazing for a few minutes before going to bed. “Once upon a time, I’d have been heading right back to that party!” I told him. “Now you couldn’t pay me enough to do that.” I looked down at him. He was paying close attention.

“What is it, Grump-puppy? Am I getting old? How did that happen?” I asked. His tail wagged carefully. Being a male, he had learned long ago not to respond to loaded questions. We stood in silence for a few more minutes while we pondered my question.

“Nah.” I decided. “It’s not age. It’s just that my priorities have changed a little, and all this hospital stuff has left me tired. Whaddya think?” The tail wagged faster.

Reassured that he agreed with my conclusion, I looked back up to the stars. Satisfied that I could still kick my heels when I wanted to, I remembered that life was good….and I was SMILING.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

SOMETIMES THE ANSWER IS NO....

Although we had been told the meeting with the doctors would be at 8:30 AM, it was around 11:30 AM before he showed up, and only the floor doctor at that. The lung specialist was busy, so some questions went unanswered. The lung biopsy, done on Tuesday, again without the help of anesthesia, came back positive. It is SCLC, or small cell lung cancer; a metastasis from throat cancer that was to have been cured 4 years ago. The floor doctor could not, or more likely, would not, tell me what stage of tumor. With his eyes averted, he told me to ask the lung specialist.

It had been suspected, of course, but there was always the hope that it could be something else…a piece of food stuck in the lung and infected perhaps…or …whatever. The dose of reality sent our hearts plummeting to our boots. Bird didn’t say a word, other than ask when he would begin radiation therapy, then he started packing to leave the hospital. He was going home…NOW! He understandably needed to step back and regroup. His first appointment for treatment is next Tuesday.

The routine of our lives will change now. We’ve been through this before, so know what to expect. The last time there was plenty of money to hire help, but this time we are on our own. The treatments are to be intensive and on an out-patient schedule, so it means travelling back and forth to the city every day. He wants to stay at home as long as possible – until he is no longer able to be alone. When that happens, he’ll come to stay with me until this is over.

The traffic was horrendous, so the drive home promised to be long. It was silent in the car until my brother asked me to turn up the music -”and not some of that damned calypso music you play”, he growled. I had a CD of country music, one that he had burned for me a while back, so I pushed the right buttons on the radio. Jimmy Buffet’s voice came floating out at us, the Asshole song, and Bird leaned over to turn it up louder. He cracked open one of the beers we had picked up on leaving the hospital, and sat back in his seat, then looked sideways at me.

“For today I’m celebrating getting out of that damned hospital,” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll think on serious things.”

With one eye on the road, I lifted my coffee, toasting his beer, and we both SMILED.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec