Erin's Journals

Just a thought… When disaster strikes, the time to prepare has passed. [Steven Cyros]

As always, you can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

It was the talk of the hockey rink this week: the story of the senior men’s hockey league in Newmarket, Ontario that was struck by Covid, causing the death of an otherwise-healthy 75-year-old Garry Weston. I read the descriptions of this much-loved and appreciated man and my heart goes out to his family, community and his teammates.

I could also relate to the words being said about him; but for the age difference, they could have been writing about my Rob. Also double-vaxxed, he plays with different men’s and mixed leagues. Breakthrough Covid is something we try hard not to think about as we go on with our lives – carefully, of course – but it shook his fellow players down to their skate guards.

Something else happened in Rob’s hockey community a few weeks back that could easily have also ended in an obituary. But thanks to this brush, some changes have been made, all for the better.

Rob plays now four mornings a week (he was offered a fifth and may take it when our work schedules settle a bit). Thank goodness that in these leagues – and many others – goalies, who are much in demand, play for free, or we’d be selling something. Like, I don’t know, GOALIE EQUIPMENT? (Kidding, Rob. Sort of….)

So Rob’s in his net and notices a commotion on the bench. What was it? A man, who’s 61, was sitting chatting with a fellow player when he stopped talking mid-sentence and just slumped over. I don’t know what kind of horseshoes this man, who was joining them for the first time, had tucked in his pads, but the guy he was talking to is a doctor. Of sports medicine. Wow. (The only way he could have been luckier is if his fellow player was a cardiologist – and there’s probably one of them that plays too!)

This doctor knew what to do, and fortunately, so did the staff at Panorama Rec Centre, just down the hill from us here in North Saanich. There are four defibrillators at the rink, and one of them was put to use to bring this man back to life, after manual efforts were proving fruitless. His heart had stopped. Yeah, it was that serious.

In ten to fifteen minutes, the ambulance took the player to the hospital where he was operated on and is recovering with a new stent in his heart. And it looks like he’s going to be okay.

We’re not sure how they contacted his wife, but they found his cell phone and found her, hopefully in his ICE contacts. In this case, that doesn’t mean ice of the skating variety; it was actually In Case of Emergency.

The fact she was able to tell those caring for him about his family medical history and such helped them to get him what he needed which, in this case, was breathing again.

But it raised a few concerns and some excellent recommendations. Because of this man’s emergency, players recognized that they didn’t have contacts for their spouses or people to call if something happened. And stuff does happen: with their median age around 65, things can go wrong in the health of the men and women who play with Rob. Now fellow players know whom to call and notify; I mean, no one would have known to call me, had that been Rob needing life-saving measures.

Oh, and a side note: Colin was off school that day and we were thinking of going to watch Grandude play. Fortunately we did not, for had we pulled up and seen those emergency vehicles, I think I would have needed a defibrillator.

So here’s the point: if they’re out and about, please make sure your loved one has your name and contact information readily available. Be able to reached, just in case. I mean, none of us thinks this is ever going to happen, but it just does. And no one wants the line “He died doing what he loved” in their obit. No thanks. Let’s all go into overtime, shall we?

Thanks for coming by and we’ll be back with you on Monday.

Just a thought… Remember: every good citizen adds to the strength of a nation. [Gordon B. Hinckley]

You can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

Welcome to November! Hope your Hallowe’en was fun/uneventful or whatever you wanted it to be. We went out with Colin and Jane and you may have seen photos on Facebook or Instagram (whichever program is cooperating on any given day) if you’re interested. Anyway, we’re so grateful to be able to take out our little police officer and his Emma Wiggle sister.

On Friday, Colin went to school in last year’s costume – as a firefighter. Afterwards, we had him pose in front of the MINI, looking fierce and fiery. (Perhaps a Ford Pinto would have been more appropriate?)

Yeah, we all know he wasn’t fueled by bravery – but sugar. He saved this year’s costume for trick or treating last night, when he dressed as a police officer. We were his official “police escorts,” once again as bananas; you don’t think we’re going to retire these outfits, do you?

Saturday we went to a movie and then to his folks’ place to carve some pumpkins.

We never take for granted the fact that we’re so lucky, being able to see our grandkids this often. In fact, rarely does a sleepover night go by that I don’t say to Rob, “There’s a little boy in that bedroom!” I mean, it’s more than we ever could have dreamed of.

See, that’s the thing about life. You just don’t know how it’s going to turn out. Sometimes it’s not what you had planned, but you know that it’s the best it can be. And it’s up to us to choose to let go of what we thought the future would hold, and try hard to embrace what positive wonders can come of opening our hearts and minds to the future.

Speaking of opening minds, it’s pretty amazing how, as grandparents, we get the opportunity to introduce the little ones in our lives to experiences. Take this past Saturday, when my friend Nancy and I met up to take our grandsons to the tiny theatre in nearby Sidney for Addams Family 2.

Before we went, Rob and I got our flu shots as part of our volunteering for the local community. We took Colin along so that if he has any fears of vaccinations, as – face it – most kids and some adults do, he’d see us get ours and that it wasn’t scary at all.

At first, he said he didn’t want to watch, but as soon as Grandude got set for his, Colin was right in there like an investigative reporter. So, yay! We told him we didn’t even feel it (the truth) and they gave him a Shoppers Drug Mart Band-aid and he got to take a few lollypops from the waiting room. We were really happy to get a chance to do that with and for him.

Nancy, meantime, took her grandson to a quiet protest happening in Sidney against the possible demolition of the fishers’ wharf there. She wanted him to see what it looked and felt like, being part of a neighbourhood and letting your voice be heard.

Two different experiences, but both pieces of being part of a bigger community: trying to make an impact on the people around us, instead of just living our own insular lives. Colin’s been with us on meal deliveries, he’s met recipient and now friend, Mira. He’s learning, as his parents will also teach him, the importance of giving and thinking of others. What a joy, a gift to be able to help shape this little person into a solid citizen. I mean, if he’s already a firefighter and a cop, he’s on his way, right? (That, or he’s preparing for a Village People tribute band.)

Enjoy these early days of November and I’ll talk to you Thursday about a scary moment at Rob’s hockey. We’re grateful it wasn’t Covid-related, but it was a matter of life and death. Thanks for coming by.

Just a thought… If “Plan A” fails, remember you still have 25 letters left. [Henry Guest]

As always, you can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

So, I hope your week is going smoothly. Mine? Well, I’ll be honest. It’s just still a tech nightmare. Basically, just one big cyclone bomb.

There’s a term I hadn’t heard before, and it was all over the news and weather forecasts for our part of Canada earlier this week. You may have seen that I shot and posted Monday’s journal with my fingers firmly crossed that we wouldn’t lose power. See, we live on a peninsula that juts out of the lowest, east side of Vancouver Island. That horrific storm was swirling off the upper west coast, which made for lots of surfing and winds and hard rain for areas like Tofino and Ucluelet, but meant just winds and rain for us.

We know we live in a windy area; gusts are the biggest wild card when it comes to dicey conditions around us, as we’re surrounded by very tall, very old trees .

So how to prepare? Well, unlike a disaster like pouring an entire cup of coffee on your computer keyboard – and no, we haven’t gotten ours fixed or replaced yet, still waiting – we can do something proactive like get a generator, right?

Well, we’ve tried. Back in February after a blackout that lasted several hours, Rob started looking into it in earnest. We need a whole home one, as we have tenants downstairs, and we also need to keep up power in case it goes out while I’m hosting a live show from home, such as I am next week for Excellence Canada’s big awards event.

In May we pulled the trigger and ordered one. It’s the price of a used car, but we’ve seen more effects of climate change with every passing year.

But here’s the problem (and you knew there’d be one): it hasn’t arrived yet, with no word if or when it will. For all I know, our generator was on that ship that was burning off the coast of Victoria, in the Georgia Strait.

So we wait and we hope. When you try to prepare for bad outcomes but you can’t even get to first base, it’s frustrating. We’re dancing as fast as we can. But we’re doing it with coffee.

I posted a poll on Twitter Sunday night asking this about a night of stormy big winds and my conundrum about when to make coffee. Should I make it the night before and drink 10-hour-old coffee, wait and hope the power stays on, or examine my addiction? Over half of the poll’s 186 responders said to make it in the evening, drink it cool…while about 30% said hope for the best. The others told me to look at why I’m worried about my coffee. (I don’t know that last group!)

We made the coffee the night before and heated it with fresh Nespresso added in the morning and all was well. And for everyone whose power did not go off, you’re welcome. Pretty sure we made that happen by prepping coffee as, miraculously, our power only sputtered briefly on Sunday night.

Have a great weekend and a safe Hallowe’en and I’ll be back here with you Monday.

Just a thought… There is no better teacher than history in determining the future. There are answers worth billions of dollars in a thirty-dollar history book. [Charles T. Munger]

You can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

“Out of the mouths of babes,” they say, and it’s been no more evident in our home than the conversations we’ve had with a sharp seven-year-old (aren’t they all, now?) about Covid.

The first talk came when we were asking about Colin’s classmates and who he likes this year. He couldn’t really say, so we narrowed it down this way, asking, “If you were to have a birthday party after Covid, who would you invite?”

While that did succeed in helping him to figure out whom he would choose, it also opened up a whole different field of questions afterwards, like, “So, when am I having my party?”

We had to explain to him what “hypothetical” means. We forget sometimes when talking with such bright little beings that abstract ideas like “what if” can sometimes go over their heads. So yeah, no – there wasn’t going to be a party anytime soon.

Then, the other day as we were driving home from a visit with, and meal delivery to, our 96-year-old friend Mira, Colin piped up from his booster seat behind us: “Hey Grrrrrama….”

“Yes,” I responded, loving the way he stretches out the Rs.

“I know! Why don’t you go on your phone and ask Google when Covid is going to be over.”

I put my chin to my chest and sighed. To him, to all children I suppose, it’s just that simple. If a grown-up doesn’t have the answer, we ask Google.

So Rob said, “Oh, honey, we’re sorry – but Google doesn’t know that. No one does.”

And I added, “As soon as everyone gets their shots and wears their masks – that’s when we hope Covid goes away.”

These kids are doing their part – many awaiting vaccines and all of them wearing masks at school all day – and look at the example that some adults are setting. People in stores not wearing their masks (which Rob witnessed the other day while out for groceries); others just waiting on those of us who are responsible to get our shots so they can rest safe in their mental inferiority (knowing better than actual scientists, of course) and let us take care of them.

Interestingly, in Brazil, the senate is calling for President Bolsonaro to be charged with crimes against humanity, including murder and genocide, for the way he mishandled Covid and leaned into the BS herd immunity school of misinformation. If only the senate in the US had the cojones to point those charges towards the former guy. But nothing sticks to Teflon Don so why even bother?

Back here in Canada, particularly BC, we’re in a real state of confusion over federal vs provincial Covid vax cards, ID and the like. BC went ahead with the QR codes while Ottawa was distracted with an election. Now that we’re ahead of the fed, they’re trying to marry both systems so people who want to travel internationally – like me, please! – can get in and out without a whole lot of headaches added to the already cumbersome limitations.

No matter our age, it is confusing. We can’t ask Siri or Alexa, or just Google the answer to a question we all want the answer to. And while we still see around us the stubborn stances of those who get their science from Q-Anon or whatever bad actors are posting fake information on Facebook, I do have the perspective of our sweet Mira to keep me grounded.

After all, she was actually confined in Nazi work camps in her teens. She knows what fascism is, firsthand. She has witnessed atrocities that most of us can never imagine and some don’t even believe happened because they never cracked open a book; they just saw or heard on the internet that “we have questions.” Mira knows what real hardship is. The question she asks is, “What is wrong with these people?” And I don’t have an answer for that, either.

Be well, stay safe and sane and I’ll be back with you on Thursday.

Just a thought…

“Doctor, I think I swallowed a pillow.”

“How do you feel?”

“Honestly – a little down in the mouth.”

As always, you can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or here on YouTube.

Well, hey there – and thanks for coming by. In case you’re interested (and really, I’m okay if you’re not) my computer parts should be arriving by tomorrow and then we’ll see if they’re able to fix my inner workings.

Speaking of which, I had my biennial appointment yesterday to get, as our Brooke puts it, my “chimney swept.” Now, because I know that not just cisgender women come by here, I’ll couch this in very gentle terms, but the doc tried something different and I wanted to run it by you. A new take on this old wife’s tail.

First, though, a few hopefully amusing thoughts as I was getting ready for this most delightful (not) procedure, which is no woman’s favourite by any means, but which we regularly undergo to stay on top of our health.

I was remembering an observation someone once made about how women go to the doctor’s and, when we undress, we make a point of hiding our undies under our jeans, or hanging them behind our clothes so no one sees them. Like sharing a glimpse of our underwear is the most immodest thing we’re going to do that day! That has always struck me as funny and, yes, guilty.

I got to the doctor’s office at the time instructed, five minutes prior to my appointment. That’s when lovely Heidi at the desk told me that there was an intern, and would I be okay if he did the exam or would I prefer my usual GP? I said anyone was fine, adding, “as long as he doesn’t have a habit of laughing at inappropriate times.” Honestly, with the health care system as stressed as it is, I’d have said “yes” to a mechanic. Just get ‘er done.

In the examination room, I folded my dainties and left my socks on, preparing for the usual awkward scooch and show. But this young doctor, who told me to call him Josh (’cause I’m guessing that was his name) and from the mask up resembled a handsome Dr. Pravesh from TV’s The Resident, chatted with me and asked some questions and then we got down to business (specifically, mine).

I’ll do my best not to go into great detail, but here’s what I wanted to tell you. He offered me an option not to put my feet in stirrups (giddy-up, Jerry!) and told me about a new position. That’s when I asked, “Oh, so I do the exam on you, then?” and he laughed. It was not a sexual question, just a role-switching joke. (Careful, Davis. It’s the 21st century and not everybody gets you….)

Then he said that he learned this through a gynecological conference, and I told him to be honest: he’d seen it on TikTok. He laughed and said he wouldn’t tell me if he had! But this innovation (at least to me) is meant to let us feel like we’re more in control. That was comforting: it shows me that women are starting to say, “Hey, what if we try it this way…?”

Because you’re reading this and I can’t use my hands to show you, you’ll have to imagine a bear trap snapped shut and then pried open. Feet placed soles-together in the centre, resting on a table extension and in a bit of a yoga stretch, knees as flat on the exam table on either side of me as dexterity will allow. (Am I describing this properly? I’m trying to paint a picture without making you feel icky.)

A few minutes later, it was all done. Light conversation aside (and a joke about how gin used to make this so much easier), I found myself missing the lovely Monet poster that one of my former doctors had on his ceiling. Hey! Why not a word search or a 3D poster, or perhaps a maze from a kids’ placemat. Just a thought.

Was this innovation better than the old way? I think so. It was interesting that there is now an alternative to the extremely awkward and vulnerable position in which we are put every two years or so. (Shout out to Dr. Pettle in TO who used to have oven mitts on his metal foot rests.)

There you have it: a little more insight than perhaps you bargained for (which at least the doctor didn’t say) – but as it was happening I thought, well someone else is going to find this interesting. And you know me: I’ll always have something to say wherever there’s an opening.

Come back Monday. I promise I’ll have regained some semblance of modesty and/or sanity.