Grande Prairie trip part 2 - We're Coming Home ...

 (in case you didn't get Part 1 - it's here.)

Instead of grabbing a few hours of sleep at Grande Prairie, we just fueled up and headed south to Jasper for a different route home. The trick was to find a pull-out on Highway 40 before Neil's drive time ran out - which we did. This happened to be in the middle of nowhere - well, actually, not the middle of nowhere, but a few hours south of Grand Prairie, beside one of many clear cut expanses. There were no road side toilets here, and not even any bushes to squat behind (not that I would - I think there are bears and moose up this way.)

We drove by signs for Kelly's Bathtub - I thought that was an interesting name, and pondered its meaning for quite a while. When I got home and googled it, turns out it's a lake in a park - no doubt a beautiful lake in a beautiful park, but quite a disappointment. I had imagine Mr Kelly transporting (maybe by some of the camels that disappeared from the Gold Rush Trail) a fabulous claw foot tub to a hot spring in the wilds, just so he could soak and pumice his feet in comfort after a hard day at the mines. 

(I find place names really interesting. On the way to Prince George, we pass a sign for Likely - I think a couple of gold seekers were seeking somewhere to spend the night, and the older one decided a spot by a big old cave would be good. But when the younger one saw a bear nearby, he said, 'Not likely.' So they kept on slogging, until they found a pretty lake with lots of blueberry bushes nearby. And the younger one said, 'Likely.' And the name stuck.However, this is all a figment of my imagination.)

Our next pit stop was Hinton, where there was a Husky - my favourite place to pee, so all I had to do was not think about waterfalls, thundershowers, or the bottle of water sloshing in the door compartment by my side. Then it was on to Jasper, another park in the foothills of Alberta.

I guess it's always windy in the foothills - at least when I travel across them. This morning was no exception - and like Neil said, he was towing a big sail behind us. However, like I tell people, he is an Experienced Driver, and I have all my faith in him.

I didn't see any wildlife driving along, although we saw some wild driving, like the little old man who decided a solid yellow line was the perfect place to pass us, even though a Wide Truck warning truck and the Wide Truck it was warning us about were coming towards us all. A few miles later, we saw his little truck pulled over, and he and little old wife were changing places. I think she probably had taken the time to change her underwear, too - I probably would have.

Neil, however, saw a herd of caribou, but by the time he said 'Look over there' and I thought he meant 'Look up there', and I looked up in the sky for maybe a bald eagle, we were long gone by.

The scenery was awesome, though, as we all expect, even though the skies were grey.

This was such a beautiful lake - the colour was amazing!

And we did lose the rain and the grey skies ...

If a picture's worth a thousand words, here's a few thousand words -

I do love bridges .. this one was over a train track, if I remember correctly.

As we neared Valemont (back in BC) we passed a billboard -

RIVER SAFARI

ONE AMAZING HOUR

and pasted across the bottom - only 35 minutes. Okay. Maybe the hour is so amazing, it only seems like 35 minutes, but if a person can get easily confused, this would be very confusing. However, I figured out that the actual tourist attraction was 35 minutes away. (I guess that would depend on how fast one was driving, though ...)

I really would love to go on this adventure though - yup, I could certainly see me here ...

However, for now I'll settle for the long lonesome highway ...

We stopped for a break at a pullout near Mount Robson, where there is a memorial to Terry Fox and the starting point of the Terry Fox Trail. I'd love to explore this area more - maybe another bucket list item? Who knows.

And we just kept on Yellowheading IT -

In all the miles I've travelled with Neil, this is the only moose I saw. I was pleased that it stayed still long enough for me to snap it.

It was either in or near Clearwater. It's been a while. I really should take notes when we travel ...

More rain ..

Of course we can't forget the town of Waverby, which isn't even google-able, unless of course I spelled it wrong. (And of course I spelled it wrong - it's actually Vanenby) What makes it noteworthy is the Shook's Ranch Trail Rides. Now that's what I call truth in advertising, because believe me, when I went trail riding at Back in the Saddle Again, I certainly shook a lot. A whole lot.

And for everyone who isn't happy with their job - believe me, it could be worse .... you could be the poor fellow way up in this Tonka-On-Steroids. I know you can't see him, but believe me, I could.

Once again, a change of scenery as we drive westward ...

A bit foggy ...

Yup, definitely a bit foggy .... we seemed to catch all kinds of weather this trip, except snow.

And here we are at the nicest brake stop of all - Zopkios. A very nice toilet, clean and wonderfully flushable - but only Arctic cold water in the taps. And don't think you can warm your hands with their electric hand blower dryers, because it's only Arctic air in those. Brrrrr. My fingers didn't think it was possible to get any colder without cracking off.

 

So, thank you, Neil, for another great trip - and I still got home in time for Howard's Salt Fish Cakes! Life is good indeed.

At The Hospital Part 3 - Indignities, Insults, An Angiogram, and Bring on the Salt!

First thing Monday morning, two ambulance people came in and wheeled my roomie out for her trip to Vancouver for her angiogram, and a couple of hours later my turn came. I was heading for New Westminster for my adventure ... I mean angiogram. After a few days stuck in a hospital ward, it was nice to feel rain on my face, to tell the truth. (And when I said stuck in a ward, I meant it. When the fam came to visit the day before, which was Sunday, I decided I would walk down to the main floor with them - who knows, I may even have smuggled in a couple of packs of salt from the cafeteria - but as soon as the elevator left our floor, something on me began to beep. Seems like the little portable heart monitor was warning the cardio staff there was an escapee ... so I had to elevate myself back up to the fourth floor before they sent out the swat team.)

However, here I was in the ambulance, with a guy from the same ward who was heading to the same place for almost the same thing - he was going for angioplasty, which was the insertion of these little stent thingies that stretch your blocked arteries open again so they could once again be used for blood transportation. Seems he had come to the hospital as a heart attack patient the week before, and had already 'been there, done that' regarding the trip to New West - he already had 5 stents shoved up his arm, and was on the way for 5 more.

After we got to the ward, all we basically had to do was lie on our uncomfortable beds and wait for our turn. A few nurses stopped by to do a bit o this'n'that - one of them filled out a chart for me.

'Your height?'

'5' 3"' (Well, I used to be 5'3". I don't think I quite make it anymore, but I was pretty sure they wouldn't measure me. And since I was lying down, she should have been more clear and asked for my length. That would probably have been 5' 3" anyway, as I was pretty much stretched out from head to toe.)

But here comes the zinger ....

'Your weight?'

'170'

'Is that pounds or kilograms?'

Okay. It's not like my butt was overhanging the bed on both sides. Do you realize how many pounds 170 kgs are? Well, we're talking about 374lbs, 12.574oz. And yes, I meant pounds.

And to add to my indignity, here comes a gal with a razor. Now I knew this 'procedure' was going to take place through my right wrist ... however, she informed me that if that wasn't going to work, they would use the artery in the front of my leg right where it joins the torso ... try not to picture it, please. I felt like telling her to buzz off, but figured she had the upper call.

And finally, off I go on a stretcher, wearing absolutely nothing except a stupid hospital gown and a blanket. Oh yes, and a pair of socks. I guarantee you would never see such an outfit on a Paris catwalk ....

The waiting room for the 'procedure' was cold - more paperwork, more waiting. The guy they had just brought out had been told his blockages were too severe for angioplasty - he was headed for open heart surgery. He said the angioplasty was a 'piece of cake.' He obviously had big fat arteries.

And now my turn. I was looking forward to the sedative they promised me - memories of long ago D&Cs came back. The nice nurses in these hospital wards would give you a shot of something, and as you were wheeled to the OR, you were floating on a sea of clouds, your arms and legs feeling like sea anemones in a warm, calm sea.

And then, once you hit the operating table, you were told to count backwards from 100 ... and about 98 or so you were out cold. Oh those were the days!

However, I scootch over on the table, surrounded by all these machines and computers and people, and a nurse comes over with a needle. She pops it in through my IV, and tells me it's the strongest dose. I just lay there waiting ... waiting ... waiting. In fact, I'm still waiting, and that was over a month ago. Now comes the little doctor, who sits beside my right arm, which is waiting on its own little table thingie. He gives my poor little wrist a shot that just about causes my whole body to elevate at least 5" off the table - this was supposed to be a needle to deaden pain, not cause a whole amount of it. It did its job in what I felt was at least 20 minutes, but was probably a shorter elapse of time.

I felt him poking about - and then heard words you never want to hear when your lying on an operating table.

'I'm going to need a scalpel.'

WHEN in God's name was that drug gonna work????

But that wasn't the worst part. I don't like to think of the feeling of that catheter being pushed inch by inch up inside my arm. The closest thing I can think off to describe it was trying to shove a wiener inside a piece of limp spaghetti. And not giving up. However, once that thing reached my upper arm, I couldn't feel its progress any more, and all of a sudden .... I got the Oh My God I Peed The Bed Feeling.

My nurse had warned me of this. She told me when they injected the dye up the catheter, it would feel like I peed the bed. And though I'm not one who usually wets the bed, I know now what it would feel like.

(I was in bed when my water broke when I went into labour with Steve. My only regret regarding this - that Howard wasn't also in bed.)

Anyway, this was when they told me I had a beautiful heart, so I did get a big smug, even though now I had a hole in my artery, and didn't really feel like going dancing.

Next was a Don't Move That Arm period of time, when a nurse would come along with a needle of some sort, and I do believe draw blood out of whatever thing they had wrapped around my wrist. I didn't really feel like asking or looking - and after a few hours, the ambulance drivers showed up again, this time to take me home... I mean, back to Surrey General.

Nurse said, 'Now, keep that hand still for at least 24 hours - from now on we treat it like a fracture.'

A nice paramedic took my poor hand and laid it on my chest.

'There,' he said, 'leave it over your heart.'

'But ... but ....', I spluttered. 'I won't be able to text.'

I think they thought I was joking. But I wasn't.

The next morning, the cardiologist came in, and started laughing when he saw me.

'You were right,' he said, 'no blockages.'

I love these words, no matter who says them. After the word APPROVED  on the debit card machine, they're the best words in the English language.

So ... the next day I got to go home. Someday, they'll find out what went wrong, and hopefully fix it. Until then, I'll just keep the number for 911 close at hand.

At the Hospital - Part 2 - Blood, Sweat and ... well, no Tears yet ....

No, I didn't forget Part 2 of my hospital stay - how could I?

I spent 5 days lying on a sheet-covered plastic mattress, for one thing. Do you realize how sweaty that can make you? I don't shower every single day (I know I should, but I don't. I'm not going to shower just so I can smell sweet for doing laundry, dusting, and watering the plants) but I do shower at least every second day, and every day when I work, and that's actually 3 days in a row. However, there I was, stuck in bed with an IV port stuck in my arm, and a heart monitor stuck all over my torso and legs, and I really needed a shower.

If I knew I had to go 24 hours with no heart pain before I could shower, I certainly wouldn't have had any worth mentioning, but that seems to be the rule. No amount of cajoling could change my nurse's mind - I even tried to bribe her with my iPad, but she still refused.

'Well, do you have some Febreeze I can use?' I was trying to be funny. Doesn't always work, though.

And she actually said, 'Yes, we do have a spray.'

Well, that scared me even more. I certainly didn't want to walk around in a waft of artificial rose. So I succumbed to her wishes and once more had a scrub down at the bathroom sink.

I had tons of visitors, but most of them were after something - blood, mostly. I watched in horror as two people wheeled in a gigantic machine that looked like a Kitchen Aid mixer on steroids, and I realized they were heading for my bed.

'Have you ever had a chest x-ray?' one of them asked. (Sigh of relief.)

'Yes,' I answered, 'but I've never had one delivered before.,

 Whew.

And shortly after that, this tiny little Chinese boy wheeled in yet another machine - and proceeded to hook me up so he could do an ultrasound of my beautiful heart. (No one knew it was beautiful yet, though.)

He apologized every time he had to shove my boobs out of the way - it would have been quite funny, actually, if it were someone else's boobs he had to manhandle.

However, the weekend passed, and on Monday morning, Dr Tam (the cardiologist) came in and told me he was sure they would find blockages when they did the angiogram that day - I told him I didn't think they would. He said, 'You'd be surprised, they'll find at least one, but don't worry, they can fix it right away.'

I wouldn't argue with him.

And I guess there's a Part 3 of this coming somewhere down the line .....