Erin's Journals

Just a thought… Parenthood: it’s about guiding the next generation and forgiving the last. [Peter Krause]

Where to begin? I know it’s just been since Monday that I’ve written but I keep collecting mental Post-It notes about stuff to share with you.

First of all, before I forget, I’m going to be joining my friend and former Breakfast Television host Kevin Frankish for his live show online at 7 pm tomorrow. Put it in your calendar now (who knows when Friday actually is, right?) because it promises to be interesting. Kevin has posted a survey that you can do here that takes about one minute. In it, he’s asking about the transition out of self-isolation and how you feel about life as it’s about to unfold.

Then join us tomorrow at 7pm either on Facebook or on Twitter @kevinfrankish and feel free to comment as the show goes on. I’ll try to watch my phone at the same time as I’m on camera (from my computer) with Kevin so I can see what you’re asking and what you have to say.

I couldn’t have done this next Monday after my long-awaited hair appointment, right? Ah, such is life: it’s not always perfect, but can be cut short at any minute. In the case of my hair, that’s a good thing!

The whole to-mask-or-not-to-mask thing is making me crazy. We went into Canadian Tire and probably about half of us (but none of the staff) were wearing them. At the grocery store, though, only about one in ten was.

That could be because the island has had no new cases in a month or so, or just that people figure that the worst is over. But I keep looking at southern states (especially Florida) where people have been saying “I’ve got my rights!” and gathering in close proximity with plenty of other folks, none of whom is masking up. And the COVID numbers are growing exponentially.

I know it’s human nature to look for life to go on; nothing lasts forever and we have to continue to go about our lives – especially those who are having difficulty feeding their families or making rent. But there’s a much bigger, much more troubling picture that’s becoming clearer by the day.

Yes, the marches and protests are important – vital, even – but so is protecting yourself when you do so. I can’t imagine the frustration of the healthcare workers who were thinking they could return home to their families and not worry about infecting them. They must be asking, “How do we get the message across?”

Then I see messages on other people’s FB pages, etc. where posters are saying that they’re not wearing masks because the government (including our own) is telling them to. For them, like toddlers being told not to stick their fingers in electrical sockets, it’s not for their own good – it’s a challenge. Okay then, take your chances. I’m not ready to, just yet.

A woman posted on my FB page last week that she read that masks are ineffective anyway. I asked her to cite her source and, unless I’ve missed it, she didn’t, after saying she would. This is why it’s vitally important that we all consider the sources for our information.

An awful lot of people out there have motives that you can’t even imagine. There will be some trying to make sure the pandemic continues so that the American election can’t be held this fall; they’re the same ones who are so vocally opposed to mail-in ballots. As I say, a lot of big picture concerns are at play here. Please be safe.

And finally, Father’s Day is this Sunday. Rob got himself a new floor cleaner (we were fascinated by an infomercial that just kept going and going during one of our Forensic Files episodes). So that’s exciting, I guess.

Our floors here are a manufactured hardwood that are in deep grey/almost black and show every single dog hair, dust bunny and crumb. Trying to stay ahead of them all has been a daily challenge, but we’re not doing much else these days. If we ever do have company, I hope they’ll consider our offer to eat off the floors.

My own father seems to be failing since his fall. He’s still sporting some dark bruises around his eyes and, worse, his short term memory has taken a hit as well. Dad’s getting us a little worried and one of the sisterhood is talking with his doctor today about possibly recommending he stop driving. It’s a huge, possibly hurtful step to take with a parent who loves his freedom and his car, but for the good of his beloved passenger and everyone else on the road – as well as Dad himself – we think it’s time. We’d never forgive ourselves if the worst happened and we hadn’t tried.

Yes, parenting is hard, but as so many have attested during these times of separation from elderly parents, so is being a responsible offspring. For those who still have a dad with us instead of watching over us, I hope that you’re able to connect in some way this weekend.

It’s sort of a non-day in our house, but as our bonds strengthen with Brooke (whose own dad has passed) and Phil (who’s close with his own), we can remember that a father’s job never really ends: it morphs and moves to fit into the lives of those who will always welcome extra love, compassion, support and encouragement.

I’ll talk to you tomorrow evening online (hope you can make it) and be back with you here on Monday.

Just a thought… One person caring about another represents life’s greatest value. [Jim Rohn]

Well, how was your weekend? Mine was overflowing with bliss. I’ll fill you in on the details one day soon – not my story to tell – but let me switch lanes on you and take you back to last Thursday.

First of all, it was so kind of a number of people to send good wishes; really, it wasn’t as big a deal as I thought. As I went in for my procedure, I wasn’t the least bit nervous and was approaching it from two standpoints: participant/observer and someone to bring a laugh or two to whomever I happened to encounter.

So I got to our little Saanich Peninsula hospital right on time at 11 am. After answering the usual COVID questions, I was given a fresh mask and placed on a sensibly-distanced stool against the wall to wait. There I sat for about 45 minutes, scrolling my iPhone, watching the battery percentage start to drop a lot more quickly than I would have liked, and being a “patient patient.” (Which word/meaning came first, do you think?)

A very friendly nurse named Laurie came to get me. As we walked, we chatted. She seemed like someone I’d like to have a coffee with, but honestly, these days, that could be nearly anyone. I probably came off as just a bit goofy, out on a day pass and just happy to chat with someone to whom I’m not married, you know? I think you do.

She walked with me to a large room divided into curtained-off cubicles in which a few people were lying on gurneys, recovering or preparing for whatever brought them there that day.

We discussed what I was to leave on (socks were okay, which was too bad, because I’d worn sandals) and I bundled up my clothing, put it in a nice clean plastic bag which will be handy for dirty clothes if we ever travel again. Once I was comfy on my gurney, gown on the right way and ready to roll, I was offered a nice warm flannel sheet/blanket. There’s 5 stars on YELP right there. But when they ask if I’d like to accompany my imaginary review with a picture, should I use this one?

Oh, goodness. When Colin was shown it by his mommy he said, “Does Grama have COVID?” Thankfully, the answer is no. But how interesting that the question popped into his head. These are the times in which we live: seeing what I figured was just a fun shot, a five-year-old’s first thought was of a pandemic. Wow.

The wait was long – probably the better part of another hour – as lunch shifts changed and they tried to find the anesthesiologist. (Cat napping, perhaps?) Once my time in the OR came, I was wheeled by a nice fellow named Brad (Gary? Grad?) to my destination, but not before I passed by four health care givers standing chatting in the hall. “Boob job – coming through!” I called out, and they laughed. (I don’t think that’s a thing at this hospital, by the way.) It’s a good sound to hear, that laughter; I’m sure there are so many patients and staff who are just so stressed (and rightfully so) within those walls, day in and day out.

So I got to the OR and shimmied from the gurney to the table. Then we waited for Doctor Sleep (not his real name, although I did have a procedure once at North York General where the anesthesiologist was named Dr. Knapp).

They couldn’t find him in the usual places (I asked if one was the bar) and then I suggested someone just hit me a few times on the head and we’d get this done ourselves. When he finally arrived he was cheery and friendly; once he’d inserted the IV needle he said, “That’s where you say it was the best one you’ve ever had…” and I retorted, “Oh, I gave up using that line years ago.” I’m not sure he meant the double entendre, but if you think I’m letting someone throw a big ol’ softball like that across the plate and I’m not swinging at it, you don’t know me!

Oxygen mask on, magic juices flowing, out I went. I thought I’d be gone for hours and was surprised to wake up on my gurney again in the recovery room just an hour or so after I left it. Darn. What kind of a deep sleep was that? I do recall my first words after coming to: “I was fighting with someone on Twitter.” (Whoa. The person who dragged me on Instagram for not mentioning Black Lives Matter on that particular platform really got in my head, I guess.)

Rob picked me up at 2:30 and, once home, my only pain came from a sore throat that I believe had to do with the oxygen mask that I was wearing. I caught up on some TV, ate chips (so, obviously, my throat wasn’t that painful, was it?) and just relaxed for the day. And that is the whole story of my trip to the hospital. Oh yes, and I did hear the word “benign” when I was still waking up, so while I wasn’t concerned, that’s something that is always good to hear.

I’ll never stop being grateful for our health care system. Are there problems with it? Of course. Long waits, an imperfect system. But just reading about a Seattle man who fought to come out of the other side of COVID, only to face a $1.1 million medical bill, makes me practically want to kiss the Canadian soil I was born on. Staying healthy and not taxing the system for which I am taxed will always be my aim, but oh, I’m grateful to have this level of care at my fingertips, or whatever body part may be in need of it.

Finally, a big thank you to the women and men who take such good care of us – from the volunteers to every single person whose lives have been even more challenging these past several months. May they always know our gratitude and be compensated accordingly, if that’s even possible.

Please do your best to stay healthy and I’ll be back with you here on Thursday. I’m returning to a pace in journals that will mean a little better mental health for yours truly, but I will post daily messages at my Facebook page, and you’re always welcome to drop me a line there or here. Thank you for understanding, as always, and we’ll talk again soon.

Just a thought… Photography is the simplest thing in the world, but it is incredibly complicated to make it really work. [Martin Parr]

Yes, it’s Friday – we’re on the right day. I’m writing this on Thursday morning – a day before you read this – as I’m not sure how I’ll be feeling after the medical procedure anaesthetic that I was to be administered later in the day.

In anticipation of taking it easy, lying in bed dozing and catching up on a few of the 120 or so Forensic Files on the PVR, I’ve prepared this journal for you. Of course, I’ll have stories for you Monday. If for some bizarre reason I didn’t make it, then please someone make sure they play the theme from Curb Your Enthusiasm so Rob has a good reason to laugh.

I love to share pictures with you of our little part of the island, just a slice of this great glorious country that politician Erin O’Toole seems to feel needs to be taken back from someone…yeesh. Did I miss something? Is Canada missing?

Anyway, where was I?

At what point do I actually bite the bullet and return to using a real camera? I know that some cell phones have better lenses than others (the first time I saw a Samsung picture that a listener had taken on one of our trips I was like, “WOW. That’s amazing! Now, can you hide my thighs in that bathing suit?”).

But we’re an Apple fam and I’m afraid we’re in too deep now to get out; Rob’s and my devices communicate with each other more than we do, and it’s just super handy to have everything connected.

Note to Self: Don’t ever have an affair. Putting a reminder of a secret rendezvous into my phone will show up on Rob’s calendar too.

Where was I again? Oh, my train of thought…I’m blaming whatever they used to put me under yesterday, even though I’m writing this before they do. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

Back to cameras: on Wednesday I witnessed a hummingbird hungrily visiting some flowers near my knees. I took a few pictures and although they are better than just a blur (those things move so danged fast) the shots could be so much better.

But here’s the thing: if I’m walking by a flowery bush and there’s a hummingbird in it, what are the chances I’m going to have my Sonyoltacanonikon with me at that moment to capture it? I’ll tell what they are: slim and none, and slim just left town. So here’s what I captured.

You have the idea that it’s there, but also have an urge to clean the lens or something. Not that good at all.

I don’t want the latest and greatest iPhone, but maybe I’ll have to bite the bullet one day and choose whichever Apple offers the best pictures. You deserve it! (That’s not what I’m saying to me, I’m saying it to you. I’m just that selfless. LOL) But I also want something that I can pop onto Insta or FB or Twitter or whatever, at a moment’s notice. What to do?

And I’ll leave you with a picture of something that happened right outside our window. I said “Whoa!” so loudly that Rob spun on his heel to see what was burning in the kitchen. But it was outside, in the sky across the Haro Strait as we look across towards Mount Baker in Washington State.

As though some artist swiped colours across a canvas with his or her fingers and left a smudge of brilliance. Rob took it on his iPhone – a later version than mine.

I hope you can see that colour – or you, um, get the picture. It’s way too easy to call it a metaphor or a sign, so I’ll just say that it was a patch of beauty on a day that had been soaked in rain.

May you enjoy moments of loveliness this weekend and I’ll be back with you on Monday. Thanks for visiting, as always.

Just a thought… When I screamed at the gynecologist, it was an ovary action. [Abbi Crutchfield]

And, with no caffeine in me this morning, I’m off to the hospital!

Nothing serious – it’s more of a procedure, no new openings, thanks – and it’s been slated since forever. With COVID-19, things were put on hold and then I got my time and date, which is today. Seems I had some undesirable side effects to HRT (hormone replacement therapy) so I’m dealing with the aftermath.

Not to worry – once I wake up from a glorious drug-induced nap, it’ll just mean a few days of recovery and a few weeks without strenuous exercise (good-bye bike for a bit) but I’m usually pretty fast at bouncing back.

I will use this day as a way to learn and write about health care in a hospital from the inside; seeing what’s different about the experience, compared to other hospital visits. Come to think of it, I don’t believe I’ve been checked into one since, oh, 1991. There have been a few operations, but usually done in an office.

Did I ever tell you about the time I had my boobs done? Actually, I know for a fact that I didn’t. Eventually the whole thing went sideways – and I wish I wasn’t being literal – but that’s a story for another day. Or book!

Yeah, too much information? Maybe. But we’re all friends here, right?

Anyway, I’ll be back with a beautiful picture – er, not of me – tomorrow. It was something in the sky I’ve never seen before!

Meantime, a happy 87th to our dad. He’s in quarantine (house arrest, as he calls it) until tomorrow. Although we’ve never lost sight of the fact that we’re lucky to still have him, believe me, we so wish we were with him this year as we were for his 86th (I’m sandwiched between Heather and Leslie with only sister Cindy missing), but we’ve all got our fingers crossed he’s still great at 88!

Just a thought… If you are feeling helpless, help someone. [Aung San Suu Kyi]

My friend, I never thought I’d say this, but I think I’m running out of things to write about. I’ve spent more time looking at a blank screen than I ever did when I was creating Mourning Has Broken and this is the first time in the 17 years of doing this that I’m struggling.

The past several months have been emotionally exhausting – and I’m not DOING anything, for crying out loud! How my heart goes out to those who are still treating sick patients or awaiting the recovery of loved ones and wondering when their own lives are going to return to normal.

As the shot in the frame has pulled back to include, not only the COVID-19 pandemic and everything it has wrought, but the seismic shift that is taking place around the world for the Black Lives Matter movement and the cries for change in the way people are being treated by some of those who are supposed to serve and protect – 2020 has been a year that none of us will forget: a year of challenge and change.

When I began to write on a daily basis this spring (having cut back to twice a week when I resumed writing after rehab last year), it was out of a need I had to be a helper, in the tiniest way possible. I wanted to be there with you and have you there with me, when each of us was feeling so alone and adrift.

Where are we now? It feels as if we have moved into whatever stage this is of the movie Jaws where the shark appears to have moved out to sea, but hasn’t left the area yet for sure. People are asking, “Do we go back in the water?” Do we shut down the beach and say, “See you next year,” or do we just say that we need to swim and take our chances because life is too short to live in fear? That’s where people are now, it seems.

Wearing a mask feels as if you’re making some kind of a statement. Well, here it is: I care enough about your health when we’re in close proximity that I wouldn’t want to risk infecting you! I don’t know when this feeling will ease, even on an island and in a province that has fared so well, especially of late. But until then, I will continue to wear my mask. I also happen to be saving money on lipstick, so there’s that.

I thank you for coming here every day, and offering your perspective in return (mostly on Facebook). We’ve encouraged each other, we’ve become more aware of things that we took for granted in, oh, so many ways, and we’ve seen how change can come about if we stay apart and stay safe for the greater good, or gather together, carefully, peacefully, to let our voices be heard.

Not all of the loudest people deserve a voice. Sometimes the emptiest barrel makes the most noise. But 2020 – for the absolute hurricane of hardship and heartache that blew in with it – can also be a moment of awakening for us all.

I’ll let you decide to what.