Helenka, Queen of Outer Space

Well, it's possible that my first post-op day in April, 2011, surpassed it - but then I was comafied by morphine. Today's coma was all natural. I returned to bed after brekkie and did my best coma imitation. I woke up at 3:25, I had to wait to take my Robax.

My vision was crap. I tried reading my library book now that I'm a little further along, but had to give up. I'm intrigued to learn that the Channel Islands had been occupied by the Germans during the war.

Oh, well, at least there was still TV which I watched in a blur. And I had fun investigating where Brian and I can get dinner on Wednesday. SuM highly recommends a nearby Vietnamese/Thai restaurant. Even better, they have online ordering and delivery. Alas, that site is not accessible to moi. So Brian will have to walk me through the menu.

Okay, time to put this blah day to bed.

Your reporter (with an unstable medical diagnosis) woke up at 6:42. So not wanted, but I stayed up anyway, as the electrician was coming. After brekkie, I got into reading our book selection for January, "The Little Paris Bookshop" which has many lyrical passages, as well as a mysterious air about its protagonist.

After the electrician finally left, I crawled into bed, trying to stave off pain that was about to consume me. So tired of it. Finally, got distracted by watching TV. Lots and lots, beginning with last night's The Rookie, followed by tonight's Bull. Then there were the historical aspects of Murdoch Mysteries where there was a murder during a gay male party. One of the guests was a constable who was arrested. Even though the chief inspector was determined to charge him with the crime of being gay, he didn't; but he felt bound to report it to the man's boss at a different station house. At the end, we saw an American detective now employed by the Toronto force visit one of the gay men. And then it was a fade to black. I'm sure that's not the end of this topic.

The second lesson was about female solidarity in Frankie Drake Mysteries in which a nightclub dancer committed suicide after she found she was pregnant. It turned out she was just one of a string of dancers who'd been forced to give in to the manager for a promotion. When any complained, the police force ignored their complaints. Until Frankie and her "gals" got the man to incriminate himself over the club's sound system!

Anyway, I have managed to keep the pain at bay. Time for a bit of chocolate and pills. And sleep.

Well, at least my body is being consistent. So not LoL. And I'm breaking the max dosage of my Robax. I'll be taking #7 and 8 in a few minutes and then hoping and pleading with the universe to ease my pain and allow me sleep. Naturally, it didn't help that there's a huge reaction in the opposite direction after the atropine wore off. Lots of white snow (like a blizzard!). Sigh.

While I was lucid, I watched last night's TV: Frankie Drake Mysteries which s[pt;ogjted amti-Chinese sentiment at the beginning of the 20th century and a stunning Bull where a woman whose child was moving out of the nest shot and killed her own sister who'd fallen in love with the woman's husband and was having his baby. Whoa! A;sp ,amaged tp watcj 6 cpirt e[os. Now I'm ready for my body to recharge overnight and give me a better tomorrow. Do I need to sigh again?

I usually like it when my drivers have their radios on ... unless it's a case of blaring homophobic sermons but it's been a while since that's happened. Today I appreciated that the driver had on the news-radio (also weather and traffic) station on. I heard - to my astonishment - that city crews had just unearthed a boulder weighing about 4400 lbs, as they were digging out earth to create new parkettes. The rock was estimated to be between 1.1 and 1.4 BILLION years old, a remnant of the ice age that had been swept down from Georgian Bay and settled on a short stretch of Bloor Street between Spadina and Bathurst which I used to walk often while I lived in midtown.

I just thought that was the coolest news!

It's a conspiracy. Somehow my body coerced my mind to do nothing today. Or at least a lot less, just in order to recuperate from yesterday's exhaustion. What's the conspiracy aspect? My vision is crap! Despite that obstacle, I may have finished the tell-all cult Hyllywood book (and may try to figure out who the pseudonyms were). Then I returned to a book about the mysterious death of Canadian artist Tom Thomson in Northern Ontario. I just finished the list of characters (grave diggers, sloppy coroner, etc.) and I'm already bored. Sigh.

At least I finally began trying to write my review for last Sunday's service. Woo and hoo /sarcasm. The only remarkable thing about today is that I am NOT in pain. No wonder I'm so confused. Anyway, I spent a lot of time lying in bed, napping, and watching my usual recorded shows. Hoping for a more productive day tomorrow.

So, it's not that I've had my head in the sand for the past couple of decades. I'd learnt about the residential school abuses, mostly by RC priests and nuns (but even isolated incidents in the history of the UC as Rev. Jeff told us). However, I was only tangentially aware of what happened in Quebec under the iron grip of Premier Duplessis in the 1950s. Today, I raced through "The Home for Unwanted Girls" and was so sickened by how children were essentially stolen from unwed teen girls, placed in mostly horrible conditions in orphanages and occasionally sold to infertile couples. So, that part of the story isn't something I haven't heard before from other parts of the world.

But what was the most horrifying is that, when the province found out that the federal subsidy for mental patients was more than twice that of orphans, all the girls were reclassified as mentally ill, with their education (rudimentary at best) stopped and they were shipped to mental hospitals where they were mixed in with real patients, taking care of them and being responsible for the functioning of the hospitals (laundry, cleaning, etc.). It was also hideous to read how often they were told that this was their punishment for having been born in Sin, in Scandal.

Amazingly enough, there is hope amid the heartbreak in the book, though the scars of the primary orphan - both physical and emotional - remain. Add to that the unstable history of the province (conflict between Catholic/Protestant, French/English, rich/poor, love/lust, men/women, male dominance/emerging female independence, especially in the 60s) and it's something to experience. It'll be months before we're scheduled to discuss the book but I won't need to reread it. At all. I still wrote down a few notes.

Anyway, it's no wonder I didn't have any energy for anything else after that. Just my judge and game shows and a load of laundry. I'm surprised that my vision was on the high side today … leading me once again to consider the mental component affecting my sight. So, not just good emotions, but just being really involved.

Sooooo, when I'm on duty at church, I have access to the detailed order of service (not to mention the fact that I proof-read it ahead of time, whether I'm on duty or not). I really should have paid better attention. I thought one of my fave jazz/scat singers was merely performing throughout the service (with the choir taking a break). Uh-huh. She was also preaching, what we call sharing of stories. What a fascinating life she'd led. And she would have never shown up unless our retiring music director had invited her one day two decades ago.

As if that hadn't been enough to make church extra special, we also had Judy and Dennis Shepard - Matthew's parents - drop in on their way to the airport. They'd been in a nearby city for the presentation of "The Laramie Project" at a school. They spoke about Matthew, his love of being involved in the Episcopal church, being an acolyte, also of seeing his ashes interred at the National Cathedral in DC, and ultimately of their goal of seeing the kind of diversity and openness they experienced with us happening everywhere. They only spoke for five minutes, but they were so powerful, even if Judy was crying softly when she stopped and Dennis began.

When I got home, I began writing. Eventually, the service was up on YouTube so I watched the bits I'd missed because I was preparing to serve. After that, I decided I needed a break from the heightened emotions, so went to bed watching SNL, dozing off and then finally falling asleep, not waking up until 9:15 p.m. Oops! Then came the mad dash to finish writing and posting which didn't happen until after midnight, but at least I didn't have that hanging over until today. And, then, I stayed up until around 2.

One last thing. Even though it was cold out, I fluffed up my hair, added product and hairspray and went out without wearing my beret. My friends liked my hair, one said it looked like a recreation from hippy days! Which is hilarious as I haven't had it cut or coloured since mid December. All hail my curling spray!

Okay, blondie, I'll bite. Just HOW cold was it?

Well, I was in bed before 5 p.m. and nodded off, waking up five hours later. Sleep in a toasty-warm bed and protecting my poor swollen fingers (arthritis, natch) was more important than eating(!) - though I'd had minestrone when I got home - or relaxing. And definitely more important than trying to write a review of the service - especially when there was no webcast to fall back on.

Going back another 12 hours, I had the displeasure of waking up at 4:51, freezing. Luckily, my Irish cape was at the bottom of the bed, so I drew it over me to trap lots of warm air underneath. But I just couldn't get back to sleep and got up. Good thing I had stories to read.

It was a shock going outside to find a white-covered world. Wow, had it ever come down overnight. My driver had a hard time getting through unplowed streets, so I was relieved to get to church around 10. Church-John (and our friend Brian) were well enough to make it to church, but Ash decided to have a sleepy day instead. C-J surprised me with a gift of probiotics (to tide me over); another wonderful surprise was to find a young dark-long-haired and bearded man slide into the pew next to me. It was Stephen, my Esperanto friend whom I'd met at our General Conference in TO back in 2001. As it had been early July, he'd been wearing a short-sleeved tee and a sarong. Well, def. not sarong weather today!

We had amazing music and a passionate sermon from Rev. Jeff today as we celebrated MLK day. So I'm sad that I was too cold to write today. But, then, not only was I on duty, I also fell during the service. Before Communion, I misjudged where to sit until Communion (the sun was in my eyes), and fell down onto the drummer's soft gear! Luckily, there were two guys to pull me up. Oy. The only damage was to my pride! Anyway, Stephen took down my email (he lives in Cambridge and had come to TO for a party) so I hope we'll be able to stay in touch. [He said he's seen me on the webcast, so that was reassuring.]

Anyway, now that I'm up, there are some fine biscuits (from pre-Christmas) with my name on them. Perhaps even some hot chocolate. ::shivers:: And, then, back to bed!

Kind of covers my day. I was horrified to wake up at - eek - 4:59 a.m. Naturally (so not), my body was not inclined to fall back asleep, especially as both hands were hurting. So I hauled myself out of bed before 6:30. Eventually fed the cats, happy to know that today was the last day I was responsible for the rascals. S. texted saying they'd be home around 1:30-2:00. Yay.

Just after they got in, I had a phone call from my blind group pal Janet. We keep talking about getting together for a meal (for months), but haven't. We're both willing to travel (she's in the west end, I'm in the east end); she suggested our pub downtown; I agreed and suggested a second date in February at our pub closer to her. Obviously, both meetings will be around lunch, so no travelling in the dark. And now I'm a happy camper.

Church-John was doing a disappearing act. We should have gone to lunch yesterday or today, but nothing from him. So I sent him an email, with silence my only response. Perhaps he'll contact me tomorrow. And, in totally dorky news, I decided to tackle exporting/importing contacts from a GMail account to GSuite. Remember the acting in haste part? Well, I was being impatient with the download of the file, so repeated the request. Sigh. You know what happened, right? Yes, I had four entries for every contact which I deleted painstakingly slowly, not wanting to make a mistake.

Watched some insignificant TV during the day during which I dozed off. But I'm thrilled to have finally recorded "You Are Here: A Come From Away Story" - the documentary behind 9/11 and Gander. If c-J doesn't call me tomorrow, I may watch it then. But, right now, I'm finishing off some chocolate and taken my pills. I want my fingers to stop hurting. Please.

To bed at 2:20 and, despite stirring when SuM was leaving for work, I managed to sleep all the way to 10:30, though my nose was stuffed up. But, still, 8 hours is wonderful.

The rest of the morning disappeared into think air. I watched my usual judge shows in the afternoon, then was on my computer. Sent Brian a synopsis of what I've been doing, what's not so good, and what's absolutely horrid (like crashing docs).

In the evening, SuM, S. and I finally got around to watching the documentary "The Fruit Machine" about how deliberately obsessed both the armed forces and government had been about seeking out LGBTQ people and throwing them out. Several affected people had been interviewed, with photos and film clips from decades ago. One was a very compassionate woman in our church choir. It was so painful to watch her recounting her experience. They had been treated as nothing more than deviants, traitors, and their interrogations were right out of McCarthy's playbook. Definitely a time when Canada did not rock, when civil servants justified their employment by harassing people and - the usual - asking for how they had sex! Anyway, I think I'll be giving her a big hug when I see her this Sunday.

As if I didn't have enough to do (lol), I had made a major complaint at church about a month ago about their shoddy (aka nonexistent) proofreading. I offered to help. So, now, I'm on a team of people checking over our Sunday News (Order of Service). I looked it over, taking only a few minutes and finding a whole lot of bad things. I emailed them off and went to put out the next fire, aka posting fic.

I finally posted my first SGA Reversebang fic to AO3. Now I just have to figure out how to post to the community, especially as I don't have a word doc and will have to do C&P from AO3. Why does life have to be so complicated? Anyway, must go and do eeeeet!