N.J. Lindquist's Blog, page 8

LoveChild 12: My Mother’s Story

“I'm just kind of taking whatever life gives me and hoping that I make the right decision."

Amy Smart

Margaret MacDonald, my mother, left home when she was 16 to go to the city of Winnipeg, Manitoba, and start a new life. 

On the surface, her story was a simple one.  Eldest child of a 17-year-old mother and a father who'd been shuffled from place to place all his life and never known what we'd consider a normal home life; older sister to three younger brothers; small town girl; daughter of the local barber and pool hall manager, so not exactly upper class; a perfectionist who was embarrassed by never having enough money; a dreamer who longed for something more...

When I look closely at the picture I posted last week of Margaret when she was about nine, her face is the face of my mother, just a bit younger. And I know from her expression that she's concerned about looking her best and she's disappointed in the results.

Her hair! While her brothers had dark curly hair, Margaret had fine, straight, mousy brown hair. Efforts to curl or wave it had no effect, and she hated it.

She also hated that she had no eyebrows.  If there were any hairs where her brows should have been, they were so light as to be virtually nonexistent. 

Margaret did okay at school. She liked history best, and as she grew older, she followed current events as well as you could in those days. She had a few friends. But the village was small and so were opportunities.   

Margaret age 9

Not that Margaret had any ambitions other than to grow up, have a better home and nicer clothes, and eventually have a family of her own. That's what you did in those days if you were a female, and no one encouraged her to think beyond the norm. In fact, her family was basically just trying to survive each day and have a place to live with enough food on the table and half-decent clothes to wear.

She'd turned 16 in March, and had finished grade 10. There was no reason for her to stay in school in longer, and she was old enough to get a job. Maybe even help out her father in providing for everyone. Besides, her parents were looking into a move to Arden, Manitoba (near Neepawa). They were now much closer to the city of Winnipeg, and Margaret saw her chance. 

Margaret longed for a different life. One that would entail nice clothes, jewelry, shoes, and escaping the boredom, angst, and she knew as the daughter of the local barber and pool hall manager. 

It still seems strange to me, but Margaret never learned how to cook or clean or look after younger children. Her mother basically did all that on her own.

As she got older, Mom would talk to me a little about the past. She told me that her mother felt it was easier for her to do her housework herself than to try to get the children to help. Mom said her mother would have everything done by 10:00 a.m., and be out having tea with other women. I think the reality also was that their living space was so small and there were so few possessions that there wasn't all that much to take care of. 

Also, to tell the truth, Mom and her mother never quite got along. Mom was clearly a "Daddy's girl." Whether they had a truly close relationship or she simply felt sorry for him, Mom always spoke of her dad with sadness and regret. 

Making Choices

The Macdonald family moved to Arden a year or so before 1929, but I'm not sure which year they went. I do know that Margaret left home for Winnipeg in the summer of 1927, when she was 16. I think it's possible that she moved to Winnipeg at the same time as her family moved to Arden. I assume Bruce had a barber shop and probably managed the pool hall or did other odd jobs as well. 

I’m not sure if Mom lived with her Aunt Maudie and Uncle Mac right away or if she first lived with her Aunt Ettie and Uncle Bert Hawkes. I know she had spent time with Maudie and Mac before when they lived in Carroll, Manitoba and other locations, but I'm not sure which year they moved to Winnipeg. I think Bert and Ettie were there about this time. Their daughter Leslie (the little girl in the picture in my last post) was a few years younger than Mom, but the two of them were still friends. 

My guess is that Margaret stayed with her Aunt Ettie and Uncle Bert and cousin Leslie for at least the first few years that she was in Winnipeg. 

Many years later, Mom told me that one of her aunts—I assuming Ettie—offered to help her finish high school and then go on to college if she wanted. She chose instead to get a job so that she could buy the clothes, make-up, and jewellery she'd always longed to have. Plus, it was 1927, and society was beginning to change. 

A part of Mom always regretted the choice she made, but when I try, I can honestly envision her as a history professor, but I think that because of her background she'd never have been able to make a different decision. 

Margaret's New Life in Winnipeg

Margaret soon got a job on the switchboard at the large Eaton’s department store in downtown Winnipeg. 

She used her paycheck to buy the latest clothes and make-up, learned to play tennis, went to dances, and lived the life she had dreamed of, with lots of friends, including her cousin Leslie.

It’s funny, but I have no memory of Mom ever doing physical activities other than dancing (which she loved) or walking. However, she told me how much she loved playing tennis when she was in her twenties, and that she was quite good at it. I know when I was fourteen, I played tennis a bit, and it was Mom who showed me how to hold a racquet and how to keep score. She never played with me, though. That was firmly in the past. 

As for snow shoeing, if visualizing her on a tennis court is difficult, the thought of my mother out on a trail wearing snowshoes is almost beyond my ability to imagine. But she did it at least once. I have proof.

Margaret, age 18, in Winnipeg 

Margaret's cousin Leslie Hawkes, age14 or 15

I've no idea how Margaret felt in October of 1929 when she learned that her mother had given birth to her second daughter, Brucie Delores. But I do know that she had more pictures of Brucie than anyone else. Here are a few:

This picture includes the dog Fluffy, which Mom told me about a number of times. I believe they had the dog before she left home, but this is the only picture I found. 

On the back of the picture when Brucie was two, Margaret wrote, "My Dolly."

Brucie at about 6 months with Fluffy on the back step in Arden

Brucie about 9 months on the back step in Arden 

"My Dolly" - Brucie age 2 at their new home in Rossburn

Margaret as a Working Girl

This is a picture of Margaret, age 20, with her Aunt Ettie. Not sure why she's wearing a fur coat while her aunt is wearing a summer dress, but I'm guessing it was because Margaret had either just bought the coat, or she'd been given it by her aunt. 

From this and the previous picture of her also at 20, holding her younger sister Brucie, it’s easy to see that she was well-dressed, with the hairstyles, make-up, and fashions of that time.

And eyebrows. She'd learned how to use an eyebrow pencil to create eyebrows.

She'd also been promoted from the switchboard to being a fulltime salesclerk. And she loved her job!

As the years passed, her Uncle Bert, Aunt Ettie, and cousin Leslie moved to the United States and Margaret became a boarder with her Aunt Maudie and Uncle Mac in the house shown here. She rarely did any cooking or cleaning. She was a working girl!

Her aunt and uncle had no children, so they were happy to have her as well as at least one other boarder. Their home normally included a budgie and a small dog, too. I know they liked cocker spaniels.

Margaret's Family in Rossburn

Meanwhile, Margaret's parents and siblings had made another move, this time to Rossburn, Manitoba, where a fourth son, Terry, was born in November, 1933.  A third daughter, Fay, arrived in December, 1935. 

I'm sure Margaret managed to get to Rossburn to see her family occasionally, but not very often. 

These are two of the earliest pictures of Terry and Fay that I have.

You can also see a bit of their home in Rossburn in the back ground.

The German shepherd's name was Keeno. I assume he came after Fluffy.

Terry with Keeno

Fay

When her sister Fay was born, Margaret was a few months from turning 25.

It must have felt surreal for her 42-year-old mother to be having yet another baby while she remained unmarried and childless. 

Romance

Margaret had never intended or expected to be single. And it wasn't as if she hadn't found someone she wanted to spend her life with, either. 

When she was 19, she'd met a young man named Tommy. They began dating and eventually became engaged. However, there was a huge problem. Tommy was married. Although he and his wife had been separated since before Margaret had met him, his wife was a Roman Catholic and she refused to give him a divorce. 

What was Margaret to do? More time passed. Margaret turned 27 with no indication that Tommy's wife would give him a divorce. 

She'd been a working girl for more than 10 years. Now she had another choice to make. If she wanted a home and family, she'd have to either forget about convention and live with Tommy, or break off her engagement and look for someone else.  

Can You Relate?

Margaret made a life-altering choice when she decided to leave home and get a job rather than finishing school and maybe going to university.

Can you think of any choices your ancestors made that altered the course of their history, and maybe even yours?

Can you see their reasons for making the choices they did in their own background or in the culture of the day?

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LoveChild: Life Lessons from an Ugly Duckling is the story of my struggle to adjust to the life I was given, and my eventual discovery that, not only had I become a swan but, contrary to my perceptions, I had always been one. Though I didn't realize it until many years later, my life was part of a much bigger plan that all made perfect sense.

I'll be blogging my story once a week.

Find links to all these blogs at:

https://www.njlindquist.com/lovechild/

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The post LoveChild 12: My Mother’s Story appeared first on N. J. Lindquist.

LoveChild 11: My Mother’s Parents, Bruce and Alice MacDonald

“You don't stumble upon your heritage. It's there, just waiting to be explored and shared."

Robbie Robertson

Read my post about Bruce's family - Our MacDonald / Casselman Heritage.

Read my post about Alice's family - Our Agnew / Shaw Heritage.

Wapella, Saskatchewan

As I indicated in the two previous posts, Alice was born in Wapella, Saskatchewan, and had lived there all her life, but Bruce was born in Victoria Harbour, Ontario, and had bounced around quite a bit. Part of the time he was with his mother and sister in Buffalo, but more often he was with his mother's family in Ontario or Manitoba. His mother's parents eventually settled in Lauder, Manitoba, and at least one of his uncles (Stephen) also settled in southwestern Manitoba.

According to the 2006 Canadian census, when Bruce was 20, he was living in the Gainsborough / Carievale area in the south east corner of Saskatchewan. That's south west of Lauder, Manitoba (a 50-minute drive by car today), and south of Wapella (about an hour and a half drive today). Of course, travel would have been a lot slower back then.

At that time, Bruce listed his occupation as "labourer" and he was one of five boarders at the home of John and Dora Whitfield. 

I assume he went where he could get jobs, and may have later moved to Wapella for that reason. 

However he got there, the story I've heard is that Alice met Bruce at the Wapella skating rink. Since I discovered that a new skating rink was opened in February, 1909, it's entirely reasonable to guess that Bruce would have visited the new skating rink (perhaps with friends) and thus met Alice.

In any case, Bruce and Alice were married in Wapella on July 15, 1910 (one day after her 17th birthday). Bruce was 26. (Alice was born on July 14, 1893, and Bruce on Oct. 20, 1883.)

Their first child, a daughter, was born in Wapella on March 8, 1911. The little girl was given the name Olive Margaret after Bruce’s sister.

The picture here shows Alice holding Margaret at her christening, a few months after her birth.

And yes, Margaret grew up to become my mother. And her siblings became my uncles and aunts. 

Two years after Mom was born, on September 22nd, 1913, Alice gave birth to a son, James (Jim) Arnold. 

Alice (18) holding Margaret, who is wearing a christening dress

Jim (3-4) and Margaret (5-6)

Margaret with Jim. About 2016-2017.

I have to add that Mom hated this picture. She detested bows, in particular. She didn't like the dress. And the sun in her eyes made her squint. 

I’m sure she wouldn't have kept this picture, but it was one of only two she had of herself as a child. 

Whitewood, Saskatchewan

Not long after Jim was born, Bruce and Alice moved their family west from Wapella to the village of Whitewood, Saskatchewan. 

I'm not sure when it happened, but it might have been with this move, that Bruce stopped being a labourer and became a barber. 

A second son, Mervin Gilbert, was born in Whitewood in August 6, 1915.

Another son, Hugh (Hughie) Lorne, was born on March 12, 1918. 

Jim (7), Margaret (9), Hughie (2), their cousin Leslie (5)

This picture above shows Margaret with her brothers Jim and Hughie on either side of her, and their cousin Leslie next to Hughie. Margaret would have been about nine here, Jim seven, and Hughie two. Leslie, who would have been about five, was the daughter of Alice's older sister Ethel (Ettie) and Bert Hawkes.

Yes, Mom disliked this picture, too. Especially the bow. But also the shapeless dress. And her hair. 

Alice, Bruce holding Hughie, and Mervyn up front

This is the earliest picture Mom had of her dad. I expect he and Alice had a wedding picture, but if so, Mom never had a copy.

It shows Alice (33) and Bruce (42) with Mervyn (seven) and Hughie (four).

As far as I know, the family stayed in Whitewood, where Bruce worked as a barber and Alice looked after her family, until the summer of 1927, when they made another move, to Neepawa, Manitoba, where Bruce had a barbershop and probably a pool hall. They may have actually lived in Arden, which was a village near Neepawa. 

At this point, Mom decided to go to Winnipeg instead of staying with her family. She had turned 16 in March, and graduated from grade 10 in June. She was ready to start a new life.

Neepawa, Manitoba 

Two years after their move to Neepawa, and 11 years after Hughie was born, on October 27, 1929, Alice gave birth to another daughter, Brucie Delores, who was named after her dad.

The picture to the left shows 20-year-old Margaret (Mom), on a rare visit home, holding two-year-old Brucie.

As you can see by this picture, she had managed to ramp up her appearance and style considerably. 

The picture to the right, likely taken the same day as the one of Mom and Brucie, shows Mervyn, Hughie, and Jim.

Mervyn, 16; Hughie, 13; Jim, 18

Rossburn, Manitoba 

Some time in the early 1930s, Bruce and Alice moved again, this time a bit further north and west to Rossburn, Manitoba. I’m not sure of the exact date, but they were there by 1935, as shown by the voter’s list for that year.

Bruce again had a barbershop with an adjoining pool hall. The family lived in a small apartment above.

In November of 1937, Alice gave birth to her fourth son, Thomas Terrance (Terry). 

Two years later, in December of 1939, she had her last child, a daughter they named Alice Fay.

Bruce would have been 56 and Alice 46 when Fay was born. I could be wrong, but given the number of years between Hughie and Brucie, and then Brucie and Terry, I wonder if Alice might have had a few miscarriages. But that's pure speculation based on the fact that Alice's mother as well as many other women back then seemed to have a child every two years. 

When I do the math, it seems that Margaret was 18 when Brucie was born, 26 when Terry was born, and 28 when Fay was born. It must have felt surreal for her to have siblings young enough to be her children. And since she was living in Winnipeg, and travel wasn’t easy in those days, plus her dad never owned a car and she didn't have a driver’s license, she can’t have seen much of them. 

1941 - Ettie, Alice, Terry, Fay. Mac McTaggart?

The picture to the left shows my grandmother Alice's older sister Ethel (Ettie) Hawkes (Leslie's mother) on the left behind Terry, and Alice behind Fay.

 The face in the car window looks like Lorne (Mac) McTaggart, who was married to Alice and Ethel's other sister, Maud (Maudie).

The picture to the right is of Fay and Brucie in 1942.

Bruce, Terry, Brucie, Alice, Fay - August, 1942

The photo here shows Bruce and Alice in August of 1942, with Brucie (13) standing between them, Terry (5) in front, and Fay (3) next to Alice.

The picture below, taken at the same time, is the only one Mom had of just Bruce and Alice together.

Money was always very tight for the MacDonald family. For example, Fay (my aunt Fay) told me that in Rossburn the family lived above the barber shop and pool room, where Bruce worked until midnight each night. 

They had no electricity—just gas lamps.

And there was no running water, either. Alice washed clothes out on the roof at night.

Plus, when it was windy, the whole building moved. 

There were only two bedrooms, each of which held two beds. The youngest three kids were in one room with Alice; the older boys in the other room with Bruce.

Meanwhile, Margaret was in the city of Winnipeg, where she had to make a choice between finishing school (she had grade 10) and getting a job.

Not that difficult a choice in those days, but one she'd continue to question until she was in her eighties.

My maternal grandparents, Bruce and Alice MacDonald, August, 1942 

Can You Relate?

Have you ever sat down and asked your parents, grandparents, or great-grandparents to tell you the story of their lives? And why they made some of the choices they did?

Do you have details like birth/marriage/death dates written down somewhere? It can be really hard to find them after the people who remember accurately are gone.

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LoveChild: Life Lessons from an Ugly Duckling is the story of my struggle to adjust to the life I was given, and my eventual discovery that, not only had I become a swan but, contrary to my perceptions, I had always been one. Though I didn't realize it until many years later, my life was part of a much bigger plan that all made perfect sense.

I'll be blogging my story once a week.

Find links to all these blogs at:

https://www.njlindquist.com/lovechild/

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The post LoveChild 11: My Mother’s Parents, Bruce and Alice MacDonald appeared first on N. J. Lindquist.

Surgery, Breast Cancer, and Me – Part 3

If you missed part 1 of this story, you can read it here.

If you missed part 2 of this story, you can read it here.

“With all due respect to my surgeon, in a perfect world he would be out of a job.”

Russ Ramsey, Struck: One Christian's Reflections on Encountering Death

So Much to Do First!

After learning that I'd be having surgery in eight days, and that I'd need to take it easy for a month or so afterwards, my immediate thought was that I had exactly one week to get a LOT of things done. I made a list of priorities. 

1. Shopping. I'd read enough to know I'd need soft, loose clothes for after the surgery. My fall and winter wardrobe consists of jeans and layered tops (tank tops, flannel shirts, and warm fleece jackets or hoodies (mostly from Marks). I knew the underarm area would be sore and all the seams and so forth wouldn't be good. Plus all my bras were underwire (except for one I'd bought in Sydney the day before we'd left for home when it finally dawned on me (after three weeks) that the reason I was still sore after the biopsy might be because of the wire! Duh!

Two grey and two mauve tops and bottoms that actually worked.

I made a bunch of trips to more than 5 Winners stores in our area in search of a couple of soft tops and pants outfits as well as inexpensive sports bras I hoped would work.

During this time, we also managed to find a birthday present for the grandson who had his 5th birthday coming up soon. It helped that he had told us exactly what he wanted. :-) 

I read all 8 books in this series!

2. Ordering Books. I knew I'd want books to read, so I checked out what was available at our library and found some books I wanted to read. Our library has multiple locations, so I just go online to indicate what I want and they magically transport anything they don't have to the location closest to us.

Yes, I got one book on breast cancer. The rest, however, were all mysteries by some of my favourite authors as well as Ann Cleeves, whose Vera videos we'd enjoyed, and whose books I now wanted to read. 

3. Fall/Winter Changeover.  We'd already started getting rid of things we don't really needed, and our clunky bedroom furniture (that originally belonged to my parents) was on top of the list. Since it was time to put away my summer clothes and get out warmer ones, I found some new hanging shelves and emptied all my drawers!

We also changed over to our winter sheets and warmer comforter, etc. Plus wash anything that needed to be washed. And just generally did anything I might want to have done in the next month or so. 

 Fortunately, Les usually takes care of the garden in the fall. And he's been doing all the cooking and shopping for many years now. 

I actually have all my regular clothes (winter and summer) in this closet. Chest of drawers and dresser are gone!

My new closet shelf unit. 

Part of my office sorting table. My mother kept a lot of newspaper clippings.  

4. Organizing to Write. I'm currently working on a memoir, so I tried to get that organized a bit better, too. I've had a number of bins of materials related to my memoir stacked in my office for months. 

Before my mammogram, we'd decided we needed to begin the process of downsizing and getting better organized.

I'd been keeping my "speaking" or "good" clothes in the closet in my office for years. I moved them to another area to go through later and Les bought a plastic shelf unit to put in the closet for storing memoir items.

Then he brought a large portable white table into my office to use as a sorting place.

I still have bins to go through, but at least I won't have to lift anything for a while.

5. Saturday Book Event. I had previously agreed to read from two books at an event in Brampton that Saturday, so off we went.

I read from my mystery, Shadow of a Butterfly: The Case of the Harmless Old Woman, and "Power Play," my story in the Sisters in Crime Toronto anthology, The Whole SheBang 3.

Les read from his story in Hot Apple Cider with Cinnamon.

Basically, it took most of the day. Probably not worth it, but you never know. I did get a good picture out of it.

I was there as J. A. Menzies, my alter ego. 

Thor is growing so fast!

6. Family. On Sunday, we had supper with our oldest son's family and got to see their Thor, their new puppy (who is growing fast) as well as the younger of our two granddaughters, who was home from university for the weekend. And meeting Thor for the first time!

We also looked after our youngest grandson for a while the Wednesday before my surgery so that his parents could go for an ultrasound to check on their upcoming baby. 

7. Get Some Help! I've known I need help with social media for some time, and the surgery proved to be the impetus I needed to actually find and hire someone to help for the next couple of months. We'll see how it goes after that. 

8. Create Ads. We'd already put a call out for stories for a new book on adoption and fostering, so we had to decide if we still felt up for doing the book and if our timeline was still manageable.

We did, so I spent some time creating a few ads for Facebook. I actually don't mind doing picture stuff, but it is time-consuming.

9. Let More People Know. I updated more people on what exactly was happening with me—including extended family members, some of the writers we've worked with, and some friends.

The Night Before

And then it was the evening of Wednesday, October 17th.

I knew I couldn't eat or drink anything after midnight except for one glass of water, apple juice, or ginger ale before 8:30 a.m. To make sure I didn't forget, I measured 8 ounces of water into a glass and took it upstairs with me and left it next to the sink, where I also keep my synthroid pills.  

I went to bed at about 10:00 p.m. as usual (asleep by 11:00 is my goal) and read for a while. And I slept quite well. I'd done everything I could to prepare, and I felt ready. 

I woke up by 7:00, before my alarm went off, and put on my new mauve pants and matching (more or less) top. 

I got ready to leave, grabbed my synthroid pill, and took it with my glass of water.

At 7:30, Les dropped me off at the hospital (which is three minutes from our house), after which he went swimming at the pool at our community center, which is next door to the hospital. He wouldn't be required until later and planned to skip swimming Friday morning, when he normally goes.

After registering in the main lobby, I went to the small Surgical Waiting Room. An older man and two parents with a young boy were also there. Shortly after 8:00, a nurse came to get all of us. She took us to a hallway where we were given hospital gowns and pants to change into. The little boy got to choose from teddy bears or stripes. This clearly wasn't his first time.  I heard his mother tell the nurse that he wasn't worried about the surgery, but about vomiting afterwards. The nurse told her to mention that to the anaesthesiologist because they could change the anaesthetic. 

After putting my shoes and clothes into a plastic bag, and putting the bag on the floor of a locker, I was ushered into a new small waiting room that already had quite a few people in it. After a while, my name was called and woman who I think was a nurse checked to make sure I was the right person and that I knew what was going to happen, and that I had someone coming to take me home afterwards. I gave her Les's mobile phone number.

She also checked my blood pressure. I think it was a bit high because she asked me why it might be high. I said, "Probably because of being in the hospital waiting for surgery and so forth?"

She nodded and sent me back to the waiting area, where I waited about half an hour.

Wire Insertion

Before I was called to go to the ultrasound area, I'd been waffling about going to the bathroom, thinking that if I did go, they'd call my name for sure. So when she came to get me, I asked if I had time to visit a bathroom on the way. The technician smiled and said, "Sure."

This ultrasound technician was new, but very nice. She quickly got the area in question visible on the screen. I already knew from what they'd said that it was on my left side, at 2:00 o'clock. She called to the radiologist to let her know I was ready.

Since there was no lump—not hard, anyway—the procedure involved placing a tiny wire in the middle of the area with the cancer so that the surgeon would be able to find it easily. 

The radiologist froze the area first—a small sting when the needle went in, but nothing else hurt—and then she basically inserted a needle with a wire in it, and somehow withdrew the needle but not the wire.  

Again, both women were professional but very kind, and made sure I knew what was happening, which, for me, is the main thing. Knowing what the person is doing is key to my feeling comfortable. 

After that, the radiologist left and the technician got me to sit in a wheelchair, and called a volunteer (an older woman) to take me to the nearby Nuclear Medicine area.

Dye Injection

The volunteer passed a couple of waiting rooms and left me in a small hallway, which felt kind of weird. But another woman soon came to get me. She was the technician who would put dye into the mass so the surgeon could take out the affected lymph nodes for a Sentinel Node Biopsy. 

This is done if the tumour is very small and likely hasn’t spread to the lymph nodes, but you need to be certain. The radioactive dye is injected into the cancer mass, and from there travels to the nearest lymph nodes.

During the surgery, the surgeon uses a Geiger counter to find the dye in the first lymph nodes into which the tumour drains ("sentinel" ones), and makes a second incision to take out a few. They are then sent to a lab for testing to see if the cancer has spread to them. 

Using the wire as a guide, the technician used a needle to insert the dye. And yes, I definitely felt a sting (like 10 bees, maybe?) as the dye went into the mass. But it was only for a couple of seconds. 

The technician then put me back into the wheelchair. When I mentioned that I felt cold (and that I'm always cold) she went and got two warm flannel sheets and covered me up. Then she wheeled me back to the surgical waiting area, helped me into a chair, and rearranged the sheets to keep me warm. I'd be in the waiting room for almost two hours because the dye needed that long to travel to the lymph nodes. 

I'd brought a book to read, and I had my iPhone, so I was fine. Eventually, Les found his way to the room (he was misdirected by a volunteer to the far end of the hospital), and sat with me. Which was good because then I could leave the waiting area to go the bathroom without being worried that someone would call for me and I wouldn't be there. 

Surgery

At about 11:15, a young man (I think he was a volunteer) came and took us both to one of several small alcoves off a hallway next to the door into Surgery. I got onto a gurney, which was relatively comfortable, to wait. The young man took the old flannel sheets and got a new, warm one for me.  

After a while, the anaesthesiologist came to see me and checked regarding any allergies, then told me what to expect. Since my last general anaesthetic surgeries were more than thirty years ago, he smiled and told me they had improved the anaesthetics a lot since then. Although to be honest, I didn't remember having any issues. 

The surgeon smiled and waved a couple of times as he went by.

Otherwise, we just waited.

A few minutes before twelve, a nurse came to get me. I took off my glasses and gave them and my purse to Les, and while he was sent back to the lobby waiting area, the nurse wheeled me through the nearby exit doors into a short hallway and into Surgery 2, which looked a lot like the picture below, except that there were at least three nurses already in the room, getting things ready, and there was no operating table in the middle of the room. 

I was wheeled into position in the middle of room. The nurse was really nice, making sure I was comfortable while at the same time positioning my arms at a 90 degree angle. The left arm had to be out of the way for the surgery, which would be on the left side and into the armpit area while the right area would get the IV. 

The anesthesiologist appeared and put an IV into my right hand. He was good. I didn't feel anything.

My doctor walked in and said, "So you didn't change your mind?"  

I had to think for a second. Oh, yes, I'd asked him whether the lumpectomy was enough, and if I should have a mastectomy, and he'd said it was up to me. He'd booked the partial mastectomy but I could change it. I said, "No." I didn't add, I trust you, but I thought it.  

I think he said, "Good." Not sure. To be honest, I was starting to feel a little spaced out.

I heard someone say that the Geiger counter was needed somewhere else, and the doctor said he'd do the Sentinel node biopsy first.  

Meanwhile, the anesthesiologist put a mask over my face. He told me it was just oxygen, and to take a few deep breaths. I'd had a general anesthetic before—for three of my C-sections. I took a deep breath, one more, then another....  

Recovery Room

I woke up an hour or so later in the recovery area. There was a big clock on the wall on the other side of the room where I could see other beds with people in them and a curtain at the side of each bed. I think the clock said it was two, or maybe twenty to two. I no longer remember.

A nurse who was on my right side said my name and asked if I was in pain. Out of 10, with 1 being none and ten being the worst I could imagine, what number was I?

I was barely awake. I didn't really feel any pain. I said, "Two?"

After a moment, I did feel a little twinge, so I said, "Maybe four?"  

The nurse asked if I had someone with me and I told her, "My husband." I think she asked someone to find him; not sure. 

Nurse examining patient in post anesthesia care unit

I was still barely awake and I just wanted her to give me a minute to take in my surroundings and discover how I was. But I felt she was rushing me. 

I felt some pain on my left side where the incision was. I told her the pain was more like a six.

A minute later, she handed me a paper cup with a straw in it and three pills for me to take. Two were large and one was really small. I know one of them was Tylenol 3. I don't know if she told me what the other two where on not.

I took the pills with the water. I saw her leave. After I finished the water, I had no idea what to do with the cup. I could see the nurse across the room with two other nurses. They were all talking to a man. I think he was in pain because they seemed to be concerned about him.

I lay there holding the glass in my right hand. I think the IV needle was still there. Maybe. I knew I was okay, so I waited for the pain to lessen, which it did.

Eventually, someone came over and I gave them the cup. I think I was asked about my husband again. Of course, I didn't know his mobile number. The person said not to worry - they had it written on my chart. Then someone—maybe a volunteer—came to wheel me to the other side of the recovery room. If you think U-shaped, with a nurses' station at the end of the U, that's what it was. There were curtained areas on both sides of the "I" parts.    

She found his name and cell phone number on my chart and I she called him and told him where I was, but he couldn't join me until I'd moved into the second recover area.

I got a new nurse, and I think she told me that the surgery had gone well. As in, the surgeon had done what he set out to do—the lumpectomy and the sentinel node biopsy.

Les showed up eventually. He told me that someone had phoned him in the waiting room to let him know that I could now have a support person.

I'd been feeling okay, but suddenly, I knew I was going to vomit. I think the nurse was still there, because someone handed me a plastic basin, and I did throw up. It was basically clear fluids.

After a bit, I felt better and either Les or someone else brought the bag with my clothes and shoes, and Les helped me dress. I was still feeling a bit queasy, and I said something to Les, who grabbed another basin out of the drawer the first one had been in and handed it to me just in time.  

I just barely managed to not get any on my clothes.

The nurse I'd seen when I was brought over to this side of the recovery room was nowhere in sight, so Les grabbed the first nurse he saw and she looked after the basin.

We waited a bit until I felt ready to leave, but Les grabbed another basin to have in the car just in case.

And then someone was there with my release forms and a sheet with information about my next appointment and a few other things. I already knew what to expect from the pamphlets they'd given me on the pre-op day. And Google.

While Les went to bring the car up front, an older lady (volunteer) came with a wheelchair, and I got into it and was pushed to the front door and Les helped me into our car.

I made it home without throwing up again. But not long after I'd gone upstairs and climbed into bed, I grabbed a plastic bin I'd brought into the room just in case, and made good use of it.

What I couldn't figure out was where all the liquid (it was all just clear liquid) had come from since I'd only had the one cup of water to drink since the night before, but Les said they had likely given me liquids in the IV.  He also said that the vomiting might be my body's way of getting the poisons out. I remembered the little boy's parents saying he was afraid of the vomiting afterwards because he'd had a lot in a previous surgery, and wondered how he was doing.

We hadn't planned for my feeling sick to my stomach, so we had no ginger ale in the house. Les called our oldest son, who lives nearby, and he brought over a couple of bottles, and sipping the ginger ale definitely helped my stomach settle down. 

After that, I went to sleep. It had been two months to the day since the call on August 18th to come back for another mammogram and an ultrasound. Since then, my life had been a bit of a blur. Now, October 18th, the surgery was done, as far as we knew it had gone well, but we wouldn't get the final results for two more weeks. I knew that others were praying for me, and that I trusted God no matter what the results might be. So during those weeks, my plan was to rest, to read, and to let my body—which had been invaded first by cancer and then by the surgeon with his knife—heal. 

To Be Continued...

"Never be ashamed of a scar. It simply means you were stronger than whatever tried to hurt you."

Gilda Radner

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LoveChild: Life Lessons from an Ugly Duckling is the story of my struggle to adjust to the life I was given, and my eventual discovery that, not only had I become a swan but, contrary to my perceptions, I had always been one. Though I didn't realize it until many years later, my life was part of a much bigger plan that all made perfect sense.

I'll be blogging my story once a week.

Find links to all these blogs at:

https://www.njlindquist.com/lovechild/

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The post Surgery, Breast Cancer, and Me – Part 3 appeared first on N. J. Lindquist.

Lovechild 10: Our Agnew / Shaw Heritage

“Do not diminish who you are. Your gender, your heritage, your identity. That's what makes you unique."

 Strong by Kailin Gow

The Agnew Family

I realize this part of my story might be of interest to only a small number of people, so feel free to skip it. My focus isn't on finding out all the details back to forever, but on learning something about the family members who came to Canada and how their stories may have impacted my parents' lives, and therefore, even though I was adopted, my life. 

I also know that my mother would have been fascinated by this, and that there will be others who, like me, find history and understanding people's action fascinating. A few of my readers might even know more about some of the people or their stories, and I hope they'll let me know.  

My mother always told me that some of her mother's ancestors came from France, and from what I've been able to learn through the Internet and from other Agnew descendants, she was likely right. The Agnews seem to have had two origins, one of them Celtic and one of them from some of the Normans who came to England with William the Conqueror and later moved to Ireland before settling in an area on the west coast of Scotland in an area known as Wigtownshire. The name "Agnew" likely came from des Aigneus.

A while ago, I "met" a woman on Ancestry.ca whose grandfather was my mother's uncle. That was weird, because I didn't know my mother had any uncles!

She helped me track my mother's branch of the family back to a Hugh Agnew, born in 1791 in Newry Down, Ireland, who married Isabella Johnson. Isabella was also from Ireland, and their first two children were born there, but the third, Robert, was born in Stoneykirk, Wigtownshire, Scotland, in 1819. They seem to have remained there. According to a census in 1851, Hugh was a surgeon and a farmer of 50 acres. Isabella, died on March 29, 1863, in Sandhead Village, Stoneykirk, Wigtownshire, and Hugh died there on March 15, 1872.

Hugh and Isabella had eight children. Robert, who was their fourth child and eldest son, married another Isabella - Isabella Patterson Walker - who was also from Wigtown. Sadly, Isabella died the same year as Robert's mother (1863), leaving Robert with eight children ages 3 to 18. There is no indication he remarried. A census in 1871, when Robert would have been 52, listed him as an agricultural labourer. 

Robert's second son, James Agnew, would have been 13 when his mother died. Some years later, both Robert and James emigrated to Canada (either 1872 or 1875). It's unclear if James went to Canada and then returned to Scotland to marry or if the arrival date is wrong, but in any case, James (age 23) and Margaret (Maggie) Shaw (age 20) were married in Wigtownshire, Scotland in 1875 and left very soon after that for Canada. Robert, who was then 56, likely went with them. 

The Shaw Family

I traced Maggie's family back to a Samuel Shaw, who was born in County Down, Northern Ireland, in 1796.

I don't know if there was a connection to my father, members of whose Shaw family lived in Ballymacarn (which is in County Down) from the early 1800's until now. There could well be a distant connection.

Anyway, in 1826, when Samuel Shaw was 30, he married Isabella Plunkett, age 30, in County Down. (Yes, Isabella seems to have been a very popular name!!!!) She was also 30, and they were married in County Down although Isabella's parents were Robert Plunkett and Jane McKinzie, from Glasgow. 

Sadly, Samuel died in 1834, at the age of 38, leaving a pregnant Isabella with a six-year-old daughter and a two-year-old son, Andrew. 

In 1852, 20-year-old Andrew married 24-year-old Agnes Haney (Hanny?) in Wigtownshire. A census the year before shows that 23-year-old Agnes was living in Wigtownshire, and was a servant.

Andrew and Agnes had six children, the eldest of whom was Margaret (Maggie) Shaw. Judging by where their children were born, they seem to have moved around Scotland a bit, including Ayrshire, Glasglow, Stewarton, Tobermory, Morvern, and back to Wigtownshire.  

Journey to Canada

My mother had this scrap of the marriage registry for James and Maggie in a small box of keepsakes.

Maggie married James Agnew in 1875 when she was 20 and he was 24.  

Shortly after that, Maggie and James, along with James's dad Robert and Maggie's parents, Andrew and Agnes Shaw, her younger siblings (four brothers and one sister), along with Andrew's mother, Isabella, emigrated to Canada. I'm not sure they all came on the same boat, but the Shaw family came on the S. S. Canadian, which went to Quebec City. They all ended up in Lanark, Ontario (west of Ottawa), which had a lot of Scottish immigrants and was known for lumbering and producing textiles.

After arriving in Canada, James and Maggie's first child, Robert, was born in Lanark in 1876, but died the following year. Two more sons, James and Hugh, were also born in Lanark (April 26, 1878 and January 18, 1881).

Not long after Hugh was born, the family moved to Alexander, Manitoba, just west of Brandon, where the CPR railroad ended at that time. (The Canadian government was building the railroad across Canada to Vancouver.) James worked as a foreman, laying track for the railroad.

Two daughters (Agnes and Maggie) were born in Alexander on March 27, 1883 and April 26, 1884. 

Homesteading in the Northwest Territories

At some point, James had applied for a homestead, and in 1885, the family moved to the land they've been given, which was north of Wapella, Saskatchewan. Maggie's parents and several of her brothers also homesteaded in that area. Wapella is now in southeastern Saskatchewan, but since Saskatchewan didn’t become a province until 1905, it was then called Assiniboine East, Northwest Territories.

They were likely able to take the railroad to Wapella, but they would have used Red River carts to get to their homestead. A granddaughter of the eldest son (James) told me that even the youngest of the children travelled in a Red River cart, which was essentially a wooden cart with two very large wheels. The cart was a rectangle which might have built-up sides, and could carry a pretty heavy load. Two oxen or horses could pull it.   

Not long after they moved to their homestead (May, 1886), Maggie gave birth to another son, David.

He was followed by daughter Ethel Lena (Feb. 8, 1888) and son Herbert (June 4, 1889).

Unfortunately, James was unable to meet the requirements of the Homestead Act and after three years, they lost the farm. 

The Canadian Homestead Act gave 160 acres for free to any male farmer who agreed to cultivate at least 40 acres and to build a permanent dwelling within three years.

I wonder if—while continuing to work for the C. P. R. Railroad—James wasn't able to get a permanent dwelling built, or if he wasn't able to cultivate the land? Which leads me to wonder where they lived during this time and how Maggie managed to look after all those children and the household?

After leaving the homestead, they stayed in the Wapella area. I'm guessing they were helped by Maggie's family.

Maggie gave birth to three more children: daughters Maude Marion (Jan. 11, 1891) and Alice May (July 14, 1893), and son Alfred (Nov. 18, 1894).

James Agnew and Margaret (Maggie) Shaw Agnew, my mother's grandparents. Taken August, 1914.

Maggie's grandmother, Isabella, died in Lanark, Ontario, in 1886. She'd have been 90.

Her mother, Agnes, died in Wapella on Dec. 2, 1889, at age 63.

Her father, Andrew, seems to have remarried in 1892. He died in 1912. 

Robert Agnew, James's father, died in Ontario in Feb. 17, 1892.

My mother also had this notice with her keepsakes.

Margaret (Maggie) Agnew died in Wapella in 1917 from heart problems. She was 62. 

Her death certificate was signed by Samuel Shaw, her brother, who was three years younger and had the homestead that was next to theirs. 

James worked for the C.P.R. until he died from a heart attack at his home in Wapella, on Oct. 9, 1919. He was 67.  

Both James and Maggie were buried in St. Pauls Cemetery in Wapella. 

I Can't Even Imagine!

Looking at the big picture from a woman's perspective, within the space of 19 years, Maggie Shaw got married; sailed across the Atlantic Ocean to Quebec City; travelled (likely by railway) to Lanark, Ontario, gave birth to a son who died; and moved (by railway) with two young children to Alexander, Manitoba, where she gave birth to two more children. From there, with four children under the age of eight, Maggie moved to a homestead in Saskatchewan where she then gave birth to six more children! 

I don't know about you, but having moved across country (Regina to Mississauga, by airplane, staying in hotels until our furniture arrived) with four children about the same ages of Maggie's four, I can't even begin to imagine what it was like for her. All those births and all that moving! And since they were homesteading, my guess is they had a crowded, rudimentary home with barely any furniture for much of the time. Or they might have lived with family who were also homesteading.   

James and Maggie Agnew were my mother's grandparents. Alice May, their youngest daughter, was my mother's mother. Unfortunately, I have no pictures of her or her siblings when they were young. The earliest picture I have of my grandmother is one when my mother was born, which I'll post in my next blog. 

Relatives I Knew

Strangely enough, even though she had all those aunts and uncles and cousins, the only members of my mother's extended family that I knew were my grandmother and two of her sisters and their husbands, Aunt Ettie and Uncle Bert and Aunt Maudie and Uncle Mac. I remember hearing my parents talking about a “Mamie” but I don’t remember meeting her. However, she was married to my grandmother's brother David. 

What I think happened was that most of Alice's brothers and sisters moved away from Saskatchewan, as did Alice herself. Some went to the United States (Rhode Island and California); at least one moved to British Columbia; and only one seems to have stayed in Saskatchewan. Also, many of them died before I was born or when I was very young. 

Plus, in those days, it wasn’t as easy to keep in touch as it is today. Perhaps my grandmother wrote letters, and my mother might have to, for a while. 

Anyway, I'll just mention here that Aunt Ettie was married to Bert Hawke, who started out as a newspaper editor in Broadview, Saskatchewan, but lived in Winnipeg for a time, then Modesto, California, and then Winnipeg. Their daughter Leslie was a few years younger than Mom, but the two of them kept up their friendship all their lives.

Aunt Maudie married Mac MacTaggart, who worked for the railroad as a telegrapher in various towns in Saskatchewan and Manitoba, including Carroll, Manitoba. I’m not sure what year they moved to Winnipeg, but they were there for as long as I can remember, and they also had a long-time boarder, Lorne McShane, who was treated as part of the family.

Next Week: My Maternal Grandparents' Story.

Can You Relate?

I find history fascinating and also frustrating. So many times, I want to fill in the spaces between the facts with the stories. Why did these people board a ship and leave their homes and everyone they knew for a strange country? What happened to James and Maggie's homestead? Why did they all move away? So many questions. And for those who lived more than 100 years ago, there are few answers.

If you have children, do they know about their ancestors?

Do you have family members whose stories should be preserved? if so, could you listen and write them down? Video or record them?

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LoveChild: Life Lessons from an Ugly Duckling is the story of my struggle to adjust to the life I was given, and my eventual discovery that, not only had I become a swan but, contrary to my perceptions, I had always been one. Though I didn't realize it until many years later, my life was part of a much bigger plan that all made perfect sense.

I'll be blogging my story once a week.

Find links to all these blogs at:

https://www.njlindquist.com/lovechild/

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The post Lovechild 10: Our Agnew / Shaw Heritage appeared first on N. J. Lindquist.

Biopsies, Breast Cancer, and Me – Part 2

If you missed Part 1 of this story, you can read it here.

"Breast cancer is being detected at an earlier, more treatable stage these days, largely because women are taking more preventive measures, like self-exams and regular mammograms. And treatment is getting better too."

Elizabeth Hurley

We were driving across the northernmost tip of Newfoundland,  between St. Anthony and Eddie's Cove, when my cell phone rang. 

You have to understand that only members of my immediate family have my cell number, and they usually text. So my first instinct was to ignore the ringing because I do get occasional calls from people trying to sell me something or wrong numbers. 

Then it hit me that I'd given my number to the Breast Health Clinic so— Wait! The doctor who ordered my biopsy was supposed to call me this morning!

The view from our bed and breakfast at L'Anse aux Meadows

When I got the call, we were driving through scrub forest with low mountains in the distance.

Honest, I'd been so busy that morning having breakfast at our B & B, packing up to leave, and doing some tourist things at St. Anthony, that I'd not thought once about the impending call!

I answered on the third ring. 

Yes, it was my doctor, calling as he'd promised he would. He asked how we liked Newfoundland thus far. 

I told him we'd been to L'Anse aux Meadows to see the place where the Norse had first come to Canada, had just visited the Grenfell House Museum in St. Anthony, and were now about to make our way slowly down the west coast to Rocky Harbour.  

And then he told me his news. "I'm sorry," he said, "but you'll be having surgery when you get home." 

We also saw a lot of peat bog that was covered with small flowering plants, many of which are unique to that area of Newfoundland.

 He didn’t use the C-word, but simply said there was definitely a small mass that needed to come out, and that he would see me the Wednesday after we got home.

I said, "Okay," I think I said something about how we could come back sooner if necessary, and he said, "No, enjoy the rest of the trip."

And then we hung up.

As to how I felt? Relieved that I hadn't missed the call and that we'd stayed connected even though we were driving through a sparsely populated area where cell service was a bit iffy. And maybe a tiny bit in shock that it wasn't cyst, but actually cancer.

I now knew I'd be having surgery after we got home. But I had no idea what kind of surgery it would be. Mastectomy? Partial mastectomy? Lymph nodes?

After having supper in Rocky Harbour, we went to our Air B and B in Deer Lake for the night, where I was able to do a bit of online research. Yes, it was concerning, especially since I'd been so sure it was just a cyst. But I talked it over with Les and we decided there was nothing we could do about it and since we had two weeks and two days left of our trip, we might as well try to enjoy it.

My only real concern was that by delaying the surgery the cancer could spread. But I trusted the doctor to have said something if that was the case. I also remembered that a nurse had said that I wouldn't lose my place in the "queue" should I need surgery.

I did send a note to a prayer team I've been part of for 18 years, telling them as much as I knew. But I didn't want to tell anyone else at this point. Not when I didn't really know what to expect myself. 

I was mostly able to shove the thought of the surgery and what it might mean into a little cupboard in my brain and keep the door shut. The only nagging reminder of what was to come was the fact that I was still quite black and blue and sore from the biopsy. And I remained that way for the entire trip. (Sidenote: Do not underwire bras after a biospy. Yes, I learned that the hard way.)

A Not-So-Random Story about Butterflies

We had seen something called the Newfoundland Insectarium while driving by Deer Lake on our way from St. John's and that's partly why we had chosen to stay in Deer Lake that night. So early the next morning we drove the short distance to the building.

This is where I have to back up and tell a short story about something that happened earlier this summer.

We were at the Eaton's Centre this summer and I happened to wander by People's Jewellers. As I took a quick glance into the nearest display, I saw a gorgeous butterfly necklace. It was marked at $300 but on sale for less than $200. Now, I don't buy expensive jewellery (as in anything over about $30). But since I was about four years old, I've believed that God has talked to me. Not all the time, but sometimes. And right at that moment, I felt God telling me I needed to buy that necklace.

I've always loved butterflies, and I've often used them as a concrete example of how we can all become more than we start out as. I even have a butterfly as part of my website's logo. 

Long story short, I didn't buy the necklace that day, but the more I thought about it, the more I felt I needed to buy it as a reminder of God's promise that he is always with us. And eventually I did. Well, Les actually paid for it. Kind of for our anniversary, which is in late August, but really because I felt I needed to have it. 

I was wearing the necklace when I first saw the doctor, and on September 19th when I got the call from him. And I was wearing it the next day when we stopped in at the Insectarium, which turned out to be primarily about butterflies.

So Many Beautiful Butterflies

Just in case I needed a reminder that God was always there for me no matter what, the morning we spent in the Insectarium was that in spades!

Of course, I also updated my prayer team. 

We spent four more days in Newfoundland visiting some of the small fishing communities, including the first English settlement in Cupids, finding seafood places to eat, wandering around Signal Hill in St. John's, and checking out Water Street and George Street, where we found stuffed toys and books for our grandchildren. 

Flight Change

When Les had booked our tickets from St. John's to Sydney, they'd given him a 5:45 a. m. Sunday flight to Halifax followed by an 8:00 a.m. flight to Sydney. A few days before we were to fly, Les got an email saying our flight to Sydney had been changed to 1:00 p.m. Which meant we'd have to get up really early and then sit in the Halifax airport for several hours waiting for the second flight.

It took some doing, but Les eventually convinced them to change our first flight to 10:00 a.m., which got us into Halifax with just enough time to board the smaller plane to Sydney.

So instead of having to get up early and be tired for the rest of the day, we had a restful sleep morning at our B & B, a great breakfast, and then a relaxed trip. Which was good because I was beginning to be a little stressed at that point. It wasn't so much the upcoming surgery as the not knowing exactly what we were dealing with, and how much time I might have.

It seemed to me that if my time here was limited, I could be spending it on better things than being a tourist. But at the same time, I wanted Les to enjoy our trip as much as possible. He's the one who loves to travel to new places, not me, and we'd both wanted to come to Newfoundland and Cape Breton Island.

Fortunately, those thoughts only appeared a few times and never for very long. 

Nova Scotia

The backyard of Les's niece's home (and their dog).

After arriving in Sydney, we drove our rental car to Margaree Valley, where one of Les's nieces and her family live. They'd invited us to use their home as our base.

Although I'd seen pictures of her family, I'd never actually met their three children, or their adorable English springer spaniel, so spending some time with them was terrific. 

We also drove the Cabot Trail and visited some of the towns and villages in the area. And I found some sea glass jewellery for our granddaughters.

I'm not sure where we were at the time, but at some point, I think while we were hiking at one of the bogs on the Cabot Trail, Les and I kind of looked at each other and agreed that we weren't worried. That whatever happened, we'd both be okay with it.

Truro and Dartmouth

On the  last weekend in October, we drove to Dartmouth where we stayed at an amazing B and B, I taught an all-day writing workshop on Saturday, and we had supper on consecutive nights with friends we hadn't seen for a while—in one case, fourteen years!

Oh, between Truro and Dartmouth, Les got to catch up on his swimming since there weren't a lot of pools where we'd been in Newfoundland! He swam in Truro on our way to Dartmouth, then in Halifax and Dartmouth, and again in Truro on our way back to Cape Breton!

I took pictures of the Brad Gushue sign outside the pool in Truro since we hadn't spotted him in St. John's. 

After the drive to Dartmouth, we both felt the need to just rest and catch up on email, etc. so we were able to do that at Les's niece's house, as well as visit with them.

Some time during the next week, I realized that I hadn't been given an appointment time for my next doctor visit. 

I phoned the Breast Heath Centre and was told to come in at 9:30 a. m. on October 10th (the Wednesday after Thanksgiving) to see the doctor, and then at 1:00 p.m. for my pre-surgery. My surgery itself had been booked for Thursday, October 18th. 

At this point, I updated my prayer team and sent an email with the details to my immediate family. 

On our second last day, we drove to Rita's Tea Room for lunch and then walked around the Fortress of Louisbourg before heading to Sydney to look around and have supper before heading to a B & B for our last night.

We flew home the next day, Friday, Sept. 5th, just in time for Thanksgiving weekend. 

That weekend we had a Legacy Pandemic marathon with our youngest son on Sunday and visited with two of our other sons and their families for Thanksgiving dinner on Monday.

The Appointments

Early Wednesday morning, I took Les along to meet with the doctor (as per their recommendation that I bring someone with me). 

The doctor (who is a surgeon) told us that I had Invasive Ductal Carcinoma (i.e. cancer that began in a duct (tube) rather than in a node, and has moved out of the duct, but not far out). It was less than 2 cm in overall size. 

He had booked me for breast-conserving surgery (aka partial mastectomy or lumpectomy) plus Sentinel Node Biopsy to find out whether or not the cancer had spread to the lymph nodes. He said I could request a mastectomy if I thought that was a better option, and I could tell them any time up to two days before the surgery. He also assured me they would do everything possible to ensure a good recovery, and that the chances of a good outcome were identical no matter which route I chose—higher than 90%.

Of course, if they found out after my surgery that the cancer had spread, they could always do a mastectomy later.

I then met two nurses who would be involved with my pre- and post-op care. 

Later that day, I met with an OR nurse for my pre-op appointment. She gave me a huge packet of information—everything from what to expect when you have breast cancer to exercises for after surgery. 

So, basically, that day I interacted with four people, all of whom were really, really nice. I came away feeling that I had the best care I could have. But beyond that, I knew that God has me in his hands, so whatever happens I’m good. (For part of why I believe that, see the story of my oldest son's birth.)

My immediate thought after leaving the hospital was that I had a week to get ready for the surgery, and many, many things I needed to do first.

"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face."

Eleanor Roosevelt

To Be Continued...


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LoveChild: Life Lessons from an Ugly Duckling is the story of my struggle to adjust to the life I was given, and my eventual discovery that, not only had I become a swan but, contrary to my perceptions, I had always been one. Though I didn't realize it until many years later, my life was part of a much bigger plan that all made perfect sense.

I'll be blogging my story once a week.

Find links to all these blogs at:

https://www.njlindquist.com/lovechild/

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The post Biopsies, Breast Cancer, and Me – Part 2 appeared first on N. J. Lindquist.

Mammograms, Breast Cancer, and Me – Part 1

"With over 3 million women battling breast cancer today, everywhere you turn there is a mother, daughter, sister, or friend who has been affected by breast cancer."

Betsey Johnson

When the unexpected happens...I'd been feeling the odd mild stab of pain for a couple of months, but I assumed the cause was indigestion. Acid reflux. I do get that now and then. 

When I got the postcard saying I was due for a mammogram because it had been two years, I made a face. We had a three-day retreat coming up, and a three-week trip planned to Newfoundland and Cape Breton Island. I already had a ton of things to do.

But then I realized it would be better to get the mammogram over with right away. Just in case the stabs of pain weren't because of indigestion...

The dreaded machine.

I can't say I've ever enjoyed going for a mammogram. I mean, seriously, having sensitive parts of my body squished between two cold pieces of metal or plastic isn't my idea of fun. But I've never hated it or found it horribly painful the way some women do. So I can't say I felt any dread. In fact, remembering those stabs of pain, I almost felt relieved. 

Mammogram 1

I called the number on the postcard for an appointment, hopeful I could get it done before our trip. To my surprise, the woman who answered said they had just had a cancellation, and she could book me for that week, Thursday, August 16th.

So off I went. 

The technician was a woman who showed no emotion. I mean, she wasn't unkind at all. It was sort of like being looked after by a robot. She just gave instruction. "Do this..., Do that..." Nothing else. But we were soon finished, and I went on my way after she said not to be concerned if I was called back. 

Within a few days, I got a call from the Breast Health Centre telling me I'd been booked for another mammogram on my left breast as well as an ultrasound for Friday, September 7th. 

Okay, then.

I wasn't worried. Some years ago, I'd had a cyst and I was thinking it very likely that I had another one. At that time, I'd seen a surgeon who had removed the cyst with a large needle. All had been well since.

Mammogram 2 and Ultrasound 1

I had a different mammogram technician this time. This one carried on a bit of a conversation in between instructions, and assured me that getting called back happens a lot, so not to worry. But she was still very professional. I felt I was in good hands. 

The ultrasound technician, another woman, was also very nice as well as very professional. 

Much easier than the ultrasounds I had back when I was pregnant and they made me drink all that water!

Off to Our Retreat

Les and I had booked our spots for a three-day writers' retreat in Guelph, so we drove there on Monday, Sept. 10. It was great to see other writers, some of whom we hadn't seen for a few years. And I've always loved the grounds and the feeling of actually being away from it all. 

However, early the next morning I got a phone call from someone from the Breast Health Centre telling me that based on the ultrasound, the doctor (the same one who had taken care of my earlier cyst) would like to see me at 9:15 Wednesday morning, followed by a biopsy. Was I able to come? 

I hesitated for about three seconds before telling her I'd be there. 

Such a restful place!

Yes, we'd be missing part of the retreat, but we had tickets to fly to Newfoundland early Sunday morning. The sooner we knew what was going on, the better. Of course, we'd cancel the trip if necessary. So we stayed at the retreat until after supper; then drove home Tuesday night. At this point, I told a few people what was happening, but I still wasn't overly concerned. 

I Meet the Doctor

Early the next morning, I went to see the doctor who had been called about my results. He told me that, based on the mammograms and the ultrasound, I had a 50-50 chance of having cancer. He said the ultrasound definitely shows a mass but the fact that he couldn't feel a lump and the fact that the area was painful were both good signs.

Of course, I was still holding out for its being a cyst!

He said he'd see me next Wednesday to tell me the results of the biopsy, and recommended that I bring my husband or someone else with me. I thought that was funny. Did he think I was going to faint or get hysterical? If so, he didn't know me. But I get that that's what they recommend for everyone. And it is good to have support if the news isn't what you want to hear.

I told him we had planned to leave on Sunday for a three-week trip to Newfoundland and asked what we should do. He said to go ahead as planned. He was actually from the Maritimes and had just been there for a visit. He recommended a few places we should see. And then he told the nurse to make sure he called me on my cell phone. 

The Biopsy

After making sure I was comfortable, a new female technician used ultrasound to isolate the problem area and then called a radiologist to come in. They were both very nice and I felt at ease. It was as if everyone was part of my team, and they were all rooting for me to be okay.

The radiologist explained what he'd be doing—first freezing the area, and then inserting a needle into the mass they were concerned about to collect three or four tissue samples that could then be tested for cancer. Yes, the freezing was a bit painful, but I wanted to laugh (but restrained myself) because he sounded so much like my dentist when he puts freezing in to work on a problem tooth. I wondered if they'd had the same person train them. 

I can't imagine how much work it is to look for cancer cells! 

Whatever he used to do the biopsy made a clicking sound, like a stapler, when it cut off and collected the tiny bit of tissue, but I felt no pain.

They told me that the area of the biopsy might be sore for a while, and I walked home. I'd done everything I needed to do. Now we just had to wait. 

Life Goes On

The next day (Thursday) I had two dentist appointments for different things, as well as an unrelated doctor appointment.

Friday, I washed and packed and got a new (Les's old) iPad ready to take with me on the trip so I could use Scrivener (program for writers) and update my websites without having to lug my laptop along. 

Saturday I spent several hours being interviewed by my one of my daughters-in-law about various things related to my adoption and my life. Then I finished packing and watered my indoor plants.

Sunday, we got up at 4:00 a. m. and Son #3 drove us to the airport so we could fly to Newfoundland, the only province we hadn't visited.

Although I couldn't forget about the biopsy altogether (mostly because I was black and blue and it hurt!), I managed to pretty well ignore the reason for the biopsy and its possible results. I've always known that God is with me (see the memoir I'm currently writing for the reasons), and I knew that whatever happened, he and I could handle it. 

To Be Continued...

"My cancer scare changed my life. I’m grateful for every new, healthy day I have. It has helped me prioritize my life."

Olivia Newton-John

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LoveChild: Life Lessons from an Ugly Duckling is the story of my struggle to adjust to the life I was given, and my eventual discovery that, not only had I become a swan but, contrary to my perceptions, I had always been one. Though I didn't realize it until many years later, my life was part of a much bigger plan that all made perfect sense.

I'll be blogging my story once a week.

Find links to all these blogs at:

https://www.njlindquist.com/lovechild/

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The post Mammograms, Breast Cancer, and Me – Part 1 appeared first on N. J. Lindquist.

LoveChild 9: Our MacDonald / Casselman Heritage

“All of our ancestors live within each one of us whether we are aware of it or not.”

Laurence Overmire

My mother's heritage/ancestry was very important to her. She often reminisced about the few stories she'd heard. Especially her father's side of the family. 

So, before we go further, I'm going to share with you some of the things I've learned over the years about my parents' families and ancestry.

I love discovering hints about how people become who they are.

Maybe this is where I should mention that my degree is in psychology as well as English, and although I never actually became a psychologist, (a story for another day) I'm always interested in discovering clues about what makes people who they are. And that most definitely included my parents.

Naturally, the more you know about someone's family and how they were raised, the more clues you have.

However, I’m going from rather limited documentation here. My Uncle Hughie’s oldest son Dale MacDonald and his wife Barbara tracked down a lot of information a number of years ago. I got that from my mother. Some things I tracking down on Ancestry.com, etc. And a  fellow-writer, Gloria Phillips, was a big help. She even found my great grandparents’ wedding certificate!

McDonald/MacDonald Connection

The first person I’m aware of is Duncan McDonald, who was apparently known as Duncan the Civil. He was my mother’s great, great grandfather. He lived in Inverness County, Scotland, and he married Jessie Macdonald from Dornoch, Southerland Shire.

Duncan’s son, Alexander McDonald, was born at Fort Augustus on the Caledonian Canal in 1815. (That’s near Loch Ness for those like me who have no idea where anything is in Scotland.)

Alexander came to Canada in about 1832. (By my math, that would have made him about 17.) According to reports, he became “a big powerful man with black curly hair, a true man and good, a staunch Liberal in politics.” He took part in the rising under William Lyon MacKenzie in 1837, and was forced to flee to the United States for three years until the trouble had passed away.

Alexander married Mary Macpherson, the daughter of Hugh Macpherson and Mary Fraser of Strathcrae/Strathcare. Alexander and his family settled in Ontario, in Dundas Wentworth County, at West Flamboro, Bullock’s corners, where he worked as a blacksmith and their children were born. In 1849 they moved to Puslinch in Wellington County, Ontario.

Alexander was buried in the Crown Cemetery at Puslinch, along with his two sons, John and Hugh. There were at least three girls and two other sons, including Alexander Jr., who was born in 1857.

Casselman Connection

Anna and a large cat

In 1881, at the age of 23, Alexander Jr. married 17-year-old Margaret Ann (Anna) Casselman, the daughter of William and Jane Casselman, in Orillia, Ontario. William was a hotelkeeper, and he and his wife had seven children, of whom Anna was the eldest. 

The picture here shows Anna with their 32-pound cat, who is sitting on the right at the top of the stone wall.

Alexander and Anna Mcdonald/Macdonald

According to his marriage license, Alexander was a “filer” and according to the 1881 Canadian census for Simcoe North, he was a “sawyer,” both occupations being connected with working with saws, sawing wood, and might include working in the logging industry or a sawmill, or even being a carpenter.

Alexander and Anna appear to have made their home in a settlement on Georgian Bay originally called Hogg, but later named Victoria Harbour. There were lumber mills in that area from the 1830s on. The Victoria Harbor Lumber Company was at one point the second-largest lumber mill operation in Canada and the third-largest in North America.

Unfortunately, I haven't been able to get any more information about the Casselman ancestors beyond Anna's parents and their family. 

Alexander and Anna had two children: a daughter, Olive Margaret, who was born in 1881, and a son, William Bruce, born October 20, l883. 

This is the only picture Mom had of her Aunt Olive and her father (Bruce) when they were children. It was taken by a photographer in Orillia, Ontario.

However, in 1885, perhaps soon after this picture was taken, Anna emigrated to the United States with her children, where she lived in Buffalo and worked as a baker while also renting out at least one room to a boarder.

Olive and Bruce McDonald

While Olive and Bruce were with their mother for most of thr time, they seem to have visited or lived at least part of the time with members of Anna’s family. For example, the 1881 Canadian census shows 10-year-old Olive and 8-year-old Bruce living with Anna’s sister, Sarah, and her husband, Dan Grant, in the Orillia area. 

However, the 1900 U. S. census shows both Olive (age 19) and Bruce (age 17) living with their mother in Buffalo, where Olive was a clerk in the bakery and Bruce was attending school. I'm not sure why McDonald became Macdonald, but it did. Anna, Olive, and Bruce used MacDonald on this census.

A 1906 Canadian census shows 20-year-old Bruce McDonald as a boarder in Assiniboine east in Saskatchewan. 

Mom had two photos of Olive when she was young, but none of Bruce. The one on the left shows Olive at 17 (1898), and the one on the right at 20 (1901). 

Olive Margaret MacDonald age 17

Olive Margaret MacDonald age 20

My mother's grandmother, Anna MacDonald, died in California in 1923. They never met. 

I found this poem written in blue ink in large letters on a large yellowed sheet of paper among Mom’s letters. It appears to have been written by Olive and sent to Bruce's family.

Mount Olivet
There’s a quiet little village
Near the Colma Hills
The streets are decked with flowers
But everything is still
Among the quests of Honor
In that quiet little town,
There rests our darling Mother
The dearest in the throng.
Though skies be dark and dreary
And fog be rolling in
When we are called, she’ll greet us
As only a Mama will.

June 15, 1923 OMM

From what I've been able to discover, Mom's grandfather, Alexander McDonald Jr., who she also never met, died at Powasson, Ontario, on April 14th, 1937, where he owned a woodmill. He was buried at the village cemetery. Powasson is just a little south of North Bay, Ontario.

I can only guess why Anna left, or why Alexander seemed to have no interest in his children. Of course, as a writer, I could easily imagine things. But instead, I feel sad because I know his parents actions affected my grandfather and his children—especially my mother. 

SideNotes:

Mom was actually quite proud of the fact that her family had distant connections with a few important Canadians.

Alexander McDonald senior’s mother had two brothers who were killed in the massacre that followed on the battle of Ticonderoga between the French and British in the days of Wolf and Montcalm.

The explorer Simon Fraser was also connected through marriage.

One of the members of the MacDonald family, Black Donald, was with the forces of General Wolf at the capture of Quebec. He was killed in the sortie at St. Foy in March after the fall of Quebec.

John, a son of Duncan the Civil, was a surveyor and civil engineer. He was appointed Sheriff of the County of Hurand and Goderich Ont. John married one of the Ryersons, a relative of Dr. Eggerton Ryerson of the Methodist Church Publishing House Toronto, Ont.

A brother of Duncan the Civil, Jonathan, was a newspaper man and owned the Inverness Courier. 

Dr. John Macdonald, a Gaelic preacher, known as “The Apostle of the North” was also related to the family of Duncan the Civil.

Can you relate?

When family history isn't written down or passed on, it's easy for things—even people—to be lost. Is there a story you need to write down or pass on to your children?

Are there secrets in your family? Or maybe black holes with no information? Could you do some detective work?

LoveChild: Life Lessons from an Ugly Duckling is the story of my struggle to adjust to the life I was given, and my eventual discovery that, not only had I become a swan but, contrary to my perceptions, I had always been one. Though I didn't realize it until many years later, my life was part of a much bigger plan that all made perfect sense.

I'll be blogging my story once a week.

You can find links to all these blogs at:

https://www.njlindquist.com/lovechild/

Have my new posts sent directly to your inbox.

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The post LoveChild 9: Our MacDonald / Casselman Heritage appeared first on N. J. Lindquist.

LoveChild 9: Our MacDonald/Casselman Heritage

“All of our ancestors live within each one of us whether we are aware of it or not.”

Laurence Overmire

My mother's heritage/ancestry was very important to her. She often reminisced about the few stories she'd heard. Especially her father's side of the family. 

So, before we go further, I'm going to share with you some of the things I've learned over the years about my parents' families and ancestry.

I love discovering hints about how people become who they are.

Maybe this is where I should mention that my degree is in psychology as well as English, and although I never actually became a psychologist, (a story for another day) I'm always interested in discovering clues about what makes people who they are. And that most definitely included my parents.

Naturally, the more you know about someone's family and how they were raised, the more clues you have.

However, I’m going from rather limited documentation here. My Uncle Hughie’s oldest son Dale MacDonald and his wife Barbara tracked down a lot of information a number of years ago. I got that from my mother. Some things I tracking down on Ancestry.com, etc. And a  fellow-writer, Gloria Phillips, was a big help. She even found my great grandparents’ wedding certificate!

McDonald/MacDonald Connection

The first person I’m aware of is Duncan McDonald, who was apparently known as Duncan the Civil. He was my mother’s great, great grandfather. He lived in Inverness County, Scotland, and he married Jessie Macdonald from Dornoch, Southerland Shire.

Duncan’s son, Alexander McDonald, was born at Fort Augustus on the Caledonian Canal in 1815. (That’s near Loch Ness for those like me who have no idea where anything is in Scotland.)

Alexander came to Canada in about 1832. (By my math, that would have made him about 17.) According to reports, he became “a big powerful man with black curly hair, a true man and good, a staunch Liberal in politics.” He took part in the rising under William Lyon MacKenzie in 1837, and was forced to flee to the United States for three years until the trouble had passed away.

Alexander married Mary Macpherson, the daughter of Hugh Macpherson and Mary Fraser of Strathcrae/Strathcare. Alexander and his family settled in Ontario, in Dundas Wentworth County, at West Flamboro, Bullock’s corners, where he worked as a blacksmith and their children were born. In 1849 they moved to Puslinch in Wellington County, Ontario.

Alexander was buried in the Crown Cemetery at Puslinch, along with his two sons, John and Hugh. There were at least three girls and two other sons, including Alexander Jr., who was born in 1857.

Casselman Connection

Anna and a large cat

In 1881, at the age of 23, Alexander Jr. married 17-year-old Margaret Ann (Anna) Casselman, the daughter of William and Jane Casselman, in Orillia, Ontario. William was a hotelkeeper, and he and his wife had seven children, of whom Anna was the eldest. 

The picture here shows Anna with their 32-pound cat, who is sitting on the right at the top of the stone wall.

Alexander and Anna Mcdonald/Macdonald

According to his marriage license, Alexander was a “filer” and according to the 1881 Canadian census for Simcoe North, he was a “sawyer,” both occupations being connected with working with saws, sawing wood, and might include working in the logging industry or a sawmill, or even being a carpenter.

Alexander and Anna appear to have made their home in a settlement on Georgian Bay originally called Hogg, but later named Victoria Harbour. There were lumber mills in that area from the 1830s on. The Victoria Harbor Lumber Company was at one point the second-largest lumber mill operation in Canada and the third-largest in North America.

Unfortunately, I haven't been able to get any more information about the Casselman ancestors beyond Anna's parents and their family. 

Alexander and Anna had two children: a daughter, Olive Margaret, who was born in 1881, and a son, William Bruce, born October 20, l883. 

This is the only picture Mom had of her Aunt Olive and her father (Bruce) when they were children. It was taken by a photographer in Orillia, Ontario.

However, in 1985, perhaps soon after this picture was taken, Anna emigrated to the United States with her children, where she lived in Buffalo and worked as a baker while also renting out at least one room to a boarder.

Olive and Bruce McDonald

While Olive and Bruce were with their mother for most of thr time, they seem to have visited or lived at least part of the time with members of Anna’s family. For example, the 1881 Canadian census shows 10-year-old Olive and 8-year-old Bruce living with Anna’s sister, Sarah, and her husband, Dan Grant, in the Orillia area. 

However, the 1900 U. S. census shows both Olive (age 19) and Bruce (age 17) living with their mother in Buffalo, where Olive was a clerk in the bakery and Bruce was attending school. I'm not sure why McDonald became Macdonald, but it did. Anna, Olive, and Bruce used MacDonald on this census.

A 1906 Canadian census shows 20-year-old Bruce McDonald as a boarder in Assiniboine east in Saskatchewan. 

Mom had two photos of Olive when she was young, but none of Bruce. The one on the left shows Olive at 17 (1898), and the one on the right at 20 (1901). 

Olive Margaret MacDonald age 17

Olive Margaret MacDonald age 20

My mother's grandmother, Anna MacDonald, died in California in 1923. They never met. 

I found this poem written in blue ink in large letters on a large yellowed sheet of paper among Mom’s letters. It appears to have been written by Olive and sent to Bruce's family.

Mount Olivet
There’s a quiet little village
Near the Colma Hills
The streets are decked with flowers
But everything is still
Among the quests of Honor
In that quiet little town,
There rests our darling Mother
The dearest in the throng.
Though skies be dark and dreary
And fog be rolling in
When we are called, she’ll greet us
As only a Mama will.

June 15, 1923 OMM

From what I've been able to discover, Mom's grandfather, Alexander McDonald Jr., who she also never met, died at Powasson, Ontario, on April 14th, 1937, where he owned a woodmill. He was buried at the village cemetery. Powasson is just a little south of North Bay, Ontario.

I can only guess why Anna left, or why Alexander seemed to have no interest in his children. Of course, as a writer, I could easily imagine things. But instead, I feel sad because I know his parents actions affected my grandfather and his children—especially my mother. 

SideNotes:

Mom was actually quite proud of the fact that her family had distant connections with a few important Canadians.

Alexander McDonald senior’s mother had two brothers who were killed in the massacre that followed on the battle of Ticonderoga between the French and British in the days of Wolf and Montcalm.

The explorer Simon Fraser was also connected through marriage.

One of the members of the MacDonald family, Black Donald, was with the forces of General Wolf at the capture of Quebec. He was killed in the sortie at St. Foy in March after the fall of Quebec.

John, a son of Duncan the Civil, was a surveyor and civil engineer. He was appointed Sheriff of the County of Hurand and Goderich Ont. John married one of the Ryersons, a relative of Dr. Eggerton Ryerson of the Methodist Church Publishing House Toronto, Ont.

A brother of Duncan the Civil, Jonathan, was a newspaper man and owned the Inverness Courier. 

Dr. John Macdonald, a Gaelic preacher, known as “The Apostle of the North” was also related to the family of Duncan the Civil.

Can you relate?

When family history isn't written down or passed on, it's easy for things—even people—to be lost. Is there a story you need to write down or pass on to your children?

Are there secrets in your family? Or maybe black holes with no information? Could you do some detective work?

LoveChild: Life Lessons from an Ugly Duckling is the story of my struggle to adjust to the life I was given, and my eventual discovery that, not only had I become a swan but, contrary to my perceptions, I had always been one. Though I didn't realize it until many years later, my life was part of a much bigger plan that all made perfect sense.

I'll be blogging my story once a week.

You can find links to all these blogs at:

https://www.njlindquist.com/lovechild/

Have my new posts sent directly to your inbox.

Sign Up to Have All My New Posts Sent to Your Inbox

The post LoveChild 9: Our MacDonald/Casselman Heritage appeared first on N. J. Lindquist.

LoveChild 8: My Extended Family

“Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe,

call it a family.  Whatever you call it,

 whoever you are, you need one.”

Jane Howard, "Families"

Of course, my parents weren't all alone in the world. So I also gained two new extended families. While none of them lived near us during my first year, they did impact my life as well as my parents' lives.  

Fortunately, both families accepted me as if I had been Bob and Margaret’s natural daughter, and gradually my life became intricately woven into theirs. Their stories became mine. 

Mom's family:

From left, Mom and me, Fay, Granny MacDonald, Brucie, and Terry

Mom was actually the eldest of seven children. The photo above shows Mom and me with her mother (my grandmother) and Mom's three youngest siblings. Mom was actually 18 years older than Brucie, the eldest of the three youngest MacDonald kids. 

My grandfather (Mom's dad) had died eight years before I was born.

From left, Hughie, Jim, and Mervin, with Terry in front.

Mom also had three brothers who were closer to her age.

This picture of all four of Mom’s brothers was taken a couple of years before my birth. 

There’s no picture of me with him, but Jim, who was just a year younger than Mom, actually came to help out when I arrived. He’d been married but divorced shortly after, and he never remarried.

Hughie and Mervin were also married by the time I was born. Hughie had two sons, one of whom was only a year older than me, while Mervin had one son two years older than me.

Mom also had two aunts—her mother's sisters—who she was very close to. Auntie Ettie and Auntie Maudie. Aunt Ettie and Uncle Bert had one daughter, Leslie, who was a bit younger than Mom, but old enough to be friends.  Auntie Maudie and Uncle Mac MacTaggart had no children. but they did have a long-term boarder, Lorne McShane, who was like part of the family.

Aunt Maudie, Aunt Ettie, Uncle Mac, and Uncle Bert. I was 10 when this picture was taken..

Dad's family:

Granny Shaw holding me with Mom (Margaret Shaw).

As for my dad's family, when I arrived, his mother, who I called Granny Shaw, was 74 years old. She’d been a widow for quite a few years by then, so I never knew either of my grandfathers.

The picture here shows Mom with Granny Shaw holding me. I was between four and five months old. (We all look pretty serious.)

My dad was actually the second youngest of 12, 10 of whom survived to adulthood. So I had a large number of aunts and uncles. And several of them had large families, too. 

This picture below of my dad and his siblings was taken at a Shaw family gathering when I was seven. His second oldest brother, Bill, had died the year I was born. This is one of the more casual photos taken of them. I believe it was Granny Shaw's 80th birthday.

George, Agnes, Bob, Grace, Jean, Granny Shaw, Lorne, Margaret, Walter, Sarah. 

As you might guess, I had a lot of "Shaw" cousins, all but one of whom were older than me. Some were quite a bit older. In fact, some of my cousins were closer to my parents' age, and were good friends with them.

But the people we saw the most, besides Granny Shaw, were my dad's older sister, my Aunt Margaret (third from the right in the group picture above), and her husband, Uncle Albert. That was largely because Granny Shaw lived with them in Brandon.

Since Aunt Margaret and Uncle Albert were older and had no children of their own, and since neither of my grandfathers was living when I was born, I definitely thought of Uncle Albert as my surrogate grandfather. 

However, I can't find a single picture of me with either of them. And very few pictures of them of any kind. The one here was taken some years before I was born. 

Similarities and differences:

You might suspect from the pictures that Mom's and Dad's families didn't have a lot in common. You'd be right. For example, while the women in Mom's family were into fashion and make-up, most of the women in Dad's family wore little or no make-up and weren't interested in having the latest styles. The two families also differed on things like dancing and women smoking. 

Not only that, but Mom was the oldest in her family, while Dad was the second youngest, but the youngest boy.

These and other differences and how they impacted not only my parents but me, are why I'm going to spend the next few weeks going into more detail about my extended family before I relate how my parents met and a bit about their lives before me.  

Can you relate?

Do you have a large or small extended family?

Were/are there any family members from your extended family who you were/are especially close to?

Were the members of your parent's families alike or very different? How did that impact you? 

LoveChild: Life Lessons from an Ugly Duckling is the story of my struggle to adjust to the life I was given, and my eventual discovery that, not only had I become a swan but, contrary to my perceptions, I had always been one. Though I didn't realize it until many years later, my life was part of a much bigger plan that all made perfect sense.

I'll be blogging my story once a week.

You can find links to all these blogs at:

https://www.njlindquist.com/lovechild/

Have my new posts sent directly to your inbox.

Sign Up to Have All My New Posts Sent to Your Inbox

The post LoveChild 8: My Extended Family appeared first on N. J. Lindquist.

LoveChild 7: My Extended Family

“Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe,

call it a family.  Whatever you call it,

 whoever you are, you need one.”

Jane Howard, "Families"

Of course, my parents weren't all alone in the world. So I also gained two new extended families. While none of them lived near us during my first year, they did impact my life as well as my parents' lives.  

Fortunately, both families accepted me as if I had been Bob and Margaret’s natural daughter, and gradually my life became intricately woven into theirs. Their stories became mine. 

Mom's family:

From left, Mom and me, Fay, Granny MacDonald, Brucie, and Terry

Mom was actually the eldest of seven children. The photo above shows Mom and me with her mother (my grandmother) and Mom's three youngest siblings. Mom was actually 18 years older than Brucie, the eldest of the three youngest MacDonald kids. 

My grandfather (Mom's dad) had died eight years before I was born.

From left, Hughie, Jim, and Mervin, with Terry in front.

Mom also had three brothers who were closer to her age.

This picture of all four of Mom’s brothers was taken a couple of years before my birth. 

There’s no picture of me with him, but Jim, who was just a year younger than Mom, actually came to help out when I arrived. He’d been married but divorced shortly after, and he never remarried.

Hughie and Mervin were also married by the time I was born. Hughie had two sons, one of whom was only a year older than me, while Mervin had one son two years older than me.

Mom also had two aunts—her mother's sisters—who she was very close to. Auntie Ettie and Auntie Maudie. Aunt Ettie and Uncle Bert had one daughter, Leslie, who was a bit younger than Mom, but old enough to be friends.  Auntie Maudie and Uncle Mac MacTaggart had no children. but they did have a long-term boarder, Lorne McShane, who was like part of the family.

Aunt Maudie, Aunt Ettie, Uncle Mac, and Uncle Bert. I was 10 when this picture was taken..

Dad's family:

Granny Shaw holding me with Mom (Margaret Shaw).

As for my dad's family, when I arrived, his mother, who I called Granny Shaw, was 74 years old. She’d been a widow for quite a few years by then, so I never knew either of my grandfathers.

The picture here shows Mom with Granny Shaw holding me. I was between four and five months old. (We all look pretty serious.)

My dad was actually the second youngest of 13, 10 of whom survived to adulthood. So I had a large number of aunts and uncles. And several of them had large families, too. 

This picture below of my dad and his siblings was taken at a Shaw family gathering when I was seven. His second oldest brother, Bill, had died the year I was born. This is one of the more casual photos taken of them. I believe it was Granny Shaw's 80th birthday.

George, Agnes, Bob, Grace, Jean, Granny Shaw, Lorne, Margaret, Walter, Sarah. 

As you might guess, I had a lot of "Shaw" cousins, all but one of whom were older than me. Some were quite a bit older. In fact, some of my cousins were closer to my parents' age, and were good friends with them.

But the people we saw the most, besides Granny Shaw, were my dad's older sister, my Aunt Margaret (third from the right in the group picture above), and her husband, Uncle Albert. That was largely because Granny Shaw lived with them in Brandon.

Since Aunt Margaret and Uncle Albert were older and had no children of their own, and since neither of my grandfathers was living when I was born, I definitely thought of Uncle Albert as my surrogate grandfather. 

However, I can't find a single picture of me with either of them. And very few pictures of them of any kind. The one here was taken some years before I was born. 

Similarities and differences:

You might suspect from the pictures that Mom's and Dad's families didn't have a lot in common. You'd be right. For example, while the women in Mom's family were into fashion and make-up, most of the women in Dad's family wore little or no make-up and weren't interested in having the latest styles. The two families also differed on things like dancing and women smoking. 

Not only that, but Mom was the oldest in her family, while Dad was the second youngest, but the youngest boy.

These and other differences and how they impacted not only my parents but me, are why I'm going to spend the next few weeks going into more detail about my extended family before I relate how my parents met and a bit about their lives before me.  

Can you relate?

Do you have a large or small extended family?

Were/are there any family members from your extended family who you were/are especially close to?

Were the members of your parent's families alike or very different? How did that impact you? 

LoveChild: Life Lessons from an Ugly Duckling is the story of my struggle to adjust to the life I was given, and my eventual discovery that, not only had I become a swan but, contrary to my perceptions, I had always been one. Though I didn't realize it until many years later, my life was part of a much bigger plan that all made perfect sense.

I'll be blogging my story once a week.

You can find links to all these blogs at:

https://www.njlindquist.com/lovechild/

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The post LoveChild 7: My Extended Family appeared first on N. J. Lindquist.