Monday Morning Musings

Posted on March 18, 2019 under Monday Morning Musings with one comment


Missed step misstep (with thanks to DMD).

The anatomy of health care.

I had a firsthand look at the health care system this week. Unfortunately it was as a participant. From all accounts, health care across Canada is not all that healthy. Many people don’t have a family doctor. There are long lineups at Emergency departments and long wait lists for many procedures. It is increasingly difficult to attract GP’s and specialists to rural Canada. An aging population will continue to put enormous strains on the system for at least another thirty years until the Baby Boomers “go gently into that good night”.

Last Wednesday, I was coming down a set of stairs. I had my guitar on my back, my songbooks in my hands and my mind in the clouds. Stairs are one of those many things that challenge those of us with progressive lenses. I missed the bottom step. My left leg (with a surgically repaired knee on three occasions) extended, planted and my knee went sideways. It was indeed a missed step misstep.

That evening, I ended up at the Emergency Department at our local hospital. My wife piled me into the back seat of our car like a 50 pound bag of spuds. You know you’re in for a long haul when the reception area and triage room are both “full to the gunwales”. We knew we were in for a long evening.

For two hours, it resembled the Brierly Brook jammed with ice. Nothing was moving. More people were arriving but no one was being called. Some people had already been there for several hours. I have a cursory understanding of the Emergency department. I fully realize that it is not a first come, first serve operation. They take the most serious cases first which is what you would want if you arrived with a serious problem.

We met some lovely people including a mother with a five year old daughter who were superstars. They waited five hours before being seen and neither uttered a single complaint the entire time. You could sense the frustration mounting around the room.

At 11:30 p.m. and with no end in sight, we finally bailed and went home.

The following morning, I called my family doctor’s office and they were able to take me immediately. There are many things I don’t take for granted. Having a family doctor is one of them. In the next few years, there’s going to be a huge exit of family physicians in our town and everywhere across the country. In many cities and towns, having a family doctor is a luxury.

My family doctor was able to get an appointment the next morning in Halifax with arguably one of the best orthopedic surgeons in Canada, Dr.Bill Stanish. Bill did the three previous surgeries on my knee. We had a great chat (he’s extremely personable) and I was relieved to hear that I had only ruptured my quadriceps muscle. Of all the possible outcomes, this was probably the best I could have hoped for. I have a partial tear. I couldn’t believe my ears when he told me that the best physiotherapy was walking! He believes I will heal in time to do the Camino in early May. He also suggested that I use a cane for support. I wish I had been quicker when he mentioned this. I would have replied “I will use a cane if I’m able.” If you’re not a Christian you might have to ask somebody who is.

Despite the understandable wait at Emergency, I would rate the overall service I received as exceptional. As battered and bruised as our health care system appears, it is still better than most.

I mentioned this in an earlier post. I am going to do a book give away at People’s Place Library from March 25-31. My first three books will be available at the main desk. For those who are able, you can make a donation to the library. On Saturday, the 30th. I will be at the library from noon until 2:00 p.m. to do some storytelling and music. I’ll also talk about book publishing. I’m no expert but after self-publishing four books, I know some of the dos and don’ts… especially the don’ts!

Have a great week. Watch where you’re walking!!!

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Thursday Tidbits

Posted on March 14, 2019 under Thursday Tidbits with no comments yet


“Kick a stone down the road,

Run and catch the wind”

Run and Catch the Wind – Up With People

Are you forever reliving childhood memories? Are you trying to find a sand dollar on the beach? Are you building the most amazing snow fort ever? Are you holding a daisy pondering the imponderable: “she loves me, she loves me not?” Are you climbing a tree hoping to pluck an apple from the branches? Are you playing “red rover” with your best friends?

It must be a sure sign of oncoming senility but lately I find myself having all these weird flashbacks from my youth. I try my damndest to live in the present, with an eye on the future but the past always seems to lurk nearby. Maybe it is a form of escapism when the world seems to be going crazy. It all seemed so simple back then.

I might have been (?) the strangest kid ever. Am I now the strangest adult ever?

Did you ever kick a stone down the road? In my youth, for some unexplained reason, a stone lying haplessly on the road would become the object of my obsession. I had to kick it in front of me and see how far I could go before the stone would wander off the road or over an embankment. I am certain that there is an entire psychiatry course dedicated to this phenomenon.

The tragedy in all of this is that I find myself doing this again but because it’s winter, I am kicking chunks of ice along the streets of my hometown. Is this simply ennui or some deep seeded character flaw? The other day, on a long walk, I kicked a small mass of hardened ice from the Irving station on the Post Road almost all the way to the lights at the Superstore. As this would be considered “local knowledge” at the golf course, the distance would be about 400 hundred yards or approximately 365.76 meters, for you out of towners.

This past Sunday, after a few hours of watching golf and basketball at the same time (a distinctly male sickness) and feeling the need for fresh air to resuscitate my addled brain, I went out for a brief evening walk. The sidewalks were mostly clear but there were still many icy patches to be navigated. I don’t fear Kim Jong-Un as much as I fear a fall on the ice. I have had dozens of those close calls when you can feel yourself slipping but just catch yourself at the last possible moment. Your heart races a bit faster and you tell yourself to be more careful.

I wasn’t far from home and the sidewalk on which I was strolling was basically bare concrete. But wouldn’t you know, there in the middle of the sidewalk was a fairly large chunk of ice that was yelling at me to kick it. It was the perfect size. I looked in both directions to make sure there were no street cams to catch my lunacy.

“The first cut is the deepest.” Cat Stevens.

The first kick is the most important one. You want to kick the ice directly ahead of you. You can extend this game longer if you’re a straight shooter.

A funny thing happened. You can’t kick the ice too hard or it will disintegrate nor can you be too gentle. My first attempt was short and swift. The toe of my boot made contact with the ice.

Are you familiar with the irresistible force paradox? You know, the one about what happens when an unstoppable force meets an unmovable object.

The chunk of ice was unmovable. I wasn’t. I could feel my body being hurtled forward by the laws of gravity. I was spinning out of control and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. I landed sideways hitting the hard concrete, first with my arm and then my knee. Battered and bruised, I picked myself up, once again looking around me to see if anyone had witnessed my folly. On a dark Sunday evening, on a poorly lit side street, I needn’t have worried.

I knew I hadn’t broken anything but could feel a distinct stinging sensation on my knee cap. On the completion of my walk, I discovered that most of the skin on my knee had been neatly removed by the sidewalk. I wasn’t going to say anything to my wife but wanted to make certain that I didn’t aggravate the situation by not taking proper medical treatment.

When summer arrives and apples appear on the neighbor’s tree, I will curtail the urge to climb it to shake one loose.




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Monday Morning Musings

Posted on March 11, 2019 under Monday Morning Musings with 3 comments


Living and dying.

I’m spending a lot of time lately at a local nursing home doing music. Some people think that I’m just scouting out a room when I reach an advanced age. I’m hoping that 67 doesn’t qualify as advanced!

I’m thrilled to have found something that keeps me engaged. A lot of retirees go into a deep funk when their work careers are over. They transition from being wanted and needed in the workplace to a life filled with free time. Some people have no trouble filling their hours with pursuits that they put on the back burner during their working lives. However, many others become sedentary and fill their days watching endless hours of television or surfing the net.

Living doesn’t just mean existing.

Dying is a little trickier. I’m not talking about sudden tragic deaths like the seven young Syrians who perished in a fire recently or a spate of deaths of young adults in my sphere in the past few years. These passings are incomprehensible and leave sadness in their wake for years to come.

Nursing homes are interesting places. My guess is that most of the residents in any given nursing home wouldn’t have chosen an institution to spend their golden years. But many families have discovered that a time comes when their loved one cannot properly be taken care of at home.

In my younger years, I thought a nursing home was a place to go and die but I have changed my tune during my many music sessions. Many elderly people have been robbed of their memory but not memories. They can still remember every word of a war era song. They can still put their fingers in warm soil and plant flowers. They can produce evocative pieces of art. The Tall and Small Café currently has an exhibit of paintings from the RK MacDonald Nursing home residents.

There’s still a lot of living going on.

And there’s dying.

Death awaits us all. I have opined on more than one occasion in this space about death and dying. I am no Elisabeth Kubler Ross. Lately I have had the privilege of sharing times with families whose loved ones are at the end of their earthly journey. There is no question that there is sadness but sprinkled among the tears is storytelling, laughter and music.

My preference would be to die in Las Vegas clutching the last loonie I own at the age of 99. But if I end up getting a bed in a nursing home and spend my final days there, I won’t be terribly disappointed. I know I will be surrounded by a competent and caring staff and hopefully family and friends who will take a few well pointed shots at me before I “slip the surly bonds of earth”.

“It’s only when we truly know and understand that we have a limited time on earth- and that we have no way of knowing when our time is up, we will then begin to live each day to the fullest, as if it was the only one we had.” Elisabeth Kubler Ross.


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