The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

November Rain

I'm fairly grateful that the election to the south will be over and done soon. It's been exhausting to watch, even for non-Americans, because we get caught up in it too. Canadians know that what happens down there will affect what happens here, and most of us are hoping for Obama who seems to be the more level-headed choice. The idea of the U.S being the 'best country there is' isn't what the rest of the world is thinking anymore, but with a decent, genuine individual working to take back what has been lost over the last few decades, they have a good chance of regaining some ground. The fingers are crossed, and the best wishes are in here.

My gall bladder situation (assuming it is the gall bladder) is out of control. I spent last night weeping when M. went out for dinner. As luck would have it, he dined with two doctors and when he told them about my predicament, they told him that I should try to relax, eat non-aggravating foods and make an appointment with my family doctor as soon as I could. The emergency room would only be a long wait punctuated with a prescription for painkillers and the advice to consult my family physician who would schedule a surgery for me. The word surgery is not my favourite. So, I took three Advil and let the slow calm take me while I tried to watch 'Dexter' with M. His friend C. called to see how I am doing, and mercifully, today has been marginally better, but I have moved my appointment from Friday to tomorrow. I can't handle the unpredictability of the agony anymore. I think the excessive amounts of chocolate from Halloween have contributed to this round of attacks, so today I've had none. I am impressed with my restraint because a foot from me at this moment is a bag of chocolate covered sponge toffee and I have not even run my finger across the smooth, cocoa buttered surface of them. I may have sniffed the bag, but that's all, I swear.

And, I've been crying. Not a lot, but a little. I found out this afternoon that a good friend of the family from way back, a man whose wedding I attended and who spent many Saturday evenings talking and laughing with my parents, passed away this morning. Gary was what people refer to as 'a decent man', a country boy with a heart of gold and the sunniest disposition of anyone I've ever known. He was a trustee for the school board, a prominent man about town who only wanted to do 'the right thing' for everyone. I never heard him say a bad word about a soul, never made any sort of derogatory comment even when the people around him did, and he stood up for what he believed in without hesitating. His wife, Ruth Ann, is the sweetest lady I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, and when they met thirty years ago, I remember looking at them as though they were a real life Ken and Barbie. He was tall and dark, with blinding white teeth, and she was blue-eyed with golden hair and lovely without a hint of makeup. They fit perfectly, with his loud, infectious laugh and her quiet, gentle demeanor and they exuded the sort of kindness that people often assume is fairytale. They married (my sister K. was their flowergirl, and she even went on their honeymoon with them), and proceeded to have five children. All of the kids turned out well, with feet firm on the ground below them and their eyes pointed in the direction they hope to go. They are not little anymore, but they aren't old enough to be ready to lose their dad. When I looked on Facebook tonight, I saw that each of them have a picture of themselves with their dad, most of them selecting photos from their early childhood where Gary looked the same as he did when he used to come visit my childhood home, and I started to sob. He was only fifty-five. He will never get to see any of them marry, or see his grandchildren. He will not get to grow old with Ruth Ann, a woman he adored from the day he met her. I don't want to know how it feels. I'm not sure what the cause of death was, only that he had recently been diagnosed with two tumours in his brain and one in his lung and had just had surgery to remove them. The news has been muddled as to what happened, but it's generally thought to have been a complication, not that it matters much. The result will be the same, no matter what the explanation.

What with my sister having a miscarriage, an angry internal organ and a good man dying too soon, November is off to a less than stellar start.

To be fair, though, M. has been attentive and sweet the last few days, hugging me and kissing my head whenever I least expect it. This morning, I mentioned that I've never seen 'Casablanca' and that I think I'd like to start collecting 'classic' movies because many of them are worth owning, and he said he couldn't believe I'd never seen it. No, I'd responded, my parents weren't classic movie people until they hit their fifties because now it appeals to their sense of nostalgia. While he went to his eye appointment, I popped over to HMV to check out the cds and ended up buying 'Sideways' because I think it's great, and it was only $6.99(!). I told him that a) I figure HMV to be going out of business soon since everyone is downloading off the internet, anyway, and b) that the dvd's are insane prices right now. He went in to look around and came out with...drumroll please...'Casablana'. I was touched, and especially since it was not $6.99 but much higher. Who loves you?, he asked with a smile and I reached up to kiss him as I said you do. I am looking forward to seeing it with him, but tonight I need 'Dexter', I think. I will leave Ingrid and Humphrey to a day when I feel well enough to act on the romance. Today is all about gratuitous violence and bloodshed because I'm sad, sick and angry.

I can feel the pain in the seedling stages. I need to load up on Advil and stand under a stream of hot water. I need to outrun it this time.