After being shut up here in my bedroom last evening to avoid my younger brother who had come home far too late from his social drinking, when I was set for bed something ahead of 11 p.m., I sneaked forth on a last visit to the bathroom. In so doing, I could see my sad brother downstairs passed out in front of whatever was playing on T.V. By that time Bev seemed to have shut off the T.V. she was watching in their bedroom and properly gone to bed.
My cellphone alarm was set for 4 a.m. to get me up to attempt a walk that would be no less than six blocks ─ by far the longest walk my damaged right knee has faced since the crippling accident very early Saturday (March 1) morning. I don't think that it was quite 4:30 a.m. when the event struck, so this walk was almost exactly two weeks later.
I am glad that I chose to wear a heavy jacket ─ I nearly left in a denim jacket. I was to find that I had to walk so slowly and carefully due to reduced mobility of the knee, and its lack of stabilization, that I generated absolutely no body heat from effort. It was little better than just standing outside where generated body warmth was concerned.
It was to rain heavily later in the morning, so I was very fortunate to have left when there was no rain, although everything was damp.
Happily I never crossed paths with anyone, for physically I am presently quite helpless. But I did have my dagger on my hip, and I carried in a tote bag my Titan baton flashlight stun gun. I was taking no chances.
I crept along so slowly that the occupants of the few passing motor vehicles must have surely concluded that I was possibly one of those pathetic night figures who was so drunk or stoned that I was barely conscious as I lethargically wended my way, maybe not even understanding where I was.
It was a long walk where time consumed was involved. Even before I was halfway along, I considered that the walk might be more than I could properly handle. And once I was more than halfway along, there was almost a sense of desperation attendant upon the awareness that if I had over-challenged myself and could not complete the walk, then what was I to do?
But I accomplished the venture; and once back home, I did not feel like I was going to suffer for it later with any sort of 'after shocks'.
The point of the walk was not just to see if I could handle it. I also wanted to understand if I could cope with a walk to Surrey Memorial Hospital's emergency section around the same time tomorrow to have my knee appraised once again to see if surgery may be required, despite what a doctor had concluded from four X-rays two weekends ago.
My thinking is that the emergency section will not be as populated with walk-ins at that hour as it was when my brother drove me there late in the noon hour the day of my accident, March 1. I cannot bear having to wait another 13 hours to be seen by a physician as was the case that day!
Anyway, I was back to bed before 6 a.m., I believe. When I later checked the time, it was something like 9:10 a.m., so I chose to get up. My wife had come home last night sometime after I had gone to bed, and I did not know if she was scheduled for a full workday or not today at the Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time; if a full day, she would probably be rising between 9:30 - 9:45 a.m. and be gone shortly after 10 a.m.
Also, I wanted to get in as much morning time as I could watching videos with my brother if he was already up.
It developed that my wife only had to work the latter part of today, but she did rise by maybe 10:15 a.m.
When she confirmed from me that I had filed our income tax returns on Thursday ─ I did so that evening online, using the free GenuTax software ─ she was upset because she believes her T4 (Statement of Remuneration Paid) from the restaurant is a mistake by the accountant.
She feels that she earned considerably less than is being declared.
Apparently early this afternoon after she got a little further bed rest, she left here earlier than usual with the T4 and also the T4 from the previous year, and intended to have a discussion with her employer (who also happens to be one of my wife's best friends). I did not realize that she left for the day, for she said nothing at the time to me in departing.
When she and I had talked, I also showed her the annual utilities bill that arrived quite recently, and is supposed to be paid April 2nd, I believe. Its total is $2,777, if I am remembering correctly.
I also showed that bill to her youngest son, who does not earn very much. He responded by asking how the bill is supposed to be divvied up, so that is a conversation I cannot avoid having with my brother very soon when he is sober.
Honestly, barring a financial miracle, I do not see how I can get through the next few months without essentially putting myself to the mercy of my brother. It used to be that these upcoming annual bills (utilities, home insurance, property taxes) were split four ways, but the big money earner ─ my eldest stepson ─ moved out last month to live with his girlfriend.
Even if the bills are split three ways, I am unsure that I can manage it.
This is too depressing to talk about right now.
This morning my brother and I were to watch a number of relatively short videos via our Android TV Box, but I am only going to identify a 17-minute (17:17) video uploaded yesterday to YouTube's AnitaK channel: Mark Carney Has No Impulse Control on Day 1.
On his first day as Canada's 24th Prime Minister, Mark Carney exhibited signs of a bad temper during his first press conference.
Carney appeared visibly agitated when questioned about the escalating trade tensions with the United States under President Donald Trump.
Carney's newly appointed cabinet includes:
François-Philippe Champagne as Finance Minister
Chrystia Freeland as Minister of Transport and Internal Trade
Dominic LeBlanc as Minister of International Trade
Mélanie Joly continuing as Foreign Minister
Bill Blair remaining as Defense Minister
Matthew Ehret Article:
https://matthewehret.substack.com/p/m...
We were also to get a good way through an unusually long ─ over two hours (2:09:16) ─ video uploaded December 31, 2019, to YouTube's Talasbuan channel: A year in the Swedish wilderness.
This is our year in the swedish wilderness in pictures. You will see us work with all our different projects, building with timber, butchering, finally finish the fence around the property so the sheep wont eat our berry bushes, shoveling snow, doing the daily chores on the farm, tending the garden and taking care of the animals. Slow, hard and satisfying work.
Actually, I don't think we got halfway through it, but we will finish it. However, maybe not tomorrow if I stick with this notion to try and visit Surrey Memorial in the wee hours.
A big concern I have is encountering trouble ─ confrontation ─ during the walk to the hospital, for I cannot take any protection with me. It is possibly a seven-block walk, so it is doable if the early walk today can be compared.
All I want is assurance that my knee will recover unaided, and that I need not fret about damaging anything if I start pushing its rehabilitation. I have no idea how to begin doing that rehabilitation, so some guidance would be deeply appreciated.
My brother left fairly early this afternoon ─ before or after my wife, I do not know ─ to engage his daily social drinking. Actually, he was going to rendezvous with an old friend of his whom he has known since the latter 1970s.
Depending upon when he is back home, I feel some inclination to watch this evening at least a couple of the shows that we follow in common, while enjoying some beer. I am feeling antsy about that hospital hike and visit, and want to unwind a little, but without jeopardizing the considered early a.m. enterprise.
At present it is only 5 p.m., so I am going to take a break from this post. For one thing, it is a bath day, so I want to get that long chore out of the way.
★★★★★
Despite not walking these past two weeks, and certainly not exercising at all, I have worked at eating as limitedly as I feel up to doing. It would seem that the effort has paid off, for when I was stripped naked for my bath, a weigh-in revealed me to be barely over 175 pounds at very most.
But bathing ─ and getting into and out of the tub, as well as giving it a bit of a scouring ─ is not getting markedly easier. I am also always mindful that when I am bent over and trying to dry myself or clean off the inside of the bathtub, I put effort into not losing balance and do a headlong fall forward.
Whilst bathing, a thought struck me that has me doubting the walk to the hospital in the early coming a.m. I realized that I have to move so slowly and cautiously in walking that I might not be capable of crossing King George Boulevard in the 30 seconds the traffic light allots for the pedestrian crossing. And despite that, just the prospect of having to cross in front of stopped traffic at the red light would itself be daunting, for the vehicle occupants would of course have nothing better to do than be entertained by the strange man having so much difficulty with the simple act of walking.
Should I delay the visit?
Maybe I have no sound option but to brave a day visit to the hospital when I am able to be given a ride ─ most likely from my brother during a midday or so, for I hate to impose upon him to have to get up early again like he did for me Thursday on our failed attempt to have me accepted at the Cedar Hills Medical Clinic soon after its 7 a.m. opening that day.
ℱ𝓊𝒸𝓀! I absolutely hate this!
My brother finally got home around 8:50 p.m., and I noticed about 15 minutes later that he was already passed out in his chair downstairs in front of whatever show Bev had on T.V.
Maybe I will just go to bed and hope for the best by 3 or 4 a.m. ─ whenever I decide to set my cellphone alarm. I would like to watch a show and have a beer, but a can of beer seems to result in more overnight urination than the volume the can of of beer contains.
I am feeling quite helpless ... and alone. I don't know what I can do.
I have no more to say. It is 9:20 p.m.
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