A Ridiculous Night

5:00

I’ve had my breakfast and I am currently brewing my second cup of coffee after catching up with the News on the computer,

Sue popped her head in awhile ago to ask what in tarnation is going on.

She was aware of my having been in bed, and out of bed, and back in bed, and back out and making toast at midnight, and there I was, up again and sitting at the computer at 4:00 with the lights on.

Such is life. I was given a new sleeping pill, and, to put it mildly, it has disappointed.

On the first night, it helped me get 6 hours of sleep. That was nothing to write home about or blog about, so I didn’t. I mean, I do sometimes get 6 hours anyway.

Last night, however, I gave it up as a lost cause at 3:50. Not to worry, I might have had two grand hours of sleep, so I should be good for . . .  for maybe as long as it takes to finish wiring the ode to pain. Okay, not an ode, and most certainly not an ode to joy.

I was not only restless but also in pain or at least in enough discomfort that I decided that it was prudent to get up since the aches and pains were keeping me awake anyway.

About this new pill: it turns out to not be the hoped-for magic potion. I really thought that it might be just what the doctor ordered. Well, she did order it, actually, and I was hopeful.

You see, it, supposedly, so strong that I had to promise not to drive for 12 hours after taking it.

So, if I want to drive say at 7:00 in the morning, I must take it by 7 at night. But one doesn’t want to sleep at 7, so one takes it and stays up. And then it doesn’t seem to be working at 10 or 11. Go figure.

Today, I wanted to be driving by shortly after 9am, so I took the pill at 9pm. I then stayed up for two more hours before endeavouring, rather fruitlessly, to go to sleep. I mean, really, if the effects endure for twelve hours, surely I could stay up for two of those measly hours!

Surely not, as it eventuated.

Needless to say, I am going to give up on the new, lousy  pill and go back to the old, lousy pill. At the very least, I can take it a half hour before bed and just get up and go in the morning.

"AC, you should give up on pills entirely," you say.

But I say, "If I could I would." 

I was put on them for a reason and not because I was desirous of wrecking my life with a habit-forming drug.

Last time I inadvertently did that – not take my pill – I didn't sleep a wink all night. I am not exaggerating. 

What happened that night was I thought that I had taken it, but then after hours of fitfulness, I felt like I hadn't. So, I got up to check the container, and that day was empty. So I thought that I must have taken it.

I must tell you that as I roamed all night I continued to feel so awake that I was feeling that surely I must have forgotten to take it, but of course, every time I checked the container was still empty.

The next night at bedtime, I discovered that I had been checking the wrong day all the previous night. What a sap am I! It is a terrible thing to lose one's mind.

So you see, in my case, the sleeping pill is a necessity and not a placebo, for I had thought that I had taken it, and I still didn’t sleep at all. Crazy, eh?

So yeah, no more of the 12 hour pill for me. Back to the old one. It will generally give me close to five hours and sometimes six and on very very very very rare nights, seven.

It’s 5:23 now. I have typed this on the tablet. Of course, it’s a mess, so I will keep it in draft mode until I sit at the computer end edit.

Now to finish that coffee.

It's 6:40, and I've showered and tried to make the above as coherent as possible, but I do request that retired English teachers put their red pens away.

Newsy Bits

We were in Riverside Park on the weekend. There were just touches of autumn here and there, including this photo looking across the river.

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I visited the doctor yesterday. It seems that I have a UTI, I assume from the self-catheterization that I do daily, despite going to great lengths to do it as cleanly as possible. It may not be a bad infection, but I have some meds, and they sent a sample for further testing.

It has left me very tired and even a little bit down. When I have met with friends recently, I could hardly be bothered to converse with them. I do feel better getting the partial diagnosis; somehow, it helps to identify and name things, and my doctor was very supportive. She did not want me to get into the same predicament as last year when it took multiple rounds of medication to finally clear that infection.

She did say that such infections are just about an unavoidable a concomitant of catheterization. Hopefully, my need to do this will be rectified in the near future, but the procedure does help my daily life in the meantime.

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When we moved here 19 years ago, the garage door was dented, but it was such an expensive move (across province)  that we ran out of funds. All of these years later, the door was close to falling apart, so we bit the bullet and had a new one installed. The old one had gaps; this will be better sealed and should be service us well for a long time.

The white door is the new door.

Autumn 2016

As we await time and opportunity to photograph this autumn, I have gone all of the way back to 2016 to look at those images. Generally, I strip all previous edits and start processing from scratch. I find that I process more gently now both in terms of colour and softness.

I took all but the final image on the property where we stayed, and the final one on a nearby road.

Who knows what we will see this year, and if it turns out to be little, I have enjoyed looking back and editing them anew in a way that suits my present tastes.

Autumn Past

Autumn colour is still lagging here, and I haven't bee out to photograph whatever colour there is, so here are a few from October 2018 when we were last at the cottage. I probably posted some or even all back then, but I have reprocessed most recently. I found that I had trended to oversaturate the colours and turn the oranges more red. These versions are more gentle and truer to what I remember seeing.

The older of the two barns on the property one misty morning.

Coming down from the summit after visiting the Eagles Nest lookout in Bancroft.

Roadside colour near the cottage.

Two slightly long exposures of Eels Creek in Apsley.

I wonder what we will be able to capture this year. If it continues to be a lesser autumnal showing, we still have these to look back upon.

Autumnal Listy-List Things

Canadians are starting to check off their autumnal-listy-list-thingies, for once we get past Thanksgiving which is Monday the 14th this year, the weather commences its slow but inexorable descent into coldness. The weather can get pretty darn nippy as October marches on, so it is best to get things done sooner than later. 

I was saved one chore when our absentee neighbour fell out of bed and decided to seize the opportunity to mow the lawn. It was probably the final mowing required, so we can put our lawnmower away, or someone can – someone who can lift it to the shelves in the garage. Neighbour only got of of bed  because he is trying to sell the house and wants to make the property look good. Nevertheless, we'll take it as a win.

Another thing that we have checked off is meeting up with Sue's sister, Heather. As we have done a few times in the past, we all drove to Tweed which is about half way between her home in the Toronto area and ours here in Eastern Ontario. We both drove for about two hours, visited for four hours, and then drove the two hours back to our respective and distant homes.

There, we indulged in our final chip truck fries of the season. To be honest, it was only our second such chip stop all summer, but it still seemed appropriate to have a final visit before most food trucks close for the season. Of course, I had to goof around for the benefit of the camera.

We had been hoping for good colour, but it eluded both Heather and us on our separate journeys to Tweed. The park where we sat to visit was also, quite disappointingly dull. The light and direction for Sue and me was better on the way home, and we did see some fairly decent touches of colour as we travelled back east.

As soon as we got home, Sue was able to check off another item on our list, for she changes the decor seasonally. She hung the wreath that Heather sent home with us: one that the extraordinarily creative Heather crafted. Doesn't it look grand?

We checked off another item on the next day, when we drove into Ottawa to enjoy the Thanksgiving Feast at Swiss Chalet. This is something that we do in most autumns. The Feast consists of their usual rotisserie chicken but with stuffing, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie added. Disregard the price (over there →) for it has escalated dramatically. I think it was closer to twice what is shown although we had a coupon that gave us a bit of a break.

Unfortunately, that excursion into the city led to a second trip, for I happened to leave my nice cap (the one in the photos up above) in the restaurant. When I discovered it missing on the next morning, my heart sank, for it is just about my most favourite cap ever. I called the restaurant with hope in my heart. Yes, they had found it. Shortly thereafter, we drove back for it.

Suddenly, we have been driving more in the past two weeks than we do in most months or even two months. There were three trips to Perth for Nick and his car. You already know about the first two, and I also drove him back to pick it up this week. There was that longish trip to Tweed, and then the two trips into Ottawa for the restaurant and hat. We also hope to add more mileage before we settle down, for we do hope to go on a colour drive or two next week.

We added another checkmark by placing our order for Thanksgiving pies from Ashton United Church – 3 apple and 1 blueberry. I will be picking them up on the 12th, the Saturday before Thanksgiving on the following Monday. (No, they are not all for Thanksgiving dinner for five people.) 

Next, probably today, will come the ordering of a very expensive turkey breast from the butcher. We have eschewed cooking a whole turkey for our tiny tribe, but I swear that the trimmed breast is almost as expensive as a whole bird.

There are more listy-list things to check off in near future, but we've made a good start before we prepare hibernate in our igloos for the duration (he said, exaggerating just a tad).

Accessibility Permit Gives Rise to Thoughts

My Accessible Parking Permit came in the mail last week. It looks like that one over there → →
but filled in, of course. 

I've had one for a few years now, but I have had to renew yearly. This one, however, is valid for five years until September 2029. At this stage of life, I pause to wonder if this body will be good until then. Will it be the permit or the permittee that expires first?

I am not being morbid, but it is possible that I will expire before the permit does. I will be 82 if I last that long, so one does wonder. Dad lived to be 86 and mom 87, but they were leaner and arguably healthier than I, so I don't suppose that I am going to live an extremely long life.

In a sense I don't need the permit. Although I use a cane, I can walk without it. Regardless, I won't take my cane into a grocery store because I would just put it in the cart, forget it, and drive home. At some point I would realize that I had left it behind, and I would have to drive back, and walk back into the store sans cane to retrieve it. 

Ask me how I know that would happen. 

Because it has happened.

One doesn't have to be completely bodily-wrecked to use a permit. It just allows one who struggles a little, to get closer to the door.

I did recently think to myself, "I can park farther away and leave the spot for those who are more needy." So I did just that and quickly thereafter went back to using the allocated, accessible space. I found that  it is one thing to amble around a grocery store pushing a cart and stopping a lot but quite another thing to march on a direct line through the parking lot to the door. It seems odd, but it is true.

One cannot get a permit without a doctor's endorsement, and I passed, or I guess failed would be more accurate. The point is that I am medically legit, even though I sometimes think that I should just leave the space to others who are worse off.

Anyway, my main point is that I now have accessibility access for five years, and I do wonder what I will be like then or even if I will still be alive. I've put it on my online calendar to be reminded to renew a few months before it expires. It will probably surprise me greatly when the reminder pops up, or perhaps surprise someone who has access to my email. I have advised Sue to keep my email account open for some time  after I pass because business-related things do come along, and it will take some time for her to make the necessary transitions.

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I wrote the foregoing almost a week ago, but I had other things to post and let it sit in draft mode until today. What I want to add is that I did take my cane into the store on the weekend. We had had to park some distance away, so I brought my cane along. Inside the store, I put it in the cart. Of course, you already know that I left it behind. In this instance, however, I realized my blunder as soon as we exited the store, so it was easy to correct my faux pas. I have had to correct many a faux pas in my life, so I didn't mind adding one more to the lengthy list.

Reconciling in Orange

Yesterday was National Truth and Reconciliation Day. Of course, I have posted about it on or after September 30 for the past few years.

In case you forget:

The day honours the children who never returned home and Survivors of residential schools, as well as their families and communities. Public commemoration of the tragic and painful history and ongoing impacts of residential schools is a vital component of the reconciliation process.

It's not much, but I did wear orange in honour and solidarity.

Orange Shirt Day is an Indigenous-led grassroots commemorative day intended to raise awareness of the individual, family and community inter-generational impacts of residential schools, and to promote the concept of “Every Child Matters”. The orange shirt is a symbol of the stripping away of culture, freedom and self-esteem experienced by Indigenous children over generations.

On September 30, we encourage all Canadians to wear orange to honour the thousands of Survivors of residential schools.

 

There is not a lot of orange in the trees yet, but we were happy to find a splash or two on our walk.