Category: Motivation

Here We Go Again, Part 6…

Yesterday was actually a reasonably good day. As mentioned yesterday, I woke up, did some quick laundry, grabbed a brief lunch and then traveled to Bathurst to visit Sensei’s son, Guillaume. Instead of simply jumping on Highway 11 and taking the 1-hour rip to his place, I opted instead to use secondary Highway 134, or what we used to call the “Old Highway.” It added about half an hour to the transit time but the view was spectacular. The entire route is coastal, with open views of the Restigouche Bay opening up into the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Some beautiful houses and old churches, schools and properties, it was almost a meditative drive of sorts, lending some peace to the stress I’ve felt all week. I reached Bathurst shortly after the lunch hour and made a couple of stops, used the restroom and grabbed a drink, then made my way to Middle River.

I have to admit, Guillaume has a pretty sweet setup. He built his own compound, including a main house, a smaller dormitory for his daughter, which is separate from the house, a large, industrial garage that houses tractors and industrial equipment used to maintain the property, and apartment for his two sons above the garage. He has a private road, bee hives, vegetable crops and absolutely no cell phone signal. He has his own maintained WiFi, but cell phones don’t work on his property. The entirety of the property is beautiful and impressive. In hindsight, I kind of wish I had photographed it, or even taken a video to post on my YouTube channel. I spent a couple of hours in good conversation and pleasant company. Just me, Guillaume and his three large but friendly dogs.

Once I left Bathurst, I drove back to Campbellton by way of the main highway. I made it back in under an hour. Now, I faced a choice… With nothing to do with my evening, I could either go catch a 7 pm movie at the local theatre or, given that I had only gotten about five or six hours’ sleep the night before, I could go grab a quick burger to eat in the room and crash early. I opted for the latter. I sat and munched away on my custom McChicken with cheese (don’t judge) and binge watched some Flash on Netflix until my eyes grew heavy. Then, I unceremoniously dumped myself into the bed and fell into a deep, air conditioned oblivion. Although not in any hurry and with an alarm set for 9 am, I awoke on my own around 6 am. Even when I’m on vacation, I can’t seem to sleep in. Such is life.

Since I was up, I started the caffeination process, including but not limited to grabbing a hot shower and throwing on some clothes. I packed up the room, where I had been laying my head since my late arrival Saturday evening, and made my way down to the front desk. I dropped off my key cards and jumped into my rental vehicle. Now, I”m enjoying a sausage & egg McMuffin and a water, the only meal I’ll likely consume until late tonight (thanks, Ozempic) before getting on the road for the long, 4-hour trek to Moncton, where I will spend the night before hopping the first of two flights that will bring me home tomorrow. I expect my evening will be pretty peaceful. Some gaming to work through my daily puzzles and crosswords and maybe a bit of streaming. I can’t wait to get home. It will be good to be back with my wife and sons. ☯️

Here We Go Again, Part 5…

Okay, so if I’m being real for a moment, these posts all week have been pretty negative and depressing. I get, no need to say it… It’s a bit hard not to be depressing when one is talking about the decline of one’s parents and all the unfortunate realities that come with it. So, considering I accomplished all the parent-related matters I came out here to do (to an extent), I thought it might be nice if I focused on some of the positive aspects. For one thing, I got to SEE my parents. If there’s one thing that been hard over the years, it’s been living clear on the other side of the country, away from them. I also got to spend time with Sensei, reconnect with my Uncle Danny, who has been amazing with helping with mom and dad, and even got the opportunity to grab dinner and shoot some pool with some old friends. I was rusty as hell, but hey! I never go out anymore so this was particular. And today, I actually get to travel down to Bathurst and visit Sensei’s son, whom I basically grew up with as a brother.

Among a few of the smaller, less important hiccups I’ve dealt with, is the lack of certain items. One of the reasons I was able to travel so quickly and efficiently (said tongue in cheek, considering all the delays outside my control) is because when I’m alone, I have the benefit of traveling extremely light and without excess baggage. This is not so easy to accomplish when you know you’ll be at your destination for several days. So, how do I do it? Well, to start with, I have a black, military rucksack with good compartment division that allows me to pack efficiently in such a way where I can fund anything on the fly without issue. Next, I make a point of packing ONLY what’s absolutely necessary without a bunch of extra shit that takes up space. I have a pair of sneakers on my feet. Boom! No need to drag additional footwear. I wasn’t planning on going dancing, after all. Three pairs of socks, three pairs of underwear and four shirts. I wore a zip-up hoodie when I left Regina and brought a super light, Under Armor windbreaker for rain or lighter weather.

The important thing and I always found it a bit dumb, but rolling up your clothing instead of folding it actually saves a huge amount of space and makes it possible to fit more into something smaller. Pair this with a small bathroom “pouch” and you’re off to the races. I call it a “pouch” as opposed to a toiletry bag because it’s about half the size and thickness, to better accommodate the limited space I have. The only thing included in there are infusion sets and reservoirs for my insulin pump and my toothbrush. Some of my smaller compartments had a pack of gum and some Skittles, in the event my blood drops. There’s nothing worse than being at 35,000 feet on a flight that serves no snacks while having a low. Entertainment-wise, I permitted myself to bring my iPad, which houses not only my streaming services and my blogging platform, it also contains my Kobo e-reader and some games that I can play to pass the down time. That’s the beauty of modern technology; everything is jammed into one thing, Star Trek-esk pad.

Now, you may be looking at all of this and thinking that there are a lot of things missing. And you would be right. What about toothpaste? What about deodorant? Some of the basics aren’t really there. Well, when I travel alone, I also try to save as much money as possible. Especially since this isn’t exactly a vacation or pleasure trip. Bear in mind that I left Regina freshly showered, teeth brushed and deodorant applied, like a good, clean little boy should. Like a brand new car just off the lot, I boarded my plane with a new car smell. Once I landed in New Brunswick and started driving north with my rental, I had been in airports, airplanes and sitting idle all day but getting warm, dealing with stress and running around and I was clammy. So, once I reached Miramichi, I stopped at the local Walmart and hit up their travel section. The travel section of any retail location is an overlooked gem, even for when you’re at home. It carries smaller, cheaper and more compact versions of every day hygiene items that one could need.

From this Walmart, I grabbed a reusable bag, since I always seem to be caught buying up some energy drinks with my bare hands. Since they always seem to be on special to buy several at a reduced price, I usually end up fumbling with my hotel room’s scan cards while juggling several cans. But with my reusable bag, I was able to grab deodorant, hair gel, a single bar of Dove soap, shampoo, shaving foam and a disposable razor. A few energy drinks and some sugar-free Gatorade for the room, and I was off to the races. Excluding the energy drinks which I would have bought at home anyway, I spent less than $20 on my toiletries for the trip. Considering a checked bag for Air Canada is $80, it represents a significant savings and allowed to travel much lighter than I otherwise would have. Given the extreme heat, I’ve pretty much had to surrender my clothing to the laundry basket every night. This means I had to grab some laundry soap. Luckily, my hotel has a coin operated laundromat. I had initially planned on doing only one load of laundry TODAY, as I will be traveling back to Moncton tomorrow. But given the high temperatures, I’ve been sweating through my few shirts in record time. As a result, I will be doing my SECOND load of laundry this morning.

So, in summation, I took the cheapest flight, which left me at a bit of a disadvantage as I couldn’t amend, cancel or alter my travel arrangements once paid, the cheapest hotel in the area, which although I had issues with it in May, they were extremely accommodating this time around, and traveled light with limited items to make transit and packing easier. All around, this is probably one of the cheapest trips I’ve ever had to New Brunswick in years, minus the time Air Canada made a mistake booked my round trip for a little over $500. My flight sorts are usually almost four times that amount. No such luck this time but it was roughly $1,000 for the tickets and I usually pay about twice that. Once I’ve hung out with Sensei’s son this afternoon, I’ll likely make it back in time to go watch the Naked Gun remake, starring Liam Neeson. It lend a bit of comedy and laughs to an otherwise depressing trip.

Tomorrow, I travel down to Moncton, where I will be spending my last night in New Brunswick. This is being done since my flights departs sometime around 6 am, which means I would have to leave Campbellton right around the time I’d be going to bed, considering the detours for the wild fires. ten years ago, I likely would have been able to manage that without issue. This time around, i believe I’m reaching an age where driving all night in the dark is no longer something i feel i’m capable of. So instead, I’m going to park myself at a hotel five minutes from the airport so I can simply wake up, jump into my pants and be out the door. Quick, easy and convenient. The best part is this early flight will see me land back home prior to lunchtime, since Saskatchewan’s time zone is three hours behind New Brunswick’s. It will be good to get home. I think I’ve done about as much damage here as can be done. It’s grime to go. ☯️

Here We Go Again Part 4…

Ah, bureaucracy… Apparently the world is incapable of living without it. One of the big reasons I came home this time around, was to see to certain things. First, I had to ensure that my parents’ funeral and burial arrangements were taken care of. Certainly a morbid reason for coming home, but the funeral home that they engage their prepaid contracts with had apparently closed and I had to ensure that their contracts had been carried over to someone else. Second, I needed to storm the local hospital and get some answers around how/why my father is paralyzed and what caused it. For fuck’s sakes, the man himself doesn’t know what happened! Can you imagine, a prisoner in your own body and no one around you is/can tell you what happened or why??? I called several times while my father was IN the hospital and never got answers or calls back, so I didn’t really anticipate getting any now. Hence, here we are.

My day yesterday started pretty normally, all things considered. Although not a vacation, I was able to sleep in a bit and woke to an alarm that was later than it would be back home. Well, later as seen through the lens of this time zone. 8 am here is actually only 5 am back in Saskatchewan so if we want to get technical, I’ve been waking up earlier while here. But whatevs… After a breakfast of hard-boiled eggs and yogurt, I started planning out my day. I started by doing a quick load of laundry at the hotel. I had anticipated doing this only once during the week I was here, so that I wouldn’t be traveling with dirty clothes. Unfortunately, it’s been so damn hot here (it reached 41 degrees yesterday, or 105 for you Fahrenheit folks). Usually, by the time I get back to the room, I’ve sweated and dried off more than once and I’m burning through clean clothes like a teenager trying on outfits. This led me to start my morning by doing a load. That’s when I discovered something interesting. It is nearly impossible to find single-use laundry detergent. I usually see that shit all the time, back home. In convenience stores and such. But not here, Luckily, with the help of a friend, I found a package with three packets for single use. Satisfied, I headed back and planned to start my load. Lo and behold, the packets were for a “sink rinse” and not an actual washing machine. I didn’t know what effect this would have on in the machine but luckily, I was able to buy a small box from the front desk (at a ridiculously inflated price, of course.

Once my laundry was done and I was showered up and ready to go, I hit up the funeral home. So, here’s the scenario… My parents prepaid for all their funeral arrangements about fifteen years ago. Caskets, services and burial, everything was taken care of. Smart, right? More people should be that proactive. It SHOULD be saving me a bunch of problems in the eventuality that one of them departs. The problem? The funeral location in Dalhousie that holds their contracts has closed. This was a problem in May when I came by but I wasn’t able to get any answers or speak with anybody. This time, I found a branch of the funeral home in Campbellton. I spoke to a very nice man who indicated that all contracts were actually housed at his location, and always had been. This was interesting. He also indicated that since Dalhousie’s undertaker/embalmer had retired approximately ten years ago, the Dalhousie location was used only for services. Preparations were all done from the Campbellton location. He indicated my parents’ contracts were filed and in place and would be honored when the time came. Cue one sigh of relief, right about here…

My next stop was the hospital. Just for a bit of context, the Campbellton Regional Hospital is the only hospital within approximately one hour. There are clinics, walk-ins and private doctor’s offices sprinkled around but this is the only hospital. It’s also where, for approximately one month, my father was brought in for pneumonia, suffered lung failure and was intubated, suffered an undiagnosed stomach bleed that they never remedied and had what we thought at the time, may have been a stroke. He went in as a man whose legs didn’t work and returned to the nursing home as a man whose legs didn’t was paralyzed. The salt in the wound? NO one updated me. No one called me. No one explained to me what happened. They should have and it wasn’t for a lack of trying. I called the hospital three times over the course of the following two weeks. Nothing. No answers, no conversation with the doctor. Usually a generic “someone will call you back.” Then no one would. Silence. Wonderful, right? That’s why I decided that my only option was to come out here and deal with it in person. It’s much harder to ignore and dismiss someone standing in front of you than to ignore and email or fail to return a call.

I walked into the hospital yesterday with a grim determination to get answers. Someone had to know something and damn it, I was going to find out who. As I walked into the hospital, I contemplated stopping at the main reception desk and inquiring. Instead, I decided to start at the source; the ICU. I walked into with the confidence of a man who belonged there and had every reason to be there. I heard my wife’s cautious voice in my head, “Don’t do anything to get yourself arrested…” Not for the first time, her sage words helped calm me and I recognized that I would likely catch more flies with honey. I made my inquiries and asked about obtaining the information. I was told I would have to speak to the hospital archives. Okay, great. They had an orderly walk me there, which was nice. So far, so good. I’m being helped and nobody has stone-walled me. Maybe this would go smoother than I thought. I was about to be proven wrong.

I walked into the archive department and explained my inquiry. The clerk asked me if I had Power of Attorney for my father. Yes, I do. Provided it and she read it. She argued that my mother was listed as Power of Attorney. I explained that she had dementia and no longer holds decisional capacity, meaning the Power of Attorney reverts to me. She stepped out to the back and came back and asked if I had Power of Attorney for my mother. I said that I did but what did that mean? I was there for my father. She explained that her boss indicated that if I could provide mom’s Power of Attorney as well, it would suit their purposes. I’m usually hesitant with things like this but it’s a fucking hospital! They should actually have a copy of both their Powers of Attorney on file. They’ve both been in the hospital and have had their respective Attorneys acting on their behalf. But whatever got the job done, so I explained I would have to walk back to the car and retrieve it. No problem. Okay, back into the heat, get mom’s Power of Attorney and head back in. The air conditioning in the hospital was splendid.

The clerk’s boss was waiting when I came in and took the additional papers from me. She then argued that my uncle Danny was named as Power of Attorney for my mother, not me. I explained that my uncle Danny would not act in this instance, so the Power of Attorney reverted to me. I’m not sure why this was so complicated for everyone to understand. I’m not a lawyer and I can read that document and understand it clearly. Granted, i run a provincial regulator and read legislation on a daily basis, so there’s that. I then placed both my feet firmly in my mouth. I asked what the difference was for my mother, since the Power of Attorney doesn’t prove she had dementia, so it’s pointless to argue over it. They agreed and requested I get a copy of her physical assessment from the nursing home, showing she was deemed as having dementia. Okay, NOW my blood pressure is starting to rise. Excuse me? I understand filling out forms and doing things properly, but it was starting to border on the ridiculous.

I filled out all the appropriate forms and included my email address so that they could email me the materials I asked for once they were reviewed. New Brunswick’s legislation allows them 30 days to complete their review. I’m nothing if not aware of how legislation works. They indicated they couldn’t promise anything but it would be helpful if I could get my mom’s assessment paper work from the nursing home. Like most family members and speaking strictly in generalities, I’m not a big fan of the nursing home or their staff. I understand that everyone is overworked and understaffed but when it comes to a loved one’s wellbeing, there should be an exception to that rule. My parents don’t get the care and attention that they need or deserve. For this reason, I usually have little use for the staff, which is why I was able to breeze in and out of there to visit my folks without engaging anyone. Now, I would have to intentionally do so. Great. I left the hospital thinking I was at least making headway and would soon have some answers.

Once I got back to the car and allowed the A/C to properly cool my head, a thought occurred. My uncle took care of admitting my mother and having her assessment done in my absence. I asked if he had copies of the paperwork. He indicated he did and would dig it up this evening and I could meet him shortly after supper to retrieve it. Perfect! I wouldn’t have to deal with the nursing home. I took solace in this and went to a local coffee shop and relaxed with a coffee and a piece of sugar pie. Exhaustion from the heat and the emotional ups and downs were starting to take their toll. I relaxed for about an hour before returning to the hotel room and refreshing myself, then hit the road for Dalhousie. I toured the town, visited my old high school, wandered the front street and sat by the water front, watching the waves lap gently against the rocks, with the breeze blowing and seagulls screeching overhead. I was in the midst of a fully stereotyped Maritime scene when I remembered that there was a family member I hadn’t taken the time to visit yet; my brother.

The cemetery where my brother is located is on the top of a quiet, scenic hill. Overlooking the bay, there’s no better place in the area for quiet contemplation and remembering one’s departed family members. I don’t pray, talk to the headstone or any of the usual activities that many engage in when they visit a graveyard. For me, it’s more a sign of respect t for my brother that I attend his burial site and just BE there; a symbol of the place where his physical form was last ON the earth before being placed below it. While I stood there in silent reverence, I took a moment to glance up at the headstones for my grandparents and my parents. It always sends a small chill down my spine, as my name and date of birth are included on my parents’ headstone as well. I apparently have a plot available right next to my brother, placing me between him and my parents. But as I looked up at my grandparents’ headstone, something caught my eye; my grandfather’s brother, whom I had known all my life, apparently passed away last year. WTF??? I would have assumed my uncle Danny would have mentioned it to me, but never did. Another fun little notch on the checklist of bullshit for this trip. But I digress…

A brief visit to Danny’s house revealed that he had none of the paperwork he thought he had and certainly no copies of mom’s assessment. Great. Back to square one, except I lost the day relaxing when I should have just taken the initiative instead. I made my way back to Campbellton where I enjoyed a late dinner alone before returning to my room. So this morning, once I’ve showered and shaved, I’ll be heading back to Dalhousie once again to try and get some answers and paper work. I’ve never seen such a complicated process to simply get answers about a medical condition in my life. Hopefully, I’ll have better luck in getting this done today than I did yesterday. Although it’s been nice to see some people that I know, I miss home and my family. I have another three days here and I’m just hoping that the wildfires down south won’t prevent me from leaving. I’m honestly not sure what I’ll do, if this becomes the case. But for now, time to pull my socks up and get the day going. ☯️

Here We Go Again, Part 3…

Thomas Wolfe once wrote “You Can’t Go Home Again.” A title that seems pretty apt to my situation. In November of 2023, I faced the inevitability that most children face, where my mother lost decisional capacity for herself and had to be placed in a care home. It was a pinnacle turning point in my life as it meant that I would have to pack up her apartment and do away with the majority of the belongings that she had accumulated in the course of her life. While most children would simply bring most heirlooms and belonging to their own home, living clear across the country made this a bit of a difficult prospect for me. While I did pack and ship some choice items, the majority of things had to be sold, donated or given away. It felt like the surrendering of one’s life, and caused me to take pause and reflect on how the later years of my own life would come to pass. I chronicled this trip in a short series of posts titled “Becoming the Patriarch.” If you scroll through my posts, you find them. The point is, when I came home last May to tend to my father, who was intubated and comatose with no expectation of coming out of the hospital, it was my first time coming home without, well… a home! It was a the first time in my life that I didn’t have a “mom and dad’s” to stay at. No pillow to lay my head where I knew my mother was in the next room. The change in my reality that this caused weighed heavily on my soul during that trip. That reality is all the more palpable this time around.

Yesterday, my day started simply, with a visit to the continental breakfast nook of the hotel. Swallowing my pride and ignoring my usual desire for meat, I enjoyed a small bowl of cereal and a yogurt, which provided what I needed for the morning. I grabbed a shower and slipped on some fresh, untraveled clothing and I was off to the races. A couple of errands later, I had stocked my room fridge with energy drinks and some meal replacement shakes that would make for my lunches throughout the week. For a simple 4-pack of shakes that would make four lunches, I paid as much as I would for one full meal. While meal replacement shakes can’t replace your food indefinitely, it’ll certainly save me some money for the week. My morning went by in a flash and I made my way down the coast to Dalhousie, my childhood home. I’ve traveled to many places in the world but they all pale in comparison to the pristine beauty of the Restigouche Bay set against the backdrop of the Appalachian mountains. The view and the scenery are exquisite; a fact I never recognized or appreciated during my childhood. It’s unfortunate that children always only see what’s immediate and can’t draw their focus outward. Perhaps if I had recognized the beauty in front of me, I would have never left. But I wistfully digress…

My father is a tired man. At the end of his rope, I feel that he has very little fight left in him. Essentially paralyzed from the neck down, he’s incapable of moving, save for his neck and head, and some mild movement of his fingers, mercifully allowing him to switch the channels on his television. Otherwise, he lays at the mercy of the nursing home staff. Nursing homes get a bad rap in general, and for good reason. Overworked and understaffed, they rarely have the ability to care for their residents to the level of quality that one truly deserves at the end of their lives. I walked into my father’s room with the thought that I would be facing an angry, redheaded juggernaut who was pissed off at being alive. Instead, I saw a frail, aging man with no strength left in him. He was sleeping soundly and snoring noisily. I sat with him for a few moments, but for once in my life, the words not said and the silence were too much for me. I stepped out. When I walked into to see my mother, she was awake and sitting in her chair with her arms crossed. She had a look on her face that didn’t express serenity but appeared to hold no immediate concern. As I reached her filed of vision, she frowned at me slightly. As I said “Hi, mom,” she responded in kind but didn’t acknowledge the “mom” part. When I indicated that I was her son, her only response was “Oh, okay.” No recognition or familiarity lit up her eyes. I commented that it had been a while and reached in for a hug. Then, I experienced another first that no child should ever have to; she flinched and recoiled from my reach.

She didn’t yell out, object or indicate any issue but the mild action was enough to send ripples of grief through me that echoed down to my very soul. My mother had no recognition of me. The shouldn’t have surprised me, since her siblings had all visited last week and she knew none of them. But it cemented the fact that in a way, my parents were very much gone. When one loses a parent, there’s a grieving process in place. The loved one is no longer with them. They’re just gone forever and one realized they’ll never see them again in this life. There’s a finality. A sense of closure amongst the grief, if you will. But for my parents, there is no such closure. Instead, they linger. Living fleetingly on the border between life and death. My father, trapped in a prison of his own flesh without any finality, despite apparently being lucid and of full mind (I can’t confirm because I haven’t spoken to him yet), and my mother, who’s there but not “there,” know what I mean? There is no finality or sense of grief0stricken closure. They aren’t;t gone; they simply aren’t fully there, either. The reality was more than my solitary soul could handle. I made my way back out to the car and wept silently by myself, recognizing that the chance of having any meaningful conversations with my parents was gone. There would be no making them proud for my accomplishments, no bragging about their grandchildren with them, no sharing of my life with theirs. Because they had reached the end. It was now just a matter of time.

Once my eyes cleared, I made my way out to my Uncle Danny, who has been helping with the overall care of my parents in my absence. On his last day of vacation, he was enjoying his backyard pool. Considering it was 35 degrees yesterday afternoon, I could hardly blame him. We had some good conversation and I discussed my plans for the week until another guest of his showed up; a colleague from his work who had come to enjoy the pool as well. I thanked him for all his help and excused myself. I made my way back to Dalhousie where I did some light banking and sat at the top of the hill, overlooking the bay. Enjoying some afternoon caffeine, I watched blissfully as the waters of the open bay ebb and flowed. Several boats, both sail and motorized, coast through its waters, enjoying the hot air and beautiful scenery. I must ave spent nearly an hour just sitting there. My hometown always brings wistful memories. Some good, some bad, but all imprinted in my mind as clear as if they happened yesterday. All imprinted as an integral part of my DNA and who I am. In seeing my mother and recognizing that my grandmother had faced the same difficulty, I asked myself if I was fated to eventually forget all these memories as well. That perhaps someday, the imprinted memories that made me who I am disappeared, much as they had for my mother. Once this happened, would I still be the same person? Who would I become? I’ve often asked myself who I am throughout my life. Never quite to this degree.‘

My evening capped off with a visit to Sensei’s home. Always a pleasure to speak with, we enjoyed some good conversation, that included some questions and corrections on my karate forms. It was good to see him. He asked about my family, both here and in Saskatchewan, and lended some sage advice on many aspects of life; something I’ve come to expect and admire about him. It gave the day a positive spin in an otherwise tumultuous cyclone of bullshit I faced while visiting my parents. Life is balance, right? For any negativity, there must be some positive. I made my way back to the hotel and ended my evening by seeing my wife and children over video chat. Short of being home with them, I couldn’t have ended the evening off on a better note. I drifted off to a dreamless sleep. My time here will see me accomplish a great deal, even if I don’t get the answers I came looking for. As with any other great book, eventually you need to finish out the chapter in order to turn the page and keep going. This may be the situation I find myself in now. While I was born and raised here, the chapter of my life that involves Northern New Brunswick may be coming to an end. While my thoughts will always return here, my purpose for being here may soon no longer be. That’s a chapter I”ll need to close in order for me to move on to the next. Such is life. ☯️

Here We Go Again, Part 2…

Considering this is the beginning of my second full day here in New Brunswick, I figured I should get the next post up before memory starts to fade. My flights on Sunday went just about as well as one could expect. The first leg, from Regina to Toronto, saw me relax with a movie and finish out a book I had been reading. However, once I arrived in Toronto and took my phone off of airplane mode, I was hit with a barrage of text messages and emails, outlining that my flight had been delayed by approximately an hour and a half. Fuck. For everyone’s clarity, I chose the early flight that I did because New Brunswick is actually in a time zone that’s three hours ahead of Saskatchewan. So the later I leave, the later in the day I arrive. Couple that with the fact the airport is about a four-hour drive away from my destination, and landing late into the evening becomes a tiring problem. So that hour and half was going to play on me at the other end. Luckily, whatever issue the airline was having got remedied and it was only a forty minute delay.

This forty minute delay was exacerbated by a missing cabin crew member, which meant they couldn’t board the aircraft until this member arrived. Fucking lovely. I landed in Moncton, New Brunswick at about 6:30 pm, local time. My vehicle booking was scheduled for 5:30 and my big fear was that the rental kiosk would be closed. There are no other means of transportation from Moncton to Campbellton short of paying a cab, which would run me up several hundred dollars. Then, I would still face the issue of being unable to get around for the next week AND returning to Moncton. Apparently, the rental kiosk are advised when there are flight delays and they stay open until all flights with potential vehicle renters have landed. I got the keys to my small-sized SUV and hit the highway. The initial leg of the trip north was pretty uneventful; music, singing, sucking back an energy drink and planning out my week in my head. Then, reality decided to slap me in the face…

I reached Miramichi, a small city that usually considered something of an unofficial halfway point between Moncton and the North Shore, without any issue. Besides some frustrating slow drivers, it was uneventful. I decided to play my cards right and stop at the local Walmart to grab some of the small, travel accessories and I would need for my week. I grabbed a quick snack as well and got back on the road. About four or five kilometers up the highway, I came to a blockade that read “Road Closed.” What in the actual fuck??? For reference, Highway 8 is a North/South highway that cuts through a rather large outcropping of the north-eastern part of the Province. Bypassing it and driving along the coast adds almost two hours to the transit. A police vehicle was parked at the boundary, so I parked on the side of the highway and asked him what’s up. He advised that central New Brunswick was currently dealing with a large wildfire that was burning uncontrolled. By virtue of this, the highway was closed due to the danger.

I started to get the definite impression that fate was trying o prevent me from reaching my destination. If you look at the map above, you can clearly see the area circled in yellow is marked off in red. That’s the portion of highway that was closed off because of the wildfire. The detour? A complicated, involved hodgepodge of secondary routes that included some that brought me back a ways south. If I’d had my GPS on when I left the airport, I might have seen this closed portion and could have planned accordingly. In this instance, since I was traveling the highways I had grown up on, I didn’t bother. I guarantee the damn GPS got activated after that. I drove for almost two hours along this detour before I finally got back on Highway, just outside of a small area named Lavilette. Think that little red dash looks small? Insignificant? Not that very far? Let’s put some of that into perspective for you…

The detour has drivers heading North-East on Highway 11, which during the daytime is actually a beautiful and scenic coastal drive. It also takes significantly longer, since it curves outwards along the coast instead of simply cutting straight through. Once you pass a small village called New Jersey (totally not kidding, we have such a place in New Brunswick), you turn onto a secondary back road at a village called Lagaceville. This brings you to Route 480, which eventually brings you back to Highway 8, where one can continue on their way. All in all it adds roughly an hour onto a four hour drive. To add insult to injury, it was dark, these secondary routes weren’t lit and drivers were going significantly below the speed limit. In the end, I walked into my hotel for check in at approximately 10:30 pm instead of roughly 8:30 pm as I had originally planned. Thank god my flight wasn’t any later in the day.

On the brighter side, my front desk clerk recognized me from my visit in May. He commented on how late I was checking in. Not in a sarcastic or rude way, mind you; just asking about how my travels had been. When I explained, he upgraded me to a room with a king sized bed. While generous, I didn’t need extra bed space as I’m sleeping alone. It would have been better to simply have one of my nights comped. But in any case, generous is generous and I thanked him for the consideration. The room’s A/C was blasting and the room was like a refrigerator. Perfect. I always run hot, so after a day’s travel, this was a welcome temperature. I unpacked my necessities for the night and I c rushed. Hard. It was a fitful sleep, as I never quite seem to sleep well when away from home. But I got some rest and made it through my first night. I had a pretty full day yesterday, But I’ll include that in a seperate post, since it might get too lengthy to jam into this one. Needless to say, these won’t be the last hiccups I deal with during my week…

☯️

Here We Go Again, Part 1…

Yup, buckle up, folks… It’s going to be one of THOSE posts! For those of you who read my posts regularly, you may recall that a few months ago, I had to take an unplanned trip back to New Brunswick in order to see to my father who, without any clear explanation of what happened, had to be intubated and was in a coma. The only real explanation I got at the time was that he had gone into the hospital with pneumonia and his lung function tanked, leading to the intubation and transfer to the ICU. Even once I reached the hospital, there were no real answers and I didn’t get to speak with my father as he was unconscious the entire time. Visiting my mother was painful as she’s currently in the full throws of dementia (we think) and didn’t recognize me as her son. All in all, it was a painful trip, and the very first trip where I went home without a home to go to, It was an odd sensation, being back in my home town without a residence owned by my parents to go stay in.

Over the past couple of months, things have not improved. My father faced a number of issues with his ongoing health declination and eventually, he made his way back to the nursing home. I only became aware of this by virtue of my uncle, who was visiting my mother and noted that he was there. Otherwise, neither the hospitals nor the nursing home contacted me to update me that he had been returned. However, despite his return to the nursing home, he is now paralyzed from the neck down and has no mobility in his body at all. This has provided further barriers as I can longer contact him or vice versa. Not that he made much use of the phone prior to that, mind you. So, like the committed son that I am, I’m currently sitting in the airport, patiently waiting for my flight to board. On my way back to my childhood home, I intend to get some answers to how my father has ended up in his current state. And whose ass I need to fuckin’ kick in order to get them…

Obviously, I’m pretty cranky right now. I don’t enjoy traveling at the best of times. But waking up before the roosters do, in order to catch a flight pisses me off even further. Although my plan was to wake up at 4 am, I was awake and tossing at about 2:30, unable to rest knowing how my day would go. Some dishes and final packing details later, my wife and kids valiantly pulled themselves out of bed to drive me to the airport. Some hesitant goodbyes later, and I was printing off my boarding passes and making my way to the security gate. Interestingly, I was selected for random screening and had my bag searched. It was comical but good, as I was able to bypass the waiting line and jump straight to the head of the line. I requested my usual pat down as opposed to going through the gates, to ensure my pump and insulin wouldn’t be put through scanning equipment that could potentially damage the pump or render my insulin inert.

I’ve always admired the screening officers at the Regina Airport. Having travelled all over the world and dealt with various screening agencies, I’ve always been appreciative of how professional and thorough they are. Always apologetic during their search, I’ve grown used to the routine and am completely okay and in agreement with its necessity. But it’s nice nonetheless. Although a hot cup of Tim Horton’s coffee would be nice while I wait, the line of 20+ people discouraged me pretty quickly; especially since everyone and their fuckin’ dog seem to believe they need to have breakfast AT the airport instead of eating at home before getting here. The line would move so quickly if everyone simply ordered their coffee and moved on. reminds me of the good old days when a drive-thru lane was used for single, quick items for faster service, as opposed to the trend that seems to track these days where people will order for a family of five in the drive-thru. Idiots. But again, it’s early, I’m cranky and I definitely digress…

My uncle recently updated me that my mother’s entire family was in Dalhousie visiting, and they all went to see my mother. She recognized no one. I anticipate I’ll have no better luck in having her recognize me either, My father, who is an angry man at the best of times (and I wonder where I get it) will no doubt not be in the “visiting mood,” and I don’t know how productive a visits this will be. I’m just hoping I can at least get some information on what may have caused his paralysis and why he’s now relegated to his bed, probably for whatever years he has left. My hope will be to at least connect with him. It won’t be all bad. I have some visits planned with some old friends and my uncle while I’m down. While not a social trip, it will at least bring a silver lining to the stage of life I’m in. As is my habit, I’ll be posting about my trip throughout; and hopefully include some photos of my beautiful home Province in the process. Stay tuned. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to stop being so fuckin’ stubborn and go get a coffee. ☯️

A Little Sunshine To Your Day…

I notice that I often tend to post about some of the darker, more negative aspects of things, especially when it comes to Diabetes. Sometimes, it’s important to take a moment to reflect on some of the good, which plays a huge role in eliminating the suffering in one’s life. For myself, that the creation of life from nothing, specifically in the form of flowers. I love flowers. Live flowers, that is. Not the purchased ones. In fact, if memory serves me, my very post on this blog a number of years ago was a post about some of the floral life back in New Brunswick.

My flower bed

The irony is that I have very little in terms of a green thumb and in the past several years, I’ve made efforts to try and grow flowers in my backyard. I have small brick circle that used to house a tree. The tree had already been cut and removed when we bought the house but the circle remained. In years past, I’ve thrown some seed in there with very little success. In fact, I’ve usually had more weeds than flowers growing.

Bright colours…

But this year, I took a nuclear (not literally) approach. I started by thoroughly tilling the soil then sifting out weeds, root systems and debris from the dead tree from the ground. I probably worked my way down about three or four inches. Then, I added in some nutrient rich potting soil, mixed with some fertilizers. I sprinkled a variety of flower seed all around the circle and worked it into the soil. Added a bit more potting soil on top, watered consistently and waited.

It’s been well over a month and a half and while patience is a virtue, some greenery started to pop up without any indication of flowers. I began to wonder if I was perhaps stuck with another year of weeds and no flowers. But lo and behold, about a week ago, some flowers finally started to bloom. I think I may have overcrowded the circle a bit; an important lesson to bear in mind for next year. But the flowers are starting to bloom and provide a sanctuary for some of the pollinators in the area.

Some people see growing flowers as a wasted activity. After all, they all die come the end of the season, then you find yourself working just as hard to foster them up the following spring. While some of this is true, it’s not just about the bloom but the journey. There’s a bit of a meditative aspect to planting and growing. And there’s little more that’s quite as satisfying as growing beautiful flowers in your own backyard. We also included some light vegetables this year. It’s a wholesome and pleasant at-home activity for my whole family. ☯️

The Mind Cannot Exist Without The Body…

Alright folks, time for some real talk here… Anyone who has walked in martial arts circles for any period of time has likely heard terms like “mind and body connection,” or “ mind, body and spirit.” But what exactly does that mean from a practical standpoint? Believe it or not, it doesn’t actually mean anything spiritual or mystical. At its core, it simply means that one needs to pay attention to both body AND mind. because no matter which way you spin it, one cannot exist without the other. And it doesn’t actually mean, in fact, go both ways.

Exercise is an important part of maintaining good health and living a good life. Besides reading this here on more occasions than I can count, even couch potatoes would acknowledge that things would be better if they could just get their lazy asses off the couch and do something physical. And no, before you all fill up my comments section, I’m not referring to people who have emotional or physical conditions that make it difficult to get up from their sedentary lifestyles. Although even in those situations, a good part of getting started is popping your clutch and taking a step.

In general, I’ve always said that life can be viewed through the lens of a “holy trinity” of health. Everything alive moves. Everything. Even plants and trees will grow, move and adjust to their environments. Movement, in its increased state, creates energy. This is easily demonstrated by using a bicycle where the more movement is made, the more speed you garner, or hydroelectric dams that creates electricity through water turbines, etc. That energy sustains one’s life. So the formula is simple: Energy creates life. Life creates movement. Movement creates energy. Wash, rinse and repeat. Still with me? Good.

This formula is an important one, because each phase depends on the other two. Eliminating or reducing the one will bring direct conflict and harm to the other two. No energy? You gonna die! No movement? Your energy will falter and same result. Guess what happens if you die? YOU DON’T MOVE! It’s all relative and depends on the individual making an effort to make it happen and maintain it. This is why if you ARE a couch potato and just sitting on the couch, you’re not doing yourself any favours. And as your body fails, your mind won’t be far behind.

An unfortunate example that’s quite close to home is my mother. All her life, she took care of others. Ran errands, cared for family, cooked and cleaned. However, she never exercised, never did anything physical and when she wasn’t running errands or out and about, would sit on the couch and binge-watch game shows. Bear in mind that this started well before the age I’m at now. Today, not only has my mother’s body weakened and is frail, her mind has failed her as well. It’s a stark and sobering reminder of why it’s important to maintain one’s physical AND mental health.

The other side of that coin is Sensei. He’s the same age as my mother. The difference? He committed himself to training and physical maintenance of his body for decades. Now, in his 70’s, he cycles more kilometres than I do. trains in karate five days a week and has more energy than people half his age. Sharp as a samurai sword and twice as deadly. Coincidence? Maybe. I’m not a doctor, so I can’t make a blanket assumption that my mother’s mind is a direct result of her inactivity over the years but the comparison is reasonably telling.

That’s why it’s important to remember that there’s a fine line to walk between resting because you’re tired and allowing yourself to fall into a slump that will be twice as hard ton work your way out of. Your body is essentially an engine. And like any engine, it won’t run properly if you let it sit idle without ever revving enough. Give it the appropriate fuel and run it regularly, mixed with a healthy dose of proper maintenance and you can keep your engine running smooth and easy for years to come. Don’t, and the result will unfortunately show themselves. Or you may not realize, as your mind begins to fail you. In either scenario, get out there and do something. Your body, mind and spirit will thank you. ☯️

Review: Superman (2025) – Some Spoilers

As with just about everything I review, be warned that I WILL be discussing aspects of the film and its plot; so if you haven’t seen the movie yet and intend on doing so, you may want to stop reading here. In all honesty, I’m not an overly big fan of all the reboots that have been happening in the past ten years. Some of the “continuations” are pretty slid, Cobra Kai being one of the best examples that come to mind. instead of rebooting the movie series, they took it upon themselves to continue the story from the 1980’s, effectively introducing a new generation of people to the wonder that is the Karate Kid and the martial arts. I’ve even heard that Tremors (1990) is getting a limited series where Kevin Bacon returns to the town of Perfection to face the graboids again. Not a reboot, per se. But I digress…

Enter: the new Superman film… Like most people, I’m a huge henry Cavill fan and felt that Zack Snyder did a wonderful job of providing that Superman that was both powerful yet susceptible to damage. I genuinely enjoyed Dawn of Justice and the Justice League. Bear in mind that I’m from the Christopher Reeve generation and believe that he is the one and only, true Superman. But henry Cavill fit the role wonderfully. So, I was sceptical when David Corenswet was annouced as the new Man of Tomorrow. I decided not to join the nay-sayers and opted to reserve judgement, good or bad, until I had the opportunity to see the film myself. I’m most pleased to say that I had a “me” date last Tuesday and had the opportunity to watch the film in all its iMax splendor.

Other than the fact that I absolutely LOVE iMax for its huge screen, surround sound and 3D options, I can go on record as saying that I absolutely enjoyed the movie. Superman provided a Man of Steel that was a bit less seasoned, younger and a bit more campy than most other films. I like how they omitted the whole “this-is-where-I’m-from” business, since everyone and their fuckin’ dog know who Superman is. I think we’re decades beyond providing the origin story and departure from a dying Krypton. Nathan Fillion’s portrayal of Guy Gardner’s Green Lantern added some much-enjoyed levity to the plot, and Edi Gathegi’s Mr. Fantastic was spot on. As someone who has read all the iterations, the originals, the New 52, Rebirth, etc… I feel that the film did the Superman mythos justice.

The film opens with Superman crashing into the antarctic snow, battered and bruised. he whistles and calls for Krypto, his trusted Kryptonian canine, to drag him back to the Fortress of Solitude. Once there, the fortress droids use focusing lenses to bombard Superman in yellow Sun energy, healing several brutal injuries that would take forever to heal on their own. The film goes on to explore a lot of modern issues, such as oversees conflicts, political climates, global domination plans and a bit of sci-fi thrown into the mix. Superman’s relationship with Lois is less than the picture-perfect portrayal from the comics. In fact, she suggests at one point that their relationship m,ay not work out.

The Superman from this film is fallible, can be injured and isn’t the all-powerful juggernaut that I’ve come to know and love from my youth. In a way, it’s a bit more on the realistic side and provides a bit more of a relatable character. They certainly delve deep into the modern rhetoric, where everyone has their damn cell phone out, taking photos, bowing to social convention and the pack mentality. The best, is Nicholas Hoult’s portrayal of Lex Luthor. Hoult was pretty solid in the X-men movies with James McAvoy and he played a great zombie in “Warm Bodies.” The recent “Renfield” movie wasn’t worth writing about but he played an absolutely spot on Lex Luthor. Including his unflappable cool, immeasurable logic and intelligence mixed with the genius plans… It smacked of everything Lex Luthor is all about.

In the end, Superman saves the day, defeats and exposes Lex Luthor and shows the world he is the hero they need and deserve. It’s a definite feel good ending that’s sorely lacking in the modern trend of allowing the bad guy to win as some sort of shock and awe tactic for the audience. If you’re looking for a great film, with exciting characters, great effects and a happy ending, Superman may just be the movie for you. And of course, if you have the opportunity to see it in iMax, it’s the only way to fly. Pun fully intended…

Kids Do The Damndest Things…

It’s no secret that having children significantly changes a person’s life. For the most part, having children involves sacrificing a significant portion of one’s previous existence in favour of one that accommodates the needs of the child. While many people boast that having kids shouldn’t change your life, the reality is radically different. The ability to come and go as you please without worrying about babysitting, attending locations that allow children and saving significant time and money are just a few things that change drastically. But even some of the more simple things, that don’t involve any of the aspects named above, can be painfully changed.

One significant example for me, is the ability to train, meditate and sleep at my leisure. In my case, my boys are old enough now that we’re no longer woken at the absolute buttcrack of dawn to a squalling infant who needs direct and immediate attention. But they hinder in other ways. Cue an incident from last week, when I needed to catch up on some kata work I was contemplating. Setting aside for a moment the fact that I’m roughly 3,500 kilometres from my Sensei and get very little correction, I focus my time polishing my forms and kata using Uechi Sensei’s original instructional textbook and the few video clips from Sensei that I have. But the challenge of staying polished is significant, in the absence of an actual dojo to attend.

On this particular date, I had made a point of letting my wife know that I had some kata work to be done and that I would skip supper in favour of getting a workout in before I sat down and the cement dried on my evening. My oldest was camped out on the basement floor where he usually spends his downtime, albeit a ways away from my training area. So, THAT was fine. The problem is usually the 5-year old. Now, I get it… Daddy’s home, he’s been gone all day, a kid wants to see his father. I not only get it but I understand it. But as I’ve often written before, in order for me to take care of others, I need to start by taking care of myself. And taking care of myself means karate.

I had just changed into my karate gi, when my youngest came barrelling downstairs demanding hugs. Okay, hugs delivered. After all, what kind of father would deny his small child a hug? But then, I got down to brass tacks and clearly outlined that he needed to allow me to train or head back upstairs. He wanted to stay downstairs, so I listed three very clear and simple rules for the 30 minutes that would follow:

  1. No talking or loud noises.
  2. No wrestling or fighting with your older brother.
  3. Absolutely NO walking into my training area until I was done.

The premise was simple; I needed quiet to focus and concentrate on my kata. Otherwise, distraction leads to mistakes, mistakes lead tot imperfect form, imperfect form leads to incorrect technique in the event I ever need to defends myself. I stretched and started some simple warm-up exercises, which were going fine. The boys were huddled in my oldest’s corner, mumbling quietly to each other. Fan-fuckin’tastic. Then, right as I was in the middle of the first kata, they both bolted upstairs. Within seconds, there was yelling, crying and fighting on the stairs landing. My concentration broke and my temper flared. I crossed the floor to the bottom of the steps to determine what the hell was going on.

Setting aside that such things can distract me, and I don’t anyone commenting on that fact, they were fighting over who would go outside to move our recycling bin to the road for the following day. Of all things, these little weasels were arguing over who would GET to perform a chore their mother had given. It didn’t take me long to get them in line but the damage had been done. I gave the younger one his things that he had brought downstairs and instructed him to stay out of the basement. I fumed for several minutes and tried to perform some cleaning breathing exercises before throwing in the towel and runnning out to the garage and by ringing off 30 minutes on the punching bag, instead.

When my workout was done and I was sweaty, tired and breathing hard, I sat down on one of the comfy chairs I keep out there, lit a stick of incense and took some time to reflect on what had just happened. Should I have given up so easily? having somewhat remedied the situation, could I not have simply continued my kata workout in the house? A big part of the problem, is I allowed my temper to get the best of me. A positive is that I took it out on the punching bag, which is a darn good way of directing that negative energy. But weighing out the difference between the time I would lose trying to bring myself back to a calm focused point, or simply channeling that energy into a different type of workout became the key point that made the bag more worthwhile.

Children have a direct and significant impact on everything we do, and this includes training. When it comes to something you do as a lifestyle, like martial arts, this can pose some interesting challenges. I’ve introduced my children to martial arts on more than one occasion. The oldest wants nothing to do with it and my youngest usually doesn’t want to focus on technique only wants to spar. Which can be fine in small doses. My point is, as important as it is to make the necessary sacrifices for one’s children, taking proper care of oneself is equally as important. In some cases, even more so. This is because, as I’ve mentioned frequently in the past, one cannot help care for others if they haven’t taken care of themselves first.

So, taking time for yourself to train and practice is important, whether it means setting clear boundaries or training away from home. An important detail is to have a plan “B” in the event your intended workout goes belly up and you have to use an alternative. It’s not always ideal but it’s better than skipping the training. And once you’ve managed to have that “you” time and take care of your training, you can certainly roll around on the floor and play with the kids to your heart’s content. After all, kids won’t understand that you need that time to yourself once in a while. And it’ll be a few years yet before my boys start to realize the importance and have some level of understanding and acceptance. In the meantime, I just need to keep training in whatever way I can. ☯️