Three Things That Happened On Monday

Last year I had a flu shot for the first time, not because I’d reached a ‘certain age’ but because the year before I’d managed to spend most of my time being in the throes of, or recovering from, lung and phlegm related lurgys. All I had to go out my front door and I’d catch every virus within a hundred kilometer radius. For the whole of last winter or all this year, nary a lurgy raised it’s ugly head, so not wanting to break my winning streak I decided it was time to renew my subscription.

Monday was the day I’d picked to do the deed.

At 3am on Monday morning a migraine woke me up. Thankfully it wasn’t a skull-crushing galaxy-buster, as they usually tend to be, and once some painkillers kicked in I managed to convince myself to go back to sleep. I felt a little delicate when I woke up at the crack of 10.30am but not enough to scuttle my plans.

My arm ached a moderate amount after the flu shot so I ambled off to the Tim Hortons coffee shop just around the corner from my doctors office for a restorative french vanilla coffee and some timbits. (timbits are the tasty bits they cut out of the center of doughnuts)

Whilst chomping on the gooey wonderfulness at the center of a timbit, I thought I felt the crown on one of my teeth wobble. By my third timbit I knew without a doubt the crown was loose. Having already swallowed a crown from this very tooth some years back, I reluctantly put my remaining timbits and coffee aside and glanced up at my dentists office which happened to be just across the parking lot. I was starting to feel a little migraine-hangover headachy and my arm hurt. None-the-less, and with minimal sighing, I called upon my dentist, and half an hour later I was sitting in his chair listening to him mutter softly, “Oh darn,” behind me.  The dear man actually said ‘oh darn!’

This tooth had been troublesome off and on, since it’s root-canal ten years ago, and it turned out to be cracked right down to the roots of its little, roots. It was time for it to head off to the Great Tooth Retirement Home In The Sky.

A single memory of the ensuing ten minutes that is now burned indelibly into my psyche was of my ‘oh darn’ dentist taking to my poor tooth with a, and I kid you not, hammer and chisel!

There you have it, all in the space of a few hours, a migraine, a pain-in-the-arm flu shot, and an emergency second-from-the-back-on-the-bottom tooth extraction.

It wasn’t until this evening (2am Wednesday morning actually) that I put it together. Nothing happens on one … well, I call ‘em, Realms of Awareness – physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual – that isn’t reflected on the others. These three things were definitely physical, but what they were mirroring was the chaos that’s created at the change of the seasons.

UPDATE: Before you read any further, I realised this morning that it’s Samhain, NOT Bealtaine … Note To Self: It’s probably not a good idea to post, a) in the middle of the night, and b) when the effects of painkillers haven’t quite worn off.

Here in the northern hemisphere, Autumn is ending. Bealtaine (Beltane or Hallowe’en) marks the beginning of Winter, and when things end in order to make way for something new to begin, there is always chaos. (no matter how hard we mortals try to avoid it) Sometimes it’s a genteel chaos and sometimes it’s of the hammer-and-chisel-to-your-tooth variety.

Now that I’ve had my ‘chaos’, and all things being equal, (ha!) it just might be smooth sailing for a while.

I’m off to bed with a hot water bottle for my arm and another one for my face … and I might just have another one for my feet.

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Kidnapped by Aliens

The other day I had a dentist appointment in Vancouver. I left Widder island with plenty of time to spare, because, for those who don’t live in parts of the world where it snows in Winter, roadworks happen in Summer, all Summer, everywhere. Construction on the main arterial road into Vancouver is winding up so my time/distance calculations were based on a very complex set of equations, and … luck.

I was doing fine, zipping along the shiny new six lane highway, when some idjit up ahead jammed his dump-truck, with the tray fully elevated, under one of the shiny new overpasses! (closely followed by two other idjits, probably gawping at the sight, crashing into each other) I only know this because it was still jammed there (as were the two cars) when I inched past in my single lane of traffic, moving at 0.04 kilometers per hour.

So, there I was on a freeway, with nary an exit in sight, surrounded on all sides by very large, and loud, semi-trailers, or tractor-trailers as they’re called here.

In front of me was a load of steel pipes, behind was what looked like a refrigerator truck, although I seldom got to see more than it’s very large chrome grille in my rear-view mirror. To my left was a fully loaded log hauler, (I really hoped those chains were as strong as they looked) and on my right some sort of construction equipment on a low-loader. I could see a patch of the bluest of blue sky through my open sunroof. (I’m sure there were other passenger cars on the freeway … somewhere)

I sat in my little black Nissan Versa, completely boxed in. The phrase ‘surreal nightmare’ came to my mind, so I ran with it and played the ‘what-if’ game. (I didn’t really have a lot of entertainment options at that point) What possible scenarios might result in me being boxed in like this? Of course! Alien abduction. Who knows how many people, (sitting in their black Nissan Versa’s, minding their own business) have been kidnapped in this very manner?

Heh. A writer’ll find a story in everything!

… A significant amount of time later …

I drove along the broard avenues and tree-lined streets where, this time last year, I rode my wonderful green bicycle hither, thither, and yon. (hard to imagine we’ve been on our island for eight months)

I saw ghosts of my ambling self; bicycle panniers (saddle bags) full of veggies from the local farmers markets; heading down to Kits Beach with Mrs Widdershins and a picnic hamper to watch the fireworks; riding along the seawall at Stanley Park, just because it was a beautiful day.

I saw ghosts of my past self everywhere in this neighbourhood.

Maybe I’d been kidnapped by time travelling aliens after all.

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(love the Spanish subtitles)

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“Happiness is your dentist telling you it won’t hurt and then having him catch his hand in the drill” Johnny Carson, television host, comedian – 1925-2005 

 

P.S. I did make my dentist appointment, albeit late. They have a lot of out-of-town clients and were very understanding.