The Certainties of Life, Day F#$kin’ One…

For those of you who have read my posts in the past, you likely recognize the fact that having “day 1” in the title signifies this will be a multi-day post and I am likely traveling. Well, right on both counts. They often say that nothing is certain life, I’m inclined to disagree with this concept. What binds us together as human beings is that the story of all our lives begins and ends in exactly the same way; a birth and a death. There’s no getting out of it or avoiding it. It is, much like the passage of time, inevitable. What makes each of us unique as human beings is how we fill the chapters of the story between those two certain events. But the mixture of certain and uncertain can lend what one could refer to as the spice of life. And it’s is the depth of my philosophical musings for 4 am in the morning.

My father has always been what I like to describe as an unlikely warrior. From the moment he met my mother, he stepped up and took responsibility in areas that others had abandoned or faltered. My best example of this is stepping up to be a father to my late brother, whose biological father was presumptuous enough to claim he couldn’t be positive the child was his. But my father never faltered in taking on responsibility for my brothers and treated him the same as if he’d conceived him. That’s just one example of how my father has always fought for and taken care of his family as a whole. Growing up, it became a routine thing that every few months, he would experience what he described as “back spasms,” which would include debilitating back pain.

Usually, this would involve three or four days of my father laid up in bed allowing his back to recover before returning to work. I used to actually cherish these times as I would not only help my father by tending to him and getting him whatever he needed but these were some of the times that we’d make our way through Star Trek movies, have deep conversations about life and I would share my perspectives on life while gaining the wisdom of his. Often in life, it can be difficult to recognize a silver lining, even when one is staring you in the face. 1980’s medicine being the wonderfully ineffective thing that it was, there was never a diagnosis for this back pain. He simply had to grin and bear it, as it were.

It wouldn’t be until the early 2010’s that his condition would worsen to a point where he and my mother made the decision to have him housed in a care home. My father is a rather large man, sitting at well over 300 pounds, meaning my mother would be unable to care for him on a daily basis to the extent he needed. It wasn’t ideal but my mother moved into a small, one-bedroom apartment conveniently next door to the care home so she could see him and be with him on a daily basis. Having modernized a touch, medicine improved and we came to discover that my father had defects in his vertebrae and his spine is slowly degenerating. Nothing pleasant about as, you know, you need your fuckin’ spine to control EVERYTHING in your body.

There have been some rough patches through the years but my father is a war horse who refuses to go down. Stubborn and almost constantly angry, he muddles through life while overcoming any obstacle that he encounters. Damn, I wonder why that sounds so familiar…? But I digress… A few days ago, I received word that my father had been brought to the hospital by ambulance because he was having difficulty breathing. While not entirely unusual, a couple of days later I would be updated that he’s been placed in the ICU and intubated. In true hospital style and one of the biggest frustrations with living on the other side of the country, is that I don’t have immediate access to people and it’s far easier for them to decline to provide information over the phone than in person. So this morning, I’m casually sitting in the Regina Airport awaiting a long day’s flight to make my way back to New Brunswick, once again NOT for vacation or pleasure but to take care of family matters.

It stands to reason that with a couple of hours to kill, I’m going to write a post. Why not, right? I always make a point of getting to the airport a couple of hours ahead of boarding. Over the years, I’ve come to accept the necessity of this, even it poses some inconvenience. Traveling as a Type-1 Diabetic can have its share of challenges. Considering I travel with various liquids, medications and needles, there always the potential for issues through checkpoints. Given that I wear an insulin pump, I avoid going through scanning devices, since depending on the type of device, it can damage the pump and/or render the insulin inert. Neither one is a good scenario.I forget what the reasoning is behind this, but I’ve been warned on multiple occasions to simply avoid it so that there would be no issues.

My alarm woke me at 2 am, which could be manageable if I hadn’t of fallen asleep at 9:30 and woken every hour on the hour to use the washroom and stress about the trip. When I finally struck REM sleep shortly past midnight, the 2 am wake up call was NOT welcome. My scheduled cab showed up on time and without delay. My driver was intuitive enough to read my tone and recognized that it was too early for banter and chit chat. While I usually don’t mind a bit of conversation to pass the time during a drive, my pre-caffeinated soul had little room for it this morning. I hit the airport, got my boarding passes and made my way up to security. I decided to go a bit different this time around. I managed to fit several days’ clothes, insulin and pump supplies and my iPad into a military-style backpack I had recently purchased. By virtue of this, I will be traveling for four days with only one carry on and no baggage. One last stress to contend with.

My security bypass search was efficient and the man with the rubber gloves was surprisingly gentle. All kidding aside, I used to feel bad about pilling one of the security staff off their post for a pat down but I’ve come to learn that this is simply one of the pieces of being Diabetic. As it always does, it adds a layer of complication to an otherwise common and simple thing. Now, as I sit in a lobby, slowly becoming surrounded by strangers, I can’t help but wonder what I’ll be walking into when I get home. Home. Strange term for me now. Is Dalhousie, New Brunswick truly still my home? This will be the first time I travel out where my mother no longer has hearth and home to receive me. I’ll be completely on my own. Visiting the area like some tourist. As my father is likely to be unconscious from the intubation, I likely won’t be able to communicate with him. The important part will be speaking with his doctor to determine what’s actually happening and exactly how long this trip will end up being.

A strange thing, life. We go through our childhood never contemplating death and adulthood. It’s one of the things that makes childhood the best part of one’s life. Unless you spent most of it being sick like my brother and I did. But as an adult, I’ve come to make my peace with the fact that I’m in a nexus of sorts. I’m at the point in my existence where life is beginning to take away at LEAST as much as it gives. There may still be plenty of good things coming in life. One must remain optimistic. But there are certainly some big losses coming. Such is life. That final chapter comes to us all. Food for thought… I’ll be writing and updating in the days to come so stay tunes. ☯️