Whatever Happened To The Good Ol’ Days…?

We’ve all been there. You say or do something during your youth that elicits a roll of the eyes or a look of disdain by one of your elders, followed by one of the dreaded sentences that make your youthful eyes glaze over and threaten to close. “In my day, we would have never…” or “Kids these days!” were some of the more prominent ones I heard in my youth. It’s a pretty common thing, to have your parents or grandparents compare how they would have done things in their youth as opposed to how you did it. Or point out the various things they WOULDN’T have dared to do or that were impolite or improper during their time. We always find these comments annoying when we’re young and if you’re anything like me, you likely swore up and down that you would never be that way when you had children. And then you have kids. And given that they’re of a newer generation, their habits, opinions and views on the world are inevitably different from your own. And so it should be.

The world is not what it was 30 years ago when I was a teenager. In my youth, there were no smart phones and mobile phones involved a large bagged device that had to be plugged into your car lighter. Even when we had curfews, my parents had no way of contacting me to tell me to get my ass home. I could hop on my bike and pedal until my legs gave out and my folks would never know just how far I’d gone or what I’d been up to (unless I got caught doing something). My generation didn’t spend hours on end with electronic devices in our hands or binge-watching hours worth of television. I say this with full awareness that I’m currently blogging through an electronic device. But the most prominent thing that you never did, at least when I was a kid, was turn your nose up at a birthday or Christmas present. In my youth, even if you wanted and/or expected a particular gift or thing, you smiled, said thank you and made the best of what you got; even if it wasn’t what you wanted. The only exception was if you were given socks, underwear or clothing. That is some bullshit, right there… What kid wants SOCKS for their birthday. Am I right??? But I digress…

All of this stems from the fact that I have now become the older generation who comments on today’s youth. What’s most disturbing is I never saw it coming. Once I had children, it was all down hill from there. The disdain for their behaviors and perspectives, comparison to the lack of respect or the dismissal of responsibilities… While I thought I would never be the kind of parent who would replicate these behaviors from the older generation, I’ve taken stock only to realize that I am fully immersed in “old man syndrome,” commenting about how I never would have dared to say such things to my father, in response to my youngest’s birthday, which was last weekend. I didn’t realize how deeply like my father I had become until the words came out of this little bastard’s mouth…

My son Alexander, sporting the youth size boxing gloves he received on his birthday.

On Sunday, we celebrated my little Alexander the Great’s sixth birthday. We had a fun weekend of doing all the things he wanted to do, which included lunch and play place time at McDonald’s (in and of itself no longer a cheap option for a family of four), followed by a couple of hours at the Science Centre (yes, the same Science Centre from the incident in yesterday’s post). I thought we did a pretty good job of accommodating his special day. My wife made him a homemade chocolate cake, which he got o help and decorate. We got him two gifts. The first was the set of youth boxing gloves seen in the photo above. Believe it or not, finding a small pair of gloves that would accommodate his hands was tougher than one would think. Before I had kids, I used to see 8 ounce boxing gloves all over the place. Think I can find them, now that I need them??? Of course not! But the gloves will be handy in helping him to train safely while doing karate workouts with daddy. This will save potential injury from using oversized gloves or even throwing bare-knuckled punches on the pads before his wrists strengthen and his technique gets smoother.

The second gift is a pretty cool one, if I do say so myself. He loves to make hideouts and forts using blankets and chair and whatever else he finds, while hanging out in the basement with me. I got him a polyester tent that has small tunnels that offshoot from the sides and bring him to two, smaller tents on either end. A couple of quick blankets over the top of the tents and he has a contained fort that he can drag blankets and his iPad inside, snack and his water bottle and chill out on his own, hidden away safely from “bad guys.” I thought these gifts were reasonably well thought out and I was looking forward to seeing him get excited and enjoy the gifts he’d gotten. We’ve never been a household for showering dozens of gifts on any of us, believing that this isn’t the inherent purpose of a given holiday. A simple gift or two is enough. But the disappointed and despondent look on his face as he asked the question, “Are there any more presents?” caused a variety of emotional responses in me.

Alex said knock you out!

At first, I was angry and disappointed at the selfishness coming from the child I was raising. In what world is it okay to have your parents spend time, money and effort in doing all of these things for your birthday, only to have you question why you didn’t get more? Where’s the respect? Where’s the appreciation? In my day, we would have smiled, nodded and been happy to make the most of the gifts we received instead of wondering where everything else is hiding. When asked why he wasn’t happy with what he’d gotten, he pointed out that he’d apparently listed a number of things he wanted for his birthday in recent months. Well, fuck… My wife and I exchanged a look with each other but neither of us could recall him naming the things that he did. Was this on us? I’m open-minded enough to believe it’s a possibility. Maybe I just didn’t do a good enough job of listening to what my child wanted. Maybe I’m being too harsh in my view of his reactions. Or maybe, just maybe, I’m right and he should be grateful for what he’s got…

Once I had a night to sleep on it (and after he’d set up his fort and realized he was having fun), I started thinking it may be more of the former than the latter. While a birthday isn’t intended to be a free-for-all for as much stuff as one can get, it might have been nice if I’d gotten him something that he actually WANTED. I think he might have enjoyed his birthday a little better if his immediate response to his gifts was disappointment, even if he’s enjoying them now that he’s using them. A big part of adulthood is working to recognizing that our children, while smaller and lacking some of the knowledge to know better, are still people with their own feelings, views and thoughts on things. While they may not always align with ours, they still have validity, in certain areas. It’s what allows us, as adults, to come full circle and realize that our parents may have been right with the comments they made in our youth. I just wonder if they ever reached the realization that it isn’t always about the previous generation and that as humans, adapting to the times that come is nearly as important as remembering where we came from. I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking it. He’ll likely forget all of this after the first few hook punches land next time we train. Food for thought… ☯️

Not All That Glitters…

Ah, Shakespeare… I never read much of his stuff through school the way many others might have. Apparently, French schools in Northern New Brunswick took issue with using English literature as a base for learning. No idea if it’s still the same today, but back when I was a student, they died on the hill that they would only refer to French-origin authors. But I digress… Despite the title, today’s topic isn’t about Shakespeare. It’s about Diabetes. Specifically, the benefits and pitfalls of an insulin pump and some of the unseen difficulties that people may not be aware of, when they see someone rockin’ an insulin pump on my hip. I recently had a couple of teenagers walk past me in a retail store and they actually asked me if I was wearing a pager? First, I was surprised they knew what a pager was. Now, I’m just disappointed that they asked, considering the tubing that juts out from the top. But anyway, moving on…

I’ve been on pump therapy for a little over ten years now, and am enjoying my third insulin pump from the same supplier. Each more advanced than the previous, my first pump was a glorified syringe; providing a basal rate throughout the day and not delivering insulin unless I manually inputted carbs for as bolus. I still had to finger prick several times a day and maintain direct, hands-on control of all aspects of my Diabetes (which one likely should anyway). When the concept of continuous glucose monitoring was brought up, I was recommended the Freestyle Libre. Referred to as “the poor man’s CGM,” it wouldn’t tether or communicate with any pump, but a simple phone app would allow you to get your interstitial fluid reading at any time. The down fall to this is that it didn’t maintain levels for you or adjust your pump, so total manual intervention was still required. But it was still a step forward from constant finger pricks.

My second pump came with a tethered CGM, which now allowed me to have communication between the pump and the CGM for direct adjustments and insulin blouses, based on what my blood sugars were at, at the time of my meal. It was a significant step forward and prevented constant finger pricks every time I ate something. Which was nice. The third pump, which is the one I’m on now, not only has a tethered CGM but uses a platform called SmartGuard, which communicates and makes micro adjustments to my blood sugars every five minutes, depending on my blood sugar levels, insulin sensitivity at certain times of day, and different carb ratios for different meals and times of the day. These adjustments, performed by the pump itself without my intervention, have significantly improved my time in range, providing better overall blood sugar control, less extremes high’s and low’s and a happier, less grumpy me (although only marginally less grumpy).

So, here comes the dark side of pumps… I’ve always written that life rarely cares about one’s plans. The only stronger advocate for this effect is Type-1 Diabetes. At the end of the day, you can do everything inherently right and still have issues. Such examples happen frequently for me, despite how closely I watch my levels and take care of myself. After all, just about ANYTHING can affect blood sugars, including things like mood, temperature and climate and just about anything else you can possibly think of. And no matter how nice a trinket the insulin pump may be, or how diligently you work towards controlling your condition, something will always come along to throw a monkey wrench into the mix.

If you look at the image above, it shows a steady decline in blood sugars levels. This is from the app on my phone that monitors my pump functions, so that I don’t have to constantly remove the pump from my belt to look at it. This decline in blood sugars carried on for a couple of hours. If you look closely, you’ll note that the pump initially trie dot adjust by cutting off my basal flow shortly after the noon hour to compensate for the downward trend. Although sitting around 8.0 mmol/L isn’t a terrible level, the downward trend is what can be a concern. Once I dipped below 4.0 mmol/L, I slipped below proper range. I’ll point out that during this time period, I was at a science Centre with my family. I wasn’t engaged in stressful activity, I wasn’t exerting myself and I spent most of the visit sitting. It starts to take an upward trend shortly after the 2 o’clock hour. This is after spending over forty minutes eating an entire bag of Skittles (the large, 170g bag; not the individual 61g sachet).

It took another half hour or so for me to start to feel normal and to be able to function within what I needed to walk around, interact with my kids and get us home. It’s a not-so-frequent occurrence but it does happen; even with something as technologically amazing as the insulin pump. But low’s aren’t the only issue. Lingering high’s can also cause significant issues. High blood sugars can lead to nasty secondary issues like ketoacidosis, where your blood slowly turns acidic. Not fun. But the overall shitty feeling you have while dealing with either extreme high’s or low’s more than just suck; they can potentially endanger your life. The previous day to the scenario above, I had a blood sugar level in the mid-teens, which lingered for a significant portion of the day.

If you look at the image above, the tiny red slice accounts for the period below range I suffered while out with my family. The huge yellow portion is the approximate fourteen-and-a-half hours that my blood sugars were high. This led to a night with barely any sleep, frequent urination, constant adjustment bonuses to compensate, both manual and pump-programmed, and wondering at what point I should start to consider phoning an ambulance. Nice, eh? The icing on the cake is I ate nothing heavily sugared, drank plenty of water and fluids and didn’t do anything that should have elicited this spike. But for some reason, it happened, it lasted and it lingered. I had to deal with it during the period of the day that a reasonable person should be sleeping and getting the required rest for the day that would follow. It sucks, but such is the life of a Type-1 Diabetic. It sometimes has no rhyme or reason and just fucks with your day without warning.

This is all the more reason to be properly prepared at all times. In that extreme low scenario when I was out with my family, if I hadn’t packed my shoulder sling with some fast-acting carbs and other Diabetic necessities, I might have found myself in a difficult situation. And this is the where the “not all that glitters is gold,” comment comes in. The insulin pump is an amazing tool for Diabetes therapy. But that’s all it is; a tool. A technologically-advanced tool that makes my life ten times easier than it was two decades ago, mind you. But a tool nonetheless. And as handy and pretty as it is, it still falls to the person behind the pump to ensure proper blood sugars levels are controlled and health is maintained. Diabetes has come a long way, since I was diagnosed all the way back in 1982. I can say with sincere honesty that I can’t wait to see what the next decade will bring. After all, there’s nowhere to go but up. Stay healthy. ☯️

Let’s Tip The Scales, Shall We?

So, this will be a straight up opinion-based post, with no illusions of referencing Diabetes, martial arts or Buddhism in any way, shape or form, so please feel free to click your back button or forego reading the post, if you feel that the content may offend you or trigger you in some way. I need to be clear that I don’t argue in my comments section and while I value everyone’s opinion and welcome it, the contents below reflect only my own, personal opinion and I’ll be the first to admit that THAT doesn’t mean I’m right; it’s simply my view. If you’re prepared to take a step in the exploratory arena and actually read something to elicit some thought, please carry on. Just clarify, today’s post will be a rant on tipping, tipping culture and proper etiquette within the modern retail and restaurant industry. Tread carefully at your own risk…

First of all, let’s start by looking at what “tipping” actually involves. I the modern sense, tipping is when you’ve enjoyed a meal or solicited the services of a business or restaurant. At the conclusion of the transaction, customers can provide a gratuity or consideration on top of the total cost, which is meant to go directly to the person who served you. This is referred to as a “tip.” In Canada, this trend was dragged over in the early 20th Century by European settlers as a gesture to show appreciation for a job well done or service well provided. For most of us, this is still how we think of a tip and the reason behind why we provide one. But somewhere over the past couple of decades, there seems to have been a growing trend where tipping is not only expected but many businesses are starting to dictate to customers just how much they should tip? Or is it a recent trend…?

Tipping is said to have originated in medieval Europe. Ironically, tipping was considered an important consideration for low-wage or enslaved servants who didn’t make enough money to support their families. Sound vaguely familiar? It should; this is a prominent argument among the restaurant industry that servers and support staff need tips to supplement their low salaries in order to make ends meet. As the argument goes, many argue that it isn’t their responsibility to supply additional funds to employees because their employers don’t pay them enough. It should be the employer’s responsibility to provide a livable wage that allows staff to make a living while providing service to customers. Many argue that, if you aren’t making enough, then just go get a job where you make more. While I’m a big fan of this concept and I’ve lived my life doing just that, there are two problems with this concept as a general rule: 1) You never know the circumstances of someone’s life that may make it an obligation to work the job they’re in, and 2) Many higher paying jobs often require training, education or certifications that depend on the employee paying for them out-of-pocket.

In North America, tipping became a controversial issue in the 19th Century as gratuities and considerations were often given to low-wage employees and immigrants to supplement their lack of money. It isn’t until the 1930’s that it became a common practice in retail circles. But the practice of tipping has always been controversial, with a significant divide between the ones who believe if you can’t tip, don’t go out and the ones who believe that they should only have to pay for their meal and nothing more. It can be a difficult and awkward discussion, when the two parties collide. Personally, I fall somewhere on the middle; I don’t believe I NEED to pay anything more than what my bill’s total sits at. But if the person serving me provides excellent service and I enjoyed my experience, I have no issues in providing a tip. It’s the ones who demand or expect a tip, regardless of service, that irk me. Especially at a retail location where I walked the floor, found my own garments, tried them on and walked up to the till and find a tip option on the debit machine. Really??? What the fuck am I tipping you for? Standing behind the counter on your phone while you WAITED for me to walk up…? But I digress…

So, when is it appropriate to tip and how much is reasonable? Well, you’ll find plenty of references online related to a “standard percentage,” but don’t let that fool you. In reality, there is no standard amount. A customer should always tip based on the amount they feel is appropriate, commensurate with the service they received. If a restaurant or business gives you attitude over the amount? Guess what? That plays into the overall service and as a customer, that’s likely a location you should return to. I once read a story about how a restaurant banned a customer because they didn’t tip their server. When the manager spoke to the customer, they said they couldn’t afford a tip, so the manager told them that if they couldn’t afford to tip, maybe they should have simply eaten at home. Really??? Have we fallen so far low as a society that a business would prefer to lose the sale from a customer than accept that even if they don’t have EXTRA money to tip, they still contributed money to that business that not only ensures it can retain staff but continues to operate?

I miss the old days when I was a kid and my grandparents would take me out for a treat at a local coffee shop. After eating my treat and my grandfather had his coffee, I’d see him slip a few coins to the server or leave it on the table. A polite thank you would always be exchanged by both sides. No awkwardness, no attitude regarding the amount; just gratitude that a customer decided to provide a little something extra for the good service they received. This is the environment the world needs to return to. Businesses having a sign on their door that says “If you can’t afford to tip, please don’t enter our restaurant,” or “mandatory tipping of 20% or more” may have become the norm but may soon find themselves shutting their doors. In a society of continued inflation and price increases, people will start moving away and revolting against businesses that make tipping mandatory or an expectation, as opposed to simply paying their staff a livable wage. I know for myself, if an employee goes out of their way to provide good service, I have no issues giving a tip. If they give me attitude or sneer at the amount I leave, or even demand how much I leave, which has happened, they’ll likely find themselves on the receiving end of some choice words. Food for thought, that you don’t have to tip for… ☯️

When Customer Service Still Exists… (Above & Beyond)

We live in a world of entitlement and immediate gratification. Most people these days are of the opinion that they owed everything, are entitled to everything and assume they’re always right. I see a lot of that. Cue a British retail mogul named Selfridge, who coined the phrase “the customer is always right…” In the early 20th Century, Selfridge coined this slogan, but the part that modern people seem to forget, is that the slogan actually reads, “the customer is always right in matters of taste.” This slogan was meant to emphasize that customers should always have their preferences catered to, rather than lose the sale. Somehow, over the decades that followed, it got shortened to “the customer is always right,” and customers the world over have used this as a weapon to assume businesses should bend over backwards to provide things the customer either hasn’t paid for, or isn’t entitled to. The flip side to that coin, is the degradation of customer service in modern retail. More and more, it seems that getting decent service and correct orders in almost any industry is a dead art; businesses preferring to assume customers should just take their chances and suck it up if it’s wrong, rather than actually try to do it right.

It’s a bit of a cynical view, I admit. But it comes from a place of experience and knowledge. I’ve worked in retail industries often over the past three decades, despite my policing career, and I’ve seen the damage from both sides. This is why, when good service is provided, especially good service that goes above and beyond, I believe that is should not only be recognized but thoroughly congratulated. So, here’s the background. I was diagnosed as Type-1 Diabetic when I was four years old. As of two days go, that means that I’ve been Type-1 for 43 years. I’ve been around the block, as far as dealing with every possible situation Diabetes can throw at me, including ketoacidosis, comas, frequent dehydration, eye issues (hence my eye injections) and kidney issues. I’m among the lucky ones, as I’ve worked and fought hard to maintain myself and my health, preventing some of the more serious complications of Type-1, such as organ failure and, well… death. So believe me when I say that I try and do everything right and control my condition with an almost surgeon-like precision.

Whenever I travel, whenever I leave the house, really, I always make a point of bringing along certain necessities with me. This usually includes nasal spray, hand sanitizer, a portable first aid kit, a glucometer, and last but not least, fast-acting carbohydrates, like Skittles or Swedish Berries. This is done almost without exception since, even on a short car ride, my blood can suddenly drop for little to no reason and I can find myself stuck in traffic with no means of treating a low. It’s almost reflexive at this point, having done so for most of my adult life. Which is why the situation that happened last Thursday night came as a bit of a shock… I travelled to Saskatoon for my scheduled eye injections. I do these at 13-week intervals now, which is a marked improvement from the 4-week intervals I started at. Once again, a testament to how the body can heal itself from many conditions if you take care of yourself and give it the tools it needs. I travelled to the city Thursday morning and checked into my hotel room without issue. I walked over to the hospital about mid-afternoon and got checked into for my procedure. Getting through the process can take a couple of hours but the procedure itself is only about ten minutes. Modern medicine, go figure.

That evening, I enjoyed a solitary meal at the Irish pub located on the ground floor of my hotel. Everything went fine and I made my way back up to my room to binge-watch some Netflix and go to sleep. I awoke a couple of hours later to my insulin pump blaring an alarm at me. It appeared that I was suffering a low. Not just a low, but I got the dreaded “Below 2.8mmol/L” message, which meant that my low blood sugar was basically at a life-threatening level. The only thing I can figure is that I had over-bolused for my meal and the additional insulin hadn’t caught up to me until then. Yet another reason why it’s never a good idea to eat so close to bedtime. Accustomed to treating late-night lows, I staggered over to my backpack and rummaged through, trying to wrap my fingers around the live-saving gummies or Skittles I expected to find. Only, I found nothing… The candies I usually so meticulously packed in every bag whenever I left the house were nowhere to be found. Panic began to set in. I considered downing the little sugar packet included with my coffee station but quickly dismissed the idea, since it would have very little effect and I would still be in trouble. With little other choice and quickly losing sense of my faculties, I did the only thing I COULD do; I grabbed my room key and debit card and stumbled out of my room to seek help.

I made my way to the ground floor and remembered the bank of vending machines to my left. I walked over and struggled to see clearly, both from the blood sugar and from my recent eye injections, to figure out if one of the machines took debit. I felt the minutes melting away, so I walked up to the counter and asked the front clerk for help. I managed to mumble out that I was Type-1 Diabetic and was having a low episode and needed his help. Although I have been staying at this hotel for over ten years, I didn’t recognize this man, which likely makes sense as I’m usually sleeping during the over night. This man guided me over to the lobby couch, sat me down and hustled into the restaurant’s kitchen and got me a cup of straight Coke. He handed it to me and watched me as I drank it readily. He got me a refill once I had finished the first cup and carried on from the reception desk, while keeping a clear eye on me. After about ten minutes, my blood sugars started to climb back to a level where I could at least start to see properly and feel a sense of coherence again. He asked me how I was feeling, to which I replied that I was coming around. The clarity of my voice must have encouraged him, compared to what I had initially mumbled.

I slowly walked over to the vending machines and I was able to find one machine that took debit, so I got myself a bottle of Coke to bring back to the room, in the event I dropped again or if I needed a little bit extra. I was sure to thank this gentleman before getting on the elevator. My blood rose to over 4.0 mmol/L before I finally fell back asleep, which isn’t phenomenal but was a clear sign it was climbing and my pump would wake me if it dropped again. I woke up the next morning feeling as though I had been hit by a freight train. I felt like an absolute inexperienced idiot. Not only did I have one of the worst lows in recent memory, I ad to do it while I was away from home and on the one occasion where I somehow forgot to pack some carbs for the trip. I know how the latter happened but I won’t bore you with the reasoning. The bottom line is that when it comes to my health, there is no valid excuse. If anything, I should have checked my back when I arrived and unpacked. At least then, I would have had the opportunity to buy something for the room ahead of time and I could have avoided the whole thing.

As I started sipping my morning caffeine, the reality of the situation started to sink in. The severity of the low and the situation I was in, alone in a hotel room, no sugary products to consume and slowly losing cognitive capacity, this could have gone from bad to extremely worse in very short order, had I not made my way downstairs and if my mystery clerk hadn’t assisted me. Although he may not have been fully aware of just how serious a state I was in, and he may not recognize that he may have potentially saved my life (or at the very least, saved me from an ambulance ride), he rose to the occasion and helped me without hesitation. He could have done what many would have done, and what I’ve been subjected to in the past, where security could have been called, accused me of being intoxicated, etc. After all, incoherent, stumbling man on shorts and bare-footed, mumbling something about an episode; many would have acted differently. But not this man. This man stepped up and gave me the help I needed to allow me to help myself. For me, that’s customer service that goes above and beyond what one would usually hope to find.

When I checked out of my room that morning, I asked the front desk clerk who the gentleman working overnight was called. As I asked, I reached over to the bank of business cards on the desk and grabbed one for the General Manager. I think the clerk took this as a bad sign and asked me if something had happened. I said that yeah, something had happened. This man possibly saved my damn life and I wanted his name so her could be recognized. She told me her name was Greg, and was happy to hear that he was able to help. I’ll be sending a note to their General Manager recognizing this man and what he did for me last Thursday. He showed the kind of attention and assistance that everyone in the service industry should be able to provide for their guests/customers. And I should dare say that customer service like that doesn’t belong on the night shift. Hat’s off to you, Greg! You’re an example to others. Keep up the good work!

For myself, this was a sobering reminder that my condition follows me wherever I go. It doesn’t take days off, doesn’t stay behind when I travel and won’t give me an inch for the mile. By virtue of that, it’s all the more reason for me to be vigilant in preparing for any outing, trip or travel. After all, I can’t always assume that in the event of an emergency, Greg will be there to save the day. Sugary food for thought… ☯️

I Have Superpowers…

No, I’m not faster than a speeding bullet. I can’t leap tall buildings in a single bound and I’m not mightier than a locomotive. I’m not referring to the imaginary superpower, although that would be really fuckin’ cool. I always thought the power of flight would be the best power, since I could eat to work every morning without paying for gas or sitting on public transit. But I digress… No, the super power I’m referring to, is one that we all have and we can all take advantage of. The big problem is that in general, without limiting ourselves by certain exceptions, no one tends to recognize or take advantage of those super powers. I’m talking about your body’s own inherent abilities.

The human body is a genuinely amazing thing. For the most part, the human body is able to heal and/or regenerate almost all the tissues within itself, with the obvious exception of teeth. Bear in mind, there’s a huge difference between “healing” and “regenerating.” For example, the liver is one of the only organs that can positively regrow, even if a significant portion of it has been removed. Bones will also knit themselves back together, often stronger than their previous state, when broken. The majority of the tissues in one’s body will heal themselves back together their original state, or what’s known as “cell replacement.” Depending on how they heal, this can be pretty extreme. For example, I’ve read that the lining of our stomachs and intestines are almost constantly replaced by fresh cells; a necessary system of the body to counteract the corrosive nature of our digestive acids, or the uterine lining in a woman’s body, which regenerates completely from one month to another.

This plays a major role in how we live. For the most part, the healthier we live, the better the chances we have of proper healing and recovery. For example, despite being one of the organs that can regenerate, the liver will fail and die off if one consumes and abuses of alcohol. Certain nutrient or mineral deficiencies will prevent bones from knitting and can even make them brittle. It’s important to note that nutritional, lifestyle habits and even how we sleep can affect our body’s overall ability to heal and regenerate itself. Age also plays an important factor, of course, with one’s body’s ability to heal properly decreases with time and age. But in terms of lifestyle and fitness, I can provide a first-hand example…

In November of 2023, I received a Type-1 Diabetic’s worst news from my endocrinologist. My blood work showed that my kidneys were struggling and I was in the early stages of kidney failure. That would be scary for anybody but having lived for 43 years with a condition that I knew would eventually knock one of my organs out of play (besides the pancreas, of course). It’s a reality I was always aware of but never really paid any mind, since I tend to work out pretty well and monitor my blood sugars pretty closely. I remember walking out of my doctor’s office that day with a fairly strong sense that I had been handed a death sentence. Recognizing that I had a family and very much left to do with my life, I did what I always do when death foolishly knocks at my door; I fought back. I started by asking what could be done to heal the issue. This is an important aspect to proper health. People these days are obsessed with “treating” symptoms but never really look at the overlying cause that’s brought them to their current state.

My doctor suggested that losing a bit of weight would help. My initial thought was “fuck you, too.” Although always on the husky side, I’ve never been obese or even what one would call fat. Although I snack and eat like the best of the ‘em, I’ve never been a horrific eater and always monitor my carb intake carefully. This is where he introduced me to Ozempic and suggested I start taking it. I was pretty leery of it, due to the negative spin the media had put out. But I reluctantly started on it. In tandem with the drug, I also drastically altered my diet. No, I didn’t jump on to some stupid fad or gimmicky diet and I didn’t download an app. I simply took common sense steps that doctors and nutritionists have been barking for decades. I started avoiding battered foods in favor of fresh, lean proteins. I got in the habit of pan-searing fresh fish instead of getting battered, frozen fish. Steak and chicken were prepared fresh, as well. Healthy grains in small doses, fruits and even soup, which I’ve always considered a nemesis of mine. I had soup forced on me a lot during my childhood and as an adult, I always stood that a liquid couldn’t be a meal. I’ve allowed myself to provide me wrong.

Sleep habits were altered. I go to bed effectively the same time every night, with the only exceptions being if I’m traveling and it can’t be helped. I started taking steps to ensure proper, uninterrupted sleep, which has been challenging in and of itself, due to PTSD. But once I got to a certain point, I can now get at least six to seven hours of sleep WITHOUT any of the initial aids I was taking to get that sleep. Most mornings, I wake up prior to my alarm. Working out has been a consistent challenge in recent years. Fatigue and lack of motivation can be some of the biggest obstacles to proper health. I changed up my routine where, instead of trying to work out for a couple of hours, several times a week, I work out for thirty minutes, every day. There are days where I miss, of course. But losing one 30-minute workout is much easier to recover from, than going a full week without working out at all.

In conjunction with the Ozempic, this led to about 30 pounds of weight loss, which is almost double what most semaglutide users can expect. Instead of sitting back and letting the medication treat something, I jumped on and helped it do its job. Given this weight loss, a few magical things started to happen. My blood sugars became increasingly easy to control. My blood pressure dropped and stayed down, meaning I had less headaches. My sleep quality increased significantly but last and not least was the biggest aspect of all; my kidneys had recovered and I was no longer in early stages of failure. The sense of relief and satisfaction at having taken my health in had the way I did was phenomenal. Now, I’m not suggesting that someone who IS in kidney failure can recover their organs. I’m not friggin’ Wolverine, after all. I was lucky enough to have caught this at a stage where the damage could be reversed.

The lesson here is that most people have vices that are unhealthy and do damage that isn’t seen in the here and now. It isn’t until a red light pops up that we decide to stop and take a good, hard look at our habits. Some people never get the opportunity. But making some of these small changes to one’s habits can be life-prolonging, if not life-saving. So, we all have a super power. We have the ability within ourselves to heal our bodies and maintain our health. We simply need to embrace that power and work towards making life healthier and easier for ourselves. Food for thought. ☯️

When Should One Start Teaching?

This is actually a topic I found recently on a social media page for karate, where the subject of teaching others and at what level of black belt can one begin to teach. Recognizing that every style has its own methods and differences, I don’t necessarily want to generalize too badly but I will share the high level version of what my school has always done and what Sensei always encouraged. For the most part, my Sensei’s Sensei used to say that martial arts is like climbing a ladder; over time, you make your way up several rungs to get higher. Once you do, you’ll take notice of someone who is a number of rungs below you. The idea is that you should reach down and help that student climb the next rungs to reach the same level as you’re on, if not exceed it. Then, as that student progresses to the higher rungs, they would be doing the same for you. It’s a bit of a romanticized notion and it certainly requires each practitioner to be a bit selfless and willing to help others as opposed to focusing solely on themselves.

But the specific question posed in the social media post I saw, was how many degrees to one’s black belt were required to teach. This is a bit of a loaded question, since originally, belt systems weren’t used in traditional Okinawa karate. The ones with knowledge basically just, well… taught. So the concept of requiring a black belt in order to teach others is a somewhat westernized detail that doesn’t necessarily track. One aspect I WOULD agree with, is the requirement to get one’s Sensei’s approval or consent before starting to teach someone else what you’ve learned. Your Sensei is the one best suited to determine what level you’re at, and whether you’ve become proficient enough in certain areas to effectively pass on the material. After all, if you perform a technique poorly and you teach it to someone else, they’ll learn it poorly and practice it poorly. This does your style a disservice and will lead to the dilution and watering down of your style, whatever that may be. But at what point can one genuinely begin to teach others?

This question takes me all the way back to good ol’ 1989. Yes, you read that right; 1989. 36 fucking years ago. Man, I’m getting old… Anyhoo, I remember struggling through much of my first week in karate. Such is always the way with new students. You don’t know shit, haven’t learned anything yet and are basically just following along, trying to mirror what you see everyone else doing. Usually while doing it poorly or improperly. After the first week, Sensei grabbed me before class and told me I needed to learn some of the basics one-on-one. I had foolishly assumed at the time that I would be receiving this instruction from Sensei. But given that there are several students and only one Sensei, I quickly learned that he would often lean on other students to provide initial coaching and guidance. I still remember the young girl who taught me the opening of my first kata… She was a few years younger than I was. One of three sisters, all of whom were in karate, her name was Teri-Lynn.

Patient, helpful and willing to put me through my paces, it’s interesting to wonder where I would be or what direction my martial arts training may have taken, if not for those initial interactions where I was properly guided by someone who knew the material and could easily and readily pass it on. It played an integral part in how I viewed the dojo, its students and the teaching of Uechi Ryu. Unlike some other schools I visited and tried, where I was basically left endlessly to my own devices to learn and glom on to what I could. This makes it extremely difficult to learn properly and can lead to frustration, discouragement and ultimately, quitting the school. But my point is that Terri-Lynn was a yellow belt when she taught me all the basic knowledge I required to start my karate journey.

So, the takeaway lesson here, is that rank is irrelevant when it comes to teaching the art. Whether your belt is white, black or any of the colors in between, teaching what you know is man important part to learning within karate. And not just for the one you’re imparting the knowledge on; it’s important for you, as the teacher, as well. One cannot effectively learn without teaching. And one cannot effectively teach without learning. This is the important balance that one must acknowledge when seeking to learn and/or teach within traditional martial arts. Karate is meant to be taught. And while one cannot effectively teach train by oneself, karate is not a solitary art. I’m reminded of a line from Star Wars, of all things. In Episode I, where they’re at a Jedi funeral and discussing the return of the Sith, Yoda says, “Always two, there are. No more, no less…” There’s a whole bunch of reference behind this but the same can be said of karate. One who knows, and one who learns. Those roles will shift and go back and forth through the years. Learning and teaching go hand in hand. That’s why, if trying out a new dojo and you feel abandoned and left to your own devices, it may not be the style for you. Food for thought… ☯️

The Minimalist’s Travels…

A couple of weeks ago, I travelled to the East Coast to go deal with some family matters for my folks. It was a tumultuous week of emotional ups and downs, for a variety of reasons but you can read all about that in a series of posts entitled “Here We Go Again.” Since I was traveling by myself for the week, I made my way back to my home Province with nothing but a military-style rucksack on my back and survived for seven days. After the series of posts, I had some folks reach out and ask me exactly how I managed to survive a full week with nothing but minimal clothing and a small backpack. Well, I can confirm that it’s equal parts efficient packing and planning once I was on the ground. And with this, hopefully short, post, I’m going to walk you through it. Let’s see what I can manage…

First and foremost, I travelled with 5.11’s Rush 24, a 37L military-style rucksack. Black in color and boasting several compartments and pockets, I typically use it for my day-to-day transit to and from work, to carry my laptop, iPad and personal effects during the week. In this instance, I chose to use it to travel. For anyone interested, you can find it on Cabella’s website here. While a bit costly, it’s made of durable material that can not only hold everything I need but also withstands travel and being tossed around. Hence the military-style aspect. Sitting about 20 inches high and roughly 8 to 10 inches deep. It allowed me to pack the following… (Bear in mind that this was for seven days and six nights’ of travel)

  • Three pairs of underwear and socks;
  • Three dri-fit shirts;
  • A hoodie
  • Three sets of pump supplies (reservoirs, infusion sets and sensors);
  • Minimal toiletries (toothbrush, nasal spray and fast-acting carbs);
  • My personal cell phone and work phone;
  • My iPad;
  • My noise-cancelling headphones; and
  • All required cords for devices.

That’s it! That’s all I travelled with, for an entire week. I forgot to include a bottle of insulin in that list but that goes without saying. I also wore a thin, Under Armour jacket over my shirt, since it was only 15 degrees when I left Saskatchewan. At first glance, most people would assume that this is crazy or that I’m making it up. After all, I’m sure there are several items that you’ve noticed are missing from this list, that the average person would definitely require in order to be away from home for several days. But bear with me, young padawan… I’m going to teach you the ways of minimalist travel…

On the morning of my departure, I took a hot shower, shaved and brushed my teeth. Nothing out of the ordinary that the average person should be doing on a daily basis, anyway. But since I was freshly clothed, deodorant applied and fully packed, I had very little in terms of hygiene to worry about. At least until I arrived at my destination. I grabbed my rucksack and got dropped off at the airport by my family, about to depart and be without them for the week. With only the rucksack to bring along, I didn’t need to check any baggage and I didn’t have to contend with the current trend where too many carry on’s are brought on planes, prompting flight crews to force me to check my bags. I could stuff the rucksack under my seat and still access my tablet and headphones as I saw fit. It also meant that I didn’t have to wait for baggage at the carousel, saving me lots of time at the arrival end of things.

Once at my hotel, I could slip quietly into bed and sleep off my travel, ready to deal with the issues of the coming week. Now, you may be thinking, “He brought a tooth brush but no toothpaste.” You’re right. What one needs to realize is that traveling to New Brunswick can be a significantly costly endeavor, especially with a family to support. Saving money wherever possible is key. Since this wasn’t a vacation, per se, and far from a pleasure trip, I had to ensure I was thrifty in what I spent on. First and foremost, one should always take advantage of the free amenities that most hotels will offer. If you attend the front counter and advise them of something you’ve forgotten or need, they’ll often have sample or travel size options that you can get as a courtesy. This includes toothpaste. On my first morning in New Brunswick, I got a travel tube of toothpaste from the front counter. Pair that with a hot shower using the soap and shampoo available in the room, and I was off to the races.

My first stop to ensure a smooth, and worry-free week, was the travel section of my local, big box retail store. Travel options will usually run you very little money and can actually last far longer than one would be inclined to think. Once in the travel section, I grabbed an antiperspirant, hair gel, supplementary toothpaste, a disposable razor and shaving foam, as well as a travel shampoo and a single bar of old school Dove soap (since hotel soap is almost non-existent). Then, I was off to a pharmacy location, where I was able to find a single-use box of Tide laundry detergent, to use with in the hotel’s guest laundromat. Based solely on those purchases, which barely ran me over $20, I was set from the toiletries and hygiene standpoint. Check!

Next, comes food… There’s no denying that meal consumption can be one of the most costly expenses when traveling. Ever try to get a basic eggs, bacon, toast breakfast at an airport? I did… The cheapest I found was about $35. Fuck you, airport! For that amount, I can buy a dozen eggs, a pound of bacon and a loaf of bread for several meals and still not reach $35! But even eating out at restaurants and fast food for the week can start to drain the ol’ bank account pretty damned quick. Especially since even fast food value menus are now almost as costly as full, sit-down meals at a full restaurant, finding way sot trim costs can be difficult. Since I’m by myself and have no one else to please or squalling kids with fussy tastes to contend with, I could live on the bare minimum for the week without concern.

First, we start with breakfast. I’m a bit old school with respect to the fact that when I think vacation breakfast, I want hot options that include meat. Maybe that’s just me as a dude, but I was some eggs. I want some bacon or some sausage. And since those items are carb-free, it has the potential to make breakfast my most filling meal of the day. My hotel, however, does not have these meat options. In the past, I would have turned my nose up and grabbed a sausage McMuffin instead. This time around, saving money was key and I swallowed (pun intended) my pride. My breakfasts for the week consisted of muffins, yogurt and the occasional hard-boiled eggs, since they did have those on occasion. For lunches, I found a six-pack of high-protein, high-calories meal replacement shakes at the pharmacy. Tossed those in the mini fridge and downed one at midday as my lunch. Then, schedule pending, I would allow myself some sort of proper, sit-down meals somewhere for supper. So, six breakfasts and six lunches ran me about $13, since breakfasts were free and the money was only for the meal replacement shakes. Not too shabby, since one meal at a restaurant would have no doubt cost more than that.

After a few days, I did a load of laundry at the hotel and refreshed the limited clothing I brought with me. I did so again on the Thursday before traveling back to Moncton for my early flight the next morning. All of these little steps allowed me to travel light, travel efficiently and save hundreds in what would have otherwise been a much more expensive trip. I didn’t suffer or want for anything while I did all of this, but I was able to keep my wallet from cracking down the middle. Bear in mind, nine of this minimalist approach would have been possible if I had been traveling with my family. A spouse and kids means more baggage, more meals and there’s no conceivable way in hell MY sons would have consented to drinking a meal replacement shakes every day. The costs would have been far more significant. But it allowed me to travel out to New Brunswick, see to my parents’ affairs and visit some old friends on a reasonably tight budget. I used to think I could never do what I’ve seen others do, traveling with next to nothing, staying in hostels, etc… But some of it is very doable and possible. It also makes coming home to a warm bed, hot meals and a grateful family all the more worthwhile. Food for thought… ☯️

Oh, All The Supplements…

I tend to monitor a number of health trends and websites in my daily grind. When you’ve been diagnosed with a life-altering condition at a very young age, you tend to keep an eye on things that could potentially provide some benefit or ease symptoms of said condition. For example, there’s a lot of hype online about a woman in China who was apparently taken completely off insulin therapy for her Type-1 Diabetes, using stem cell therapy. While I haven’t read all the articles and am not completely versed on the ins and outs of this apparent “success,” I do know that based on other research I’ve done, anything that comes from transplanting one thing into another, is the vast plethora of anti-rejection meds that one tends to be dependent on, usually for the remainder of their lives. That may be better than the alternative of being on insulin therapy for the rest of one’s life. But I’m just saying, the jury’s still out…

But what I want to touch on today, is a chemical called L-Carnitine. I’ve seen tons of type on social media, fitness sites and medical websites about this stuff, boasting how it helps you to turn body fat into immediate fuel, causing weight loss in those who take it. Given that I’m always skeptical about trends and gimmicks meant to help someone lose weight without putting the work in, I had to investigate. I know, I know, this is coming from someone who injects Ozempic into his body on a weekly basis. However, semaglutides are already naturally produced by the body. The injections simply add to that, making kidney health, blood pressure and lower blood sugars and weight a possibility. You still need to control your diet, exercise regularly and take good care of yourself to prevent other issues. Imagine my surprise when I found that L-Carnitine is just a little bit, if not a lot, the same…

So, what is L-Carnitine? According to an article I found on WebMD, “L-carnitine is a chemical that is made in the human brain, liver, and kidneys. It helps the body turn fat into energy.” So, sounds just a little bit like what they indicate in all the hype promos I’ve seen. And “made in” the human brain, etc? Sounds naturally-produced, a bit like the semaglutides in Ozempic. But L-Carnitine is actual very important for brain and heart function, as well as muscle movement. It’s actually necessary for the proper physical function of the body. Okay, so far, so good. L-Carnitine is used to support people who lack in this chemical naturally, and to help treat certain conditions of the heart and kidneys. But the article doesn’t go a great deal into that. While it boasts a number of different uses for treatment of serious medical conditions, it’s the weight loss that I’ll focus on, here.

The idea here, is that if L-Carnitine turns body fat into fuel, one should naturally lose weight while taking it, since it will melt your fat stores in order to produce fuel, which will result in the slimming of one’s gut and overall fat stores. One thing the article doesn’t touch on, is how one needs to alter and/or maintain diet or exercise. Intuitively, I’m inclined to assume that if you don’t exercise and limit the crap you eat, you’ll have limited success. It’s also important to note that like any other supplement or medication, you should take anything without first consulting your physician or medical practitioner. Especially since you never know what interactions you may have with the existing medications you’re on. And I have to admit that the “infomercials” tend to focus on all the obvious deflection tactics, such as showing someone whose already trim and buff, downing L-Carnitine, suggesting he got that way by doing so.

As I’ve come to learn over the decades, there are no free lunches. Pun fully intended, since you take this stuff orally. Apparently. Some of the medical-grade stuff is apparently taken by IV. But another article I found on HealthLine reflected much of the same as the WebMD article, with one notable exception. The article reads, “L-carnitine helps move more fatty acids into your cells to be burned for energy, so it’s sometimes used as a weight loss supplement. A 2020 review of 37 studies found that L-carnitine supplementation significantly reduced body weight, body mass index (BMI), and fat mass. However, it had no effect on belly fat or body fat percentage.” So for me, it’s a pretty weak prospect since belly fat is what I’m most concerned about. L-Carnitine can apparently also HELP with exercise, even if exercise is needed to help burn fat.

For example, I used to get my supplements through a supplier (I can’t remember which one) that sent me a small sample bottle of L-Carnitine. It was branded as a supplement that would help boost my workouts. I saw absolutely no measurable difference, although it was just a small sample bottle with about two doses. So, the jury’s still out. I don’t know if this stuff is on the level and legit, or not. You’d have to judge for yourself. And make sure you consult a doctor before you do. All I know, is that nothing in this life is without effort. No matter the supplement you take, the miracle results it boasts or whether you believe it’ll work or not, nothing will substitute good ol’ fashioned blood, sweat and tears. Even WITH a supplement that shows ANY result, proper diet and exercise are a must and necessary to assist with weight loss and getting rid of that pain in gut belly pouch that everyone hates. Food for thought… ☯️

Zen And The Art Of Home Ownership…

Owning a home is a catch-22, in my opinion. For myself, I grew up moving from one rental apartment to the next. While my parents owned their own house until roughly 1982, they realized the cost and upkeep associated with home ownership wasn’t sustainable, given that they had sick children that required medical attention that could only be obtained outside the province. Since travel and accommodation costs weren’t always covered, it was a financial no-brainer to live in an apartment where, repair and upkeep costs were generally the responsibility of the landlord. This may be why I never had much of an issue in adapting to the Mountie lifestyle, since I had pretty much been moving every few years my entire life. But I digress…

While renting an apartment may release one from certain financial and upkeep burdens, there’s definitely something to be said for owning one’s own home. Your own space, answering to no one else and knowing that you can make whatever changes or upgrades as you see fit. It’s liberating after a fashion, although the costs of such things can quickly make you reconsider. Even during my adult life and well into joining the RCMP, I always rented. This just made sense to me, since I knew I would be moving every few years. It wasn’t until I met my wife and we had our first child that owning our home became important.

Our home was purchased at a reasonable price through an estate sale. Having had only one previous owner, the home had, shall we call them, “unique” features but was overall in fantastic shape, was well-kept and would provide a reasonable home for the years to come. We saw no issues that would carry over into our next posting, which would come up in 3 to five years anyway. Then, the COVID-19 pandemic hit and I got sent home. I then quickly realized that my future no longer rested with the RCMP but with a static job that would see us remain in Regina. Okay, fair enough. And since life rarely cares about one’s plans, of course all hell would need to break loose.

First, our foundation buckled. During a significantly heavy rain fall, the foundation wall shift and cracked open, allowing significant amounts of rain water to seep into our basement. This resulted in needing to demolish, brace and renovate the entire basement. While that wasn’t a terrible thing, since it modernize the basement (it was fake wooden clapboard and orange carpet), the costs and disruption to the overall household was significant. Once it was all said and done, we were happy. But there’s no denying that the cost was a bit of a nut-punch to the soul.

Over the past few years, we’ve enjoyed the benefits of a private back yard, garage, and the benefits of having no one above or below us to cause noise. But in recent years, sewer back ups caused by little hands using too much toilet paper, etc. caused continued issues within the basement. As I’m sure you can imagine, a backed up sewer into one’s home not only smells quite unpleasant but poses certain health issues due to what comes back up. We had the main drainage system through a hydrovac treatment in 2023, which carries a 3-year warranty, provided we don’t flush diapers, wipes, paper towels, corpses… You know, the usual. So far, we’ve had to have them pop in to clear our line three times, with each visit confirming that eventually we’d need to consider next steps to repair the very aged, 60-year old pipes that served as the main line.

On this occasion, which took place on last Sunday, the last day for me to relax after a week off before heading back to work, the basement received a nice outpouring of of stagnant, offensive material from a lovely back up. Great. My wife worked to get the plumbers back while I worked to disinfect and clean the basement floors, book shelves and bathroom implements that got affected. This time, we were advised that several cracks and defects in the main drainage line would require immediate attention, lest the pipe collapse, which would pose a much greater issue. I started to imagine all the worst case scenarios that involved jack-hammering my basement floors, digging up my entire front yard and the costs, not only for the repairs but the clean up and subsequent renovation that would ensue.

Luckily, we were given an option where they appear to be able to repair the pipe by coating it’s interior with an epoxy resin of some sort that essentially repairs and the existing pipe and is rated to last 30 years. No drilling, no digging up the yard and no destroying the basement. This was good news. This repair will run to the tune of almost $5,000. Fuck. Damn home ownership! We reluctantly scheduled the repair, which is supposed ot take place next Monday.

Owning a home that you can call your own can be a wonderful thing. The comfort and privacy you get from a private residence is significant over the prospect of living in a shared building with an unknown umber of other renters, any one of which may be noisy, violent, problematic or obstructive in one’s daily life. But the costs of home ownership can be significant, and not everyone will be able to pay the cost. For us, it will cause a significant financial hiccup. Not as big a one as if we did nothing, of course. And that’s the bittersweet pill; there’s a cost either way. The question simply becomes ensuring it’s the lower cost that one deals with. Hopefully in the hopes of preventing further costs down the road. ☯️

Here We Go Again, The Aftermath…

I mean, is it really the aftermath if I haven’t gotten home yet? I’m gonna say it is, because I have a couple of hours to kill and nothing to do. My travel from Campbellton to Moncton yesterday was pretty uneventful. I hit the city around 1:30-ish and since check in time at most hotels is 3 pm, I decided to kill some time by walking around Champlain Place, one of the largest malls in New Brunswick. I wandered for all of about forty minutes before I started getting bored. I would have loved to have grabbed a slice of pizza at the food court but the lines were very not Shawn-esque. I figured I would simply check in at the hotel then reassess as to where I could grab a small meal before my pre-flight slumber. Check in was a okay, despite there being only one person working the counter with several people waiting. One plus is that I’m apparently an IHG member, which I wasn’t aware of. I’m sure I would have been aware at the time when I got it but apparently I had forgotten.

The nice part about being an IHG Rewards member is I got a free room upgrade and treated to some complimentary waters and snacks. My name was written on a board at the entrance, welcoming me to the hotel. I mean, it was written with about a dozen other people so it’s not like I was singled out or anything. But it was still cool. I enjoy getting things just as much as the next person, but being upgraded to a king bed suite is something that would be nicer if I had my wife with me. I’m all alone; what do I need with a king sized bed instead of a queen? Once I ditched all my stuff in the room, I made my way to a gas station, conveniently in the same parking lot, and ensured my rental car’s tank was full. Then, and because I’m cheap, I hit up McDonald’s (also in the same parking lot). By 4 o’clock, I was in the room, in pajamas and watching Big Bang Theory on the big screen.

My alarm obediently pissed me off this morning at 3 am, which prompted me to hit the ground running and grab a shower, shave, ditch the toiletries and disposable extras I had purchased for the trip and make my way to the airport. Now, I’m seated here in a quasi-empty terminal waiting a bit more than an hour and a half for my flight to board. According to all indications, my flight is scheduled to be on time. This is good news, considering I received a rather disturbing email last night that Air Canada’s cabin crew union was planning job action today and several flights have already been canceled. One would think that potentially being grounded in one’s home province would be a pleasant surprise. But that’s the big issue, isn’t it? And something I realized the hard way during my time here… New Brunswick isn’t my home anymore. Saskatchewan is. That’s where my home, my family and my life are. New Brunswick has simply become the place I go to in order to visit my parents. And even that prospect is quickly slipping away.

The first leg of my trip sees me fly to Montreal; an approximate 40-minute flight. Then, I’ll have about an hour and a half’s layover in the Montreal Terminal. I usually prefer Toronto, since there are actual food options and snacks available. Montreal’s departure terminal is usually pretty bare and doesn’t have many options for anything to eat. Considering I left the hotel before the ass crack of dawn and the longest stretch from Montreal to Regina is about 4 hours, that’s a hell of a long time to go without food. Even WITH Ozempic stemming my appetite. Granted, It’s Friday morning and my injection is patiently waiting for me at home in Regina. I’m rather surprised that my hunger hasn’t already started to make a selfish appearance. That’s the beauty of stress from traveling, I guess. One way or another, I”ll survive. So long as both my flights are on time, I should get home just before lunch.

Considering I titled this post as an aftermath, here is where I take the time to reflect on my week in New Brunswick and what I did and didn’t accomplish. I didn’t manage to communicate with my father. He slept each time I popped in and the one time I tried to rouse him from sleep, it didn’t work. Staff are supposed to let him know I’ve been visiting over recent days. I saw my mother three times. In one instance, I was able to have an open conversation with her about non-specific or memory related matters. She was clam enough but distant and not engaged. My uncle had warned me that this was the state she was at. Seeing her limited to a wheelchair is likely what struck me hardest. Once a proud woman who prided herself on caring for others now had nothing left in her life but having strangers take care of her. I confirmed both parents’ funeral arrangements, because THAT’s what one wants to be doing during a vacation, and obtained the pertinent paperwork for my parents that should allow me to put through my information request for my father. In the months to come, I hope to get at least SOME explanation behind his paralysis. I never thought it would be so fuckin’ difficult simply knowing what had happened to a member of my family.

On the positive side, I got to spend some time with some old and important friends; the ones who are still in the area and have always been supportive and welcoming when I’ve come home. I got to sit and converse with Sensei, whom I consider to be not only a mentor but a second father. Speaking with him made me feel a bit better about things, albeit for only a brief time. I got the chance to see Guillaume who, even if we saw each other in May, was a pleasure to chat with and catch up. Our conversations are like taking a trip back to 1996; we still have the same personalities, attitudes and tone to our stories. I got to spend some time with Ricky and Sam, shares some meals and shoot some pool; something I never do in Regina, even if we have pool halls. And of course, I got to have a couple of sit downs with my uncle, without whom none of the care for my parents would be possible. All in all, there was some positive.

Now, as I sit here alone and contemplating, the realization has set in that this will likely be the last time i return to New Brunswick with the exception of funerals. It feels like the chapter has completely closed. I’d like to say I have a heavy heart or am saddened by the prospect but in reality, I’m rather numb and uncertain how to feel about it. I’m sure it’ll hit me sometime later, at the worst and most inconvenient time. But for now and since I still have an hour to wait for my first flight, I need to go find some caffeine. TSA made me leave my can of energy drink behind. Dictators. I totally get it but that shit is expensive. And a cold, carbonated beverage isn’t exactly something you can shotgun on the fly. Such is life. So this marks the end of this little travel series of posts. For any of you who may have been thinking “Fuck this shit! All this guy writes about is traveling and sad family crap…” Don’t away yet. We’ll be back to our regularly scheduled Buddhist karateka posts soon enough. Keep reading, friends… ☯️