Lately I've become fascinated by 'memory' and how it seems to work.... or not work in my case. I've been reading some interesting books and magazine articles where the memories of the authors are so rich in detail that I actually question my own memories, or the authors' truthfulness. Why is it, for instance, that I can't remember what my favourite shirt was when I was six years old, and these writers can? Or better still, why is it that they remember every gory detail about their treatments (yes, I've been reading cancer stuff, again) and I don't? My memory filing box is a disorganized mess.
But the memory isn't like a filing cabinet, with everything stuffed into neat folders and consigned to one or another drawer. The memory is more like a large, mostly placid pond. Our daily experiences are lightly sprinkled on the surface, some floating for a while, some sinking out of sight almost immediately, spinning, swirling down into the darkness of the still water, and some, well, the wind catches them and tosses them high into the clouds, chaff that has no real meaning to us, and easily discarded. Now, all the bits and pieces that remain floating on or near the surface of this metaphorical memory pond are the bits and pieces that we recall easily, referencing over and over, gently sinking out of sight as we stop examining it, using it. All of the stuff which lost its buoyancy and settled to the bottom of the pond are things that have slipped out of our mind's easy reach, but which can be recovered, with effort. Imagine taking a stick and stirring up the mud and silt at the bottom of the pond. With enough churning, its pretty amazing what can be brought to the surface, again.
I can, with time and effort, remember a great deal that I thought lost to me, like a few favoured shirts, a chance encounter with a nest of yellow jackets, or the nastier details of my treatment. But what I find most challenging is trying to arrange it all on a proper timeline. So with that favourite shirt, how old was I? And why, when I think of that shirt, I think of a completely unrelated event that is no where near it on the timeline? Going back to the pond analogy, there is so little control over what all gets brought to the top; the churning creates turbulence, artificial currents that pull far more to the surface than expected, and in some cases, wanted.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
The real impact was from...
Yesterday I was reviewing all I've been through in the last 18 months, mentally forming the time line into a glass sphere, like a Caithness paperweight, and holding it up to the light, twisting and turning it to look at it from all angles and I found a view that startled me.
The cancer was a threat, there is no question about it. But the effects that I am still feeling and will carry with me for life are a direct result of the treatments and NOT the actual cancer. The scale of the trauma to my body to treat a small tumour lodged in a tonsil seems all out of proportion. It seems sorta like trying to control dandelions with Agent Orange, pruning roses with a chain saw or swatting mosquitoes with a sledge hammer. The optics are just so extreme!
With the cancer at the time of diagnosis, I had one single swollen lymph node. My throat got a bit irritated if I spoke for too long. And that's it. It was the treatments that really made me unwell for the better part of a year.
There was the time lost to the surgery and the protracted healing, followed by the chemo and radiation therapy which kept me physically ill for the better part of 4 months and in a weakened state for the better part of a year. The treatment approach cost me a tooth, and a split jaw, and a tiny plate to hold it all together again, not to mention the facial and neck scars. The use of my tongue continues to be a chore, and eating is just a bore because of the effort and the reduced taste sensations. I lost most of my saliva glands to the radiation treatment and now have an ongoing challenge with dry mouth syndrome. I can't grow a full beard because of the radiation, yet I feel that I must maintain my goatee to hide the scar.
My hearing is diminished because of the cysplatin chemotherapy, and I'm getting really tired of the little glockenspiel player that accompanies my tinnitus.
My right shoulder still has areas of numbness, tends to roll forward, and always feels 'tight' because of the damage done to the controlling nerves when removing lymph nodes from my neck. My left forearm is significantly scarred and my left hand is weakened by the forearm flap. And my left thigh has an oddly symmetrical scar from where they took skin to overlay the left forearm damage.
So when you look at it all in a certain light, you really do start to wonder if the medical community can't find a slightly less invasive set of treatment protocols. So much damage for such a small thing.
And then when you consider that the same tumour is capable of wreaking enough havoc in the body to kill 21% of the estimated 35,720 new cases expected in the USA in 2009, maybe the full body trauma isn't quite so extreme.
The cancer was a threat, there is no question about it. But the effects that I am still feeling and will carry with me for life are a direct result of the treatments and NOT the actual cancer. The scale of the trauma to my body to treat a small tumour lodged in a tonsil seems all out of proportion. It seems sorta like trying to control dandelions with Agent Orange, pruning roses with a chain saw or swatting mosquitoes with a sledge hammer. The optics are just so extreme!
With the cancer at the time of diagnosis, I had one single swollen lymph node. My throat got a bit irritated if I spoke for too long. And that's it. It was the treatments that really made me unwell for the better part of a year.
There was the time lost to the surgery and the protracted healing, followed by the chemo and radiation therapy which kept me physically ill for the better part of 4 months and in a weakened state for the better part of a year. The treatment approach cost me a tooth, and a split jaw, and a tiny plate to hold it all together again, not to mention the facial and neck scars. The use of my tongue continues to be a chore, and eating is just a bore because of the effort and the reduced taste sensations. I lost most of my saliva glands to the radiation treatment and now have an ongoing challenge with dry mouth syndrome. I can't grow a full beard because of the radiation, yet I feel that I must maintain my goatee to hide the scar.
My hearing is diminished because of the cysplatin chemotherapy, and I'm getting really tired of the little glockenspiel player that accompanies my tinnitus.
My right shoulder still has areas of numbness, tends to roll forward, and always feels 'tight' because of the damage done to the controlling nerves when removing lymph nodes from my neck. My left forearm is significantly scarred and my left hand is weakened by the forearm flap. And my left thigh has an oddly symmetrical scar from where they took skin to overlay the left forearm damage.
So when you look at it all in a certain light, you really do start to wonder if the medical community can't find a slightly less invasive set of treatment protocols. So much damage for such a small thing.
And then when you consider that the same tumour is capable of wreaking enough havoc in the body to kill 21% of the estimated 35,720 new cases expected in the USA in 2009, maybe the full body trauma isn't quite so extreme.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Re-connecting
The thing about reconnecting with old friends after a significant time out of touch is that they help you to remember other 'wheres' and other 'whens'. The challenge about reconnecting with old friends after a significant time out of touch is that they help you to remember other 'wheres' and other 'whens' with startling clarity. As the expression goes, 'the truth will out'!
I'm sitting in Calgary this morning, in my sister's living room, waiting until its time to go pick up G. from the airport. She is returning from a three week visit to her family in the UK. And no, I didn't go. I only go every other trip so the family doesn't have to deal with me each time, and can focus on G. And its also so I don't have to deal with the family... ;-) its not always a holiday, and I do have so few days each year.
I came down to Calgary yesterday to finish off the work we started on K's motorcycle last weekend. And it all worked. It started. I got to ride it from the designated storage area to its summer home. All went well.
Then we had dinner with an old friend... a gentleman that I originally met at university, and worked with at the Citadel. K did dinner at her townhouse. And we had a lovely time. It was the conversation that gave rise to my opening statements.
We talked about the interesting, and good things that we had done while working together, or at least within each other's orbits. For instance, I had forgotten that he was one of the three of us who worked with Richard Rose to establish the Necessary Angel Theatre Company. I had forgotten that it was his wife at the time who found the T.S. Eliot quote from which we pulled the name... But then we also moved on to more unpleasant memories, like the time I had to tell him that he was persona non grata at the theatre we worked at; he became the scapegoat for an ugly communication breakdown. And of course, all sorts of other unpleasant memories came flooding back.
And we talked about where our classmates are, and others we have known. Fun little factoids, like the mean IQ of those in theatre vs. other professions and disciplines were bandied about. And of course, whenever talk about the lifestyle that is theatre (or any performance based culture, be it dance, or film, or tv) comes up, there is always a certain amount of time devoted to the agonies of the so many performers, their individual tortures, and torturers. And of course, as we get older, the conversation inevitably turns to the rate of survival. My cancer was never discussed (I do get very bored with it very quickly), but we did talk about Larry Yachimec's lung cancer, his family and the challenge they face, and Alan Duluka's (spelling?) ongoing battle with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma.
As I observed earlier, meeting up with someone like Brian again, after so much time, brings a startling clarity to the past. It is not always welcome. It is, however, very necessary in order to continue moving forward with a life, and not dwelling on a poorly remembered past constructed entirely of 'glory days' reminiscences.
I'm sitting in Calgary this morning, in my sister's living room, waiting until its time to go pick up G. from the airport. She is returning from a three week visit to her family in the UK. And no, I didn't go. I only go every other trip so the family doesn't have to deal with me each time, and can focus on G. And its also so I don't have to deal with the family... ;-) its not always a holiday, and I do have so few days each year.
I came down to Calgary yesterday to finish off the work we started on K's motorcycle last weekend. And it all worked. It started. I got to ride it from the designated storage area to its summer home. All went well.
Then we had dinner with an old friend... a gentleman that I originally met at university, and worked with at the Citadel. K did dinner at her townhouse. And we had a lovely time. It was the conversation that gave rise to my opening statements.
We talked about the interesting, and good things that we had done while working together, or at least within each other's orbits. For instance, I had forgotten that he was one of the three of us who worked with Richard Rose to establish the Necessary Angel Theatre Company. I had forgotten that it was his wife at the time who found the T.S. Eliot quote from which we pulled the name... But then we also moved on to more unpleasant memories, like the time I had to tell him that he was persona non grata at the theatre we worked at; he became the scapegoat for an ugly communication breakdown. And of course, all sorts of other unpleasant memories came flooding back.
And we talked about where our classmates are, and others we have known. Fun little factoids, like the mean IQ of those in theatre vs. other professions and disciplines were bandied about. And of course, whenever talk about the lifestyle that is theatre (or any performance based culture, be it dance, or film, or tv) comes up, there is always a certain amount of time devoted to the agonies of the so many performers, their individual tortures, and torturers. And of course, as we get older, the conversation inevitably turns to the rate of survival. My cancer was never discussed (I do get very bored with it very quickly), but we did talk about Larry Yachimec's lung cancer, his family and the challenge they face, and Alan Duluka's (spelling?) ongoing battle with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma.
As I observed earlier, meeting up with someone like Brian again, after so much time, brings a startling clarity to the past. It is not always welcome. It is, however, very necessary in order to continue moving forward with a life, and not dwelling on a poorly remembered past constructed entirely of 'glory days' reminiscences.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Just say NO to Crowne Plaza Hotels
First of all, I must admit that some days I really think that our eldest daughter has a target painted on her forehead. She has been taken advantage of yet again. And again, it was while travelling. This time it was Crowne Plaza Hotel staff.
I may have mentioned it before, but she and her younger sister are pregnant. As part of her attempts to celebrate both the pregnancy and her thirtieth birthday, she decided to accompany Gail to England to visit her grandparents. Unfortunately, the pregnancy is not without its complications, and she was forced to return home early. The challenge was in finding a flight. She returned on May 15th.
This decision to return, and the date of the flight presented a logistics problem. The rest of the family (grandmother, grandfather, mother, aunt, uncle, uncle's mother) were all booked onto a flight to Spain on the same day FROM A DIFFERENT AIRPORT! The family was flying out of John Lennon Airport in Liverpool, while J. would be flying out of Manchester. The solution to the logistics issue was that J. would spend the night at a hotel at the Manchester airport. They chose the Crowne Plaza, largely because breakfast was included.
Okay, we all got that? The Crowne Plaza, Manchester Airport.
One of the trials and tribulations of J.'s current status is that she does not possess a credit card. It was determined that Gail would go to the hotel to check J. in, and pre-pay the bill. At the time of check in, they did verify that breakfast was included, although at this point they don't really know what the very inarticulate clerk really did say. Can you imagine putting someone on the front desk who is effectively unintelligible? Unthinkable.
During the course of the evening stay, for whatever reason, J. decided that she needed to call A., the friend who would be picking her up at the airport in Calgary. She contacted the front desk to discuss how they might accomplish this. The front desk said that if she would leave a deposit of 30 pounds (just shy of $60 CDN), they would 'switch on' her phone's international call capabilities for ten minutes. J. went to the lobby desk to hand over the money, passing on her way, a British Telecom pay phone. Once at the desk, she asked instead for change for the pay phone, but the woman behind the desk went to great lengths to assure J. that the 30 pound hotel phone call was the better option. And besides, if the call didn't last the 10 minutes, she would be entitled to a refund. J. went back to her room having paid the deposit. Once back in her room, she discovered that the phone wouldn't work for outgoing calls. It took two trips from the onsite technician to make the darn phone work. Funny how they have an onsite technician... does that tell you anything?
J. is really quite frugal and careful about some things. She set the timer on her watch for 10 minutes, made the call and hung up when her 10 minutes was up. A.'s phone records can actually confirm the time spent on that call.
The next morning J. went to breakfast, then to check out. Now, because she had pre-paid, she could have simply dropped the key in the fast check out box, but being both frugal and honest, she decided to check at the desk to see if she could get some money back, or to pay in case she exceeded the 10 minutes by a minute or two. She was shocked to discover two things. First, she owed 15.95 pounds for the supposedly included breakfast (which was a yoghurt and some fruit), and 168 pounds for a 68 minute phone call. When you factor in the 30 pound deposit she paid, that is 213+ pounds, or $381.82 CDN for a phone call and a breakfast that was complimentary!!! (conversion rates are based on overnight rates: 1 GBP to 1.784 CDN. Thank goodness it wasn't weeks ago when the pound was at 2+.)
It might be deduced that the broken phone that was repaired twice because it wouldn't open an international line then held the line open after she had hung up for an additional 58 minutes. Although, if you assume that there is a 'default' setting on the phone lines (which most digital lines will have), it probably closed down after 60 minutes of inactivity, a nice round number, meaning that J. only used 8 minutes of her time.
There was no reasoning with the staff. There was even the threat that the police would be called. They held J. in a small room, browbeat her, threatened her, delayed her until she was at risk of missing her flight even though they themselves admitted that the phone was probably at fault. But they wanted her money. They scared J., making her ill, and in desperation, she wrote them a cheque. They continued to keep her confined until they could confirm that the cheque had cleared. Obviously they've done this sort of thing before, because they knew how to efficiently process an out-of-country cheque. Interesting for a chain that purports to only handle credit cards and cash.
Our complaints have fallen on deaf ears. In fact, we have received no response at all, not even a confirmation that they have received our messaging. J. has contacted the hotel directly; I have used the complaint form online and sent emails to various high level managers in the UK and North America. They obviously don't give a damn about employees taking advantage of an honest, unwell pregnant woman travelling on her own.
Crowne Plaza Hotels should be ashamed of themselves for the behaviour of their staff. In fact, I suspect and consider this particular little group to be thieves, and definitely extortionists. Should we be concerned that this little cabal has proven that they can extract funds from J.'s bank account?
Please think twice about giving Crowne Plaza and IHG your business in the future. I will be making our corporate travel office aware. We, as a family, won't be doing brunch at the local Crowne Plaza anymore, and I can assure you that the business meetings I have planned for the next quarter will no longer be at a Crowne Plaza, or an IHG subsidiary.
Bloody Crowne Plaza!
I may have mentioned it before, but she and her younger sister are pregnant. As part of her attempts to celebrate both the pregnancy and her thirtieth birthday, she decided to accompany Gail to England to visit her grandparents. Unfortunately, the pregnancy is not without its complications, and she was forced to return home early. The challenge was in finding a flight. She returned on May 15th.
This decision to return, and the date of the flight presented a logistics problem. The rest of the family (grandmother, grandfather, mother, aunt, uncle, uncle's mother) were all booked onto a flight to Spain on the same day FROM A DIFFERENT AIRPORT! The family was flying out of John Lennon Airport in Liverpool, while J. would be flying out of Manchester. The solution to the logistics issue was that J. would spend the night at a hotel at the Manchester airport. They chose the Crowne Plaza, largely because breakfast was included.
Okay, we all got that? The Crowne Plaza, Manchester Airport.
One of the trials and tribulations of J.'s current status is that she does not possess a credit card. It was determined that Gail would go to the hotel to check J. in, and pre-pay the bill. At the time of check in, they did verify that breakfast was included, although at this point they don't really know what the very inarticulate clerk really did say. Can you imagine putting someone on the front desk who is effectively unintelligible? Unthinkable.
During the course of the evening stay, for whatever reason, J. decided that she needed to call A., the friend who would be picking her up at the airport in Calgary. She contacted the front desk to discuss how they might accomplish this. The front desk said that if she would leave a deposit of 30 pounds (just shy of $60 CDN), they would 'switch on' her phone's international call capabilities for ten minutes. J. went to the lobby desk to hand over the money, passing on her way, a British Telecom pay phone. Once at the desk, she asked instead for change for the pay phone, but the woman behind the desk went to great lengths to assure J. that the 30 pound hotel phone call was the better option. And besides, if the call didn't last the 10 minutes, she would be entitled to a refund. J. went back to her room having paid the deposit. Once back in her room, she discovered that the phone wouldn't work for outgoing calls. It took two trips from the onsite technician to make the darn phone work. Funny how they have an onsite technician... does that tell you anything?
J. is really quite frugal and careful about some things. She set the timer on her watch for 10 minutes, made the call and hung up when her 10 minutes was up. A.'s phone records can actually confirm the time spent on that call.
The next morning J. went to breakfast, then to check out. Now, because she had pre-paid, she could have simply dropped the key in the fast check out box, but being both frugal and honest, she decided to check at the desk to see if she could get some money back, or to pay in case she exceeded the 10 minutes by a minute or two. She was shocked to discover two things. First, she owed 15.95 pounds for the supposedly included breakfast (which was a yoghurt and some fruit), and 168 pounds for a 68 minute phone call. When you factor in the 30 pound deposit she paid, that is 213+ pounds, or $381.82 CDN for a phone call and a breakfast that was complimentary!!! (conversion rates are based on overnight rates: 1 GBP to 1.784 CDN. Thank goodness it wasn't weeks ago when the pound was at 2+.)
It might be deduced that the broken phone that was repaired twice because it wouldn't open an international line then held the line open after she had hung up for an additional 58 minutes. Although, if you assume that there is a 'default' setting on the phone lines (which most digital lines will have), it probably closed down after 60 minutes of inactivity, a nice round number, meaning that J. only used 8 minutes of her time.
There was no reasoning with the staff. There was even the threat that the police would be called. They held J. in a small room, browbeat her, threatened her, delayed her until she was at risk of missing her flight even though they themselves admitted that the phone was probably at fault. But they wanted her money. They scared J., making her ill, and in desperation, she wrote them a cheque. They continued to keep her confined until they could confirm that the cheque had cleared. Obviously they've done this sort of thing before, because they knew how to efficiently process an out-of-country cheque. Interesting for a chain that purports to only handle credit cards and cash.
Our complaints have fallen on deaf ears. In fact, we have received no response at all, not even a confirmation that they have received our messaging. J. has contacted the hotel directly; I have used the complaint form online and sent emails to various high level managers in the UK and North America. They obviously don't give a damn about employees taking advantage of an honest, unwell pregnant woman travelling on her own.
Crowne Plaza Hotels should be ashamed of themselves for the behaviour of their staff. In fact, I suspect and consider this particular little group to be thieves, and definitely extortionists. Should we be concerned that this little cabal has proven that they can extract funds from J.'s bank account?
Please think twice about giving Crowne Plaza and IHG your business in the future. I will be making our corporate travel office aware. We, as a family, won't be doing brunch at the local Crowne Plaza anymore, and I can assure you that the business meetings I have planned for the next quarter will no longer be at a Crowne Plaza, or an IHG subsidiary.
Bloody Crowne Plaza!
Motorcycle ride to Calgary and back
I actually accomplished the rather macho act of riding my motorcycle to Calgary and back. I was quite pleased with how comfortable a ride my motorcycle, a Honda Shadow Aero 750T, was. There were no issues with my back, although my 'sit bones' really started to cause me concern. 'Numb bum' syndrome became quite painful. I gotta get me a better pad for the seat if I'm going to do long rides like that again. My knees were a bit stiff when I got off the bike, but I did try to stop every 100 kilometers or so to keep things limber. I also need to discover the best way to manage the throttle. At one point my hand started to tingle; it was 'going to sleep'.
It all started off with a plan to ride out to Jasper and back during this long weekend, but once I went through the weather forecasts carefully (sailing does teach you some things!) and realized that I am not yet ready to ride through spring snow in the mountains, or protracted bouts of rain on the Yellowhead highway with the accompanying winds, I decided instead to just do a round trip to Calgary and back. At one point, it was to be a ride to Calgary, then loop out to Banff, Louise, Jasper and home. But once the weather forecasts were studied, I decided on a safer and more comfortable course of action.
The reason for the Calgary stopover was to visit with my sister, and to help her get her motorcycle on the road. We're doing that in two steps. Step one was Saturday when we pulled the battery out her bike to charge it up. And that was a bit of a chore. I should have taken a better selection of wrenches with me. In the end we had to go to Blackfoot Motosports to buy a set of socket wrenches and a battery charger. With the proper tools, it was a breeze to pop off the seats, disconnect and then remove the battery. Step Two will be next weekend when I go back to Calgary (in the convertible this time), nominally to pick up Gail at the airport when she returns from the UK. We'll reconnect the charged battery and see what's what.
By the way, the kid behind the counter at Blackfoot Motosports (they're all kids to me, anymore) was really very cool in how he dealt with Kathleen and I. Respectful, helpful, and didn't once point out that we didn't know what the heck we were talking about... a really nice retail experience.
Once the battery was out, my sister headed off to Banff with a friend. I was going to shadow them, but, referencing the weather again, I headed the other way... out to Chestermere and then snaking north. And that was a bit of a challenge, with all the construction, and the gravel roads in the area. I wobbled my way onto Highway 2, then off, then back on... trying to find a comfortable ride, all the way to Red Deer. A temperature drop made up my mind about diverting all the way over to Drumheller, which I probably should have just done, anyway. I had the gear to keep warm; I just didn't put it on. Unfortunately I was on the highway when I passed Lacombe. Its a lovely little town, and I would have liked to have visited it again, but didn't realize that I'd scooted past until it was impractical to make the detour. After missing Lacombe, I did get onto to Highway 2A, and very much enjoyed the scenic route back into Edmonton.
I know that I made the right decision about not going into the mountains. Temperatures were a bit too cool... and yesterday there were high winds and rain coming out of the west. This morning, we've got snow.
One of the things about Alberta is the distances involved, and the straight lines. I think that a ride of that distance would be so much more enjoyable in areas with more frequent population centres, or with a bit more windiness to the roads, and trees and landscape to moderate the wind, and more than just prairie scenery. I know that I can ride the distance now; its about finding a route that appeals to me. I do want to try going into the mountains. So the trick is how to arrange the trip to include Gail. I don't think that she'd enjoy riding on the 'bike with me. But, if she and some friends drove in a car and met me at some predetermined points along the way... hmmmm... something to consider...
Thursday, May 07, 2009
EPSB reverses Superintendent's position
The following was lifted from the EPSB internal bulletin board site:
Superintendent of Schools ends travel restrictions
May 6, 2009 - After reviewing the latest information regarding the H1N1 Influenza outbreak, the Superintendent has suspended all restrictions on staff and student travel.
Effective May 7, the District will allow students and staff to resume air travel within Canada as well as all international field trips and district business trips.
The District will continue to monitor the H1N1 influenza outbreak and is prepared to make additional adjustments should circumstances change in the future.
For the sake of context, be aware that this statement was released after a three hour closed door meeting with the elected School Board Trustees.
Similar action has been taken by the Catholic School Board.
Superintendent of Schools ends travel restrictions
May 6, 2009 - After reviewing the latest information regarding the H1N1 Influenza outbreak, the Superintendent has suspended all restrictions on staff and student travel.
Effective May 7, the District will allow students and staff to resume air travel within Canada as well as all international field trips and district business trips.
The District will continue to monitor the H1N1 influenza outbreak and is prepared to make additional adjustments should circumstances change in the future.
For the sake of context, be aware that this statement was released after a three hour closed door meeting with the elected School Board Trustees.
Similar action has been taken by the Catholic School Board.
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