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As I Was Saying ~ In My Letter to My Editor…

So, dearest Jessica...

Now ~ to deal my swelling, tender, painful calves which are a symptom of something, no one yet knows what ~I have to wear compression panty hose.

Otherwise known as medical legwear ~ and trust me, Jess, there's nothing remotely sexy about medical legwear, despite the splashy sales pitch and pictures.

And, they are hell to put on ...

I hate them.

They take 20 minutes to struggle into ~ struggle being the operative word. It's like going to war with your legs first thing in the morning.

And heaven help you if you want to take a shower AFTER you have them on. Forget it. It's impossible. By then, your legs are so swollen and in addition, you're wet ~ no towel can dry you dry enough for these bloody things.

Wet or dry, it doesn't matter. There's no way to get the damn things back on if you try more than 20 minutes after you're up and about. By then, the fluid in my body is trapped in my calves and they're on the swell. Swelling. SWELLING. But there's nothing "swell" about it.


General

A Letter to My Editor…


Dear Jessica ~

Please forgive my not keeping you in the loop.

Last week, my psychiatrist, Dr. Bob, told me simply "to write the year 2010 off."

Sounds pretty prescient, given what's happened since then, but in truth, he is up to speed and I am so sorry you and my readers are not. I am seeing him weekly these days because I'm having so many problems over which I have utterly no control ~ physical health problems. That could be serious.

I wish I knew something. But, I don't. No one does. Yet.

That's what's really driving me crazy. The "not knowing."

Last Monday, I was downtown at two different hospitals and a private radiology clinic ~ to speed things up.

At 7:30 a.m. I had two ultrasounds ~ pelvic and transvaginal ~ then I saw Dr. Bob for an hour, and then I had to have a "possibly cancerous" lesion taken off my face which had to be stitched up and which will leave a small scar.



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My Right Shoe ~ Part One

It all started with my beautiful new shoes. They fit divinely ~ and my feet are not easy to fit.

It's so bad that I dread shopping for shoes ~ and I'm not averse to shopping.

Shoes, however, are not my thing. But I found the perfect store. The perfect size for me. And the perfect price. $49.

So, today, I was wearing my new shoes for the first time.

They're a sleek little number ~ simple, black, with a three-inch heel. Great for walking. A very low ankle boot, really, with a four-inch zipper on the instep. And they don't hurt. Most shoes hurt me, except sneakers.

Perfect, for me...

I had an appointment with Dr. Bob, my psychiatrist, at his office. I like to look nice for him. It gives me a lift. We have a relationship like none other. He notices everything. Inside and out. He never misses a trick.



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Renew. Reflect. Refresh. It’s Fall…

You've heard me say repeatedly how much I thrive on "new beginnings," so you can imagine the buzz I feel following Labour Day when school begins and the evenings begin to crisp.

Autumn is my favourite "new beginning." Besides the "back to school" phenomenon affecting kids, parents, teachers, the economy ~ I love the way autumn looks here in Southern Ontario.



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Free. At Last. For Now…

I'm free. For two luscious weeks. My grading for this term is done. My students are no longer mine... and for the next two weeks, until it begins all over again, I do not have to think too much about school.

Now, I can think about you...

Just you... and a little school. (Teachers are always learning new ways to enhance the learning experience. Teaching, after all, is learning.)

I confess, I have not been keeping up with life at Psych Central. Please forgive me. Quite honestly, I haven't been keeping up with anything or anyone.



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Just Checking In…

Hi, there ~

I hope this post finds all of you coping reasonably well.

End of summer can be a little depressing sometimes.

Solidly, for the last week and until next Monday, August 23, I have been and will be consumed with my "other" life as a college teacher.

It's end of term. Grading papers is weighing me down.

I taught all summer...

So, I'm overwhelmed not only with unpacking, which is endless, but readying myself for the next term. This has been a summer of stress, resilience, adjustment and positive thinking ~ I made gallons and gallons of lemonade.

And now, grading...


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Random Thoughts On Psychoanalysis vs. Psychotherapy…

It was a grey, humid, rainy morning in my new neighbourhood and psychoanalysis was on my mind.

Among other things.

Why psychoanalysis? Simple. I spent 40 minutes reading Daphne Merkin's engaging lead New York Times magazine feature on her 40 years in psychoanalysis.

I've been in psychotherapy for 50 years.

We were both considered "difficult" children...

There is no comparison, though...

Daphne and I have some strong similarities. We're both writers. Both Jewish. Though I was not raised in an Orthodox home. We both were considered "difficult" children. She was sent to her first psychiatrist at age 10. I was 12. But she went the psychoanalytic route. I did not.



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The Power Of Community, Part 2…

Marty and I had quite a few surprises and challenges just before we moved, while some work was being done here.

A gas leak nearly did me in...

All work being done on the house that day had to abruptly stop.

Three people were here.

We all became nauseous...

Until the problem was fixed, they had to leave. I remained. Alone. The main electrical breaker of the house had to be turned off. It was 90 degrees that day.

Yet, wondrous, serendipitious things happened, too...

My trusted licensed natural gas/propane expert, Wayne Zwarych of Earth Energy Systems, came to the rescue.

He has taken care of me and my gas Sobies BBQ for 10 years. He's never let me down. That day, were it not for Wayne, I don't know what would have happened. He saved the day, called the gas company, found out where the problem lay when the Inspector could not and insisted (to this Inspector's supervisor) that my faulty gas valve be replaced. Why am I so lucky?



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The Power Of Community…

When did I last post to you?

Do you remember? I don't. It seems like a lifetime ago.

It was a lifetime ago and all along...

You were in my thoughts, buoying me on with your support...

Now, here I am. In our new house ~ built in 1971 and sadly neglected. A townhouse, in a tiny suburban condominium of only 58 units. Less than 1.2 miles from our "other" house. The house I thought was our "dream" house, but you know what? Dreams change. They're complex, mentally and emotionally. They morph into new dreams and this little townhouse may well turn out be my real dream house. I can't believe it. Every day, we're working relentlessly to make this house ours.

Despite the chaos...

We moved in on July 26. Eleven days ago. We're living amidst unopened boxes, dust, crates of art against the walls, knob-less doors (all were covered in paint and we removed them) and endless revelations we finding ~ imperfections, signs that previous owners did not respect the integrity of this darling little house ~ and all the work that cries to be done if only we could afford to do it. But, it will take time. I'm learning patience. And I'm so happy here ~ because it's a community...



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Anatomy Of A Downsizing ~ Feeling Hopeful, Finally…

On Monday evening, we closed on our new house. It was utter madness.

We received our keys. The electrician and contractors were on call.

We were meeting at the new house to begin the task of transforming it into our own.

We're on a tight budget, so we're painting, mainly. From top to bottom. Citron yellow. And what a difference.

It's already starting to look like home, after only two days...

Colour is magical. And we already have friends.

Last week, when we signed the legal papers, I noticed a familiar name on the condominium board. A woman who had been trying to have a cup of coffee and a chat with me for months. We met through this blog. And last night we dropped in for a visit. She lives just down the street.

We all hit it off instantly. They're wonderful. I'm going to join the condo's "Gardening Committee" ~ can you believe it?

This is magical, too. A miracle. A blessing...