There’s no such thing as a slow news day in a small town. Not when you have long-term residents willing to tell you their story and dig up a couple of old photos to go with it.
This “news” article was published in the People section of the Port Elgin Beacon Times on July 28, 1999 when my dad was 85. There are a few mistakes in it, the funniest one being where they say our youngest sister is “Barbara” which isn’t even close to her real name. That’s okay, she likes to remain anonymous.
Dad was the 8th of 10 children, not 9, but his youngest brother died in a bicycle accident when he was just a boy. Maybe dad chose to skip over that part.
Hope you enjoy this little slice of history.
I lived here until I was 5 or 6 so my memories of it are vague. There was a hand pump in the kitchen for water, and we had baths in a big wash tub on the kitchen floor. The next farm-house we lived in had hot and cold running water and a bath tub upstairs. Now if people have fewer than four bathrooms in a house they are likely to complain. How times change.
Yesterday I sat in the waiting room at the specialists office for my follow-up appointment concerning the results of the needle biopsy I had done over two weeks ago. Our holiday in Ontario was wonderful, by the way. I forgot a hundred times that all this was hanging over my head. The time flew by. Time waiting in a doctor’s office does not fly. There were eons of it to look around at all the other people there facing their own worries and battles and challenges. I’m not so special after all. Just another patient to be diagnosed and treated.
And it turns out I’m okay. There is no cancer, there is no lymphoma. Just inflammation from an infection that never cleared. Who knows where or why. Today I start on a course of heavy-duty antibiotics for a month, and return on the 22nd of September to have it all reassessed. The biopsy found nothing. “Nothing” never sounded so good.
You don’t realize how much something is weighing on you until it’s lifted and set aside. The relief is huge. I feel like my life has been given back to me. I know that’s way over the top for drama considering the circumstances, because I would have dealt with a different outcome too, one way or another.
And then this turns out to be the same day Robin Williams decides to end his life. I just don’t get it. We look after the physical body so well, but our mental, emotional and spiritual healing practices need a lot of work. All I know for sure is that no matter how difficult this life might get, I still want to live it.
But maybe that’s because the degree of difficulty has never overwhelmed me. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to battle depression every day of your life.
So are we back to normal here yet? Picking out all the funny little things in life that make us happy? Annoying the hell out of people who have REAL problems?
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