I can’t believe it’s Friday again–where on earth does the week go?
This week I had wonderful intentions–I would get up early every morning, would clean my home and do all the laundry that cried out to be washed and dried and would even tackle a few rooms that needed to be purged of a LOT of crap that my husband and I had accumulated over the years (or that my son and daughter have dropped off here over the years).
But I didn’t do any of the above. Okay, I had what I considered to be a productive day on Monday–I did some writing, worked on my website-in-progress (check it out at http://www.sylviamorice.com), cooked a roast beef with oven roasted potatoes and carrots for supper,
wasted a lot of time researched many things on the internet and viewed a possible venue for my daughter’s upcoming wedding in August. Monday was a pretty good day overall.
Tuesday was not so great. Tuesday morning I woke up with terrible pains in my abdomen. Now, given my history of abdominal problems, including but not limited to a perforated colon that resulted in an emergency colon resection and a subsequent temporary colostomy five years ago, plus an emergency appendectomy two years ago I am not a stranger to abdominal pain. I have been there before, have traveled down that road, have read all the brochures and have worn the t-shirt for weeks on end; I am not a fan of abdominal pain.
But I am even less a fan of going to the hospital because of abdominal pain…so I try to put it off and I will continue to try to put it off…if possible, forever.
I got up Tuesday in pain, aware that my girlfriend (who lives about two hours away) was planning on driving to my home for supper and to spend the night before heading to Halifax, Nova Scotia the next morning to visit her daughter and grand-daughter. I knew that I had to prepare a bedroom for her, clean the main bathroom and at least vacuum the main level of my home before she arrived (did I mention that I’ve been under-the-weather with a bad virus since New Years Day and that my home saw better days when it was still just a gleam in a builder’s eye)? I had no idea how I would accomplish any of those tasks facing me, because just in case you missed this point, I was in pain.
But, being the stoic eastern Canadian that I am, I persevered. I managed to strip the bed in my daughter’s room, throw the sheets into the washer and find clean sheets in the hall closet (never mind that the bottom sheet was ‘queen-sized’ while the top sheet was ‘full’)–once I tucked the bottom sheet under the double bed mattress no one could tell that it was actually too big for its britches…and the top sheep fit perfectly.
I sprayed the tub, toilet and sink (then stretched out on the living room sofa for a few minutes while the foam worked its magic), scrubbed the tub with a sponge and the toilet with a brush (then stretched out on the living room sofa for a few more minutes) and then cleaned the sink and mirror (then stretched out on the living room sofa for quite a few more minutes).
Just the vacuuming left to do. Oh–and the kitchen. My kitchen (as my girlfriend so delicately put it Tuesday night when she arrived, “Looked like a war zone!”).
I managed to finish the vacuuming, but didn’t have any strength left in me to tackle my Kandahar kitchen. It would have to remain a war-zone, full of dirty pots and pans that wouldn’t fit into the dishwasher or under the cupboard beside the sink. I was wiped out and the dirty pots would remain dirty pots for any and all to see.
Forty-five minutes before I figured my friend would arrive I received a call from a repairman that I had been waiting to hear from for over a week. He could be at my home in half an hour, he said…would that be okay?
“That would be fine”, I said, and I headed to my bedroom to exchange my loose lounger (which I was wearing because of my afore-mentioned abdominal pains) for a pair of pants and a top. When the repairman arrived I was ready for him–my pants were hanging low on my tummy, my top was covering everything possible there was to cover and I was holding my left side because of the pain, but I was ready.
My girlfriend arrived at exactly the same time as the repairman (is there a Murphy’s Law for this–that two people who don’t know each other will arrive at exactly the same time at the same location and cause bedlam?); she was safe and sound from her winter drive with her Schnoodle (a cross between a Schnauzer and a Poodle) at her side and a smile on her face; I didn’t even greet her at the door.
Twenty years ago this would have bothered me more than it did this week, and I confess, it did bother me. But twenty years ago I would have tried to clone myself so that I could be with the repairman in the basement while he studied my delinquent air exchanger AND be with my girlfriend when she carried her stuff into my home. I would have at least made sure she had a drink in her hand before I left her alone. I would have hid the pots and pans in the oven or in my bedroom closet and would have tried to keep from my good friend the fact that I was in severe pain, but thankfully, I seem to be maturing of late.
My son helped her unpack her car and carry her suitcase and doggy bed and treats into the house while I invited the repairman to follow me downstairs to look at my air exchanger.
My girlfriend, in the meantime, scrounged around my kitchen and found a couple of stainless steel bowls for Kiera (the Schnoodle) to eat and drink out of, and at the same time declared my kitchen to be ‘a war zone’.
“What happened to your kitchen?” she said, when I spoke to her in-between the repairman saying, “Wow, this machine is BIG–it must be old,” and him saying, “Throwing good money after bad…so many people do that when they should just bite the bullet and replace the entire unit.” I confess that I was ready to bite ANY bullet by this time, even if it was a bullet that was in my own gun!
Okay–long story shorter than it could be if I decided to drag it out for the sake of effect, my friend decided NOT to spend the night with me; the weather was predicting a severe storm for the next morning and she deemed it prudent to head to her daughter’s home while the going was good. Plus, she said I looked like crap. Gotta love her–she tells it like it is and I always know that she won’t BS me.
She reloaded her car and after a couple of hugs she left for Nova Scotia. Half an hour later the air exchange repairman retreated too and ten minutes after that I crawled into my bed. Ahhhh. What a good feeling to lie down.
I felt bad because I knew that my son and daughter were extremely worried about me and I knew that my friend was extremely worried about me; I’m not sure about the repairman. He was nice and we had a lovely chat where I found out that he lives on a farm and has two horses that he rode until he broke his neck last year and hopes to ride again later this year but like his doctor said, “Look what killed Superman?”, so he’s not 100% certain about the riding again part. Finding out about his life is one thing; sharing my medical history with a repairman the first time we meet, no matter how nice he seems to be, is quite another. Maybe on his next visit if the air exchanger acts up again or if I decide to have a heat pump installed in my home (I also found out that he installs heat pumps and puts together modular homes and works on chimneys and wood stoves).
I promised everyone (except the repairman), that I would call my doctor’s office and make an appointment, and I tried…I really, really tried. But when I called on Wednesday I got an answering machine message saying the office was closed until Thursday afternoon and when I called Thursday afternoon the line continued to be busy. When I finally did get through I got the answering machine again saying the office is closed until MONDAY afternoon–no wonder so many of us are concerned about the state of Canada’s healthcare system!
But the good news for now is that I’m feeling better again. The pain has subsided, my friend is planning to drop in on Sunday on her way back home and I think my air exchanger is actually exchanging air the way it’s supposed to. All is right in my little corner of the world today.
Oh–if you happen to need the name and number of a good repairman, drop me a note–I can probably even give you directions to his farm!