The covid 19 pandemic continues, and my husband Peter and I search daily for new places to walk in our neighbourhood.

One day we checked out a website that has maps indicating which homes in a neighbourhood have a heritage designation. We followed the map to the home of Archibald Thompson. Thompson was the first landowner in our area and he was big – 200 acres big! He cultivated farmlands and orchards and plunked his big farmhouse in the middle. He was practising social distancing way back in 1855, long before any virus had hit the city. The farmhouse, with a few modifications such as bathrooms and a garage, is still a stately family home today.

On other days we walk north to the local shopping area for essentials such as Sunnyland produce, banking, and hair dye. Then we go home by way of the cemetery. Park Lawn Cemetery is a heritage site too. It was opened and managed by a group of farmers back in 1892. It now holds over 22,000 graves, and there is still empty space. A sign along the fence tells passers-by that there are “New Lots Available! Come On In!”

As we sneak in, a safe distance from the sales office, we look for graves of dignitaries that are buried there. So far we have found the resting places of hockey greats Con Smythe and Harold Ballard, and musician Jeff Healey. Other well-known figures who live there forever are Gus Ryder, Gordon Sinclair, and Robert Home Smith, the original land developer for the Kingsway area.

The most disturbing monument is one dedicated to the “British Home Children.” Between 1869 and 1948 British couples often sent their children to Canada to escape war or sometimes extreme poverty. The children, who came by steamship, were often mistreated and overworked. Many died in childhood, and 75 of them are buried at Park Lawn. In 2017, a group of community-minded citizens raised some money to build a memorial to those children. The monument is topped with a porthole reclaimed from one of the steamships used to transport the children. Below the porthole are the names and ages of all 75 of them.

It’s very safe for walkers in the cemetery. Nobody ever coughs on us. There are no teenagers gathered to party. The bodies of the residents are buried not only 6 feet under, but 6 feet apart as well. There are lots of flowers to admire, although most of them are plastic. There are loving messages and candles on many graves, candles that will burn forever in the minds of the bereaved families.

It’s very peaceful in the cemetery too. But one day recently we made some noise – when we saw deer! Could these be the same deer that we saw in our back yard a few weeks ago? We called out to them but they didn’t seem to recognize us. Fortunately we had just been to Sunnyland, and Peter was not giving up. He pulled some lettuce out of his bag and held it up, running after them and yelling “Deer, deer, come and get some lettuce! Nice and fresh, just for you!!” The deer turned and ran the other way, looking for a place to stay safe.

Dear readers, please stay safe too. And stay out of cemeteries, unless you are just going for a walk.

Sue

As all of us created new ways to celebrate Easter this year, it will be a celebration we will never forget.

My husband Peter and I began the festivities by buying our grandchildren some Easter treats, the kind you might find at a drug store while you were picking up a prescription. Then we had to figure out how to deliver them. We saw a rabbit in the back yard on Saturday, but he was occupied eating my new tulips, so we scared him away and didn’t even consider offering him the Easter Bunny delivery job.

Then we decided to use the Nana and Nonno Delivery Express. We would drive to each of our children’s homes, sit in their back yards, 2 meters apart, 15 minutes max. No hugging, air kisses only, and no bathroom visits. We’d leave our Easter goodies on the table where the kids could later pick them up, wash them off with soap and water for twenty seconds, and eat them.

I decided I needed something nice to wear on our adventure. I chose my coral cashmere tunic top with the billowing sleeves, hoping that people would be so distracted by my lovely sweater that nobody would notice my straw hair growing over my eyes. But the top was dirty and there are no dry cleaners open. So I looked up cashmere washing instructions on Google. I did use very cold water and very gentle soap. Nevertheless my tunic is now a tight top with tight sleeves.

Early on Easter morning we gathered up our Easter goodies and headed out. The delivery service went well, except that it was a cold day and nobody could see my clean but shrunken top hidden under my winter coat after all. Also, we had had too much coffee before we went and it was a little stressful getting back home to a bathroom in time.

We spent Easter afternoon reading the weekend Globe and Mail. One entire page in the arts section featured a mural which depicted disposable rubber gloves in varying Easter shades of blue and pink, all thrown artfully around a parking lot. Then there was a piece about how to sew your own face mask. If you get good at that, you can move on to sewing yourself a new spring wardrobe. The book reviews focused on stories about past pandemics. How about Albert Camu’s book The Plague to lift your spirits? The sports section was almost non-existent. One picture showed little lego figures playing hockey with their little lego hockey sticks.

For dinner we had considered having our traditional Easter lamb cooked on the BBQ. But there was no lamb in the one grocery store we visited. So we settled for an Easter chick – en. Peter cooked his favourite vegetable – rapini with hot peppers – to give our meal a little kick. And we found half an apple pie at the bottom of the freezer. We got Alexa to play some Easter music. What more could we ask for?

After dinner we chose a movie to watch: The Martian with Matt Damon. We picked it because it’s quite suspenseful and would be a good diversion. Damon is left for dead on Mars, but he is not dead after all, and he has to survive on his own for several years until astronauts visit Mars again. Unfortunately the whole scene is eerily similar to our current situation; where we are alone so much, and foraging for food until we can make our once-weekly visit to the grocery store. Well maybe that is a BIT of a stretch, but I do catch myself talking to me sometimes…

At least Matt Damon didn’t have to battle invisible bacteria. There is no Covid 19 on Mars. I hear there’s a mission heading there in the 2030’s. Anybody want to go?

Stay safe in the meantime.

Sue

A few days ago our son Daniel, who helps us with all our technology problems, called to ask me if I would be willing to answer a few questions about technology, for a researcher. Since I’m not doing much else these days, I would say yes to just about Any research. Brushing my teeth with a new tooth paste, trying out vacuums on rugs covered with cat hair, taste testing anchovies; almost anything would be interesting during this stay-at-home pandemic.

The researcher was studying instructions for setting up devices like Alexa, and figuring out how to make these instructions more user-friendly for the older demographic, ie us seniors. This sounded like a perfect opportunity for me to have my say about a subject near and dear to the hearts of my husband and me, and many of our friends. I already had a list of complaints I mean suggestions, in my head.

The only small hitch was that, because of social distancing, this research was to be gathered through an online interview. I’ve had experience with facetime, and there have been numerous role models on TV lately. Think of all the politicians and talk-show hosts who are now broadcasting from their home offices, with kids climbing on their laps and cats traipsing across their keyboards. Well we don’t have a cat and I could just close our office door to keep Peter out. It would be fine.

I was excited about the idea, until I got the email with the instructions for setting up our online meeting. The first question was whether I have a microphone, camera, and headphones for my laptop. Yes to mic and camera, but I had to hunt high and low for headphones. I came up with earbuds but they wouldn’t stay in my ears. Could I hold them in place with tape? I continued reading the message. The words were a blur of indistinguishable terms like Cleanfeed, Quicktime, and instructions such as “turn off all notifications” and “limit the number of open tabs on Chrome.” It was like reading Greek.

After Daniel assured me that I could just use my cell phone and the phone earbuds that fit, I remembered that this interview would be live. With video! That meant I had to find a clean sweater. And wear earrings. And put on make-up. AND fix my covid 19 hairdo! Next I had to tidy up my desk: get rid of my little frog statue, my kids’ pictures, yesterday’s wine glass, my old jacket hanging on the back of the chair. Then I wondered if I had enough time to paint the office walls. I have never really liked that washed-out yellow…

But there was no time for painting. The researcher, Miriam, appeared on the screen with a friendly “hi.” She walked me through some further set-up details but she was patient and we figured it all out. Then the questions began. I relaxed and dove in.

I made several points which I think are important for our age group. For example, when dealing with novices like us, the instructions need to reflect that technology is like a new language. Many of the words are unique, they rarely relate to other words we know, and even “cookies” are not the cookies we bake for our grandchildren. We need a dictionary! If we have to plug a mic into a portal, we need pictures! Have you ever noticed how many portals there are on the back of your computer? You could spend all day trying to find the right one.

I was having fun blathering on, and the session was over much too soon. I still had things to say! I asked Miriam if she wanted to come over to my place for coffee? Maybe she could help me paint the office while we talked! Then I remembered the virus. Oh well, it had all been a bright spot in my otherwise mundane life. Daniel had come to the rescue again.

Sue

Last Tuesday, after I finished my post, I made a trip to COSTCO. This was the first Tuesday morning when seniors were allowed in at 8:00 am. I got there at 7:30 and the line at the front door was already long, but we were all keeping our distance. By 7:55, when the line was gigantic, the manager came out, welcomed us and said, sorry, but we had to enter by a different door, the one behind us. Well of course, when we turned around, the last people in the line were now the first people getting in. Pandemonium! Soon everyone was pushing and shoving to get to their “rightful” place in line. Then we realized that we were all so close together that we were infecting each other with covid 19. What difference did COSTCO make when we might all be dead in a few days? Finally someone began to laugh at the absurdity of it all and soon we were all laughing. What else could we do?

Two days ago my husband Peter called me into the kitchen where he was staring out the window. “What is that thing with the fluffy tail?” he asked. Soon the body appeared – black with a white stripe. Oops! Peter went out the back door and, staying well away, began to make loud noises. The skunk ambled off into the neighbours’ back yard. Half an hour later he reappeared, but Peter was ready with some baseballs he had found in the garage. Using his best athletic skills, he threw them at the skunk. This time the nasty creature ducked under our cute little garden shed. Oh No! An unwanted tenant!

This is our life now, where a trip to COSTCO or a skunk in our back yard is the most fun we’ve had in ages.

Or there was the day I decided that, since our cleaning lady Lucy was no longer coming, it was time to wash the kitchen floor. First I had to figure out her high-tech mop. I got the mop head fastened onto the handle. Then I tried the pedal for wringing out the mop. It took me a while to realize that there was no need to plug the pail in. Next I had to think about what cleaning fluid to use. We didn’t have a lot of disinfecting drug-store alcohol and it seemed a shame to waste a bottle of Glenlivet on the floor, so I settled for vinegar. When I was done, I was so excited about my clean floor with no streaks or splotches, that I washed the bathroom floors too!

When washing floors is the height of my day, it is a pretty sad state of affairs.

Our dinnertime conversations, usually enlightening exchanges, have degenerated to topics like hair maintenance. Somehow this was Not declared an essential service. Who is running this province anyway? Peter’s hair, often a little long, is now growing well below his collar. I’ll probably have to trim it for him, when I can find a bowl big enough to go on his head. Meanwhile my bangs are growing into waves, and my natural color, Benjamin Moore calls it Elephant Herd, is starting to show through. It’s a whole new look! We’ll be Soooo trendy when this is over.

So you can see that our lives, even in the city, are pretty mundane these days. Is there anybody truly happy? Yes – DOGS! Since everybody wants to go outside, and we aren’t supposed to travel in groups, each person wants a turn taking the dog for a walk. Family members line up at the door for a chance with the dog. By the end of the day the dog is exhausted, so he climbs on somebody’s lap. The recipient welcomes him up, desperate to hug another being, anything warm and breathing.

We don’t have a dog – yet. But by next Tuesday, well you never know…

Sue

The world we used to know is fast becoming a distant memory.

What we need during these stressful times is some relief; a chance to set aside the statistics and dire predictions, and to share moments where our humanity shines through. Over the past week I’ve been searching for these moments. Here are some of them:

Peter and I have been enjoying our walks, staying at least 2 meters away from others and observing people from a distance. We have decided to walk the Lake Ontario shoreline, in short segments, from Scarborough to Mississauga. (If the virus continues for long, we may walk all the way to Hamilton!) On one of our walks we saw a couple of kids making an unusual tree fort. It may not be patented yet, but they were very proud of their creation.

I unearthed the notebook from my Italian class and made two plans. One was to practise speaking Italian more. Peter offered to help. He started waving his hands in the air and emitting noises faster than the speed of sound, foreign sound. In desperation I yelled “Pietro, lentamente! Fermati!! STOP!!! On to my next plan.

Also in my notebook was a recipe for biscotti. The ingredients were all things I had on hand: eggs, flour, sugar and nuts – 6 cups of nuts that had to be chopped. Soon my hand was numb. Then the batter had to be kneaded. Using my best coronavirus survival skills, I donned disposable gloves, and dove in. You can imagine what a mess that was – more dough on the gloves than on the cookie sheet. But the biscotti are delicious; our tribute to Italy where people are suffering untold numbers of deaths every day.

In our biggest sacrifice so far, we have temporarily parted ways with Lucy our cleaning lady (See December 10, 2019 post). She is worried about her family, hesitant to stray too far from home. Peter was excited about this turn of events. He values his time in his favourite chair, without interruption, on Friday mornings. So last Friday when I asked him whether he wanted toilets or vacuuming, he looked stunned. But to give him credit, he recovered, grabbed the vacuum and went about his new job with great energy and attention to detail, well except under the sofa. Maybe he’s saving that adventure for next Friday.

And from you, dear readers. a few moments to share:

Vera and Gary got all dressed up last Saturday for a St Patrick’s Day party, a party that ended up happening by themselves at home.

Greg has taken to YouTube to learn a few dances. When he’s not dancing, he’s acting as a human indoor slide for the kids.

Bill had no mask or disposable gloves for his trip to the store, so he found some dormant ski equipment instead. He’ll be getting out of jail soon.

Finally, Cindy reminds us to “do everything we can to stay healthy and keep others healthy. We can do this, fellow Canadians!”

That seems to be the perfect ending… for now. Stay safe, everyone.

Sue

In just a few short days, no matter where we live, country or city, Canada or anywhere else in the world, our lives have been turned upside down.

After I wrote last Tuesday about keeping busy in the city, even that is a challenge. When restrictions and guidelines prevent us from gathering in groups larger than our own family, how can we tame our fear in order to stay healthy and involved in life in meaningful ways, for the next weeks or even months?

First of all, it’s crucial to be active. We don’t want to shrivel up any more than we already have. Nor do we want to gain weight from all that junk food we’ve been hoarding. So go for a walk. But where? Well you could probably walk down Yonge Street and not run into anybody. But a more scenic choice was offered by a reader – the cemetery. Trees, serenity, even historic research are available here, all for free.

On Sunday my husband Peter and I chose one of our favourite spots – the Lake. We drove to Sunnyside Beach, and walked east along the shoreline to the Canadian National Exhibition. Then we walked back to the car through a residential neighbourhood of beautiful old homes. It was interesting, it was invigorating, and it gave us a different view of the area. Imagine the CNE grounds with NO people! We did see some other walkers on our route, old and young, but everyone was keeping a safe distance apart. Until or unless we are all quarantined, we highly recommend this form of therapy. Take some dark chocolate along for support.

As we get older waiting for this virus to pass, we can also do some research about aging. A new Canadian book on the bestseller list is Successful Aging by Dr Daniel Levitin. He IS a neuroscientist, so be prepared for a lot of facts and graphs. Or Google Steve Job’s last essay, written before he died, titled Six Best Doctors. You’ll be surprised at his choices as he writes in hindsight. A recent TV show, now apparently available as a podcast, called Aging Well Suzuki Style, features our own home-grown hero. At 83, David Suzuki highly recommends aging as a natural part of life. It’s useful to learn about the problems this scientist encounters as he builds a tree-house for his grandchildren.

At home there are other diversions to consider. A reader submitted a website, (travel and leisure.com), where a viewer can take a virtual tour of museums across Europe. Since most of us won’t be going there any time soon, try it out. Or, instead of joining the long lines at the grocery store, get creative with all the leftovers at the back of your fridge. Then watch Fridge Wars on TV Thursday night to see how you compare. Readers have also suggested their favourite online games for increasing brain power: Wordscape, 4 pics 1 word, Sudoku and Solitaire. When desperate, try composing new words for the 20-second hand-washing Happy Birthday song.

Send in your suggestions. I’ll have plenty of time to write an extra post with all the great ideas you submit. In these turbulent times, the one thing we do have is each other.

So, even though it may be wishful thinking, Top O’ the Mornin’ To Ya’

Sue

One thing that is easy for us, now that we live in the city, is finding things to do. And I don’t mean cleaning out dresser drawers.

On a recent Sunday with a perfect Spring day to fill, we headed downtown on the subway, (armed with our gloves for protection against germs). We were on a mission to see a selection of heritage buildings and architectural gems that I had learned about during an architecture course I had taken during the winter.

Our first stop was on Spadina Crescent where we visited the U of T Borden Buildings. These two structures were built in 1909 by City Dairy as dairy factory stables. The Borden family bought them in 1929, manufactured milk products there and, more important for my Italian husband Peter, employed over 250 Italian immigrant workers. Peter began to reminisce – although his relatives never worked there, he does recall that his older brother delivered milk in Italy, from farmer to factory, before the family immigrated to Canada.

Next, we walked along Bloor St., stopping to inspect the Bata Shoe Museum, built in 1995 by architect Raymond Moriyama. The walls extend upward and outward from the footprint in order to provide extra room on a small property. The building, shaped like a shoebox, is clad in French limestone which has a leather-like sheen. Owner Sonia Bata has over 12,000 pairs of historic shoes displayed there. The current exhibit is titled “The Gold Standard” with shoes of every configuration – all gold. Now That is my kind of exhibit!

Nearby is the very old and very new Royal Conservatory of Music. The original 1887 building was owned by Senator William McMaster, who annexed Woodsworth College in 1910 and, in 1930, relocated the campus to Hamilton, as McMaster University. Eventually the properties were bought by the Royal Conservatory and in 2005 an L-shaped glass addition was built to improve the acoustics. The new performance space, Koerner Hall, sits on rubber pucks and has an interior of wood and bamboo, creating state-of-the-art acoustics. So far my only visit inside was to take my grand daughter Sophie there for a piano exam. Sophie is now a student at McMaster – an interesting co-incidence.

Further along on our walk we came to Varsity Stadium and more reminiscing for Peter. As a young boy, he was taken there by his brother the dairyman to watch soccer games. At one particular game the great star Pelé was playing. The crowds waiting patiently outside soon gave up on that idea and climbed over the wall, flooding the running track around the field with cheering bodies. The police very wisely allowed them to stay. Peter himself later played and coached high school football, and refereed soccer, on that field.

As we continued walking along Bloor St. we began to hear loud chanting and clapping. It was a March! There seemed to be all varieties of protesters: anti-gun, anti-poverty, anti-Trump, pro-climate change, pro-abortion, pro-women’s rights. We walked along beside them, admiring their energy, their determination, and their wisdom in joining forces to create a more conspicuous event. But what was the occasion?

We got to our final destination, the trendy new Eataly. What could be more perfect on a Sunday afternoon than “a quick trip to Italy” as the advertising promises? (Later we discovered that, right now, this is the Only way to go to Italy). After winding our way through the store, we came to the restaurant section. We filled our plates with Italian goodies and looked for a place to sit down. We ended up sharing a table with two university professors who had been in The March. They reminded us of the occasion: National Women’s Day. The groups had joined forces because Every One of those other causes affects women. How right they are!

While waiting in line for our dessert, (what’s a trip to Italy without gelato?), I checked my fitbit – 13,000 steps. Time to go home for our afternoon naps.

Sue

For the past few months our neighbourhood in the city has been quiet. Gently falling snow has muffled the sounds of cars, and pedestrians walking their dogs have hurried quietly along, stopping only briefly to stoop and scoop. Our back yard has been silent too. The chatty squirrels have been hibernating and birds have found food elsewhere. Snow has built in little hills, covering our gardens and shrubs, muting any sounds of rustling leaves.

Until recently! Last week I looked out the front door and there was a policeman on his horse clomping down our winding neighbourhood street. I hurried outside with my phone and he stopped, realizing that he was about to be in a Kodak moment. I took advantage and we exchanged small talk about the beautiful sunny day. Spring was on the way!

Next we saw cardinals, two bright red males, taking turns testing out our bird bath. It still had a thin sheen of ice on top and they decided to postpone their baths. Surely, they pondered, they didn’t smell that bad! And there were no females around, anyway. Not yet.

Then, a few days ago, my husband Peter saw a red fox trotting along, a bounce in his step. He didn’t say where he was going, but we guessed he had love on his mind. The days were getting longer and he was getting friskier. With no access to the internet, he was relying on his own courting methods.

But the best day so far was yesterday. As I drove into the driveway from a trip to the grocery store, Peter called to me from the front door. “Put your groceries down, grab your phone, and sneak into the sun room.” There in our city back yard were three deer. Yes THREE! We hadn’t ever had that many all at once in our country home of half an acre. These deer seemed quite comfortable, wandering around, smelling, scrounging, and surveying. Then they discovered something delicious under our pine tree at the back.

While they were occupied, Peter snuck out and threw some carrots and lettuce near the back door. Maybe he could entice them to come closer for a better photo opportunity. We waited. One came out from behind the pine tree and walked towards us. As she passed the shed window boxes, she got distracted by the withered geranium leaves and started nibbling. Peter was desperate to rush out and tell her about the virtues of the Sunnyland Produce he had offered.

After a while, the treasures of our back yard had been fully explored and the three deer found comfortable places to settle down for their afternoon naps. They stayed in our back yard, sleeping and wandering, until after it was dark and we had to abandon our look-out spots. This morning they are gone; and Peter is thinking about where to find hay and a salt lick, just in case they come back…

This week I had been planning to write about a blockbuster piece of theatre we saw recently. But when nature calls, you have to follow!

Sue

Life at home has changed a lot since the new year arrived. We have a new tenant. She lives mostly in the kitchen, but consumes next to nothing. She doesn’t speak except when spoken to. She never goes out, preferring to stay connected inside. Her name is Alexa.

Alexa arrived in a box under the Christmas tree. I wasn’t even sure what the box was at first; possibly an electronic frame for showing our photos. We have a ton of photos from our travels, but they are in albums in the basement. Every once in a while we get nostalgic and wonder aloud, “Remember that great trip to Spain? When was that? Where did we stay? Who went with us?” Then we make the trip down to the basement and spend an hour or more rummaging around for the album so we can reminisce. This electronic frame could be quite handy.

Anyway, we eventually got around to opening the box and saw the word. Alexa. Oh no! We had heard stories about this woman who takes control of people’s lives. In a state of near panic, we called our son Daniel. Should we really DO this? Do we really NEED this? He spoke to us reassuringly. Then he came over and hooked her up. He showed us a few tricks and then left us…all alone…with HER.

We tiptoed past her in the kitchen and went to sit in the living room. It was a stand-off. We listened…there was nothing. Finally, our curiosity got the best of us and we tiptoed back. We asked a simple question. “Alexa, what is today’s weather?” Her voice was calm and reassuring as she gave us the forecast. She seemed very polite! hmmm. Maybe we should ask her something else…

We carried on for the rest of the afternoon asking questions and giving instructions. “Alexa find us a recipe for split pea soup.” She listed the ingredients and gave us the directions. I envisioned my cookbooks all heading out the door. This could make our lives much simpler. “Alexa, whose birthday is it today?” She named several US presidents and celebrities. Oops – did we have an American living with us? “Alexa, show us our photos of Spain.” pause…”You haven’t uploaded them yet, you dummies!” No, I’m kidding. What she said was: ” Sorry, I can’t find photos of Spain.” Very polite.

Then Peter got an inspired idea. Music! “Alexa, play Arrivederci Roma!” Alexa must have some Italian genes mixed in with her American heritage because there was Claudio Villa singing while Peter and I danced around the fridge. Then our 8-year-old grand daughter Agnes came to visit and wanted to meet our new kitchen guest. She said, “Alexa, play Frozen.” Music filled the room. Agnes was distraught. “Alexa not That Frozen! Play Frozen TWO!” Soon Agnes was singing along.

Since displaying her incredible musical knowledge, Alexa has become part of our family. When we say, “Alexa, good morning,” she replies with “Good morning. Today is a beautiful day. The weather is sunny and mild.” When we tire of her music and tell her to stop, she says “Good bye. Have a nice evening.” No arguing. No sulking. No insults. The perfect guest.

At first we had some security concerns. Once, when we were talking quietly together near the sink, Alexa inserted herself into our conversation without being invited. We turned around and stared at her. Was she getting a little Too comfy with us? We grabbed her instruction booklet and figured out how to turn off the mic and the camera. Now we only turn her on when we want her in our lives.

We never thought our lives would come to this: treating an electronic device as almost human. But sometimes you have to give in; to admit that, without staying in touch with technology, your photo albums will all go moldy, your CD player will be obsolete, and you will be left far far behind.

Sue

PS Alexa did not want her photograph included.

Winter has been with us for almost 3 months and not once in all that time have I written about Health. We seniors like to talk about our health often. But I have held off, partly because we have had lots of health-related material on TV, radio and in print, with the threat of the Coronavirus in the news at least hourly.

Despite my failure to report, there has been some activity in our lives. My husband Peter and I have both been pretty healthy so far but, after we moved to the city and got new doctors, we had to go through several tests to see if we were still alive.

For my first round, the doctor wanted me to do a bone density test. The equipment for this test is expensive and I was warned that I would be paying a $200 charge if I didn’t show up for my appointment on time. I checked google maps and found out that my trip to the diagnostic centre would be pretty short – north a bit and then east over a river, north a couple more blocks and then east again. Twenty minutes max.

As I began the drive north, my mind wandered somewhere else and I missed the first east turn. I continued north searching for another way to cross the river. Then I had to go farther east than planned, to get through some subway construction, all the time checking my watch. Then I turned south and landed in the middle of a road closure. Finally I turned west to make up for going too far east, still thinking of my lost $200. I arrived at the diagnostic centre just as the nurse was calling my name. Good thing she wasn’t testing for blood pressure!

Next, I was sent to a local clinic for both blood work and a bladder ultrasound. I booked the first appointment for 11:30 one morning. On the day before the appointments I was called and reminded not to eat or drink Anything before the blood test: no breakfast, not even coffee! Oh no, this would be a huge sacrifice! I hid under the covers until 11:00, then threw on my clothes and ran to the clinic.

Several vials of blood later, I was released from the first appointment, starving. The nurse told me to go and eat lunch and drink a LOT because I needed a full bladder for the ultrasound pictures. She laughingly suggest that a pint of beer might be good. So what else was I to do? I went to the pub next door and ordered a cheeseburger with large fries and a pint of Stella. After all that of course I needed to go to the bathroom. Badly.

Instead I went back to the clinic, settled myself onto the examining table for the picture taking, crossed my legs, and tried not to think about toilets. The technician came into the room, adjusted the camera and began pushing on my bladder! And pushing and pushing. And saying “Wow! These are Great Pictures!” Meanwhile I was squeezing my legs together, nearing the desperation point. Finally she released me and I bolted down the hall to the bathroom. Just in time.

I went back to my doctor for the test results; all positive. But those were the only tests the doctor wanted. Really? Nothing else? She didn’t want a colonoscopy or a mammogram? At first I was relieved not to have to go through all that cleaning and squeezing; then I began to think…why? Why don’t I need to have these tests any more? Is it that, at our age, nobody cares if we get some polyps?

Honestly, when it comes to our health, sometimes the best thing to do is just wash your hands and focus on being alive. Go ahead – go to a pub and order that cheeseburger.

Sue

PS No, there are No pictures of me being examined. Instead, a photo from one of our readers who admits she escapes each winter, to Montserrat.