 |
| Ben, car sick yet always ready to shake your paw |
The snow has once again buried our house in Springbrook. All
paths which would lead to a place other than the road itself, Springbrook
Road, have disappeared. It is only by car that you can get out of the gates, and
that, only if Colin has had time to clear the driveway with the help of his fierce, backward moving, snow and pebble spraying red tractor. Behind the house the
forest and ponds are bearing with reverence the commanding white coverings
which, if the last three winters are any indication, will only be absorbed into
the rocky ground by the month of May. Long after the neighboring farms
have been released.
These days we are under the threat of that infamous, by now
common phenomenon, freezing rain. The rain that freezes all it envelops. Pluie
verglassante. Sounds even worse in French, where the expression summons images of beings encased in a cold sheath of ice, unable to move, paralyzed. A
sort of return to the Ice age.
Besides the metaphor, the main, objective and
justified fear remains the breaking down of power lines. It happens every year
a couple of times in winter, and in summer during violent storms. That's when
we are left without heat and running water. For now, heat is not that much of a
problem, for we do keep those two wood stoves burning night and day. As for
water, or the lack of it, the limit of my patience has proved to be three days.
The last time it happened, fortunately, Brother Greg was here,
so we had a great time, or at least I did, watching the men bring heavy pales
of water from one or another of the ponds close to the house. Its use reserved
for toilet-related decorum of course. It swiftly brought home the realization of
how easy total breakdown may occur, once the amenities of modern life are taken
away with the severance of electricity. Nothing works any longer. No coffee, no
flushing, of course no daily shower, that North American must.
After three days I remember calling hydro in a state of
hysterical rage, which finally produced results under the guise of a couple of
trucks leisurely parked in the driveway, and a couple of guys leisurely talking
about what must have been the heroic deeds of the past crisis. They talked for a
while before one of them climbed the pole and pushed back the leaver which had
snapped out of place so many days ago. All it took was five minutes. Because we were the only house in the
area with a problem, we did not represent a problem. Just a blip on an
otherwise good to go map of the back to normal report.
To that we may add how, on another occasion, having called my
neighbour across the road for help with the dark (as is often the case, the
crisis chose to erupt when I was alone at home), he insisted to call hydro
himself. As is well known around here, a woman's voice, calling and pleading,
is taken less seriously than a man's. Unfortunately his call proved to be just
as inefficient, especially considering that his main argument turned around
those quantities of meat in the freezer which were going bad presently. I
assume the hydro operator was either envious of so much discounted meat, or
thought that a serious household with survival material in the freezer should
have its own backup system to fall upon in such events. What kind of a home is
that where a proper generator is missing?
Imagine that adventures of this sort make one fret in the face
of the next winter power outage. Fortunately I only have to bear with it for a
couple of days, Brother Greg is due for the traditional Christmas Visit on
Monday and therefore all our problems are a priori solved. Besides his many
other talents, Greg is possessed of the most skilled survivor-ready
techniques I know.
As you have probably guessed, since this ice warning came upon
us, Colin is duly at the hospital, on call day and night, night and day...
But I was going to write about the holidays, and maybe I have
already, even if my tone is not as uplifting, as such occasion should grant.
First I wanted to thank our friends who remembered, to my amazement and
gratitude, that I was due for another scan in December, and asked how that went. To
continue along the line I have started, I'll tell you how that morning
unfolded.
I woke up at five and took care of the morning ritual. Fed the dogs,
had my coffee, decided what to wear that would agree with the imaging machine,
as you know I am bound to. By 7 I warmed the car and readied it for the dogs.
Convincing Ben to get into the back of the car is a feat, because he, among
many other sensitivities, suffers with car sickness. Therefore, every time we
need to drive somewhere, he's torn between the excitement to go and need to be
with Rocky, and the abhorrence of those states the moving car induces in him.
Since I had no time for enticing him with words, I had to lift him up, which is
way beyond my present physical capabilities. Ben is a big dog and he can become
heavier if he wants to. Once in the car, he jumped back down immediately, and I
had to go through it again. Witnessing this strife, Rocky started having second
thoughts about this particular ride. Something was amiss, they were forced to
do something against their will. I had to insist, although that is not usually
necessary. Once they were both in, and the door shut, I sat at the wheel,
panting as if it had run for life.
By 7:30 we were at the pet hotel, where I left them in capable
hands. Hands I could have kissed if such a thing were permissible. My dogs were
starting a new program of socialization, in the hope that one day the three of
us could, like some civilized trio, walk along the streets of some city, or
even small town, without looking like a band of crazed three-directional antagonists. For now, we are taking small steps, which consist of sit and stay
when the door gets open, stay sit and wait rather than trying to break down the
door, rip the door handle, and of course topple without mercy the one who opens the door.
Not only was I in time for my scan, but even a bit early. Five
to eight. Just a few people ahead of me. In a few minutes the technician came
out, a mild mannered man with a kind smile, surprised to see me again so soon.
I laughed and said the last one had been inconclusive, which he received as
better news than some dire conclusion would bring. Fair enough. Did not even
have to take my boots off, nor my necklace, which he carefully placed so as not
to interfere with the process. Three takes where the machine tells you when to
breathe and when to hold, with the last hold longer than the previous. It
usually turns out that the patient holds her breath more than she breaths,
since it's never quite clear when the command will come. Be that as it may, the
scan took only a few short minutes and I was free to go.
We will find out the results in January. As usual, there is
quite a waiting period between the test and its reading. But since the
results are often inconclusive, there is also less impatience to find out.
These have become stages along some road which we will have to follow, as if for
its own sake. Hopefully.
Ice or not, we are looking forward to the holidays
because Colin will be home more, and Greg will be with us, who, besides
rescuing us from the hardships of the pioneer's winter, will flood the house with good humor
and soulful music. Some of our friends, among them our dear friends
from Montreal, will also visit.
In the spirit of kind brotherhood, sisterhood, friendship, we
wish you a wonderful holiday season. We thank you for the many generous
thoughts and signs you have sent our way during the last year, and wish you
many good things for the year to come.
