don’t do this

William J. Gibson

William J. Gibson

For some reason I decided to drive myself a little bit crazy this week.  I was trying to learn two things at once: to get more out of Windows 8 by adding apps and getting familar with apps on my iPad2. Tis a wee bit confusing to do this.

One observation,  numerous times when using the Windows 8 apps I find myself beginning to reach for the screen to swipe only to stop mid gesture because my laptop is not a touch screen.

I like both of these packages.

In some ways the iPad2 wifi 16gb is the better device to bring to dialysis, it is simply less bulky than the laptop.

I am beginning to suspect that the dialysis nurses are growing a little tired of me and my nesting habits at the dialysis chair.  They are impatient to get the setup for starting the dialysis treatment, the insertion of needles in my fistula and a host of machine settings.

I usually have a coffee container, two pens, a clipboard with notepaper, a set of earphones, then either the laptop or the iPad2.  Some days I bring in a paperback or two that I am in the process of reading.  :Plugging in the laptop can take a moment when I squeeze past the chair to reach the wall plugs.  Some patients come in with a set of earphones for the wall mounted tvs.  One ignores tv and brings a single book.  I am the most elaborate nester.  My dialysis run is the longest at 4 hours and 30 minutes.  The others are 3 and 4 hours.

It is a shame that there is no free wifi for patients available to patients in the hospital where the dialysis clinic is situated.

Poem The Waiter’s Name Was Confucius O’Brien

The Waiter’s Name Was Confucius O’Brien

I explained to him what had happened.

Everybody wants to hear the story.

She is not really a difficult person. Well, you know what I mean.

It was after dinner and we were having a couple of drinks.

We were talking and it was one of those

moments when you know exactly what to say,

what the other person needs to hear, to know

to solve at least half their problems, and you

suddenly freeze because they have

the exact same look on their face.

We both stopped talking.

The giant hairy-assed truth in the restaurant

walked up and bit both of us on the neck.

In that moment we both realized one of those green kryptonite truths:

we love our problems.

We love them a lot.  They define us in the coldness of the universe.

We don’t need anyone to tell us what to change.

Everything hung in the balance.

It is like an old West gunfight, who will draw and fire first.

Then we mutually agree to go to commercial and hold our wisdom.

She remained perfect.  I remained flawed but reformable.

The waiter brought us more drinks.

We went out again the next week.

considering a digital hiatus

The second week of January is going to be hell on wheels.  No way around it.  So I am considering indulging a notion of mine that has been bumping agianst my forehead for a couple of months, namely, the taking of a break, a sustained break from the digital texture of the contemporary life.  Kind of climbing out of the warm water of the tub and de-pruning for a while. Part of the blame for this is the thoughtful writing of Craig Johnson when he has Walt Longmire stop and listen and take in the feeling and sound, smell, the whole of the Wyoming scene and its often perverse weather.  Maintaining detailed connection to the land and the air above it.

This evening we had a brief period of freezing rain, that evolved into some wet snow.  The ground now a little treacherous.  This afternoon it was green and bone dry.

This is the time of year when I am glad I was able to change from the mornings to the afternoons for my dialysis treatments.  I never enjoyed convoying with slow snow ploughs on Highway 12 heading over to Midland and then to 93 and Penetanguishene and its hospital where the dialysis clinic lives.  I was glad to get the afternoon, although everytime I glow in that change it quickly slips away when I remember that the reason why I got the opportunity to change to my liking is because the full afternoon dialysis shift had an opening  because a patient died.

I try not to let my dialysis, my kidney failure, be the overwhelming defining fact of my life, but truly the three treatments per week, some 18 hours when you add in driving times and the times to get on the machine and then off the machine after the four and a half hour dialysis run, they seem to me be three enormous boulders in the river of my week.  I have to steer by them in my leaky canoe.  Sometimes I dance in the water on my way, most weeks are more like  impact crash tests and sometimes it is my head not the canoe prow that strikes the three boulders in a row. It has been four years of dialysis and I am still getting the hang of it.

getting close to Christmas

Went shopping today but did not find much that made me dig out my wallet.  I have a very small crew to shop for so it is no great burden.  The problem is that the weather is cosnpiring to defeat the feel of the season.  Today hardly any traces of snow on the ground.  The temperature not balmy by any means, hovering just above the freezing mark, but enough to make the almost frozen over bay to open up again.  On Monday, the weather folk suggest we will receive a high of +8 degrees Celsius.  

I did finally spot a rabbit on my road two nights ago.  I had begun to think that the coyotes we heard last winter had eaten them all.  This December we have not heard the coyotes singing near the cottage.  Atlhough at dialysis this week one of the other patients spoke about the lengthy performance of the coyote chorus near his home in the village about 8 kilometres west of my abode.  Last year was a new experience to hear coyotes.  Never heard them before and with dogs in the household for twelve years, walking at night, late at night, has been  a constant. 

I am successfully avoiding the ten thousand made for tv movies with Christmas themes, although I did spend some time watching a chunk of Miracle on 34th street, the oriiginal with the tiny Natalie Wood, and a few minutes of White Christmas with Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney and Vera Ellen.

I am reading through the Walt Longmire novels by Craig Johnson this month and enjoying them immensely.  They are persuading me to spend more time outdoors, even if it is just standing for five minutes and smelling the air and listening to the non-people sounds around these parts..