[Nicole:]

Despair isn’t helpful.  Rather, it slows down any progress that could be made.  But I’m unable to avoid the occasional bout of despair as we try to get Bernard some decent help. 

 
This week I’ve been really down about our situation.  I cried at work, on the phone to my friend Kath, with Bernard, and I have basically been grouchy and sad. 

 
Bernard is declining fast.  He now has constant pain even with painkillers.  He is unable to walk or sit, and we need to get him a new MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging).  The last one he had was over two and a half years ago, and his injury has worsened substantially since then.

 
At that time we were in Calgary, Bernard was still working and we even went sailing on occasion, at the Glenmore reservoir in our tiny little sea monkey of a boat called ‘Zee Aapje’.  That seems to have been a whole other lifetime.  Now our days transpire in and around a queen sized bed, and though we try our best to have fun and enjoy life, it has not been at all easy lately.

 
So… he needs a new MRI and other tests too.  We live seven hours from the nearest specialist, who is in Kelowna.  Bernard can no longer travel in my parents’ Jeep, so that makes getting anywhere very difficult.  I’ve been trying to get him help, applying for programs and going to the doctor without him.  This isn’t going to work now.  He needs to be reassessed, and soon. 

 
Our plan was to skip the long waiting list that tends to be a part of getting an MRI, not to mention the difficult trip to yet another specialist just to get on the MRI list.  And, I don’t think we could handle another old school specialist being hasty and indifferent and telling us nothing new.  Instead, we’ve been saving money to go have the MRI from a private clinic.  Our doctor in Nelson said he could book us at one of the private clinics right away. (Family physicians in British Columbia can’t book publicly funded MRI’s.) 

 
But this comes with all sorts of other difficulties.  For example, the closest clinic is in Kelowna, or across the border into the States.  So, it’s either a 7 hour drive to Kelowna in the winter, or a three and a half hour trip to Spokane, WA.  How to get a vehicle that he could travel in?  Borrow?  Barter?  I don’t have a credit card to rent a vehicle with, a fact I now really regret.  And the legality of travelling with him lying in the back of a borrowed vehicle across the U.S. Canada border is also iffy. 

 
I’ve just called Mary, our East Shore health nurse, this morning.  She’s a caring person who may have some advice about what we should do.  Do we call the ambulance and try out the public medical system once again?  They would take him to Cranbrook, nearly three hours from here.  Would they book him for the necessary tests right away and send him on to Calgary for this, or simply send him home with stronger painkillers and another appointment months away?  Who knows.

 
As well, we are going to write a letter to the two specialists we know.  Maybe if we update them on the circumstances, they will consider booking an emergency MRI without Bernard having to make a trip to see them first.  Worth a try… nothing to lose… nada nada nada…  

My dear friend Elena is travelling.  Peru, Ecuador, Columbia….  She’s so little I can’t help worrying about her!  But much like Nkole, Elena has a practical boldness that always seems to carry her through.  And she’s so friendly and so little that people, I think, can’t help but help her.  (I’ve always had the challenging mix of largeness and shyness.) 

Now Elena’s a sweetie.  And she knows I’m not well.  Soooo… she’s sent me a package.  I’ve been anticipating it for weeks… well, months, really, long before it was mailed!  And now, here it is!  Yesterday it came - a mid-sized box just plastered with stamps.  I love stamps… and presents… and parcels in the mail… and the scent of exotic faraway places! 

- Next time: What’s inside?

We’ve got a tiny new kitten.  She’s half Manx, semi-longhaired, tortoise shell and ridiculously cute in a wild, deranged sort of way.  A little whirlwind.  We’ve had her five days and she hasn’t quite gotten a name yet.  The list is at 20 possibilities and growing.  When she was wordlessly placed on my chest my first impression was of a tiny scruffy hyena-monkey.  (That hasn’t changed much.)  As I’m alone much of the day while Nkole is at work, and am greatly restricted in my mobility, she surprised me with what she hoped would be a sweet little companion. 

Five days in, the kitty has indeed proven to be quite affectionate, sometimes aggressively so.  She’s getting used to her strength and her claws and teeth.  So the fact that I’m lying down means I’ve got to learn a little cat psychology and set a few boundaries.  I can’t say I’m much of a disciplinarian, but I feel within my rights to draw the line at claws-out face climbing. 

Much of the time she’s pressed up tight beside me or nestled snugly in the crook of my elbow.  But her favourite position is curled up on my chest or perched confidently on my shoulder as I rest on my side.  This must be her Manxiness.  We’ve read that they are powerful jumpers, and are often to be found perched at the highest point in any room.  For now, though, she prefers to stay very close and warm.