Category Archives: Commentary

A Little Laugh Turneth Away Wrath, Commentary, Milestones

Changing, Moving, Growing

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IMG_20151004_165227When I realized that change was headed my way, I didn’t realize that it was going to be this intense.

In July, we sold our house in preparation for a move next year. We packed up all our stuff and trucked it to a rental. I whined about that a couple of posts ago.

However, life is not always orderly nor predictable (nor should it be). In late August, the opportunity for a great job came up. I interviewed, and a couple of days later I accepted their offer.

The job was 1000 km. away in the Okanagan Valley of British Columbia. Wine country. Some of the best wine in the world.

Real wine.

I was on my way west (even though I’m not a young man) inside of a week with my car packed to the rafters, my poor Rudy dog parked in a kennel and my dear M left on the prairies to finish up a work contract.

Now I live near all those wine grape vines you see in the top photo.

After finding a long-stay motel to reside in and starting my new job on August 31, I immediately got sick. Go figure.

There was sniffing, snorting, blowing and wheezing. A cough that came out of my bootlaces. A jackhammer headache that doubled in intensity every time I coughed. Aches and pains in my muscles that could have been caused by digging the equivalent of the English Channel tunnel but weren’t. I sounded like a four-pack-a-day, 60-year smoker. If I laughed, I broke into a cough. Sneezing turned into a chain of mini-eruptions with attendant lava flow. I was feverishly hot and cold at the same time.

And through it all, I kept working. New job and all that. I was the queen of hand sanitizer, giant tissues and elbow coughing.

Then it started to go away.

I started to feel better.

I started to get cocky. I’m like that.

Then I started to feel really, really bad. I woke up one morning feeling like I needed to get the bolt in my neck tightened.

Which would have been all fine if my name had been Frankenstein.

But it’s not.

I decided to investigate by taking a look in the bathroom mirror.

I looked like I was wearing a turtleneck sweater with an inflation device inserted into the neck part.

The side of my neck was swollen from my ear to my shoulder and the pain that accompanied it was intense. My tonsils were swollen. My ear ached and crackled. I could hear everything inside my mouth but nothing outside.

A secondary infection had taken up residence. Yum.

It’s still not gone but I’m about to start my second round of antibiotics, for which I am eternally (and internally) grateful.

Nevertheless Continue reading Changing, Moving, Growing →

Commentary, Milestones

Age? What’s Good for Cheese Is Good for People??

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I’m pissed off. About ageism, that is.

I was just at a store picking up some necessaries for my new abode and got treated like a doddering old fool at the till. And the thing is, I’m not much older than that cashier is.

I’ve noticed this more and more lately. The penchant for people to automatically think that I don’t know how to use a debit card. That I have no idea what the internet is. A couple of days ago, I was asked by a bank employee if I use online banking.

“What was that sonny? Speak up! I can’t hear you! Frontline spanking? Is that what you said? You oughtta be ashamed of yourself. What would your mother say if she knew you were talking like that to a customer?” Of course, I was just thinking this. But I felt like saying it. In a loud, high-pitched, whiny voice.

Yikes.

I’ve been using online banking for 15 years. I’ve had a debit card for, I don’t know, probably about 30.

People keep calling me “dear” too. Does getting older automatically imply that I’m in some sort of relationship with you? A few days ago, I politely asked a waiter to stop calling me “dear.” He kept doing it anyway.

People who use that word also have a special voice that goes along with it, too. There’s this patronizing, condescending tone, like they’re talking to a half-deaf half-wit. Just give me some pablum and a glass of warm milk and let me be on my way. Don’t let my clippy clop bother you as I head for the door, if I can find it.

Holy bloody hell.

And another thing is that my husband, who is five years older than me, doesn’t get treated like this.

He’s a guy! He still has all his faculties! His hearing! His virility! His drive! He’s vital and living!

While on the other hand, I have one foot on a banana peel and the other in my grave.

I’ve faced a lot of discrimination in my life. Nowhere near as bad as what some people have had to deal with, but still.

My guidance counsellor in high school told me that I couldn’t be a pilot. (You’re not a guy!)

People gave me suspicious looks when they heard my very French surname. (You’re not English!)

Military combat? (You’re REALLY not a guy.)

But the government says I can, so f**k off.

Yes. I’m 50-something. Yes. I’m female. It doesn’t mean that I live under a rock with only my walker and my knitting for company. And, I’m not a cheese.

So get with it, “youngsters.” Just treat us older people like … well, like people.

Have you faced ageism in action?

Commentary, Milestones

When You Move House, Don’t Forget to Pack Your Brain

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I once read somewhere that moving house is the third or fourth most stressful thing you can do. I’ve moved before, but for some reason, it didn’t seem as stressful as it does this time. Maybe that’s because I’m older. The joints and muscles don’t work as well as they once did, and as a result, everything takes longer and is more tiring. 😦

The other thing is that last time, I was just moving me, and I hadn’t accumulated much stuff. Now there’s two of us, and I’ve been here for six years and I’ve managed to collect an impressive array of stuff that I didn’t have when I lived in a condo.

A complete set of garden furniture, including arm chairs and a chaise. A vast assortment of hoses, rakes, shovels and other garden implements and tools. Two rain water barrels. A garden gnome. Bags of drought-resistant grass seed. A weird instrument that looks like a mini-oil well driller but I have no idea where I got it or what it’s for.

You find stuff like this when you’re moving. Questions like, what am I keeping this for? And, what is this for? keep popping up. And let’s not forget that ureka moment when you realize that you’ve just found something that you’ve been looking for for ten months.

Yesterday, M called me out to the garage to ask me if I wanted to keep the rain barrels. It felt like answering that question might take two sessions with a therapist.

We have cartons and packing paper and bubble wrap everywhere.

It took nearly three days to pack up our rather large collection of china and wine glasses.

And, just for added excitement, we’re deciding what needs to be packed up for next summer’s move and what needs to stay out. Because …

right now, we are only moving across town to a rental house.

Next July, after my last year in my present job, we are moving to another part of the country.

As a result, I’m not doing a very good job of keeping up with my reader, or with much of anything else outside of this move, either.

I actually think today might be my birthday, too. But I’m not sure. It’s also entirely possible that I’m a Justin Bieber fan, as well. Er – no. I don’t think I’ve lost it that much. Have I?

So wish me luck, because if my brain falls out and lands in the wrong packing box, I might not find it until next year.

As you know, misery loves company. Do you have any moving stories to tell?

A Little Laugh Turneth Away Wrath, Commentary

Jitter All the Way

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I’m not a morning person, but even if I was, I would still love coffee. Strong coffee. Turkish coffee. Arabic coffee. Cafe mocha. To me, coffee has all the nuance and complexity of a good wine.

Unless it’s plonk coffee.

And I know that this is some sort of national heresy, but when I think plonk, Tim Horton’s springs to mind. Well, it doesn’t spring. Their coffee has all the kick of grandpa’s walker.

Coffee is one of the best times of the day, even if it does mean that I’m propped up somewhere instead of sleeping.

Coffee has done a lot for me, too. For one thing, it has kept me awake enough to be employed. For another, it’s probably saved me from countless charges of road rage and the like.

Without coffee, I’d be unemployed and in jail. It’s amazing what coffee can do.

But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve become sensitive to it. Which is weird, because it seems like everything else is desensitizing. I don’t see as well. I don’t hear as well. Calories arrive and take up permanent residence anywhere they can find a squat. I consider it to be a good day if I don’t wake up to another sag.

It used to be that coffee would never keep me awake, no matter what time I drank it. Then I couldn’t drink it in the evenings. Then I noticed that the afternoons were problematic. Then I noticed that it could make me a little shaky. Drinking coffee all day became a thing of the past.

Mornings, though. Those were sacrosanct.

So this morning while sitting at work, I noticed a slight tremor in my hands. I also felt a little jittery. As I reached for my coffee, I realized that I was consuming my fourth large cup. Could my hands and the coffee be related???

My cup holds a quarter of a litre.

Oh oh. Was I on my way to drinking a litre of coffee a morning??? Oi.

I thought about it. I thought, I don’t usually drink this much coffee.

Then I thought, yes I do.

Shit.

And no, I don’t mean poo-poop-de-do civet coffee, either.

However.

I’m not giving up coffee. I’ll cut back, but I’m not giving it up.

While I was thinking about it, I decided that there’s some other stuff I’m not giving up.

Chocolate.

Steak.

Red wine.

Maybe the odd cigar.

You’ll have to pry this stuff from my cold shaking hands.

Well okay, okay. Maybe I will have to sort of give it up at some time.

But never completely.

What will you never give up?

 

Commentary, Narcissism - One Woman's True Story of Marriage to a Narcissist

Narcissism’s Emotional Fallout

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I’ve noticed from time to time a tendency on some of the narcissism blogs that I read, for people to get a little testy about the things said about narcissism, narcissists and their victims. I have experienced testy commentary a couple of times and in one case, an outright angry response to a comment that I made – an accusation that I didn’t understand narcissism, that I didn’t know what I was talking about, that I didn’t know what it is like to be a victim.

Initially, I was hurt by the remark. I took it personally.

Reading, writing and thinking about narcissism is an emotional and arduous task. It requires a great deal of work, very difficult work that takes time, effort and sometimes, money.

When I first separated from my ex-narcissist, I went for counselling. I was fortunate on several fronts. First, I had a health care account that allowed me to cover the cost of counselling. Secondly, I had an excellent counsellor. And last, but not least, I had very supportive people in my life.

I moved on. I started a new relationship with a man to whom I am now married. My life is good, better than it has ever been, in fact.

I also started this blog. Initially, it was only about narcissism, but as I recovered and grew,  I moved on to other subjects, too.

I still write about narcissism, obviously. I still read about narcissism. I still think about narcissism. A lot.

I have realized, too, that my recovery is not complete, and that it likely never will be. I am still processing many things about narcissism, and have also come to the realization that my mom was probably also a narcissist. That means that I may be an ACON, or an adult child of a narcissist(s).

This has opened an entire other door for me. One that I didn’t consciously know was there. It was a surprise, but also not a surprise.

I knew that something was wrong, but I thought it was always my fault. I spent a great deal of time trying to “fix” myself.

But what I know now is that I’m mostly okay. I have tendencies to behave in certain ways that I learned when I was a child. I am slowly getting that some of these “behaviours” are actually just reactions.

I am taking the time to slowly process a somewhat difficult childhood that lead to some rather shitty decisions on my part. I’m finally starting to really see that I am in charge now, that my decisions are my own and my responsibility.

My pronounced childhood stutter is almost entirely gone.

I don’t take testy commentary personally any more.

Dealing with and processing narcissism is work. And like any other work, it can be frustrating, boring and tiresome. But this work also demands a great deal of intense emotional investment. It’s draining and exhausting.

So, people who are deeply processing can make comments that come out of an emotional hole. They can sound waspish and bitter, or even ridiculous and idiotic. They may be grief-stricken or preachy. And, they may be making the same comment for the 3,405th time because they still can’t believe it and still have to say it. And that’s okay, too.

Repetition can be the mother of recovery.

And recovery is what many of us are here for, right?

Commentary

Things I Learned from Rudy

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My sweetie Rudy My sweetie Rudy

Rudy is my dog. Well, he’s technically my son’s dog, but he has lived with me for most of his life. Rudy readily adopted M into his pack and now hates it when M is away. Recently, he also adopted B, M’s son.

Rudy is an amazing dog. And he’s about to turn 15. We’re not sure exactly when he’s turning 15 because he was an SPCA dog. But it’s within the next three months, most likely around the end of February or beginning of March. Rudy is in excellent health and is still living a full life. His hearing and eyesight are not quite what they used to be and he’s got a little arthritis, but those things aren’t holding him back at all.

So in honour of Rudy’s 15th birthday, and in honour of the fabulous guy that he is, I’m going to share with you some of the wisdom that I’ve learned from Rudy over the years.

1. Go for a walk every day. If there’s mud, snow, or deer poo, play in it. (Actually, you can skip the deer poo.)

2.  You sleep better when you’re with your pack.

3. Grow your pack whenever you can.

4. Always wag your tail and show your pack how much you missed them.

5. Be sure to use your bark sparingly, but don’t be afraid to use it if the zombies come.

6. One invitation can negate seven rejections. (No matter how often Rudy is kicked out of the kitchen, he completely forgets the moment he’s invited in for a tasty tidbit!)

7. Demonstrate your loyalty without reservation.

8. Enjoy your food, especially your vegetables. (Rudy loves broccoli, asparagus and peas.)

9.  Roll over and get your tummy scratched as often as you can.

10. Be polite to the other dogs, even if you don’t like them.

11. Going somewhere, anywhere, is a wonderful thing.

12. If someone tells you you’re great, lap it up and wag your tail in appreciation.

13. Grumble if you think the humans are being unfair. They might change their minds. 😉

14. If you need to lick your butt, don’t worry about what others might think.

15. Remember that you bring great joy and pleasure to life. 💜

You’ve brought great joy and pleasure to my  life.

 

Commentary

Another Health Update, Again

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First, I have to apologize to my readers and to the people I follow for having been incommunicado for a while here. I will catch up with all of you, I promise, but it will take me a while.

So, what was I doing? Well, I was off being an introvert after I was surprised with the news that I actually wasn’t out of the woods with my heart-health after all.

And, I was doing as introverts do. I wasn’t depressed, but definitely worried and befuddled. Quietly freaking out is probably a better description. But introverts need time to absorb information, turn it over in their minds, and think carefully about whatever it is. And I took the time to do just that.

The history of this is that after my “all clear,” one of the specialists called me to his office and told me that upon further investigation, my tests actually showed that I likely had had a heart attack and that there was also heart disease of some sort, as well. Ischemia, they call it. If that isn’t a scary name, then I don’t know what is. Inside you, your own body is scheming against you. Great.

He told me that I had to have another test. This time, a definitive one. An angiogram. A cardiologist sticks a probe into an artery in the arm or leg, then enters the heart and takes a look all around to see what’s going on. Yum.

I couldn’t wait to have this done but at the same time, I didn’t want it done at all.

In the meantime, I had to wait. So I decided to put my health first and foremost.

I walked and did mild exercise.

I read about my condition.

I took appropriate supplements.

I worked at keeping my weight down and eating a mostly green veggie and fruit diet.

I religiously took my myriad of prescription medications, including the one whose chief side effect is weight gain. Isn’t there a story in here somewhere? Ah yes, here it is:

Specialist (aka, God): You need to lose 10 kilos. (For the metrically challenged, that’s 22 lbs.)

Me: Won’t that be hard to do if I’m taking this stuff that causes weight gain?

Specialist: (consults ceiling and gives every impression of an imminent ascension into heaven) What stuff?

Me: This medication. Metoprolol.

Specialist: What about it?

Me: It causes weight gain.

Specialist: Make sure you start losing some weight, now. See you next month.

See what I mean? I think his real name must be Dr. Kafka.

Anyway, I tried to remain calm while I waited for six weeks for this next test. Easily said, not easily done.

Finally, test day arrived. I was on a ward mainly comprised of men who were in varying stages of getting the bad news about their heart conditions. My anxiety began to climb but I tried valiantly to keep my mind off the situation.

Then they wheeled me into their chamber. Lots of monitors, tubes, straps, needles and stuff that was completely unidentifiable but scary nevertheless.

They gave me a sort of twilighty drug that actually didn’t work because I was completely awake the entire time and trying to see the cardiologist’s monitors. Which I couldn’t, of course, because they were placed so that he had a good view, not me. And besides, I don’t know what that would have accomplished anyway – I wouldn’t have known what I was looking at! But human nature being what it is …

So they stuck their mobile forward observer’s post in my wrist and I felt it slide past my shoulder. Then … nothing. Ten minutes of waiting while I thought I was going to crawl right out of my own skin.

A young man’s face leaning over mine – the cardiologist in training – and the immortal words: “Your arteries are pristine.” No ischemia.  No heart attack. No damage of any kind.

I gave M the big thumbs up as they wheeled me back to the ward for a couple of hours of recovery. I couldn’t stop grinning. I couldn’t stop smiling. I couldn’t stop feeling grateful. The next day was my birthday and I couldn’t have had a better present.

It turns out that my heart went a little glitchy because I did too much physical activity on a hot day and a nerve in there started to act out. It’s what the techs who originally tested my heart had thought – nothing really wrong.

I can actually have this nerve fixed if there’s any more trouble from it, but right now I’m just going to wait.

That gives me time to think. I think about the men on that ward that day who didn’t get good news. I wonder about how they’re doing. I wonder about the two cardiologists. One who told me that I’d likely had a heart attack and was suffering from clogged arteries. One who proved that I wasn’t. I think anout the friendly nurse who coached me on keeping my arteries pristine. I think about my M, who sat beside me the entire time.

I am grateful.

Commentary

A Happy Health Update

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I had the last of the tests on my heart yesterday, and the techs and the supervising cardiac specialist indicated to me that they couldn’t see any damage from the period of dysrhythmia that I experienced! Yay! 🙂

A bonus is that they couldn’t find any underlying problem that might have caused the dysrhythmia in the first place! Yay yay!!

I can’t tell you what a relief that was. Or maybe many of you have experienced something similar.

So, the way I understand it, some nerve endings in my heart misfired for some reason. This had never happened before, and there’s a good chance that it may never happen again.

It was likely just a glitch. In the scheme of health things, a very small one. And I’ll talk to the cardiac specialist about all this stuff when I have an office appointment with him.

But this little glitch forced me to re-evaluate many things; to be more mindful. I feel like I’ve got a second chance.

My husband is presently commuting to his new job that is four hours away. We only see each other a couple of days a week. Do we really want to keep doing that?

Do I want to stay in a job – I’m a high school teacher – that’s incredibly stressful and is “lead” by some of the most dogmatic, short-sighted, otherwise-unemployable people anywhere? I have one year left. The pragmatic decision is to stay. That way, the numbers will work out much better.

After many years as a private pilot, I have prepared a second career as a professional pilot. By the grace of someone or something, this issue with my heart is unlikely to affect my long-term medical status with respect to this career. Again, the pragmatic decision is to wait for a year before starting it.

My deep-down sense is that stress caused this situation in the first place.

But I have to be able to live my life, too. I can’t act like a delicate hothouse flower. I never was one of those and can’t see any value in starting that now.

Maybe I’m just talking about living a more balanced life, and the big question for me is how to do that.

What about you? Have you faced a situation where you’ve had to re-evaluate how you live your life? Have you felt like you’ve had a second chance? How have you handled it? 

 

Commentary

Death Takes a Holiday

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So I’m stuck in the hospital.

I don’t think it’s too serious but suffice it to say that my heart became a little glitchy on Tuesday morning. Officially, what happened is called supraventrical dysrythmia. Great name, huh? What this means is that electricity wasn’t passing properly through my heart and caused a weak, crazily fast rhythm. Would have outdone the “zoom zoom” kid on the Toyota ads.

It was a really nasty experience. Especially the medication they gave me that stopped my heart and restarted it. When they said that I would momentarily feel like I was dying, they were right.

But the EMTs and emergency people really  were fabulous. Without them, I might not be here.

I even got to ride in an ambulance.

Don’t know how long I will be here in hospital, but I’m taking it in stride, even if it can be a little tedious. At the same time, I also realize that I need to be here, to rest and recuperate.

I also realize that I’m re- assessing, too. Stuff that seemed so important three days ago no longer seems very important at all.

I have been tested, poked and prodded and there’s more coming.

But one great thing is that I’ve spent some real quality time with WordPress, reading and reading while at the same time just being taken care of.

From that perspective, it’s been great.

The idea of having time has been great.

There’s nothing like an acute encounter with death to refocus you on the important stuff.

I’m glad he was on holiday.

Commentary

Away for a Few Days

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Hi everyone! So I’m going to be away for a few days and won’t be reading posts.

But never fear! Like Arnie Schwarzenegger, I’ll be back. Yup. I know. Some of you would love it if he would just retire, period. Maybe some of you would like for me to retire, too. 😉

But as usual, I digress.

I’m studying tomorrow and Wednesday for a big test and then I’ll have to catch up at work, and then my dear M and I will be travelling until about the middle of next week.

I look forward to catching up with everyone when I get back – I don’t want to miss any of the great stuff that I know all of you will be writing.

And maybe I might even have time to write a post or two.

In the meantime, Happy Valentine’s Day! 🙂

Don’t forget about it!