After the Accident

It is normally about a 25 minute drive into the nearest town on a sunny day. I have no idea how long it took the ambulance, but it felt like forever and not quick enough to be off the road. I entered the ER department and was brought into my own area. I stayed suctioned into the backboard contraption for hours. Felt safe yes, but also not. I couldn’t move anything  or scratch an itch. The ER doctor tended to me and I was admitted. The doctor suspected I had a closed head trauma. I had big bumps on my right for head and on the side of my head. I must have hit something although I have no memory of hitting anything. It was something hard, so from where I was found in my seat belt, my head could have hit my side window or the dashboard. Although, I think my driver’s side window was shattered and blown out, so I could have also hit the hard snow bank.

I was admitted for over a week. There was no Christmas this year. Definitely this was a downer Christmas. I spent it alone in a faded yellow painted room with no roommates, no family and grouchy nursing staff. The roads were much to bad for anyone to venture back into see me. I think my older brother from out west sent me a bouquet of flowers which meant something to me. I was eventually sent home in a neck brace and advised to get physiotherapy.

When I got back to Toronto I was still in quite a bit of discomfort and not able to do much. Killer for an A-type personality always on the go. I always in contact with my job keeping them abridged of my situation and my plans to return to work. I tried physiotherapy but was still in such an acute state that they could not move me so advised me to just keep icing and resting. The insurance company was making the task of paying difficult for reasons I didn’t know. An aunt called me up and advised me to see an osteopath. I had never heard of an osteopath before. I began to see this lovely woman and she advised me that I had a closed head trauma. The insurer was still not paying and I was headed into my second month. This woman called them and gave them proper well and they began to listen for a bit and at least start to pay her a portion.

I would love to share with you what would take over my life, add stress and become the next 6 years of my life, however it would chapters and chapters in itself. The insurance company made my life a living hell. The insurance system had changes and car accident victims have to jump through impossible hoops just to get what they are entitled to when they pay their insurance and a car accident happens. I became a semi expert in the system, navigating piles of paperwork, medical reports, DAC (Designated Assessment Centers), rebuttal of claims, the insurance tribunal, ombudsman. It was a fulltime job at a time I was unable to work. All the while trying to heal my body. I was doing this completely all on my own. It was terrible. Guilty before proven innocent always. All the people who take advantage of the insurance system make the innocent and legitimate cases pay. It was a long, drawn out stressful time full of phone calls and paperwork and caseworkers that would come and go. Practitioners so frustrating with the system and additional paperwork that they do not want to treat MVA’s (motor vehicle accident clients). A complete mess.

My dad came and tried to help. We met with the insurer to discuss what was going on. Their hands our tied. They employ pencil pushers just above minimum wage doing what they’re told and no one on any decision level basis. I was advised that I would need a lawyer just to retrieve the medical benefits I was entitled to. I did my research and hired a lawyer. He was a complete waste of time and hardly did anything for me. I had to constantly chase him down to make phone calls and send paperwork. He got little accomplished. I was still filing my own rebuttals etc. This would carry on for 5 years. I lost my job shortly after the accident and was sent a letter that said little except that if i were to return my job would not be there. My father and I visited a labour lawyer and he advised that yes, while it wasn’t the right thing to do, in the end there would have been little we could have done, as they employer needed to fill the position. I think I should have got a second opinion. There is so much I could share about this time, but honestly, it was just the biggest headache. Instead of helping a person to heal, they make it worse. Here is an example of the system. I saw an optometrist who specialised in mild traumatic brain injury. This man was a very, sweet honest man. He wrote out a prescription for what I would need. He did not inflate the price as some practitioners do when an insurance company is involved. He was asking for covering the cost of two new pair of glasses and his appointment. It was $800. The insurance company refused it. I was sent to a DAC to be assessed by a supposed BIAST medical doctor. This is a crock on most accounts.

One day the insurance company called me. It was awful dealing with them. They constantly try to cut you off from your claim. If you miss a deadline, or don’t call or fax the wrong number or don’t pick up the phone or miss an appointment. This one day, this insurer says to me,

“You know, you’re not going to get a cent out of us.”

“Pardon me?”

“You heard me.”

“Why are you saying that to me? Why would you say that to me.”

There was a pause.

“Your boyfriend never paid us.”

“What!? What are you talking about?”

“Your last car accident. Your boyfriend still owes us $30,000.”

“The accident from 8 years ago? What does that have to do with this? He’s not my boyfriend by the way. Not now and wasn’t at the time. Why are you bringing that into this. That has nothing to do with this.”

“I’m just letting you know.” and she hung up the phone. I still have no idea who that was that called me that day.

I had no idea. I had sued my ex after I couldn’t get rid of the pain in my athletic 24 yearold body, scared for my future. He had not insured the car for the road, taken my money, lied to everyone and did not help me pay for physiotherapy. Even though I won, the person really doesn’t have to pay, There is just a lean against them.

You have got to be kidding me. One for them even saying that. Two, you mean to tell me that they have been giving me a hard time all this time because their drawing a connection between two accidents and holding that on me? OMG.

Trying to get the basics covered became most of my life. I was not a happy camper. I could not believe I was in this situation again having never rid my body of the chronic pain from the accident I had in university and that is all I wanted to do. I finally had a salaried position, my health benefits had just kicked in and I would be able to get massage etc….and then this car accident happens and throws everything out of whack. Or did it?

What happened next was extraordinary and scared the shit out of me and changed my life.

••••

Glad that part of my life is over,
Kate

• Mood: Firing out the story
• Locale: 24 hr Starbucks, Young & KIng
• Music: Hang on to your Love by Sade

The Fifth and Final Car Accident…Almost

…continued

“There’s blood! There’s blood. Where is is coming from?”

My brother looked around me. “Where is it? Where do you see it? Is it anywhere else?” he asked.

“I think just my hand. I can’t keep my eyes open to see…”

“Stay awake Kate. Stay wake. It’s ok. I think it’s just on your hand. I don’t see it anywhere else. You cut your hand on something.”
“My arm. My arm has blood on it.”

My arm and my hand had cuts on them. Most likely from they took the impact against the glass when the van hit the snowbank. There were ice cold and red. Like when you were a kid tobobaganning the sharp snow slips up your sleeve from a wipe-out on your GT-snowracer. I much prefer those cuts though.
I could not keep my eyes open and the world felt better keeping them closed. Anytime I opened them I could not get anything in front of me to stop moving.

“Where’s Dad? Where’s Dad?”

“I don’t know. He’s ok. He’s over there.”

“Can you go check on him? I’m ok. I’ll be all right.”

My brother went to check on my brother. I started to here the faint sound an ambulance siren. Unsettling on a normal day, it was even more unsettling on this quiet snow laden day where the show seems to dampen all the other sounds. The siren was starting to pierce my head and I wanted to cover my ears, but didn’t want to move from trying to find stillness. The siren stopped. I could hear muffling of male voices and questions.

“Are you hurt sir? Are you ok over there? The caller mentioned a young woman. Where is the girl? Is she your daughter?”

My eyes were still shut and I could feel a big man beside me.

“HI there. I’m Jack. I’m a paramedic. Where are you hurt?”

I didn’t answer. I was speaking very slowly. It hurt to talk.

“Can you answer me? Do you know your name?”

Not this again. What’s with paramedics asking my name all the time? No, I knew why he was doing it. Took a while to answer. I wanted to hurl again. I also wanted to get warm. I was freezing. I couldn’t feel my hand anymore. I don’t know how long it took me to answer.

“Kate.”

“Can you give me your full name?
Every word I spoke I just wanted to throw up. My head was hurting so much. Thinking hurt.

He was insistant. He was doing his job. That’s ok, but I just want the world to stop spinning.

He checked me out. I mean, he did all the things that paramedics do to check my vitals etc. His voice sounded nice. All I could hear was his voice. I could feel his presence too. I got a sense, a glimpse of how a blind person senses things around them. His voice was calm and soothing and his presence felt strong and assured.

“Katherine, were going to move you ok. Can you feel your toes?”

I don’t know. I can’t feel anything.

Jack touched my quadracep. Can you feel this Katherine?

“Yes, I can feel that. I’m cold.”

“Can you open your eyes for me Katherine?”

I tried to open my eyes. I tried to open one of them slowly. It was agony. The more I lifted my eyelid the more I slower I got to wanting to be sick.

“I need you to open your eyelids Katherine ok? I need you to stay awake.

His voice called out to the snowbank. Hi, what’s your name? You’re her boyfriend?”

“Brother. Twin.”

“Can you come talk to your sister? Try and keep her awake ok.”

“Harry, get the spinal board.”

I could hear them talking back and forth but couldn’t make sense of some of the things they were saying. Words phased in and out. It felt like my some part of my head was trying to grab a hold of something to stand still, but another word would be said and I was gone again trying to find that word and make sense of it in my head.

“Katherine, we’re going to put you on a spinal board ok? It’s just precaution because you can’t move your neck. I don’t want you to do anything ok? You don’t have to move a thing. Let me do everything for you.”

Jack the paramedic leaned into the miniture hatchback. How is this man who sounds big going to fit himself in here, get me and put me on a board without me lifting a finger?

He reached in. He told me what is was doing before he did it. He  put one arm under my legs and the other one around my back. His arm was supporting my neck at the same time. He was calling these out to Harry.

“Katherine. I know it’s hard, but try and relax. It’s better if you relax like a ragdoll. Let me do this for you.”

I don’t know how they did it, but Jack picked me up in swiftly all while manouvering his big body in and out of this tiny cramped mailman’s hatchback full of mail.

“S-l-o-w. S-l-o-w-l-y. Go slow.”

Ok Katherine I’ll go slow. Hang on. The next thing I knew I was floating in the air. I was layed out on top of the stretcher. I felt something suction my whole body in.

“I can’t move.”

“That’s the board Katherine. It suctions you in. It’s ok, it may feel strange. It’s foam and rubber.”

I felt like i was really high up in the air. The snow was deep and I could sense their boots were deep in the snow and the legs sunk into the ground with the snow up around their shins. Jack was at one end. My head. I knew his voice the most. Harry was at my feet. Was he facing backwards or forwards? How are they going to keep me level and not drop me? How are they going to walk in this deep snow up the road? It wasn’t fluffy snow. It was hard crispy snow that cuts on each step, that crushed the crisp layer and doesn’t allow your boot to trail. The kind where you have to exagerate each step up, over and back into another piece of snow. I wanted to throw up from up here. Then they started to move.

I felt nauseous.

“Stop. Please stop.”

“I know it’s hard Katherine, but we need to get you to the hospital. One step at a time ok? We’re almost there.”

Each step took an eternity. Each step my body was lowered and heightened in the air and I thought they would drop me at any minute into the crispy snow. At least I was suctioned cupped into this rubberized body cocoon.They got to the road. Great – ice. Isn’t how we go into this mess in the first place? I was so scared they would slip and fall and I’d hit the ground. They turned around on the icy and road and sifted me into the back of the ambulance like a settling a pancake down on the pan with a flipper. I was relieved I had stopped moving. They climbed into the front of the ambulance.  I can’t remember if one stayed back with me or not. I know they usually do. They must have. I heard the ambulance door shut one after the other behind me. Every sound seemed so crisp, so distinct, so loud.

“Jack?”

“Yes, Katherine?”

“Slow please.”

“Yes, Katherine, we will drive slow.”

He didn’t. He drove very very fast. Very fast. Maybe he didn’t and I thought it fast. No, it seemed very very fast and we were ont he same black ice road. All the roads were icy.

“Jack?”

“Yes Katherine?”

“Please. slow. Please. it hurts.”

“It’s ok Katherine. Harry and I are experienced drivers. Everything is ok. Everything is going to be ok now. Don’t worry.”

Why do they say that? My life was almost taken, again. I don’t remember most of it and every second hurt and he’s telling me now to worry that he’s driving fast, in a van I just drove on? I just tried not to breathe. And not. I don’t remember. Nothing made the spinning go away. Nothing made anything stand still.

•

Avoiding the hump day before my birthday tomorrow.
Kate
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•  Mood:  Thinking of my birthday tomorrow.
•  Locale: Starbucks, King & John.
•  On deck: { Listen here }  Angel by Sarah McLachlan
• { My second love said he thought of me in the first car accident everytime he heard this song. ~ “You were pulled from the wreckage..”}

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© All rights reserved. Kate Flood •

Christmas Fishtail – The Fifth and Final Car Accident …Almost

“Where’s Katie? Where’s Katie?”

My Dad was yelling into the belly of the van that was now headfirst deep into a typical deep Canadian winter ditch far off the road. We had skidded, fishtailed, nose-dived off the road and flipped and rolled.

“She’s in the corner Dad, underneath you. You’re on top of her.”

My Dad had fallen out of his seat and dropped down – or up – wherever the van was at this point.

It was two days before Christmas and we were on route to pick up the family dinner and last-minute Christmas gifts in town.  The road leading out of the cottage in this winter wonderland was gravel and snow-covered. There was a thick sheet of black ice under this one portion that could not be detected. My father was driving, I was seated passenger right and my twin was behind us in the first row of seats. The last thing I remember was the van slipping a bit right, and I started to say The Our Father under my breath. Been here before. Again, happened automatically quietly in my head. That’s all I remember. I don’t remember seconds before that and I don’t remember anything about the accident at all. Not the swerving, the fishtailing, my father’s correcting, nothing.

Apparently, we hit black ice and Dad did what he could to keep us steady on the road, but it was too slippery and the van caught a bad patch and after slipping and sliding we flew off the road and nose-dived hard and deep into a deep section of ditch off the right side of the road. It was one of those van with the long narrow nose where the front windshield is. The impact was enough to shatter the rear window and all of the contents in the back of the van came flying forward, past my brother, through the front and out the windows. The contents were scattered all over the snow bank like a windstorm had come through. Fortunately my brother and father were not too badly injured. Mt grandfather’s incredibly heavy steel toolbox was in the rear and when it came flying forward at mock – 80mph or what have you, it hit him in the ankle hard. It didn’t break, but definitely the biggest black eye of a bruise on his ankle!

Once my brother and Dad located me, I wasn’t conscious. They had to get me out. My father was on top me though and the van was flipped on it’s side, so everyone’s sense of gravity was a bit off and I imagine disoriented and in shock from the flight we had just had. Tim was able to get out of the door not on the ground and when in the front driver’s side to help get my father out. Then I think my brother went in and got me. I had been thrown forward and was tucked in the corner with my seatbelt keeping me in. I don’t remember any of this whatsoever. My brother and Dad helped get my body out. None of us have any idea how much time had passed since the accident started, our flight and coming to. My first dizzying waking point, was trying to open my eyes, but the world around me was spinning at such an untolerable speed that everyone time I would open one eye slightly, I’d shut it immediately to avoid the nausea that wanted to stop the speed.

The local mailman had been on his route and happen to come down this quiet country road. He saw the went to pull over his car, but he too put his car in the ditch. Obviously, some pretty slippery roads. My brother put my in the front seat of the mailman’s little car – some kind of hatchback. I kept trying to open my eyes, but the world was still spinning at mock whatever and now I was in this tiny car that seemed to make it worse! I peaked open one of my eyes and could see blood on my right hand. It was cold. I was cold. My hands were winter-red cold, damp and I was shivering. Why was there blood on my hand? What cut me?

“There’s blood! There’s blood. Where is is coming from?”

My brother looked around me. “Where is it? Where do you see it? Is it anywhere else?” he asked.

“I think just my hand. I can’t keep my eyes open to see…”

To be continued…

•••

Getting closer to the beginning…
Happy Autumn!
My favorite season…

~ Kate

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•  Mood: Glad a myo-facial massage. Kind of.
•  Locale: Red Velvet Banquette, Pub, Toronto.
•  On deck: { Listen here }  Reflektor by Arcade Fire

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© All rights reserved. Kate Flood •

9/11 – John McClane and the Power of Intuition

Where I was on 9/11 and other tales of the power of our intuition…

 I was staying at my ex-boyfriend’s home and had a flight booked on September 11, 2001 in the morning at 8:45am.

“Meh, I’m going to stay another week and cancel my flight.”

And so I did. I had no reason to in particular. Nothing came up that I needed to attend. Would anything of happened to me? Nothing serious. Nothing compared to what did happen; however, I would have been stuck in an airplane, stranded on the tarmac for arguably most of the day all the other planes that were.

I remember exactly where I was when I became aware of the Bruce Willis movie. I walked out of the bedroom, passed the tv and remembering saying to myself,

“I’m not going to turn on the tv today. Too much tv watching this week.”

{ I’ve never been much of a tv watcher and have rarely had one all these years. When someone does have one – well – it can be a little addictive and sedating, say like, sour cream and onion Pringles. How does one NOT finish the cardboard cylinder? }

I walked into the kitchen not two steps, and thought { or the devil on my shoulder thought } –

“Oh – just a little. We’ll see what’s on.”

It was about 10 to 9am and I turned on the tv to see the movie Die Hard.  It wasn’t the time to watch Diehard – that’s  a nighttime movie (one of my favorites I might add). I turned the channel – Diehard. Another channel – Diehard.

“Why the flip is Diehard airing on like every channel. Something must be wrong with the television and I’m hitting the same channel over and over again.”

And then I saw the infamous CNN ticker tape that would run through millions of minds for months to come, day in and day out, imprinted on our brains – normal as our Digitized red digits on our alarm clocks flashing us to wake every morning.

It was 8:48am when the first pictures of 911 were aired on tv. It wasn’t the movie Diehard airing, it was pure insanity. I just remember standing there in shock, thinking this has to be a joke, this can’t be real. This is a movie, computer animation…an April Fools joke. I really thought it was April fools joke put on by the networks. It was on every network. Only it wasn’t April 1. It was Sept 11. Everything went through my mind to try and make sense of seeing this plane hit the first Twin Tower. Every channel I turned to was airing the same image, over and over again. Not all the stations could airing the same computer animation special. Then the second plane hit.

I couldn’t believe it. I finally flumped on the couch after standing, pacing watch the horrific images come in.

My God!  I was suppose to be flying out this morning. Well, I guess I wouldn’t really have being flying anywhere. I’d be sitting there in the plane (which I hate. I’m always the last to show up to the desk. Why wait on a plane, when you can wait on a sudo-comfy chair on in a more roomy airport).  3,300 commercial flights and 1,200 private planes re-routed to airports in Canada and the United States over the next two-and-a-half hours. Ohhh. And then it hit me. Wow, I thought to myself and I cancelled my flight. Holy shit! I cancelled my flight last night. That’s insane. Crazy. How did I know?

Then I remember thinking that I thought my cousin lived and worked in New York. I wasn’t sure because she had spend years in London and traveling with her work, I just wasn’t sure. Or maybe I was, and I didn’t want to be right. I called my twin and told him to turn on his television and at the same time said,

“Doesn’t Meghan work in New York?”

“Yah, she does. I’ll call Joe.” Joe was Meghan’s brother living in Toronto. My twin called Joe,

“Is your tv on? Turn on your tv. Where does Meghan work?”

“New York.”

“Where though?”

“Twin Towers.”

I’m sure silence fell over the phone. Meghan was really the only close cousin I knew who even lived in the U.S.

I don’t think I’d ever heard of the Twin Towers. I do know the size of New York City and how many buildings there are. I didn’t think the chances of her working in the ones that were all over the news was remotely possible.

“….She’s in Paris…Business trip. She’s in Paris. She’s not in New York right now.”

Can you imagine? The chances? Of all the cities, of all the buildings, my cousin is working in the one plastered all over the news. Thank God she was in Paris. Her company was not so fortunate. She was in a cafe in Paris when she saw the news. She was in shock. Crying. Strangers came over to her, tried to reassure her. Asked if there was someone with her. Someone she could be with during this time.

I heard other stories not as close to home. One more recently of someone who was working in the Twin Towers who went out begrudgingly for a smoke break. Then the first plane hit.

Best smoke of his life right? He stills smokes. ‘Not going to quit apparently. Going out for that ciggy It saved his life.

I’d argue it wasn’t the habit of smoking that saved his life, but his intuition. If it wasn’t smoking, I’m sure something would have urged him to get out of what was about to happen as I’m sure did for many. The smoking habit that day helped.

Your intuition works. Use it.

And,

“Where is John McClane when you need him?”

God Bless all those affected by 911. Especially the children who lost parents and loved ones.

Happy Birthday P.A.,
A friend who shares a birthday with the infamous date known now simply as 9/11,
Kate
•••••••••••••••••

•  Mood: Feeling Lucky
•  Locale: Big brown leather & brass tacked comfy chair, Starbucks, Toronto.
•  On the stereo: Where did I Leave that Fire? by Neko Case
{ New album: The Worse things Get, the Harder }
• Listen here: Where did I Leave the Fire

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© All rights reserved. Kate Flood •

Unwinding What Triggered My Journey Into Holisitc Therapies

“Shittt! Shit! Shittt! Oh my God! Seriously? Owww..” My arms were swinging below the massage table, my hands were grasping at the closest wall, banging them tight-fisted. My toes were curled tight and I was thudding one of my feet into the table. “This is supposed to help me right?”

I continued working at the restuarant, but  I was also working at the a high end sports retailer – the one that went belly up. I’d met many interesting healthy sports minded people. Lots of travelers, climbers, cyclists, skiers, boarders. One particular day one of my colleagues Richie had some friends stop by after work. He’d actually been taking about them for a while saying how great they were.  One of them was a massage therapist and he wouldn’t stop talking about how good this guy was.

I hadn’t had a lot of “work” done on me since that first major accident in university. The accident was Oct ’95 and it was now 2001. Remember –  my ex had no insurance for that car to even be on the road, so I didn’t get treatment right away in a time that is most crucial for healing. When I started to get some, it was a little physio. Then that mandatory chronic pain program a couple years later which was no therapy and useless for me. Then maybe 2 massages from that guy when I went to Algonquin. This was now 6 years later and I had been living with this chronic pain riddling my body ever since and just lived with it. I didn’t take pain killers and didn’t have money to treat it and really wasn’t offered any solutions. I didn’t believe in pain killers and wanted to find the source of the issue and heal it naturally.

I still remember meeting him. I was on my way up the stairs to the tent department (very cool room by the way – picture an entire second floor decked out with 15 colourful high-end tents – any kids Fort dreamland). We often took naps in the tents during break time as they were decked out with thermarests etc. Until an unsuspecting customer went looking inside!

As I was going up my colleague Archie yelled at me,

“Hey Kate meet Emillio Maximo. Emillio Maximo, meet Kate. I looked back and Emillio looked right at me and came up to me and shook my hand firmly.

“It’s nice to meet you Kate.”

I never forgot that. I’ve always recognized when someone has a firm handshake AND looks you in the eye. There was also something about the way he looked me in the eye that had this kind of I see you sense to it.

I don’t remember the first few times we met now – I think they were social gatherings with a number of people just hanging out, chilling, having some pints after work on east commercial drive in Vancouver.

Meeting this person was important to me. Something that happened while he worked on me would set off my search in getting properly treated for the pain my body was carrying. We became friends and eventually he worked on me.

Wow!

It didn’t feel good ladies and gentleman. In fact, it killed like a son of a gun. When he worked on my in his small room, I could literally bang the walls – which I did – and moaned and cursed during the work. Have you ever had rolfing? This was worse. To this day I have never found a therapist that works the way he does and I’ve searched high and low. Why did I continue to go? I wasn’t going to “relax” I was going to take pain away. I would be freezing cold when I left, and after two days, I could move – more freely – my body wasn’t as crooked. He even worked inside my inside my mouth on my jaw. ‘Killed. Like.a.son.of.a.bitch. Awful. Like really awful. I’d be balling the whole time tears streaming down my face. All that orthodontal work amongst the car accident and me wanting to save my brain, but jamming my arms into my jaw, and the un-elasticized metal brackets getting lodged into my gums and the ER doc putting four freezing needles through my face into my jaw because he couldn’t get to the gums – my jaw is not a happy camper. Still isn’t actually. I’m not sure what it will take, but I wish the pain and tightness would go away.

I tried to see him as regularly as I could, but it was tough on a minimum wage  and paying my bills. I saw him around every 2 weeks, sometimes with breaks between. In the winter I went to see him and had a most peculiar thing happen that scared the bageezuz out of me.

He had worked on me an hour or more, possibly two as he would do sometimes. When we were done, I went to the ladies room and as I was sitting there all of a sudden, my neck and my head started twisting to the sides rather rapidly. It scared the shit out of me. It seem to be just happening naturally. I wasn’t shaking my head intentionally. It was doing it and I was trying to stop it and at the same time it seem to have a force of it’s own, but I wasn’t basically tripped out that this was happening without me engaging it. It calmed down and I walked back to the room quite timid and he asked me how I was doing and I told him that something weird happened in the washroom and I didn’t understand and quite frankly I was a little freaked out.

“Unwinding.”

“Sorry?”

“Unwinding. You were unwinding.”

“I don’t know what that is Emillio.”

“It’s ok. Your body was just responding to the work I did.”

“I’m scared. I don’t understand.”

“It’s ok. It’s actually a good thing. Go home and have a bath and go to sleep. Don’t worry. If it starts to do it again, just let it happen. If you need to call me. Try not to fight it.”

I left the office. I hated the commute back. It was way out in boonieville, it was freezing out and  my body temperature dropped even more after his work, and then having to take a bus all the way back downtown. I’m sure he would have offered me a lift, but he was an extreme athlete and  cycled back and forth to work daily. I went home and my body did start to “unwind” as he called it more. I tried to just let it happen a bit. I think he called to check on me as well.

After this happened/ I was very curious what this response was my body was having and how I could happen with out me controlling or telling it to do so – that’s what scared me the most. What else was in there? I remember asking him more questions, but he didn’t wan to press the issue. Just that things happen when they happen.

Within a couple months, having holding 3 part-time jobs none other them in my field at this point and no forseeable design work. 911 had just happened and companies marking departments were the first to feel the effects and as a designer we felt the fallout from that. Vancouver, was also not the bustling metropolis I thought it would be. There is not lot of big communications companies there. I had been there around 2 years and decided to up and move cold turkey to Toronto.

I took the train across the country and sold my furniture (roommate never paid me for it even though I trusted him and he was supposed to). The train took 4 days to Ottawa with a night time layover, so I took advantage of that as my home town before moving on to Toronto.
—-

Massage Heals. Find an excellent massage therapist. Educate yourself on various massage trainings. Typically certified is better. If you are looking for healing massage therapists or therapies in Ottawa, Toronto, Montreal or Vancouver I can help you out. Otherwise, you’re on your own. Look for multidisciplinary clinics. Often your local health food store bulletin board or yoga studio can have talented massage therapists with numerous modalities under their belt. A referral from someone you trust is always going to be the best referral.

All my Ottawa government friends. You have 5-6 massage allowances on your insurance. Go treat yourself to a massage even though you think you don’t need one. I don’t know a single soul who hasn’t loved a massage after receiving one. And, if you have never had one, then no, you don’t know if you need one if you have never tried!

Find a registered massage therapist in Ontario:
http://www.rmtfind.com/

Typical sessions: 1/2 hr – 1 hr – 90 min – 2 hrs
Typical Price Range: $60 – $120 / 1 hr. ($80-$100 average)

‘Miss my excellent Massage Therapists,
Kate
————————————————————————————–

• Listening to: “Land Down Under” by Men at Work
• Locale:  On route to Ottawa from NY.
• State of mind: Wishing for my literary agent to appear…

© 2013 by Kate Flood. All rights reserved.

The Limp, A Hemorrhagic Cyst and Moving West

The Limp. The limp that brought me into the hospital that saturday morning. I spent the day having various tests done – blood work – x-rays – ultrasounds. All coming back negative. Until. Until. The pelvic ultrasound. Oh what a joy that is ladies? By this time I was in pain and hurdle over moaning and groaning. Then the doctors want you to fill your bladder with water so they can the ultrasound imaging properly. I feel like I’m going to explode and you want me to drink 2 litres of water and hold it?…while you stick a plastic wrapped plastic probe up my hoo haw? Hilarious. But we do it right ladies? The result?

“Katherine , you have what’s called a hemorrhagic cyst on your left ovary and it’s ruptured. That’s why you are in so much discomfort.”
The docs gave me pain killers and said I just had to wait it off. That it would settle down on it’s own and there wasn’t much they could do on their end as it is quite normal and the ovary is not twisting or causing other harm.

I was in the hospital a couple of days and sent home with bed rest. “Are you in a particularly stressful situation in your life right now?” he asked.
“School. It’s a pretty tough program. 30+ hours of class, weekly assignments, 0 tolerance for absenteeism etc.”

“Well I don’t want you going back there for 2 weeks. Stay at home and take it easy please.”

I stayed home a week. I called my school director the day I went into the hospital. Funny timing was that the our directors just switched over the break. So I had never met this new director. Car Accident, hospitalization or death of a loved one were the only acceptable excuses for absenteeism. Clearly I fell under hospitalization.

I just stayed the week and returned the following. Too much missed school and I was feeling better.

The new director handed back my mid report card. It had a big fat 0 on it. I called him. ‘Excuse me Mr., could you explain why I have a zero?”

You didn’t hand in your assignments for a whole week.

“Mr. I was in the hospital. I called you on day 1 and informed you of this.”

“Oh well. You still didn’t hand them in.”

“I couldn’t Mr. Excuse me, but it is in our program that this is an acceptable reason.”

“Oh. Well, ok sorry. I’ll fix that.”

“Yes, thank you.”

That was 1999. I seemed fine until year end. I had wanted to do my coop placement in New York City, having always wanted to live there. I had collected a massive book and photocopied every single design, communications and branding agency in New York city from the small mom and pop shops to the big organizations. I can’t really remember why – maybe the tight urn around deadline – but I ended up doing  placement at a local supposed reputable firm. While I was at work one day I suddenly out of nowhere had the most excruciating pain. Livid pain.I’m sure working where I worked didn’t help. My boss was a yeller. He yelled at me, the kind of yelling where a person yells so much they’re spitting on you – yah that was him. One time he even raised his arm at me to swat me – I shied away and he brought his hand back behind his back. Geez! His office was a pigsty. I’d always had a knack for cleaning, sorting, organizing and decorating – got that from my mom. I reorganized the office completely – did a layout of the floor plan and everything. When he wasn’t given me assignments – shy of my skill level – I found other productive things to do (so I thought). Organizing his book shelf, clients lists, files on the computer. One day he lost it on me and said why was I wasting my time doing nothing – why wasn’t I looking through magazine for inspiration? Pardon?

It was only 2 months of work. They had hired me on after the placement and received a government subsidy for hiring a student straight from school. I could tell business was slow from the drop in incoming calls and jobs going out. I got called into the office one day with his main designer who was also a graduate of the program the year prior. Really nice guy too. The two of them were staring at me and not saying anything. I say there smiling. My boss tried to speak, but couldn’t. He looked over his my colleague, “Archie, can you…you?”

“What?” I said. “What. You have to get rid of me?”

My boss went wide eyed. My colleague smiled relieved. “Ugh, how, how on earth did you know that?”

“Doesn’t take much to see there’s not a lot of work coming in here.”

I did my two weeks and you know what that boss did? When I went to file my taxes, they had no T4, no record of any employment there so I couldn’t file. You go to be kidding me. I had to go and file forms with the government giving them permission to look for this business. They had changed their name once or twice but then disappeared. I was able to track down a fax of proving that he paid me as he would request the subsidy from the government every two weeks. And that rascal, he paid me with personal cheques, but had hand written the deductions on each one, but never submitted them. Nice. Even cheaper labour.

That was on Monday. On friday my 2nd love, dumped me on the phone. 1 week after celebrating our 1 year anniversary and I had bought him an expensive dress watch. Nice. Thanks.

I’m leaving! I’m moving out west…
——-

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Go west, Go west…. { the Petshop Boys }
Kate
———-

• Locale:  Starbucks. Why have some Starbuck’s taken those away?
• On Deck: Slave to Love by Roxy (I have a wide assortment of music let me tell yah!)
• State of Being: It’s starting to feel like Christmas.

Ice Storm: A Limp, A Gimp and a Tree – Timber!

I looked at his blue skivvies and probably blushed seeing his parents standing there in my peripheral vision. (No, no Mrs.Lloyd I’m thinking to myself, what are those, I’ve never seen those before). My eyes moved so slow up his legs, somehow some part of me did not want to look at his arm. My eyes continued upward and it was impossible not to see his arm. It was completely split open.

Kate?”

“Yes, Ms.Renem?”

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, why?”

“Your limping. Why are you limping?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t realize that I was.”

“Maybe you  should go get that checked out honey afer school.”

“Yes. Well it’s no bothering me that much right now, but I will if it gets worse.”

Every day that week, the limping got worse, but I did not seem to be in pain anywhere.”

I went to the doctor and he examined me ans told me my abdomen was swollen, and this could be my appendix. He advised me to drink liquids, go easy on the food and possibly be prepared for a trip to an ER next week.”

“I said alright doc” and went home.

Friday passed and I was staying over at my boyfriend Lloyd’s at the time.

Saturday morning I woke up ran to the washroom, was sick as a dog for seemingly no reason rapidly. I was throwing up, sweating buckets, felt hot, weak and dizzy. I knew something was more serious was wrong because the symptoms all came on rather out of the blue and I wasn’t “feeling” very sick, but had these symptoms.

“Take me to the hospital Lloyd. Something’s wrong.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Something’s not right. This isn’t a flu or stomach. I don’t really feel sick anywhere, but my body is doing this and I’ve got a fever so it’s trying to tell me something.” My mother taught me that. Fever is there for a reason.

Lloyd took me to the hospital. By this time, I was limping and stooped right over clenching my belly.

Lloyd and I had our share of hospital trips. A story to digress to because it’s a hell of a one. In the winter of 1998 Ottawa got hit with the biggest ice storm. If you lived there you remember it. Haunting and gorgeous to see mother nature reek havoc on a city. I was fortunate, we lost cable for a few days and that was it. I was working at the high end sport retailer and most places of businesses did not make it mandatory to come into work on account of the damage to the city streets etc. There were electric wires down in front of my apartment all over the street, but you could carefully navigate them if you had to. I went to work. My boyfriend Lloyd also worked fulltime at the retailer. There was actually about 6 couples who all met at this place and were all dating. Quite seriously I might add, they all are married to this day, Lloyd and I the only ones who didn’t marry. I had exploring and traveling I wanted to do.
On this particular day, Lloyd was working at a neighbouring farm cutting down trees with a friend. Around 2in the afternoon I was paged to answer a call.

“Kate, Line 1, Kate phone call on Line 1”

I went to the phone thinking it was a fellow peer at another location wanting soft goods help. You know, do you have this in size 10 kinda thing.

“Kate? It’s Mrs.Lloyd calling.”

I felt nauseous immediately without even being old anything. It’s funny – our bodies know when something is up. The background sound of the store around me petered out in the distance. I stared down a my feet.

“Yes. Hi Mrs.Lloyd.”

“Kate, Shawn’s been in an accident.”

I swallowed. The heat rose up through my chest.

“He’s ok. I mean, he’s alive. They’re going to be doing emergency surgery. I thought you should know. We’re at..”

“What happened? I mean, was he in a car? Why surgery?”

“No,no. He was hit by a tree. Badly. He was out cutting down trees in the back 40 and the Swinson’s lot with their son Jack. And he, he, God I told him, his father told, him, he knows. I don’t know what happened exactly or how it happened.”

“Oh my God, Mrs.Lloyd. I’m so sorry. I’m sure he’ll be ok. Everything will be ok.”

“Kate, he has some prescriptions to pick up. Can I ask you to pick them up and bring to the hospital?” Of course, of course. I’m leaving right away.”

“They just air lifted him from the Kemptville hospital after they saw the extent of what happened; they’re not equipped for this kind of surgery.”

I told my manager I was leaving, I had to go, that Lloyd had been in an accident. It was serious. I still remember this particularly manager wining to me that I couldn’t leave. I had already gone up to the owners upstairs and had their ok.

“I’m outa here!”

She actually ran out the door after me and told me I couldn’t leave. Hilarious.

When I got to the hospital. I was so worried and scared for Lloyd. The ER doctors took me the room he was in and I’ll never forget this, I swung around the corner and first I see poor Lloyd in his blue skivies. They size and height of the tree coming down on Lloyd actually split his clothes and then the doctors tore them off to get to him. Hell, I found out then they believed it probably hit him in his head because of the proximity to the arm.

When they were out there cutting the trees down there are rules they follow. You are supposed to yell out to where you’re partner is so they know where you are and where the tree is going down. Jack yelled out,

“3-2-1 TIMBER”

(They actually do yell Timber? I thought that was a lumberjack cartoon thing of the past)

No response. The tree came down. After that tree came down, Jack couldn’t hear the sound of the other chainsaw running. He looked to where the tree went down. No Lloyd. And he wasn’t there when it went down, so where was he. He looked back. No Lloyd. Something wasn’t right. They’re in the back 40 with acres of snow filled fields and trees. Shawn should stick out like a sore thumb. He decided to go back to his last cut. He saw Lloyd’s snowmobile, but no Shawn which meant he had to have been here…somewhere.

I can’t remember what he saw first, but there was Lloyd under the tree. Out cold. He was unconscious. The tree grazed his head and smashed his arm. From what I know, I think Jack was able to get Lloyd out from the tree on his own or the adrenaline from the shock can kick in like when a mother can lift a car off of a baby, and he put Lloyd on one of the snowmobiles and brought him back to the farm. I don’t think cellphones were as a staple as they are today yet, so he would have had to wait until he could get to a phone to call 911.

By the time I got to him he had regained conciousness. I looked at his blue skivvies and probably blushed seeing his parents standing there in my peripheral vision. (No, no Mrs.Lloyd I’m thinking to myself, what are those, I’ve never seen those before). My eyes moved so slow up his legs, somehow some part of me did not want to look at his arm. My eyes continued upward and it was impossible not to see his arm. It was completely split open. It was awful. Looked like a complex roadmap of red lines and white highways – think downtown Montreal. My eyes could not stay there. I turned slowly to Lloyd’s facing being careful to keep a straight face and slight smile. It’s really hard to hide, “Holy Shit Your fucking arm is split right open honey!”. I think I did a good job. Either that or he was unfazed because he seemed pretty happy.

“They’ve got him pretty souped upon morphine.” Said Mrs.Lloyd.

“Ahh,” I said.

“I Lloydy. Oh honey. How are you doing?”

“Ummm…..” he just smiled glassy eyed.

I smiled back at him and gave him I care about you grin.

I gotta say, it was pretty surreal having a conversation with his parents over him and this split open arm in your face and nothing going on.

“They’re bringing him for surgery soon. They had to get in another specialist.” Said Mrs.Lloyd.

Just then a doctor came in and explained the procedure to us. He spoke a little and then he motioned us to leave the room with him, I guess so Lloyd could not hear. Not that he’d remember.

“Shawn’s arm is pretty serious, but we have excellent doctors here. The surgery should be done around midnight.”

Shawn went in for this surgery. I stayed with Mr and Mrs.Lloyd. Midnight came, no doctors. 12:30am. 1:00am. God, I’m sure I’m not the only one out there who’s had this experience of watching the clock while waiting for a loved one to come out from surgery. Amazing how minutes seem like hours. 130am. 200am. Finally just after 2am the doctors came out to us.  He didn’t look very happy for someone just having come from surgery. In fact he looked really sad.

“The surgery went mostly well.”

“Mostly doc?”

“We were able to save Shawn’s arm. We put the bones back in place for them to heal.”

“And?”

“Well. There it was quite a mess in there. I’m sorry, but the most important part was putting the bones back. There’s been nerve damage. It was unavoidable. I’m sorry.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, it’s too soon to tell, but some of Shawn’s muscle will not be working properly because of this. For now, his fingers. He has no use of his fingers at all.”

“Oh my God. But doc he’s a rock climber, a carpenter, a ski tech, he works on farm. He’s a bike rider.”

“We know. Which actually fares well for his recovery. We don’t know how long it will take. We’ve implemented an apparatus on this cast that will help rejuvenate this fingers. Nerves repair themselves. This is the good time. We just don’t know how long it will take. It could take a year. Shawn is not awake yet. He doesn’t know this yet. Leave that to us ok?”

“Sure doc, yes of course.” (Like anyone would want to break that news to him).

Shawn returned home eventually. He had a massive full cast and this odd looking contraption made of metal spokes that jutted out from his elbow on an angle and then had these elastic bands that dropped down at 90 degrees over his hand attaching themselves to each of Shawn’s fingers. Geez. Let me tell you, fun between the sheets! Not so much. I moved temporarily into Shawn’s place to help him out. It was hard to even make a meal with only the use of one hand. Sleeping beside him was a mild nightmare trying to avoid the side his contraption was on and any odd random mid night swinging arm landings! The sports shop kept him on working the floor instead of the shop. He couldn’t bike or climb, so it was quite a bummer for an incredibly active 25 year old. He did it though. Month and months went by and there was still no movement from his fingers. Quite scary really.

A year almost to the date, Lloyd’s fingers started work again. He biked again and he climbed again. I don’t know if he’s every cut a tree again…

I full story within a digression. It was a good one though no?

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I’m getting to the limp next,
Kate

p.s. Hellos to you Llyod where ever you are. Grapevine says you moved West, but no one has heard from you since.
———-

• Locale: Cushy Leather chair @ Starbucks. Why have some Starbuck’s taken those away?
• On Deck: Happy Cycling by Boards of Canada
{I’m beginning to think my shuffle ituned is somehow magically linked to my stories!}
• State of Being: Hungry.

Rock Climbing, Rheumatoid Arthritis and a Blind Medical System

And as I was standing there in my workout gear and sporty windbreaker jacket in my fit body and him knowing my daily physical activity, he looked at me and said, “…Have you thought about taking up swimming?”

I reluctantly decided to defer my acceptance into the program I had wanted my whole life for another year. Stating medical health reasons. How could I draw? How could I design with pain rattling my 24 year old hands? Just a year. I could beat this pain in a year. I took on a full time position at the store and waiting the year.

I became very active socially with my colleagues. All working at a high end sports retailer, we walked the talk.  Some more then others. I continued my workout return daily and ran to my job every morning and some evenings. I got up early and took care of my grandmother every morning before work for 2 hours. Waking her up, changing her, bathing her, changing her bed linens and keeping her company – making her earl grey tea, hot toast with butter (i has to be hot) and watching Dallas. ‘Trying to keep her min busy in her pint size old age room. It wasn’t fun – it wasn’t too bad either – but, I felt sad for her.

I rock climbed with my new boyfriend, mountain biked at the back of the pack in the Gatineaus and learned to ski and snowboard weekly. I was a size 2. And yet, every single day, I had chronic pain piercing through my body. It never left. It only got worse. I began to see specialists. The pain was so bad a this point, that frustration turned into anger and anger into rage. I began to pitch in an effort to get the pain out. Worse thing I ever pitched was a glass lamp. It broke. I had already gone through being sad and depressed because of this chronic pain, leaving my university degree a year early and losing my closest friend.

I waited 3 months to see a rheumatoid arthritis specialist. I showed up with my father, curious for an answer so I could just  fix it. My mind is such that, I need to know what’s going on, when I know the facts, I will find a solution and fix it. I met with the doctor for minutes, only minutes.

He performed a few tests and looked at me and said, “You don’t have rheumatoid arthritis. At 24 it is rare I have to say anyways.” I was saddened. I wanted an answer. Someone to tell me an answer so I could fix it. I looked at hm bewildered. “ Well, I guess that’s good doc. But, please you know my history. What is going on? Why am I in chronic pain every day all day through most of my body?”

And as I was standing there in my workout gear and sport windbreaker jacket in my fit body and him knowing my daily active activity, he looked at me and said, “Have you thought about taking up swimming?”

Holy shit! I wanted to jump over the desk and plow him one. Your kidding me right. I looked down at my outfit. Do you see what I am wearing? Do I look like an unfit person? “I exercise every day doc.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t have any answers for you.”

I left – frustrated. Unsure of my future, confused and bloody scared.

I continued to work. I continued to exercised. And the pain continued.
————————————————————————————–

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Kate
——————–

• Listening to: “Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd
• Locale: Starbucks @ Chapters/Indigo  – yes – still here.
• State of mind: Glassy eyed tired.

© 2012 by Kate Flood. All rights reserved

Teasing and Toying the Good News to Me – Torture!

He was disinterested, disassociated and seemed to be disintegrating in front of my very eyes. “Could I see the labs?” He got up and showed me to a cramped room of itty bitty mac  beige computers (remember those?).

I stood there and looked at him behind his desk and his hoarder war of a library that towered over him in some stereotypical Woody Allen flick. He was disinterested, disassociated and seemed to be disintegrating in front of my very eyes. “Could I see the labs?” He got up and showed me to a cramped room of itty bitty mac  beige computers (remember those?). There only seemed to be 25. “You share them with the second years he said. They get priority. There’s not enough to go around. I kinda made up my mind at that point and asked a few meaningless questions, said thanks and left. Well at least I investigated. At least I knew this wasn’t what I wanted. I returned home.

I waited for my Sheridan and Algonquin letters of acceptance or refusal to come. I took a job at a local high end family run sports retailer called Tommy & Lefebvre. I waited for my letters.  I got an apartment with two friends who were a couple from a camp I worked at in my teens. We happened to run into each other and reconnected after 10 years. So did they as boyfriend and girlfriend. Life is funny. The world is small. Every day of the weeks I thought I would hear from the college. I called home to my roommate at 415 to see if the mail had arrived with a letter from Algonquin. Everyday no letter. One day, I call and I ask my roommate, “Ernie, the mail. Did you get the mail today?”

“No not yet,” he said.

“You didn’t? You’re in the house. You didn’t pick it up on the way in?”

“Oh wait. Maybe I did.”

‘Ernie. Come on….did you or didn’t you?”

“Mayyybeee…”

“Of you did, you did, you toying with me. Is there a letter from the Gonq?”

“Nahhh.”

“There is! I can hear from your voice. Stop kidd’n me. Ernie! Open it! Open it!”

“Just a sec. Let me see” He’s shuffling through the mail and I can hear the envelope shifting through his hands. Meanwhile I’m in the telephone at work during my shift standing at a pillar. “Ernie! Come on!”

“Oh, look yes there is one here from Algonquin. Algonquin college right?”

“Yes Ernie! You know that. Come on, you’re killing me! Open it!”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Open it.”

“Nahh. It says it’s addressed to Katherine Flood.”

“Ernie, that’s me! Open it!”

“Ahh. That’s illegal. Opening someone else’s mail.”

“Ernie Semaj. You open that mail now or else….you have my permission!”

Silence. And I don’t hear a letter being torn.

“Ernie! Did I get in? did I get in?…Ernie! OPEN itttt! You’re killing me!”

At this point, the staff has collected around me, knowing that I have been wanting and anticipating this moment since I was in grade six, over and above my years spent at university, this is what I always wanted!

“I gotta go o the bathroom.”

“Ernie! No you don’t. You’re just playing with me. Please tell me….what I didn’t get it?”

Ernie goes to the bathroom. I hear the toilet flush. I am tearing at the post in front of me. I give my fellow staff look of waiting, a look of I’m dieing here of desperation. My roommate is killing me and I’m going to kill him when I get home! (lol. Kidding). He comes back to the phone.

‘Ernie Semaj if you don’t tell me…”

“Dear Katherine, Thank you for your interest in the graphic design program at Algonquin college. We pride our selves in the education of…

‘Errrrnnnieee! Get to the point! Yah or Nah! Tell me. Now!”

“Ughhh….let me see….I got to read here to see….ah! Here we go…”

Every inch of my being clenched in excitement and anticipation to leap into the air! I wanted this my whole life. 876 people applied worldwide for this year. Only 50 are accepted.

“You’re application has been accepted!”

“Woo Hoo! Yes!” I screamed. I jumped for joy. I dropped the phone right there and then and it hit the wood banister it was mounted on. I danced on the spot. I did the Tom Cruise Katie Holmes Oprah couch dance on the couch dance.  I grabbed my peer and danced and jumped up and down for 5 minutes straight! Elation people. Elation. Great feeling. Have you felt it?

I was so happy. Nothing could shake my happy.  I had 2 weeks to respond. I worked my full time job for two weeks. Every day I was excited, but every day I woke in pain. The shooting pains in my hands worsened…

When was a time in your life that you were uncontrollably excited? Did you do the Cuba Downing Jr. dance? The Tom Cruise dance?

Doing the Happy Dance!
Kate

• Listening to: “Your love is King” – Sade
• Locale: Starbucks @ Chapters/Indigo  – still here.
• State of mind: Getting tired.

© 2012 by Kate Flood. All rights reserved

Getting into My Dream Program – Graphic Design

A giant swarming, swirling enveloping cloud of smoke. Cigar smoke. Argh! Hey, I don’t mine a slight poof of  cigar smells sweet. A room full of it, filling my lungs – Ack! And, may I remind you, it’s the late 1990’s. What on earth is this guy doing smoking his lungs out on in a campus office?

I applied to the top 3 schools in Canada at the for Graphic Design – Sheridan, George Brown and Algonquin. I wasn’t as hyped about the “gonq”, however they were the only program with the most modern computers and their labs were equipped with the “new” blue apple G3 towers. Remember those? This, was progressive and too me usually reflects the rest of the staff and programming as well. A friend of mine had graduated the program and raved about the director. I arranged to attend a class a head of time and sit in to observe.  Just as an aside, I remember arranging an appointment at George Brown to go interview them, visit the program and see how it all run. Their reputation at the time was in question. I planned a month in advance, spent the gas money on the 5 hour drive to Toronto only to arrive and they have no idea who I was, or any recollection of any appointment and stood there dumbfounded offering no option.

I piped up and said, “Well, I’m here, might as well meet the director if he’s available. I just drive 5 hours.” “Oh sure, well then, of course, Um follow me.” So the secretary woman walks me down this discoloured yellowed hallway and motions me to hang on a moment. She leans reluctantly into and office and taps on the door frame. Mr. So and So, there’s a young lady here who has driven all the way from Ottawa. She says she interested in attending our graphic design program. There’s a long pause. I’m thinking serious, I’m right there, this guy is not going to let me in? She puts her head down and motions me in. I’m thinking, what on god’s green earth is on the other side of this door! I walk up and turn into the door way and I’m stopped. I’m stopped by the bain of my existence.

A giant swarming, swirling enveloping cloud of smoke. Cigar smoke. Argh! Hey, I don’t mine a slight poof og a cigar smells sweet. A room full of it, filling my lungs – Ack! And, may I remind you, it’s the late 1990’s. What on earth is this guy doing smoking his lungs out on in a campus office? Long gone are the years of teacher’s smoking in the cafeteria like in my elementary days. Hilarious to think of it now right? Ahh. The eighties. They said fashion era’s repeat themselves, I honestly though it would skip over the eighties. I really did. No classy in the eighties unless you were a prep. And, where are we now? The eighties have returned with vengeance. Converse, fluorescent and big glasses. I digress. No wait, people, you know what that means? The ingenuity of the grunge era, and era devoid of any resemblance to any fashion era prior except possibly Le Miserable, is next. Grunge will return.

To be continued…

Have you followed through on your dream? Have you got into the program of your dreams? Have you applied? What are you waiting for? Tell me what your dream program is?

Keep Reading!
Kate

• Listening to: “Smokes Quantity” by Boards of Canada { Who’s mixing this track anyways? }
• Locale: Starbucks @ Chapters/Indigo – 7 hours and counting…
• State of mind: Thank you for the tips Kellie! ; )

© 2012 by Kate Flood. All rights reserved