Dickons

Stroke Survivor - female
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  1. Dickons

    I am Canadian

    By Dickons,

    Yesterday, I became a Canadian citizen. The ceremony was very well done. While the paperwork was checked and seat assignments were being given, we watched an interesting slide show on the history of citizenship in Canada. Once everyone was seated we were warmly welcomed and told how the ceremony would proceed.
     
    The judge then spoke to us about citizenship, what it meant to him to become a Canadian and then become a Judge. He talked about Canada's values and how other countries view Canada. How pleased Canada was to have us become citizens, about the rights and freedoms Canadian's have, how they will not be taken away, and how Canada welcomes being a multi-culturism society. We were also told that there were 96 of us in the room to take the citizenship oath, and that the number of countries we were immigrating from totalled 40. 96 new citizens from 40 different countries - multi-culturism at it's best.
     
    We then repeated the oath of citizenship in French and then English. After that we each went up and received our official documents and the judge shook hands, welcomed and congratulated each individually. We then returned to our seats and a few more words were spoken and then we stood and sang the Canadian Anthem "O Canada", (thankfully in English). After that there was a celebration with coffee and cake and the chance to take pictures. Very moving experience to go through.
     
    Tomorrow, July 1st, I will celebrate my first Canada Day as a Canadian Citizen. I have celebrated Canada Day since the 80's as a landed immigrant. Tomorrow will be special. We are having dinner with my former boss and his wife - two very good people.
     
    Cheers!
    Dickons
     
     
     
     
  2. Dickons

    Stress

    By Dickons,

    Stress,
     
    Stress, stress, go away - don't come another day. Stress is my worst enemy, the one I cannot seem to conquer, other people say 'just don't worry about it', yet I cannot seem to overcome my enemy, no matter what I do.
     
    The past couple of months have been incredibly stressful - some stresses I could do something about, yet the big stressor I could only wait and see, as I had been doing for what seemed months already. The big stressor was resolved on Tuesday - what an incredible relief, yet I have to keep reminding myself it is over and the outcome was good.
     
    Today, Thursday, my muscles across my shoulders and down my arms are still protesting, less than yesterday, but the muscles are still vibrating from being wound so tight for so long. Tuesday afternoon and all day yesterday my muscles felt like they were inflamed and angry.
     
    The pain over the last two months was harsh, I would wake up fine and within half an hour the pain in my shoulders and down my arms was back. The only relief was sleep, yet going to bed caused a different pain as the muscles relaxed and it felt like the blood was getting through finally, just as sleep took over. Thankfully sleep seldom fails me.
     
    People tell me just don't worry, think of something else, do something to take your mind off it, shut it out. Don't you think I would if I could? Do you think I like to be this way? Some people are born worriers, I am convinced of this. I have worried all of my life, I don't know how to not worry, I try everything to unwind, relax, not to worry and I fail.
     
    I hope I learn how not to worry soon.
  3. Dickons
    Aphasia between friends...
     
    I had lunch Friday with my best friend, and afterwards driving home I had to laugh at how I pantomime and gesture to assist my lack of words.
     
    I was telling her about my purchase of garden plants and of course I could not remember the names of the plants. I began by telling her about this double, almost black, fragile flower that I had ordered, and trying to remember the name I started moving my hands to describe delicate and getting out the word "exotic" which it isn't, but looks like it is. Then I tried cupping my hand and pointing my fingers down to try and describe what the flower looked like. Absolutely nothing that would cue her to say "Columbine" but of course being my friend for 30 years, she got it on the first try, guaranteed no one else would have.
     
    The instinctive knowledge of what I was trying to say or describe is proof of an intricate bond that has developed over thirty years of friendship. We went through our teenage years, heartaches, failed marriages, living in different areas of North America, grief, happiness, joy, laughter and tears, and now my mind and body issues.
     
    After my stroke I had my boyfriend call her, and of course she got to the hospital as fast as she could. With the few words I had, I asked her to tell Mom and Dad what had happened to me in person when she got home. She agreed it would be the best way to tell them and went the next morning.
     
    She and Mom sat down in the living room by Dad's chair and she told the story of my heart attack and then 6 days later the stroke, that I could not talk much and what the cardiologist had told her at the hospital. After she was through with the story, Mom looked at her and said, "Now tell it again louder so her Dad can hear". I think this was the hardest thing she had ever done, telling my parents that their daughter was in the Cardiac ICU, and to have to repeat the story, just about did her in. But yet she did and would do it again in a heartbeat, because she is my friend.
     
    Friends make life worth while. Here's to the best friend I have.
     
    Dickons
     
     
  4. Dickons

    Doggie Tails

    By Dickons,

    I cannot imagine life without a canine buddy. They seem to know what is up before you do. They snuggle and stay by your side, they live to be adored by you and will offer their life to protect yours. They are there for you when everything else is wrong. Their only wish is to have your unconditional love - the same as they give you. I feel sorry for anyone who has not experienced the unconditional love of a canine buddy.
     
    We have two, one is a 85 pound baby and the other a 25 pound little toughie. Gem the little one is mine and will prance around Punk trying to get him motivated to play with her, and when they do it is so funny. This huge dog being wrestled by Gem, laying on his back allowing her to nip and nibble. When it is his turn he will open his big jaw wide and engulfs her head inside his mouth (yes, I panicked the first time I watched this), but he only licks and nuzzles her head. They play tug of war and race around playing tag. Sometimes when they play a squeak will come out of Gem and Punk will jump up panicked that he has hurt her, when in reality he may have just rolled onto her foot but the look on his face is total concern for his little playmate. Gem has become Punks messenger, if he wants something she will pace back and forth in front of us until she has our attention and then race to Punk - its very cute.
     
    Gem came into my life a month before I got sick. Every weekend I searched SPCA websites in BC for a small dog who was big enough and tough enough to be a buddy to Punk, but small enough to snuggle next to me in my chair. It took well over six months but one day there she was. I talked to the shelter people and asked if they thought she would mix well with Punk, and they reassured me she would, as she was outside playing with the rotties and shepards. I still had some concerns as I could not meet her, as she was in a shelter in Northern BC and would have to be flown down.
     
    I thought about it carefully and decided to take a chance on a dog I had not met. I filled out all the paperwork, paid the fee and waited eargerly until the day she was to arrive at the Vancouver Airport. The day arrived and I went to the airport anxiously awaiting her flight to arrive and when it did there was no Gem.
     
    The airline attendent called and confirmed she was on the flight, then called the airport where the plane had made a stop, sure enough Gem was there, apparently a new ground crew had taken her off and forgot to put her back on the plane. One of the attendents took her home that night and brought her back the next day to continue her journey to her new home. Can you imagine what was going through the mind of this little dog, after spending time in the shelter, being put on board an airplane, being taken home by a nice lady and then being put on yet another plane?
     
    Gem arrived the next day and as we drove home I fell in love with her, so patient, so calm, so accepting. We got home and the plan was to introduce the dogs in the backyard. Well, Gem spotted one of Punks Kongs and ran to it - Punk saw this and was not impressed, not a great first meeting. We spent the next couple of weeks keeping them apart unless we were all together, and even then we would only let them be in the same room, hoping Gem would go over to meet Punk. After awhile Punk had had enough and came over to my chair, gave Gem a big sloppy kiss and they were in love and have been best friends ever since.
     
    It never ceases to amaze me how two dogs can be so different yet so good together. Punk the big baby who is afraid of storms, does not like the rain, who must be covered up with a blanket to sleep so he does not get cold, and Gem the little one who will lay outside in the rain as happy as can be, doesn't blink an eye at a storm and will sleep anywhere on anything as long as I am near. One has always had everything and one has been through a hard time and is happy to just have love.
     
    The saying that 'A Dog is a Mans Best Friend' is certainly true for me.
  5. Dickons
    The will to survive in such a small package - the BushTit!
     
    For many years I have admired this small species of the bird family (Psaltriparus minimus). They are only 4 inches long from the very tip of their beak to the end of their long tail feathers, weighing in at 5.3 grams. Take a moment right now and think about how much 5.3 grams actually weighs, especially when you consider that there are 28 grams (5 BushTits) in 1 ounce.
     
    They are incredibly tiny, gray coloured birds and you seldom see them in the summer months, as they are busy bringing up their families in the most amazing nests you could ever imagine. Small suspended nests made from lichen (moss) woven together with spider silk, hanging from tree branches. Little socks of intricately woven material that blends into the leaves on the branches and seems surreal. Can you imagine collecting spider silk to create a home?
     
    Each winter I get the chance to revel in just how such a miracle exists. I stand at my kitchen sink looking out the window, motionless, totally fascinated by dozens of these small creatures covering my suet feeders, flitting back and forth, talking to each other constantly with their little chirps. They arrive and leave the feeders together, a kindred force that defies natures challenge. Alone, they would freeze to death from our winters, but they gather together each fall and throughout the winter, huddle together for warmth in the bushes to survive. Each spring they flit off to build their nests or repair last years nest, and start new families.
     
    Each time I see them my spirit is refreshed, my faith in life renewed, my determination rejeuvenated, and a smile on my face that just does not go away.
     
     
     
  6. Dickons
    There was a man born in 1915, the first and only son, the second child of four. His father was a logger up and down the west coast, both in Canada and the United States, a time when you could easily move back and forth between the two countries. As more children came along the father turned to farming in Washington to raise his family.
     
    As a boy. the man grew up on the farm and when he as around 7 or 8, his first job to get up at the crack of dawn and hitch the old horse to the wagon. He would fill the wagon with bottles of fresh milk, jump in and the horse would head off into town. The old horse knew which houses along the way to stop at, and the boy would jump down and leave milk on the doorstep. Once back at the farm he would get ready and go to school.
     
    Fast forward past high school to college, if he wanted to go he would have to get there and pay for it. The college was in California and I believe he had to hitch hike from Washington. His older sister was also going to this college to be a teacher. To pay for his tution he spilt a cord of wood each morning to stoke the boiler at the college. Up every morning where, with cross-cut saws, they would cut the trees into fireword lengths, and then chop into firewood; all before putting in a full day at school.
     
    Like his sister he went into teaching at a private church school, it only lasted one year as he did not deal very well with busy bodies who meddled into everything.
     
    Looking at other options for the future he chose Medical School. I believe this is when the man bought an old Model T frame, motor and running gear. He could not afford to fix it up so he strapped a wooden box to the frame to sit on, and headed off from Washington to California where the Medical School was at.
     
    In 1948 he graduated and became a Doctor, married, served in the Korean War, and then had a home built for he and his wife in Washington. While their home was being built they lived next door with his Mother. Their home had been built to also serve as his Doctors office on the first floor and the home on the second floor.
     
    Those first few years they worked hard to get the home finished and the grounds landscaped. After long days starting his practice the man worked hard outside in the yard, putting in fruit trees, a large vegetable garden, and all types of berry bushes. The wife learned to grind the wheat into flour and make bread, cook vegetarian meals and put up vegetables and fruit for the winter months.
     
    During these years, he and his wife waited for children to come along and when they didn't, they adopted a baby boy and then a baby girl to raise as there own. Life was good, the mans practice was growing, they had home grown food to eat, their children were well cared for and there faith was strong.
     
    Fast forward several years to 1961. The social worker that had dealt with the adoptions of their children knocked on the door. The wife and two children answered the door and talked to the social worker. She wanted to know if they would adopt just one more baby, a baby girl less than two months old. They were having trouble placing the baby due to the criteria the birth mother had requested and this couple met all the criteria. The wife said no, she had enough to do with taking care of two toddlers, the housework, plus canning and freezing the food the man grew for them to eat.
     
    Some time later the social worker again showed up at their door, this time with the baby girl. The couples son ran down the stairs to the office, interupted the man seeing a patient and brought the man up to the door. The man listened to the social worker, looked at the baby girl, and said "we'll take her".
     
    At that moment I had a Dad! Last October, Dad passed away at the age of 91. The best Dad in the World.
     
     
  7. Dickons
    Last year while going through pictures at a thrift store I found this quote, typed and framed. It took me several readings but it helped me and when a co-worker was leaving work I framed a copy for her - I hope it helps someone else.
     
    Until one is committed there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness, concerning all acts of initiative and creation.
     
    There is an elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas & splendid plans : that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would otherwise never have occurred.
     
    A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one