Outside Looking In

I broke a vow yesterday. I did something I swore I would never do again. I went back to the house I once lived in, the place that was a home to my now ex-wife and my children, a place that is still home to two of my children as well as to my granddaughter and son-in-law, but was never a true home to me as much as it was the place where everyone else lived but I did not seem to exist. I had to do it. My daughter and granddaughter were with me in my truck. It was cold and raining. There was nobody other than me to take them home from our terrific day and dinner together, so I sucked it up and did the deed.

It has been almost three years since I pulled out of that driveway, vowing never to return again. Not much has changed since then. My ex-wife has finally put on new gutters, something that had been needed for years. She took down the basketball hoop, something I had wanted to do for years but had been told not to do because our son might want to play basketball. I guess she finally figured out that he stopped playing basketball years ago.

The carport was jammed with stuff, a condition it has scarce ever been clear of. It's kind of funny, all the times I was told to get rid of my stuff in the garage so she could park her car in there, how many times I was told to clean it up so her car could get in. Yet here it is, some of the tools still in the same place I left them three years ago, more stuff shoved into the work bench and atop the cupboards, other stuff blocking any hope of parking. Now that I am not there, she can fill it with as much clutter as she wants.

I dropped off Meaghan and Charlotte in the driveway. Kate is in town visiting and Rick has his car in the driveway. My truck made it most of the way off the road, the back end just edging the curb of the cul-de-sac where I used to reside. Rick and Kate came out in the rain to talk; Kate gave me an update on the hunting trip.. still no luck, Rick wanted to see if I was around this weekend so we could get together. Meaghan unloaded her stuff and moved my suitcases from the back of the truck into the front seat.

Then they all went inside. I could almost hear the laughter and chatter of their voices. I slowly pulled round the semi-circle, staring at the light from the living room, wondering about my life there. I had lived in that house for 26 years, some of them happy, many of them difficult. It was never really a home to me; it was certainly a home for my wife and children. Now, once again, I was on the outside looking in as my children and granddaughter enjoyed life inside. It had long been the story of my life there. My heart broke again, just a little. I had to go there; I wish I hadn't.

Little Girl TV

I am sitting here on the bed in my hotel room, sharing the sitting space with my 4 year old granddaughter. My daughter had to do a few errands before our day in the city, so she left Charlotte here with me for a bit. It's an interesting experience, to see the world through her eyes, to get her perspective.

For example, she has no perspective on the wheelchair, no perspective on the way I get around or struggle in or out of it. ALS came to me at about the same time as she was born; she has no recollection of me other than in my wheelchair. While she was still a babe in arms, I left my ex-wife; my daughter and her husband moved into the house that was once my home. Charlotte didn't see me for some time, and by the time she did, I was no longer walking. The wheelchair means nothing to her; it is just a part of who Gramdpa is.

There there is the whole "apartment" experience. When my children were little, they had no idea what an apartment was. We lived in a house, Grandpa and Grandma lived in a house. Grandpa With The Mustache lived in a house. Nanny lived in a house. Everybody lived in a house. Their only exposure was to apartments; we traveled and stayed in hotels regularly. So when my Mom and Ray move to an apartment from their house in Maple Ridge, my kids got their first look at this new style of living.

They were amazed! "Grandma lives in a hotel!". they wondered. "Does Grandma's hotel have room service?", they asked. "Grandma's hotel has a kitchen," they shouted in glee. Charlotte, on the other hand, has no trouble with apartments; it's hotels that confuse here. She doesn't understand why I am not in my own "apartment" or why my "apartment" doesn't have a living room.

She is glad, however, that this "apartment" has a "magic shower", just like my other apartment. Apparently that is what you call a shower with a wand attachment and a bench. And of course she has had to try out the toilet several times. There is nothing quite so exciting as a new potty to try out. She even got to open her own soap and wash, and wash, and wash her hands.

One thing Charlotte does think is very cool; this "apartment" has a TV in the bedroom, something she clearly wants in her own bedroom. She is watching her "little girl TV", the children's shows she is permitted to watch at home. She likes that I have little girl TV. I like that I have this little girl keeping me company, watching TV. It's nice.

Beware the Zopiclone, My Son

Beware the Zopiclone, my son; for it strength to leave you stunned. I have a sleeping aide called Zoplicone. I take it rarely; I've had the subscription for a month and have only taken three pills so far. This sleeping pill works fairly quickly for me, and apparently fairly powerfully. In the description they warn about the "hypnotic" effect, where you are sleeping so deeply that you lose touch with everything, and if you are wakened you actually may forget about the whole waking period.

That happens to me. When I take one of these little suckers, I go dark for about 8 hours, with no notion of what happened in between. Last night, after spending an afternoon in the woods, I had dinner in camp with Kate and Mike and his clan. I had a couple of drinks of something called Rum Chatta, a drink Rick and I discovered in NOLA, along with a steak and beautifully baked potato. About an hour later, I was on the road back to the hotel, for a much needed rest.

I watched the last of the Canucks hockey game, checked email, and was in bed before 9:00 PM. I was tired, really tired. Yet sleep did not come. I tried, I really tried, to shift myself into sleep mode. Alas my body thought otherwise; perhaps this is the true punishment for all my Tuesdays where I stay up until 2:00 AM or later, sitting with the folks in the bar, listening to their tales and telling a few of my own. Still, sleep did not avail me.

So I took the pill a little after midnight, having spent 3 hours restless. I can remember readjusting in bed a couple of times; that's all. My next memory was at about 9:00 AM, thinking that I should probably get up as quickly as possible so I could get to the hunting grounds early. I sat up, and fell right back over. The pills have a warning that you might experience instability on awakening; I did. So I went back to sleep and re-awoke at 11:00 AM. I got up more steadily.

It was then that I realize the hotel might have a checkout time before noon. I got up, called the front desk and was told checkout time was 11:00 AM. By this time it was already 11:25; the front desk girl was so nice. She said "I know you are in that wheelchair and I didn't want to bother you." We arranged a 12:30 PM checkout.

I don't think I am going to make it to camp early. If I get there by 2:00 PM, I will be lucky. Given that it is full dark by 5:00 PM, my suspicion is that the deer and moose will be safe today. Oh well, I am going to blame it on the Zopiclone monster.

Hunting and Driving

I'm up early today, at least early for me. I woke up sometime before 10:00 AM and even managed to go to the restaurant here in my hotel to have a sit-down breakfast. This is the height of decadence for me, to have a real breakfast in a real restaurant before 11:00 AM. Of course I expect I will pay for this later today, perhaps an early evening bedtime tonight.

The reason I am up so early, at least for me, is simple. Today I plan on driving up into the high country of the Okanagan Plateau, near Westbank where my cousin Mike lives, to go hunting. The prey today is moose or deer. Although I have already missed the morning hunt, something completely impossible for me these days, I will still have several hours after lunch to wander the dirt tracks and logging roads of this hunting ground, perhaps just as much interested in the exploration as in the game.

Yesterday, when I left Calgary, the sky was a crystal blue, the air so clear that the mountains in the distance stood off in sharp relief, edged in stone against an almost painted backdrop, the blue of the sky only slightly softened by the odd high and white cloud. It was warm, at least for a late fall day in Calgary. The road was bare and dry, not a whiff of problem for the drive. I left at 2:00 PM for the 7 1/2 hour drive to Kelowna and Westbank where I stayed last night. I will be here tonight too.

It's amazing to me that I can still make this drive, that I can still do a fairly long day behind the wheel. I don't understand why the exhaustion that makes up so much of my life seems to disappear when I drive. Nobody expected me to last this long behind the wheel; I remember the fellow installing my hand controls wondering if I would really need them for long. After all, I had ALS. Yet here I am, now almost 20 months later, still making my way in the world inside my big blue truck.

Even the persistent rain in BC didn't stop me yesterday, the rain that started once I passed Golden on the Trans Canada Highway. It began as drips and dribbles. By the time I was up and into Rogers Pass, it was full on, a pounding rain that caused flooding down on the coast. The roads were glistening reflections of street and truck lights, the rain pounding back up as well as down, drenching everything. Yet on I drove, feeling safe and confident in my ability.

Not everything is lost to me. Today I will go hunting; really I will go driving. Others will do the hunting, I will just be along, having lost enough strength that a straight shot is unlikely. Yet still, I will be in the bush, in the woods, up in the mountains and plateaus of BC, outdoors, mostly. I have a while to go yet.

Another Meltdown

I have the occasional meltdown, a cathartic release of the fear and sadness trapped inside of me. They can be ugly, lots of tears. It's not surprising, given what I what I am going through. Even so, the actual events often take me by surprise, erupting from within the chamber of emotions held scarcely in check.

There's usually a trigger behind a meltdown, something that drives home my reality. Sometimes they are alcohol induced, me the drunkard crying in the night. Sometimes they start all on their own, something hitting my emotional release valve. Fairly often, in fact almost always, I can see the triggers and reasons in hindsight far more clearly than in the moment.

I had a meltdown last night, this one aided by a few glasses of wine and scotch. In some ways I wish I was strong enough to let the anguish go without using alcohol to free the taps. I've seen it in action, when I have "a moment or two" while completely sober. In these moments I quickly grab the handles of my emotions, shaking myself back to "normal". When I have a few drinks, I am far less able to grab those handles, too weak to shake my emotions back into line. Out they come.

The most common internal feeling when I have one of these ugly events is fear. I am afraid of what is happening to me, what it means to my days and weeks to come. I am afraid of being alone, having to face that fear, as the song says, "all by myself". This is a nasty ride I am on, my hands barely able to hold the reins and rails. To see myself die a little bit each day, to watch myself slowly disappear into the quicksand of ALS; this is truly frightening.

I am not strong enough to deal with this, nowhere near as strong as I pretend to be. Only a few people have seen me through these meltdowns. Only a few have heard me cry out, asking them not to leave me alone. Only a few have been there as the magma breaks out, overflowing the sides of my life's volcano. These meltdowns are not massive eruptions, nor a steady flow. They happen, I the prisoner of my own weakness and sorrow; they pass.

To those whom I trust with this, I ask forgiveness. It's a tough enough load for me, let alone you. Nobody signed on for this. To the men and women who have seen me through this and are still seeing me through this, I thank you, not just for being here but for keeping this trust. I don't feel lessened that you have seen the weakest me; I feel strengthened when your hands hold mine, safe in your care.

I wish I was a stronger man. Perhaps I could manage these emotions better. Perhaps I could let them out more easily. Perhaps I wouldn't meltdown. I'm not sure. Perhaps not.

Big Buys

A friend of mine bought a home yesterday, a fabulous apartment in one of the nicer areas of Calgary, a neighbourhood called Connaught. His building is a couple of blocks off of Calgary's "Red Mile", a strip of 17th Avenue lined with trendy bars and interesting restaurants, all filled most Friday and Saturday nights. The nice thing is that he is a couple of blocks away, close enough to walk but far enough that he doesn't have to deal with the congestion and noise.

It's interesting, the process of purchasing a home, how different it is today from 30 years ago. The amount of disclosure involved, the inspections, the analysis of neighbourhood data. When I bought my first home, there was none of this. It was truly "caveat emptor". When we bought what would ultimately become our family home, the homeowner was not required to disclose the aluminum wiring or the crack in the chimney flue. Since there was no home inspection back then, we had to take our chances and go with what we knew.

These days there are far more protections in the home buying process, yet even still it can be fraught with difficulty. I have always wondered why the two largest purchases most of us are likely to ever make, a home and a car, are purchases with so little regulation. Sometimes I think there are more consumer laws governing the sale of a $1.99 children's toy than there are governing the sale of a $25,000 car. Of course all of these protections go out the window when purchasing a home or a car on the secondary market.

This is why I have two simple rules for both of these purchases. For a car, go through a dealer; it gives you someone to sue if something should go wrong. For a home, go through a licensed and bonded real estate agent; it gives you someone to sue if something should go wrong. It's not that I am a litigious person; it's that the people or agencies have a lot more skin in the game if something should go wrong. They are there, and have to be there, mostly, after the deal is done. While not well monitored, their business practices can be challenged if necessary.

In the past, knowledge was power in these transactions. Most people didn't know a lot about cars, or about houses. Many of us knew about land, but not the complex details of construction. Many of us remembered cars from a simpler time, but we don't know a lot about the highly engineered, computer controlled cars of today. Thanks to the internet, that knowledge gap is lessened. But there is still a gap, especially in the area of buying a vehicle.

These are big purchases, complicated purchases. Even today there is a degree of special knowledge needed in making them. Yet these are the things we all wish for; a home and a car. Or at least most of us; I wanted a truck.

The Season

Winter has arrived in Calgary, at least for today. There is a heavy, wet snowfall tumbling from the sky, blanketing the roads and trees outside my window. The air is a crisp chill. Sidewalks are wet, parking lots are a mess. It's the beginning of the season of cold.

I went out for an early lunch with a couple of friends this morning, a start today that was almost a shock to my system. Afterwards another friend and I went to Canadian Tire to see about getting the tire on my Freewheel repaired. I lent it to another PALS a couple of weeks back and when I got it back the tire was flat. No problem, that is what Canadian Tire is good at. Well, not so much. They can put air in it but cannot tell me if the tire is flat from a puncture or something else. They inflated the tire for me; I'll find out if it goes flat again.

While I was in the store I noticed the Christmas supplies already on the shelf. It's officially the Christmas shopping season too! I need a new Christmas tree, and I wanted one of the pre-lit ones, so I purchased a tree. Then I saw the pre-lit garlands and thought how nice one would look on my patio. So one of those went in the basket too, plus a couple of little toys for little grandchildren. I can't resist.

On getting the tree and garland home, my friend Dion put up the garland. Then he went to the basement and got my deck trim lights and front door wreath. He put up the lights and I put up the wreath. My little apartment is now ready for Christmas, only two months ahead of the holiday. This is probably the earliest in my life that I have had my outdoor lights up.

Now all I have to do is put the tree up. I think I might wait a month or so for that.