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Go Canada!

Go Canada!

The trolley trundled down the long passage to the operating theatre. It swished over the smooth polished floor like a ski lift gliding up a hill. An idea too painful to entertain at this stage! The team were all scrubbed up and eagerly awaiting their next case. I use the word ‘team’ and ‘eagerly’ as this hospital was a teaching facility, so there were a few ‘newly qualified’ who assisted the resident specialist. A large marker pen was suddenly pulled out of nowhere. I thought this to be a strange addition to the operating paraphernalia. My right side was duly marked with a big arrow pointing to the ‘right.’ Well that should avoid any confusion! I checked this as all I needed was for them to mess up my good old leftie as well. Then they gave me a quick injection into my stomach…..something about taking precautions. I could just imagine the quick run down that was given.  Middle aged…..skiing accident….badly broken arm…..otherwise a healthy specimen.

It had been 3 weeks since my fall and I felt like I was no closer to being ‘whole’ again. One has to wait to see a specialist here in Canada which is understandable so one has to draw on one’s patience. The little fragments of broken bone had been giving me jip and I was so glad that this procedure would scrape the little offenders out. All was left to do was strut my arm with a metal plate and sew me back up. A piece of cake, really! I felt like a young tree getting ready for spring!

The menagerie of faces surrounded me as I resurfaced. All had gone well. Good….now can I go home? But I still had a way to go. The ‘said arm’ was not ready yet as it still lay frozen and limp across my chest. I was told that it had to wake up properly and was warned that the process was quite painful. The doctor decided to keep me in overnight and prescribed strong intravenous pain medication.  I took what they gave me and proceeded to vomit for the next 24 hours. The night nurse was an unfriendly soul and did not take kindly to me needing her attention and the bucket that she brought me every couple of hours. Anyway once the day staff came on there was a different approach. I could not wait to get home and have just weathered the discomfort and pain without the aid of the foul chemicals.

I slept for 2 days solid and am now feeling chipper again. The television is on, laundry is being done, the stove is on the go and Josh has had a walk. I think my men folk enjoyed the peace and quiet when I was man down! They ate fast food for 3 days solid! Anyway I am certainly glad to be home.

One of the disadvantages of a recently acquired ‘fat arm’ is that none of my clothes fit me. Philip’s cupboard has been raided and my one and only ensemble consists of a Canadian hockey shirt. I have added to the mix a pair of Canadian socks and the matching mittens when I go out in the cold.

Go Canada!

 

I like this version too with Sarah Mclachlan and Santana……

Patience is my lesson here!

Patience is my lesson here!

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It had been a rough day, the icy wind had been blowing, the ironing was piled up in the laundry and the job hunting escapade had not been fruitful. How do I comfort myself in times like this? I reach for the FOOD….. But not just any food, it has to be food that conjures up the comfort of the familiar.

 

My familiar foods have passed the test of time and have been savoured without boredom coming into play. Now we all know that the concept of time is relative to one’s age. So if I had the urge to comfort myself with a familiar food that had passed the relevant criteria, it would have to hail from South Africa! The comfort of Ouma rusks with a cup of hot tea after a long day of teaching or a packet of salty chips as a meal in a bag when time is of the essence. My mouth just watered at the mere thought of these simple comfort foods.

 

That was it, I had to satisfy my stomach and calm my jaded being. I reversed out of the garage and chased down the road to my wonderful find of 2 weeks prior…the South African shop. There was no sighing as I pushed this trolley and the memories of trying to do this ‘job’ as fast as I could were in the distant folds of my cortex. I pushed my tiny trolley around the isles and drank in all things familiar…..boerewors,  rusks, Oros juice and Romany Creams to name a few.  The cheerful shopkeeper rang up my goods and as I handed over my dollars I thought about how important it is to keep things constant when one is dealing with change. If it means a 10 kilometer drive for a bottle of mayonnaise and a packet of biltong, so be it. We all cope in different ways and for us as a family, our South African foods and treats put a spring in our step when the going gets tough.

 

Did you ever think these would be comfort foods?

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