I've just experienced an unexpected event just two days ago.
My husband, who is being followed closely by a very talented and knowledgeable endocrinologist due to his being a type 2 diabetic, went to his routine appointment on Thursday. Now, it has to be said here before I continue that just prior to the appointment, which was scheduled at 1:00 pm, he stopped for lunch at a Thai restaurant, and ate one of their hot and filling soups. Being only March 17th, and the weather having been very cold, he was wearing a heavy winter jacket. That day, however, the temperature reached 10oC (50oF), and the doctor's office, which is at the hospital, was a ten-minute walk.
In the office, the doctor was very happy with his continued good glucose count, weight loss and fantastic blood pressure (121/77). Then she took his pulse, and found that he was sweaty; when she listened to his heart beats, it seems that the beats were irregular. In fact, it seemed to have a long hop-skip ratio. She wondered why he was so sweaty, and how come his heart beats were so irregular. Being the careful investigator that she is, she immediately hospitalized him.
Next thing you know, he's in an ICU area, attached to an electro-cardiogram machine, with an IV in which she prescribed a drug that forced the heart beats to regulate. He was kept overnight at the hospital, which completely sent the family into a loop. We had no idea he had been admitted, only finding out just before dinner time.
In the end, his heartbeat turned out to be regular, and before he was released he was prescribed the medication that is supposed to force his heart beats to be regular. The cardiologist prescribed a medication that is known to have severe side effects, such as unexpected bleeding. OK, this is where our being informed came in handy.
The cardiologist assumed that he had high blood pressure; wrong! She assumed as a diabetic, his blood has a tendency to clot; wrong! He is already taking medication to keep his blood from thickening. He had a close call with death eight years ago with vasculitis that almost killed him. He was bleeding internally, and the healthcare professionals had a difficult time getting him back to normal. Why would he take a medication that can cause him to bleed?
Anyway, he refused the medication, and this seemed to send the doctor into shock. It was the cardiologist's duty to explain to him the risks he was taking by not accepting this drug. And the facts she was mentioning could have been very scary, had we not been so informed on the side effects of certain medications.
Did he take the right decision? Well, he hasn't started on the medication he was prescribed for regulating the heart beats. He's been home exactly 28 hours, and he has not felt those palpitations.
After thinking about why all this started, we came to this conclusion. We take resveratrol, which helps to energize and rejuvenate cells; we also have been having up to the equivalent of five cups of coffee per day, and he exercises almost every day. We believe the caffeine and energy that the resveratrol provides combined is causing the heart a bit too much energy.
Are we right? Are we wrong? Don't know, but we are not taking anything that might cause more problems than resolve them. Thank you.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Winter vacation... continued
I haven't posted since January 15, part 1 of my first winter vacation. So, here goes part 2.
As I mentioned earlier, our first winter vacation did not turn out to be what we had planned or expected. After experiencing a severe strain to my right ankle on the ship, my husband and I realised that the whole dynamic of our cruise experience had changed.
At first, we thought we would have to return home as soon as possible, however, since we would be reaching our first port stop on the fourth day, and that leaving for home on a flight would only be possible by day seven, Gerry and I decided that we might as well stay on the ship, and return home once we reached Baltimore.
I have to say the ship's staff was just wonderful. They did the best they could to make me comfortable. Being in a splint and in a wheelchair brought a whole different perspective to being a guest on a ship. My poor husband had to lug the chair around the whole time, and not all doorways on the ship are built to fit the width of a wheelchair; ironically the doorway to the ship's clinic was too small. I had to get out of the chair so my husband could fold it, cross to the other side, and I hobbled back into it.
The first port was a private island in Haiti. Since it's an island that the cruise company owns, it was built to receive people with mobility problems. Gerry was able to push me around on the beautiful island, and then with the use of my ill-fitting crutches, I spent the whole day sitting in a beach chair, under and sun tent, with my leg in a splint, and watching other people enjoy the sun, sand and water. My husband took a picture of me once I was settled under a sun tent, in a beach chair, facing the gorgeous turquoise sea. Both my arms are in the air, and I exclaimed, 'Just what I wanted, come to the Caribbean to sit under a tent, and remain white!'
I only got to enjoy a very small portion of the other port stops. When I did leave the ship, it was only for a short time, and returned on board. My husband did not want to leave me alone for fear that I would not be able to get around the ship by myself. He was mostly right, but I did convince him to take an afternoon excursion in Tortola, BVI. He went reluctantly, but when he returned in late afternoon he looked more relaxed. I spent the afternoon on our room's balcony with a puzzle book, a bottle of water and almonds.
If there is a lesson in this trip it's that if you're walking around unfamiliar territory, such as the ship in this case, make sure you don't get caught off guard by dark carpeted areas that have a step that seems to blend in.
Has this soured me on cruising? Not one bit!
As I mentioned earlier, our first winter vacation did not turn out to be what we had planned or expected. After experiencing a severe strain to my right ankle on the ship, my husband and I realised that the whole dynamic of our cruise experience had changed.
At first, we thought we would have to return home as soon as possible, however, since we would be reaching our first port stop on the fourth day, and that leaving for home on a flight would only be possible by day seven, Gerry and I decided that we might as well stay on the ship, and return home once we reached Baltimore.
I have to say the ship's staff was just wonderful. They did the best they could to make me comfortable. Being in a splint and in a wheelchair brought a whole different perspective to being a guest on a ship. My poor husband had to lug the chair around the whole time, and not all doorways on the ship are built to fit the width of a wheelchair; ironically the doorway to the ship's clinic was too small. I had to get out of the chair so my husband could fold it, cross to the other side, and I hobbled back into it.
The first port was a private island in Haiti. Since it's an island that the cruise company owns, it was built to receive people with mobility problems. Gerry was able to push me around on the beautiful island, and then with the use of my ill-fitting crutches, I spent the whole day sitting in a beach chair, under and sun tent, with my leg in a splint, and watching other people enjoy the sun, sand and water. My husband took a picture of me once I was settled under a sun tent, in a beach chair, facing the gorgeous turquoise sea. Both my arms are in the air, and I exclaimed, 'Just what I wanted, come to the Caribbean to sit under a tent, and remain white!'
I only got to enjoy a very small portion of the other port stops. When I did leave the ship, it was only for a short time, and returned on board. My husband did not want to leave me alone for fear that I would not be able to get around the ship by myself. He was mostly right, but I did convince him to take an afternoon excursion in Tortola, BVI. He went reluctantly, but when he returned in late afternoon he looked more relaxed. I spent the afternoon on our room's balcony with a puzzle book, a bottle of water and almonds.
If there is a lesson in this trip it's that if you're walking around unfamiliar territory, such as the ship in this case, make sure you don't get caught off guard by dark carpeted areas that have a step that seems to blend in.
Has this soured me on cruising? Not one bit!
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Winter vacation... not what I expected
For the first time in my life, I was to find out how it feels to be in a hot climate during a cold winter month. Gerry and I loved our first cruise back in September so much, we decided to do another one almost immediately.
On December 26th, we boarded the Amtrak train in downtown Montreal, and started on our adventure going in the direction of Baltimore, Maryland. The seats were comfy and wide, we had packed sandwiches, fruits and almonds; our water bottles were filled with purified water, we had packed books, puzzles, and I had brought my laptop and DVDs to watch in between chats.
A couple of hours into our trip, as we were riding across New York state, we noticed snow was coming down steadily. By hour six or seven, the state was experiencing a serious blizzard. The weather had slowed down the train ride only because the switches were frozen and covered with snow, and the conductor(s) had to de-freeze and clear them manually.
We arrived in Baltimore sixteen hours after our departure from Montreal; we were prepared for a fourteen hour trip. Two hours late is not too bad, only we were supposed to arrive around midnight; it was now 2:00 a.m. By the time we made it to our hotel, checked in, freshened up and went to bed, it was past 3:00 a.m. No problem, the shuttle to the ship was scheduled to pick us up around 11:00 a.m. We would get up around nine, have breakfast and relax until pick up.
At quarter to eight that morning, the phone rang in our room; it was the front desk advising us that the shuttle would be coming at 9:30 a.m. We rushed to get dressed, have breakfast (I couldn't even swallow the whole toast, I was so tired), brush teeth, pack up and be ready downstairs. The ship's shuttle finally showed up at 10:30 a.m., one hour late.
No matter! By 1:00 p.m. on December 27th, we were on the ship enjoying lunch, and ready to set sail toward the Southern Caribbean by 5:00 p.m. We walked around the ship to familiarize ourselves with it; relaxed for the afternoon, and then showered and got ready for our first of twelve evening dinners. The next eleven days were full of wonderful promise.
On Day 3, more specifically December 29th, Gerry and I were heading toward the first of many ballroom lessons after lunch. The lesson was scheduled in one of the lounges of the ship. As I was walking toward one of the seats, I did not differentiate the space between where I was walking and the lower level. I missed the step, and fell straight down. In my head, I heard a loud snap, and as I was on the floor still trying to process what had just happened, I saw Gerry's shocked face looking down at me. Within seconds I felt pain in my right ankle, and was watching my own appendage swell to a deformed lump and discoloration set in. Oy! I think I broke my ankle.
Yep, on Day 3, after being at sea since Day 1, and just before the day we were to reach our first of five ports, I fell and hurt myself. I discovered a part of the ship I had never even thought of visiting, the infirmary. The doctor on duty, after seeing my foot, also thought that I might have fractured or broken my ankle. He took x-rays, which was a pain on its own. When he returned he had good and bad news. He did not see any fractures or breakage, however, he did think I had a severe strain. A strain? Oh no! I know that a sprain involves muscles, a strain involves ligaments. Ligaments take much longer to heal, and in some cases, they remain stretched. The bad news was that he would be putting a cast to immobilize the ankle, and save it from more strain.
I was glad to discover the new casts can be removed as needed. Whew, I would be able to shower. In the days to follow, I discovered what it feels like to be limited due to one unusable leg, in a wheelchair that was often too wide to pass through some doors, on crutches that are built for people 5'4" and taller (I am 5'1"), and eventually walk with a cane in the middle of a crowd of people who are rushing around and inattentive to your plight.
Yep, winter vacation... not what I expected.This story to be continued.
On December 26th, we boarded the Amtrak train in downtown Montreal, and started on our adventure going in the direction of Baltimore, Maryland. The seats were comfy and wide, we had packed sandwiches, fruits and almonds; our water bottles were filled with purified water, we had packed books, puzzles, and I had brought my laptop and DVDs to watch in between chats.
A couple of hours into our trip, as we were riding across New York state, we noticed snow was coming down steadily. By hour six or seven, the state was experiencing a serious blizzard. The weather had slowed down the train ride only because the switches were frozen and covered with snow, and the conductor(s) had to de-freeze and clear them manually.
We arrived in Baltimore sixteen hours after our departure from Montreal; we were prepared for a fourteen hour trip. Two hours late is not too bad, only we were supposed to arrive around midnight; it was now 2:00 a.m. By the time we made it to our hotel, checked in, freshened up and went to bed, it was past 3:00 a.m. No problem, the shuttle to the ship was scheduled to pick us up around 11:00 a.m. We would get up around nine, have breakfast and relax until pick up.
At quarter to eight that morning, the phone rang in our room; it was the front desk advising us that the shuttle would be coming at 9:30 a.m. We rushed to get dressed, have breakfast (I couldn't even swallow the whole toast, I was so tired), brush teeth, pack up and be ready downstairs. The ship's shuttle finally showed up at 10:30 a.m., one hour late.
No matter! By 1:00 p.m. on December 27th, we were on the ship enjoying lunch, and ready to set sail toward the Southern Caribbean by 5:00 p.m. We walked around the ship to familiarize ourselves with it; relaxed for the afternoon, and then showered and got ready for our first of twelve evening dinners. The next eleven days were full of wonderful promise.
On Day 3, more specifically December 29th, Gerry and I were heading toward the first of many ballroom lessons after lunch. The lesson was scheduled in one of the lounges of the ship. As I was walking toward one of the seats, I did not differentiate the space between where I was walking and the lower level. I missed the step, and fell straight down. In my head, I heard a loud snap, and as I was on the floor still trying to process what had just happened, I saw Gerry's shocked face looking down at me. Within seconds I felt pain in my right ankle, and was watching my own appendage swell to a deformed lump and discoloration set in. Oy! I think I broke my ankle.
Yep, on Day 3, after being at sea since Day 1, and just before the day we were to reach our first of five ports, I fell and hurt myself. I discovered a part of the ship I had never even thought of visiting, the infirmary. The doctor on duty, after seeing my foot, also thought that I might have fractured or broken my ankle. He took x-rays, which was a pain on its own. When he returned he had good and bad news. He did not see any fractures or breakage, however, he did think I had a severe strain. A strain? Oh no! I know that a sprain involves muscles, a strain involves ligaments. Ligaments take much longer to heal, and in some cases, they remain stretched. The bad news was that he would be putting a cast to immobilize the ankle, and save it from more strain.
I was glad to discover the new casts can be removed as needed. Whew, I would be able to shower. In the days to follow, I discovered what it feels like to be limited due to one unusable leg, in a wheelchair that was often too wide to pass through some doors, on crutches that are built for people 5'4" and taller (I am 5'1"), and eventually walk with a cane in the middle of a crowd of people who are rushing around and inattentive to your plight.
Yep, winter vacation... not what I expected.This story to be continued.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Will the children take care of us?
The other day during our lunch period at work, the discussion drifted toward the difficulty of adult children taking care of ailing parents.
As I listened to what the others had to say about it, I drifted back to my own parents, who had me when they were each forty years old. I grew up surrounded by grown ups, and by the time I reached my teens, my father's health was already failing. He was a heavy smoker, was overweight and the only exercise he did was when he bent under the car hood to fix something or other. My mother had already had her gallbladder removed, and had never in her life worn shorts, trousers or running shoes much less exercised.
To make a long story short, I took care of both my parents until each took their last breath, and all at a time when there wasn't even an inkling of support anywhere.
I snapped out of my travel down memory lane when someone asked me if I thought my children would take care of me when I was too old to do things for myself. I admit I had to stop and think about this for a second or so. My response was that it is quite different when you have boys (I have two). They grow into men, and leave home to make their own life building, I hope, a family and career. Whereas girls are by instinct and normally more attached to home, even if they start their own family. I further said that I did not expect my sons to think twice about caring for me or my husband for that matter were we at a point where we could not provide for ourselves. I don't think they'd abandon us altogether, but definitely think they would put us in strangers hands.
The co-workers who participated in the discussion were either just recently married with no children, still unmarried, and one is married with two daughters, and like me is of Italian descent. She totally expected that her daughters would take care of her and/or her husband. I hope they do, my bet is they will.
As for me, I'm keeping my fingers crossed that my sons might prove me wrong.
As I listened to what the others had to say about it, I drifted back to my own parents, who had me when they were each forty years old. I grew up surrounded by grown ups, and by the time I reached my teens, my father's health was already failing. He was a heavy smoker, was overweight and the only exercise he did was when he bent under the car hood to fix something or other. My mother had already had her gallbladder removed, and had never in her life worn shorts, trousers or running shoes much less exercised.
To make a long story short, I took care of both my parents until each took their last breath, and all at a time when there wasn't even an inkling of support anywhere.
I snapped out of my travel down memory lane when someone asked me if I thought my children would take care of me when I was too old to do things for myself. I admit I had to stop and think about this for a second or so. My response was that it is quite different when you have boys (I have two). They grow into men, and leave home to make their own life building, I hope, a family and career. Whereas girls are by instinct and normally more attached to home, even if they start their own family. I further said that I did not expect my sons to think twice about caring for me or my husband for that matter were we at a point where we could not provide for ourselves. I don't think they'd abandon us altogether, but definitely think they would put us in strangers hands.
The co-workers who participated in the discussion were either just recently married with no children, still unmarried, and one is married with two daughters, and like me is of Italian descent. She totally expected that her daughters would take care of her and/or her husband. I hope they do, my bet is they will.
As for me, I'm keeping my fingers crossed that my sons might prove me wrong.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Dream Vacation
Ever since I can remember I wanted to travel to two places: Hawaii and the Caribbean.
I was watching TV one day at a time when colour TVs were existent but not as yet in our household. It was a game show, which at this writing I can't even remember what kind of game show or who was hosting it, but the prize the contestant won stuck with me. It was a cruise that would sail the Caribbean for one week, all expenses paid. The images on screen appeared, and even through the black and white screen (if you ask me, it was more like grey and dark grey), I could see the beauty of the ocean the ship was sailing in. The ship looked so grand, the people seemed to be having a great time, and the water looked so calm and beautiful, that I wanted to experience it with all my soul.
It took over forty years, but this past September I finally had the opportunity to embark on my first cruise, and with one of my favourite people: my husband. Over the years, life threw many curves my way, and some dreams fell into a void where they could not be recuperated, but Hawaii and the Caribbean have survived the onslaught of disappointments.
The trip we planned for ourselves was in three sections, and all three were the best vacation we ever had the privilege to experience. On this trip, a miracle occurred too. My lifelong fear of flying seemed to have melted away and the full trip became one of pure enjoyment.
Our first stop was Cocoa Beach, Florida. We arrived two days ahead of the sail date, and spent one half day enjoying the beach, and the next whole day, visiting the Kennedy Space Center. We paid to have lunch with an astronaut and on this day, John McBride, one of the first to have piloted the shuttle, was the guest host. It was so fantastic to hear his perspective of what space exploration is like. He will be the last astronaut to pilot the shuttle in February 2011 as this program draws to a close.
The second part of the vacation consisted of embarking on a cruise for the first time in both our lives. We embarked on 'Freedom of the Seas' heading in the Eastern direction of the Caribbean. As soon as we set foot on the ship, we learned we would not be going East, but detour to the West. September is hurricane season, and hurricane Earl was acting up and doing its best to upset anything crossing its path. The captain of the ship took the decision to stop at Coco Cay, Bahamas, the one original stop of the cruise, then do a u-turn and head west.
I have to say motion sickness does not really affect me. I must admit that five hours of constant up and down motion, and having to walk and hold on to everything almost took its toll on my stomach. Five hours after embarkation, I was feeling quite woozy, and decided that I would go to be bed early. Gerry and I hit the sheets by 9:30 that night. Once we left the tail path of hurricane Earl, it was smooth sailing all the way.
We stopped at Grand Cayman and then in Cozumel, Mexico, both great experiences, but I have to say the time spent on board the ship was the most fun we ever had. There is so much to do on a ship, there is actually no time to get bored. The nightly shows are of the same quality you would expect of a Broadway musical or a Vegas show; the activities are non stop, and the food... oh my... the food. You have to pace yourself, otherwise you can gain a minimum of ten pounds in one week.
I met the nicest people from all over the world, and the biggest kick I got while on International waters was meeting people who came from different areas of Montreal, Toronto, Calgary, and the province of Saskatchewan. I was especially impressed to be under the same roof as others from England, Russia, Germany, China, Japan, Turkey, Romania and, of course, the good old U. S. of A. All in all, I highly recommend taking a cruise at least once in your life.
The third part of our vacation was spent At Universal Theme Parks in Orlando, Florida. The Wizarding World of Harry Potter opened this past June, and being a huge HP fan, I visited it every chance I had, and was not disappointed. A lot of little details found in the books and in the movies were included everywhere. You just had to look. We enjoyed many butterbeers during our five days at Universal, were able to witness the wand choosing the wizard, ate at the Three Broomsticks, visited Zonko's and Honeyduke's, and even took the ride of the Forbidden Journey, from which we bought the picture taken of me, and in which I look like I'm in a coma and slipping down from the seat. Oh well, can't win 'em all.
It took over forty years, but it sure was worth the wait. Next vacation plan... another cruise, and later Hawaii. Woo hoo!
I was watching TV one day at a time when colour TVs were existent but not as yet in our household. It was a game show, which at this writing I can't even remember what kind of game show or who was hosting it, but the prize the contestant won stuck with me. It was a cruise that would sail the Caribbean for one week, all expenses paid. The images on screen appeared, and even through the black and white screen (if you ask me, it was more like grey and dark grey), I could see the beauty of the ocean the ship was sailing in. The ship looked so grand, the people seemed to be having a great time, and the water looked so calm and beautiful, that I wanted to experience it with all my soul.
It took over forty years, but this past September I finally had the opportunity to embark on my first cruise, and with one of my favourite people: my husband. Over the years, life threw many curves my way, and some dreams fell into a void where they could not be recuperated, but Hawaii and the Caribbean have survived the onslaught of disappointments.
The trip we planned for ourselves was in three sections, and all three were the best vacation we ever had the privilege to experience. On this trip, a miracle occurred too. My lifelong fear of flying seemed to have melted away and the full trip became one of pure enjoyment.
Our first stop was Cocoa Beach, Florida. We arrived two days ahead of the sail date, and spent one half day enjoying the beach, and the next whole day, visiting the Kennedy Space Center. We paid to have lunch with an astronaut and on this day, John McBride, one of the first to have piloted the shuttle, was the guest host. It was so fantastic to hear his perspective of what space exploration is like. He will be the last astronaut to pilot the shuttle in February 2011 as this program draws to a close.
The second part of the vacation consisted of embarking on a cruise for the first time in both our lives. We embarked on 'Freedom of the Seas' heading in the Eastern direction of the Caribbean. As soon as we set foot on the ship, we learned we would not be going East, but detour to the West. September is hurricane season, and hurricane Earl was acting up and doing its best to upset anything crossing its path. The captain of the ship took the decision to stop at Coco Cay, Bahamas, the one original stop of the cruise, then do a u-turn and head west.
I have to say motion sickness does not really affect me. I must admit that five hours of constant up and down motion, and having to walk and hold on to everything almost took its toll on my stomach. Five hours after embarkation, I was feeling quite woozy, and decided that I would go to be bed early. Gerry and I hit the sheets by 9:30 that night. Once we left the tail path of hurricane Earl, it was smooth sailing all the way.
We stopped at Grand Cayman and then in Cozumel, Mexico, both great experiences, but I have to say the time spent on board the ship was the most fun we ever had. There is so much to do on a ship, there is actually no time to get bored. The nightly shows are of the same quality you would expect of a Broadway musical or a Vegas show; the activities are non stop, and the food... oh my... the food. You have to pace yourself, otherwise you can gain a minimum of ten pounds in one week.
I met the nicest people from all over the world, and the biggest kick I got while on International waters was meeting people who came from different areas of Montreal, Toronto, Calgary, and the province of Saskatchewan. I was especially impressed to be under the same roof as others from England, Russia, Germany, China, Japan, Turkey, Romania and, of course, the good old U. S. of A. All in all, I highly recommend taking a cruise at least once in your life.
The third part of our vacation was spent At Universal Theme Parks in Orlando, Florida. The Wizarding World of Harry Potter opened this past June, and being a huge HP fan, I visited it every chance I had, and was not disappointed. A lot of little details found in the books and in the movies were included everywhere. You just had to look. We enjoyed many butterbeers during our five days at Universal, were able to witness the wand choosing the wizard, ate at the Three Broomsticks, visited Zonko's and Honeyduke's, and even took the ride of the Forbidden Journey, from which we bought the picture taken of me, and in which I look like I'm in a coma and slipping down from the seat. Oh well, can't win 'em all.
It took over forty years, but it sure was worth the wait. Next vacation plan... another cruise, and later Hawaii. Woo hoo!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
August 10, 1985, quite the celebration!
Yesterday was our 25th wedding anniversary.
It seems to have all passed so quickly. Gerry and I, when we talk about it, both feel the wedding day was only just a short while ago. I can certainly remember it very clearly.
When we stop to think of it though, so much has happened. Since 1985, Gerry and I have gone through many curves life has thrown at us; we've had ups and downs, and sometimes it felt we had more downs than ups. We've experienced losing our parents, serious illness, bankruptcy, more moves than army families both in Quebec and Ontario. Through it all we've remained friends, good friends! I truly believe had we not been friends first, and liked each other, our relationship would not have survived the trials.
Through the rough times, just as many positives came our way. The best was having our children. Our two sons, who are now respectively twenty and eighteen make us proud every day. We've had small but good opportunities come our way, have met and made many new friends, have worked hard and managed to buy our first home in 2004.
We've loved and laughed and cried and laughed some more. After 25 years together, we know each others' moves and thoughts, yet we still surprise each other with little things.
Yesterday, my wonderful husband wanted to have me return home from work to my favourite dinner. He wanted to take me out to dinner, but I had an acupuncture appointment, and I usually feel tired after the treatment. So he picked up dinner at my favourite Chinese restaurant. It would have all been a great celebration if only I did not have a monster headache that progressively got worse during the day.
All I could do when I came home from my appointment was take two Tylenols*, run upstairs, get into bed. I slept until 9:00 pm, ate one toast with water, took another Tylenol*, and went back to bed.
It was a heck of a way to celebrate 25 years. The great thing about it though is that we had our nice dinner tonight during our trek toward 26 years, and more, I hope.
Happy Belated Anniversary, baby love! To many more years together!
It seems to have all passed so quickly. Gerry and I, when we talk about it, both feel the wedding day was only just a short while ago. I can certainly remember it very clearly.
When we stop to think of it though, so much has happened. Since 1985, Gerry and I have gone through many curves life has thrown at us; we've had ups and downs, and sometimes it felt we had more downs than ups. We've experienced losing our parents, serious illness, bankruptcy, more moves than army families both in Quebec and Ontario. Through it all we've remained friends, good friends! I truly believe had we not been friends first, and liked each other, our relationship would not have survived the trials.
Through the rough times, just as many positives came our way. The best was having our children. Our two sons, who are now respectively twenty and eighteen make us proud every day. We've had small but good opportunities come our way, have met and made many new friends, have worked hard and managed to buy our first home in 2004.
We've loved and laughed and cried and laughed some more. After 25 years together, we know each others' moves and thoughts, yet we still surprise each other with little things.
Yesterday, my wonderful husband wanted to have me return home from work to my favourite dinner. He wanted to take me out to dinner, but I had an acupuncture appointment, and I usually feel tired after the treatment. So he picked up dinner at my favourite Chinese restaurant. It would have all been a great celebration if only I did not have a monster headache that progressively got worse during the day.
All I could do when I came home from my appointment was take two Tylenols*, run upstairs, get into bed. I slept until 9:00 pm, ate one toast with water, took another Tylenol*, and went back to bed.
It was a heck of a way to celebrate 25 years. The great thing about it though is that we had our nice dinner tonight during our trek toward 26 years, and more, I hope.
Happy Belated Anniversary, baby love! To many more years together!
Monday, August 9, 2010
Vermont airport, great; getting there and back, not so great!
My youngest son was invited by his girlfriend's family to spend a week in Florida. He worked hard all summer long towards this moment.
The plan was to be driven by her father with her brother to Burlington, Vermont airport, and the three of them were to leave together for Tampa. My son's girlfriend left three days earlier with her mother.
As the time approached, my son was getting antsy about the drive to Vermont; he was not thrilled that the three of them would be leaving later than he would have wanted to.
I thought, well, hubby and I haven't been to Vermont in years, it's Saturday, laundry's all done... why not offer my son a lift? His flight was to leave at 5:00 pm, he would have to be there at least two hours early. We could leave Montreal around 9:00 am, factor in the unknown such as a delay at the border, enjoy a nice lunch at hubby's favourite restaurant, Olive Garden, then bring my son to the airport, and all would be well with the world.
Yeeah, no! Hubby said 9:30 am was too early, and made us leave at 10:30 am. We made it to the Champlain bridge in less than a half hour, and then got stuck on the bridge for two and a quarter hours.
We got through the US border in less than ten minutes (thank you!), had to put some gas in the car because we were running out. I could not use the restroom because all this place had was a porta-potty. No self-respecting woman would even get close to these contraptions; I decided I would rather risk bursting my bladder.
We arrived at the airport at 3:15 pm; my son's friends, that is his girlfriend's father and brother arrived five minutes after us. The good thing about our getting stuck on the bridge was that my son was able to warn the other two, who were a half hour behind. They ended up taking the Victoria bridge, and, as I mentioned, they arrived at the Vermont airport five minutes after us.
Wait, I'm not finished! It was now 4:00 pm, and we were starving, and I was bursting at the seams having not voided in six hours. My son hugged us, thanked us for the lift, then joined his two hosts to go through customs, and have something to eat before the flight.
Gerry and I, each went to our respective washroom. I have to say that I was very impressed with the ladies' washroom at the airport. The toilet seat was covered with a soft, non sticky plastic for protection; I pressed a green button and the plastic cover slid around so I could have a fresh protective cover. Cool! I was glad because I had a lot of liquid to get rid of.
We stopped at Olive Garden, had a nice dinner; walked around in a few stores, and we decided to drive back to Montreal. The drive was going well, until we were about 2 km from the Canadian border. At first, we thought there was a slow down because of construction, but, no, we had driven straight into a line up of cars waiting to get through. Yes, folks, it took one hour and a quarter to pass through the Canadian border.
Hey, it was still early enough, only five after seven, and we had made plans to stop for coffee when we would be nearer to our Kirkland home. Gosh, we were so naive.
As we were approaching the Champlain bridge again, and we were nowhere in sight of it, we noticed the line up of cars forming quickly. Then, we noticed a sign that had Louis H. Lafontaine tunnel, this exit. My husband, who was driving, said he would rather detour and take the Louis H, than sit on that bridge again. Agreed!
We were driving for a long time, it was getting dark, and we crossed a sign that warned for construction reasons, route 25N would close at 10 pm. Is there a chance in hell that we are going toward the 25 north? I asked my husband. Yes! I see signs for Montreal, and tell my husband we should take the exit, but he said no. That's not where we want to go. Huh? So he keeps driving, and we find ourselves going deeper and deeper into dee blackness. Honey, seems to me we should be seeing more lights. He decided twenty minutes after NOT taking the Montreal exit to turn around... and it was nine forty on the clock.
We took the Montreal exit, found the Louis H. signs again, the 25N was trickling into one lane until it would be completely closed, and drove home. We stepped into the house at 10:30 pm, I, frazzled and in pain from sitting too long, he, annoyed because I got angry with him when he didn't listen to me. Ten hours stuck together in a car, hungry and tired will do that to someone.
So there you go! I spent Sunday in pain, tired, hosting lovely people for lunch, and couldn't get to work on Monday due to lack of sleep and a monster headache.
My son though is having a blast in Florida. Good for him!
The plan was to be driven by her father with her brother to Burlington, Vermont airport, and the three of them were to leave together for Tampa. My son's girlfriend left three days earlier with her mother.
As the time approached, my son was getting antsy about the drive to Vermont; he was not thrilled that the three of them would be leaving later than he would have wanted to.
I thought, well, hubby and I haven't been to Vermont in years, it's Saturday, laundry's all done... why not offer my son a lift? His flight was to leave at 5:00 pm, he would have to be there at least two hours early. We could leave Montreal around 9:00 am, factor in the unknown such as a delay at the border, enjoy a nice lunch at hubby's favourite restaurant, Olive Garden, then bring my son to the airport, and all would be well with the world.
Yeeah, no! Hubby said 9:30 am was too early, and made us leave at 10:30 am. We made it to the Champlain bridge in less than a half hour, and then got stuck on the bridge for two and a quarter hours.
We got through the US border in less than ten minutes (thank you!), had to put some gas in the car because we were running out. I could not use the restroom because all this place had was a porta-potty. No self-respecting woman would even get close to these contraptions; I decided I would rather risk bursting my bladder.
We arrived at the airport at 3:15 pm; my son's friends, that is his girlfriend's father and brother arrived five minutes after us. The good thing about our getting stuck on the bridge was that my son was able to warn the other two, who were a half hour behind. They ended up taking the Victoria bridge, and, as I mentioned, they arrived at the Vermont airport five minutes after us.
Wait, I'm not finished! It was now 4:00 pm, and we were starving, and I was bursting at the seams having not voided in six hours. My son hugged us, thanked us for the lift, then joined his two hosts to go through customs, and have something to eat before the flight.
Gerry and I, each went to our respective washroom. I have to say that I was very impressed with the ladies' washroom at the airport. The toilet seat was covered with a soft, non sticky plastic for protection; I pressed a green button and the plastic cover slid around so I could have a fresh protective cover. Cool! I was glad because I had a lot of liquid to get rid of.
We stopped at Olive Garden, had a nice dinner; walked around in a few stores, and we decided to drive back to Montreal. The drive was going well, until we were about 2 km from the Canadian border. At first, we thought there was a slow down because of construction, but, no, we had driven straight into a line up of cars waiting to get through. Yes, folks, it took one hour and a quarter to pass through the Canadian border.
Hey, it was still early enough, only five after seven, and we had made plans to stop for coffee when we would be nearer to our Kirkland home. Gosh, we were so naive.
As we were approaching the Champlain bridge again, and we were nowhere in sight of it, we noticed the line up of cars forming quickly. Then, we noticed a sign that had Louis H. Lafontaine tunnel, this exit. My husband, who was driving, said he would rather detour and take the Louis H, than sit on that bridge again. Agreed!
We were driving for a long time, it was getting dark, and we crossed a sign that warned for construction reasons, route 25N would close at 10 pm. Is there a chance in hell that we are going toward the 25 north? I asked my husband. Yes! I see signs for Montreal, and tell my husband we should take the exit, but he said no. That's not where we want to go. Huh? So he keeps driving, and we find ourselves going deeper and deeper into dee blackness. Honey, seems to me we should be seeing more lights. He decided twenty minutes after NOT taking the Montreal exit to turn around... and it was nine forty on the clock.
We took the Montreal exit, found the Louis H. signs again, the 25N was trickling into one lane until it would be completely closed, and drove home. We stepped into the house at 10:30 pm, I, frazzled and in pain from sitting too long, he, annoyed because I got angry with him when he didn't listen to me. Ten hours stuck together in a car, hungry and tired will do that to someone.
So there you go! I spent Sunday in pain, tired, hosting lovely people for lunch, and couldn't get to work on Monday due to lack of sleep and a monster headache.
My son though is having a blast in Florida. Good for him!
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