Lorina Stephens's Blog, page 18

Experiences before knee surgery

So here I’m at day four without prescription NSAIDS, the miracle drug which negates most of the pain from arthritis. I was instructed to stop taking NSAIDS seven days prior to surgery, and being a dutiful person have done so.

Well. Last night had me in tears, wondering how I was going to get through the next few days. By evening I was almost unable to walk the pain was so intense, and by the time I shuffled my way into bed I’d completely lost all fortitude and surrendered to tears. Gary, in his resourceful way, quickly went and researched what I could take to alleviate the pain without compromising my system for Wednesday’s surgery, and discovered the only thing I could take was Tylenol x-strength. Right. Did that. And while Tylenol certainly isn’t an NSAID, it quieted the pain enough I was able to finally fall asleep and rest for awhile.

It would seem the next two days are going to be interesting. But I will do this. I have to. Because as of Wednesday my medical team will be pumping me full of wonderful pain-relievers post-surgery and I’ll be on the road to recovery and pain-free mobility.

For those of you following this journey because you’re going to be facing your own knee replacements, be aware it gets worse before it gets better. And that’s okay. Because it is going to get better. I believe that.

In the meantime, I continue to do the pre-op exercises I’ve been given. They aren’t hard. But they can be challenging if you’re unable to fully extend your knee. It’s interesting to lay on the bed, your knee propped on a thick roll of towels, and flex to get a full extension, then hear all the cracking and crunching of the knee, accompanied by a frisson of painful, electric charges from knee to toes. Yep, fun times.

Then there are the leg slides. You start with your legs flat on the bed. Then, with your feet flat to the bed, you slide your legs up to a tight bend, back down, and repeat for however many times you’ve been instructed. In typical fashion, I’m doing more than required, twice a day.

Then you do a gentle hamstring stretch by pressing the back of your knee down into the bed, and repeat several times.

Those same exercises will continue throughout my recovery at home, along with a spate of others.

Grey Bruce Health Services has created a great little video for people having knee replacement surgery, which I’ve appended below.

And that, my dear readers, is the state of the thing for this Sunday, January 13, 2019.

The knees so far

Who cares about my knees?

That just sounds ridiculous: the knees so far. I think to myself, who cares? Apparently quite a few of you do, if the emails I’ve received are any indication. I thank you all for that support. But it would seem many of you are also interested to learn about my progress through this journey because you’re facing the possibility of partial or full knee replacements as well. So, I thought perhaps I’d not only write about writing on my blog, but also blather on about this scary and wonderful journey on which I’ve embarked.

Before surgery there’s all the pre-op

Monday was all about my pre-operation appointment at Grey Bruce Health Services in Owen Sound. I’ve been through that process a few times now, and I still find the professionals involved so very kind, informative, knowledgeable and truly invested in their fields. I arrived at registration at 9:00 a.m., was entered into the system, and then made my way to pre-surgery where a team member organized and directed the many pre-op patients with great humour, consideration and efficiency. Those of us involved in the process came to call the room the Party Room, and laughed whenever we rendezvoused again. There was a great feeling of relaxation and camaraderie which went a long way to alleviating some of the concern and anxiety we all felt. We shared stories, encouraged one another. Complete strangers, all of us, from all manner of backgrounds, and there we were comrades in surgery.

My own first appointment was with cardiology for an ECG, which was required because I have a minor blockage in my aorta which causes a bit of a murmur. Nothing serious, but still has to be monitored, especially in light of my surgery next week. The technician and I joked about bras and boobs and getting older, about being wired for sound, the miracles of technology and the advances I’d seen in my life. The tech seemed so very young to me, which only served to make me realize that I was, in fact, a senior citizen being treated by someone who is an experienced professional in her field.

That awareness continued throughout the day. How do these young kids do these things? And how did I get to be old? But no time to consider that; back to pre-surgery and the Party Room.

Appointments in the Party Room

My next stop of the day was to the anesthetist. I’d seen that lovely fellow four years previous when we were first investigating the possibility of uterine cancer. Nothing about him had changed: the same kind, gentle, informative man, mindful of cold hands and invasion of personal space. He explained in detail about epidural anesthesia, the safety and superiority of it as compared to general anesthesia. I am familiar with epidural anesthesia from the hysterectomy I’d had, so was not at all fussed about it. But still, I was very pleased about all the information this anesthetist gave me. He sent me away with information to read, and directions regarding what prescription drugs I could take the morning of my knee surgery, and when to stop taking others.

After that it was a visit to the physiotherapist, with whom I laughed and discussed positive attitude and fortitude along with all the necessary physiotherapy I had undertaken from the information my surgeon’s office had mailed to me, and would expand after surgery. We agreed a walker would be fine for me to use in the hospital, but would pose a problem during my home care what with dealing with 140 year old uneven floors, and two flights of stairs. Canes, she said, might not give me the kind of support I would require. Instead, I will be renting crutches for my home care recovery, employing all the strategies for use I’ve been given. I will also be seeing a physiotherapist at Bluewater Physiotherapy once a week, who will monitor my progress and continue to expand my repertoire of movement.

Unfortunately, the post-operative physiotherapy will come at a cost, because of a lack of funding. That problem will hopefully be rectified when the new block of funding comes through, and be in time for the next spate of physiotherapy I will require in April.

There was, of course, more paperwork to take away and read.

Then it was to the RN. By now I was really feeling overwhelmed by all the information and direction I’d been given, so that when the RN hit me with the tsunami of what will happen, directions, information, health risks, preventative measures, and thus and so, my sense of buoyancy waned, burbled and sank. She was very kind, but also a no-nonsense kind of woman, which I appreciated and respected. There were sheets and sheets of information, an entire booklet to read, answers to spit out like PFDs thrown into the sea, antiseptic sponges to acquire, strict directions regarding home care, what to watch for in my incision, and the caveat: if you’re running a fever or the leg gets hot and swollen, not to bother having my knight hie me off to emergency, but to call 911 and get an ambulance right away. No fooling around. She looked me right in the eye with that scary mom look, wagged her finger at me, and made me swear to do that. I, of course, took the vow.

Shell-shocked, I shuffled my way around the corner to where Gary waited for me in the Party Room, plunked down in my wheelchair and just sort of stared into space. I think he realized I was totally lost, took my report card (they give you a checklist sheet for all your appointments) and gave it to the administrator who oversaw all our appointments.

From there I mustered my wits, and Gary and I made our way to imaging where xrays were taken of my knees and chest. That was the least pleasant experience because of the pain of my knees. But like all else I got through the session, changed back into civies, and then we headed to our last stop at the lab.

Well, almost the last stop, because of course the lab required I surrender an offering, which I obliged, and was then tapped for blood.

By then it was 1:00 p.m. We were both tired, hungry and in need of a second cup of coffee, so we trundled down the hall to the cafeteria, noshed and caffeinated ourselves, and discussed in a desultory fashion the events of the morning and the strategies we would put in place over the coming days. But the discussion became very sober when one of the women who had been part of our merry band asked if she could sit with us, and we learned about a very serious condition she has, the surgery she would have to undergo, and the complete lack of any support people in her life. We so much wanted to help her, and were so helpless to do anything. I’ve thought of her a great deal since coming home, and wonder how she’s going to cope. And it’s also made me realize that all my anxiety is nothing by comparison to what she’s facing, so best I stop whinging and just get on with things.

What happens in hospital

I learned I will be in hospital for only two nights. The first day I will have a catheter which will be removed fairly quickly to prevent a UTI. My nursing team will try to have me sit up on the edge of the bed, and possibly take my first few steps with a walker.

The second day is all about walking, moving, seeing a physiotherapist and navigating stairs. It’s work. They want to be sure the knee is functioning as it should, and that I’m able to cope. Apparently there will be marvelous pain medication, and I’ve been told by the RN not to worry about addiction, just to take the meds, because studies have proven the body doesn’t heal as quickly or effectively when a person is in pain. She said quite plainly, “Don’t be a martyr.” So I won’t.

I’ve been encouraged to eat a diet high in protein and fiber in order to build strong muscles and bones, to drink lots of fluids in order to counteract the constipating effects of the opiates I’ll be given.

I will apparently have a very large dressing on my incision at first, extending from mid-thigh to mid-shin. This will be changed the second day for a smaller dressing.

The third day I go home if everything’s okay, and the incision isn’t inflamed or infected.

Setting up for Post-surgery

First thing I’ve been told is that I cannot be alone for the first 72 hours. No problem.

Follow up appointments have been booked upon receiving direction from my team: my family doctor for removal of staples; physiotherapist for monitoring and home regimen.

Meals have been prepared ahead of time and put in the freezer, so that food can be just microwaved or heated in the oven. This ensures proper meals and reduces stress on everyone.

Acquisition and adjustment of the crutches I require for the following weeks.

And I’ve read through the mountain of information I’ve received, made notes and calendar reminders. I’ve also had to clear my slate of all business for the next 12 weeks, and then do it all over again April 2 when the right knee is done.

All the dressings and antiseptic wipes have been checked and shelved.

I cannot shower for the first five days until the wound is dry. That part will be icky, but hey, I get new knees.

So, there we are, the first leg (forgive the pun!) of the journey is complete. My surgery happens January 16. I likely won’t post again for some weeks. But I’ll try to keep you posted as I’m able, which may be limited to short bursts on Facebook.

And now you know everything I know.

What I’m up to in 2019

A busy Year

2019 is going to be a busy year for me, lots of positive changes. The major one is I’m having partial knee replacement surgery done on both my knees.

This is a Big Scary Thing for me, but also a Big Hopeful Potty Deal. I think facing uterine cancer surgery was easier than knee surgery, because with the cancer surgery it was either going to be all or nothing, live or die, although I was pretty convinced it was going to be live. Things were very clear. And there was little concern for hope, because things were so defined.

But with the knee surgery what’s happening is hope. And hope is a tenuous thing. You see, for the past decade or so I’ve hoped I would one day be without chronic pain. That I’d be able to walk unimpeded around this wee patch of paradise, our quirky village, go shopping, rummage about in antique shops, immerse myself in gardening without having to drag canes and a bench everywhere I went. To cook over the barbecue or fire-pit without it being an endurance performance.

And now that hope has been extended to me. I’m aware my recovery, and the success of the surgery, lies mostly in my court, that I must continue to be diligent about exercises, and mindful not to push things too far, as I’m wont to do. So, that’s kind of scary. If that makes any sense at all to anyone but me.

So, January 16 I go in for my left knee. Then April 2 for the right knee. I’m told it will take eight to 12 weeks for me to recover and have full function of each new knee, which means it will likely be July or August before I’m mucking about like a fully functioning maniac.

But hey, I’ve got this! I can do this. Best way to deal with the boorattlies is to yell at them, be fearless.

am I still Writing?

You bet I am. So, around being the publisher at Five Rivers Publishing, the administrator for Five Rivers Glass, and dealing with two new knees, I have a new novel coming out September 1: The Rose Guardian. 

Here’s the official promotional blurb:

There is a conversation that should have happened between Vi Cotter and her mother. Now it’s too late.

But sometimes the dead speak through the legacy they leave, and in this case Vi’s mother bequeaths her daughter, among other things, her journals. Do we sometimes seek absolution from the grave? Do we seek reconciliation between the child, the woman, the crone?

In a story of unspoken truths and hidden fears, The Rose Guardian explores the cages we make when we fail to unlock our secrets.

This is a magic realism story, set in Paris, Ontario and Manitoulin. It’s told from three perspectives: Vi Cotter who is an artist, through Una Cotter’s journals, and that of a little girl known as Lettie. It was probably the most difficult thing I’ve ever written, which is astonishing because it took very little research. But what it did require of me was honesty, and crafting a story and characters that rang true. I think I’ve done that. I think this may be the best novel I’ve ever written.

Jeff Minkevics is working on a wonderful cover, one which I think captures the timbre of the novel. As soon as he’s finished it I’ll post it here, and of course put up a page so you, faithful readers, can purchase here or through your favourite online bookseller in trade paperback or ebook.

And Yet More Writing

I know, I know, as if I didn’t have enough to occupy me this year!

I have long wanted to write a novel about the Norse settlement at L’Anse aux Meadows, so I’ve started. It’s very embryonic at the moment. When I’ll have it finished I have no idea. It seems to take me years to finish a novel. But that’s fine.

The working title is Hekja’s Lament. Hekja is a slave who was taken captive with her husband, Haki, by Thorfinn Karlsefni who was an Icelandic trader, around 995AD. She purportedly travelled to what we now suspect was L’Anse aux Meadows with the original Norse settlers.

So, there you have it. Two new knees. Two new novels. 2019.

 

Review: Warlight

by Michael Ondaatje

Warlight is, in my opinion, Ondaatje’s best work to date, and one which will very likely hit the shortlist of, perhaps even garner, several literary accolades.

This is a quiet, unassuming novel, strung with an undercurrent of tension and mystery, even foreboding, revolving around an adolescent boy, Nathaniel, and his sister, Rachel, who are abandoned into the care of a questionable man they call The Moth, and a series of associates who are equally questionable.

The story resolves the identities of the children’s parents, who have allegedly gone off to Singapore on a long-term business engagement, and is set in London, England, during the end of WWII and the subsequent Cold War.

Ondaatje creates characters which should be entirely unbelievable, in surroundings which should be entirely unbelievable. And yet he masterfully sketches them into people you feel you know intimately, without need of questioning plausibility. This is an extraordinary talent and an extraordinary tale.

The prose is gorgeous and yet entirely spare, with a very tight point of view, and rich environmental detail which never diminishes the urgency of the moment.

Truly this is one of the best works of historical fiction I’ve read in many months. Highly recommended.

Wishing you all a festive season

contentment, good health, and prosperity

One of my favourite carols, sung by the The Gesualdo Six in Ely Cathedral.

Review: Son of a Trickster and Trickster Drift

I had to think for awhile about Eden Robinson’s first two novels in her Trickster trilogy, Son of a Trickster, which was shortlisted for the Giller in 2018, and Trickster Drift.

The novels tell the story of Jared, a burned-out kid of mid-adolescence, living on the west coast of Canada in an Haisla Nation family. To say his family dynamics are abusive and dysfunctional would be understatement. With no moral compass but his own sense of compassion, and desire for something better, brighter, he gets by in high school by squeezing cramming sessions of study in between baking and selling pot cookies in order to pay the bills. And when it all becomes too much, he sinks into binge-drinking.

The novels can easily slide into magic realism, even dark urban fantasy. They are relentless in pace and emotional tension, with tight, spare writing that mirrors the desperation of Jared’s life. Certainly, the novels are award-worthy. Not easy to read because of the brutality and hopelessness of the narrative. But most definitely brilliantly written. You could say they are a modern, dark take on J.D. Salinger’s now legendary Catcher in the Rye.

What has given me pause, however—and please understand this in no way is a reflection of the author’s skill—is the classification of these novels. That is to say, they are marketed as YA.

When my daughter-in-law informed me of that, I was, to put it mildly, gobsmacked. What follows in this review-come-commentary, contains many spoilers, so be advised.

Perhaps my problem with the novels is a sign of my own ageing, of carrying with me what is perhaps an outdated compass more suited to senior citizens than current societal standards. But having read these novels I have to wonder about what kind of standards and messages we’re cementing in society, let alone for our youth, particularly First Nations youth, with the promulgation of literature so egregiously violent and lacking in hope.

As a first example I give you Maggie, Jared’s mother. She is a bad-ass junkie of a mother, with a reputation of a witch in the Haisla tradition, whose expertise, besides being able to cast curses and wardings, is to ally herself to a drug-dealing man who has about as much interest in carving out a safe, secure environment for Jared let alone Maggie, as finding a legitimate way to make his way in the world. Maggie swings between fierce love, casual neglect, and outright violence toward her son. The worldview she imparts to Jared is that in order to get by you have to be tougher, stronger, more violent than anyone who opposes you, no boundaries, anything goes. She helps him to deal. She obtains for him a handgun and teaches him how to use it.

As illustration of her complete lack of parenting skills, when she discovers a previous boyfriend, David, was in the act of sadistic, violent torture of her son (kneeling on Jared’s chest so that he could slowly, casually, break the boy’s ribs), her response is to nail David’s feet to the floor with a power-nailer. (I won’t get into the implausibility of sneaking up on someone with a power-nailer.) When she drags Jared out from under David, she then, in a rage and without regard for Jared’s serious injury, commands Jared to nail David’s armpits to the floor. Only after Jared refuses is an EMS team summoned and the boy’s injuries addressed. He then spends his recovery couch-surfing with an elderly neighbour.

The level of egregious violence and written detail regarding this encounter put me in mind of Stieg Larsson’s Millennium Trilogy.

And this is only one example of the relentless onslaught of graphic violence in both novels.

Now, understand, I have no difficulty whatever with this level of violence and darkness in novels for adults. Certainly, I’ve published fiction for adults by authors who write this sort of dark literature. However, I do have a great deal of difficulty with novels of such an explicit and hopeless nature for young adults. I have to ask myself, perhaps in a typically senior fashion, what kind of message does this send to our youth? It’s hard enough finding your way as a young person, particularly today, without creating a normalized view of this sort of violence. And then what about First Nations youth who are, of course, going to want to read work by a First Nations author, particularly literature targeted for exactly their demographic?

That suicide rates, alcohol and substance abuse are rife among our First Nations youth is a national crisis. And then we’re going to introduce this kind of literature to them, let them know it’s okay to read because it’s been cleared by the publishing gatekeepers for them? And then we’re going to expect them to be able to find some sense of hope? That there’s a way out? That there’s maybe something more hopeful in their society and their lives than violence, drug abuse and the endless repetition of that? That they’re told they need to educate themselves, but then read about a young person who is desperately trying to do just that, and who is constantly dragged down not only by drugs and violence, but by the magic of his own culture? That there’s no way out but through violence?

That’s the message in these two books. It’s very clear. As an adult, I can discern, navigate, discuss. But as a young person? Sure, I’m not saying young people aren’t capable of rational thought. But I am saying if you continue to disseminate a message of violence and hopelessness, that’s what you get.

So, at the heart of this categorization of the Trickster Trilogy as YA, I cannot help but feel this is no more than a marketing ploy by the publishers to capitalize on a soaring trend in literature. Ride the YA train to financial gain. The hell with any kind of societal responsibility, particularly to First Nations youth.

Would I recommend the Trickster Trilogy? Most definitely. To adults. But I will never recommend these novels as reading for YA.

Watercolours for sale

I’ve finally update my website and listed a selection of my most recent paintings for sale. All are shipped flat, unframed, via Canada Post Xpresspost, within Canada only.

As I create new paintings, I’ll add those. And as paintings sell, they will be listed as Private Collection, but will remain as part of my portfolio. You can either go directly to my Art page, or click on any of the images below.

If you have any questions about the paintings, just drop me a line. I’ll be pleased to answer.

The gift-giving season commences soon.

Agawa Bay. Watercolour on Arches 300lb cold pressed. 7.5″x22″, unframed
Jack’s Lake. Watercolour on Arches 300lb cold pressed. 7.5″x22″, unframed.

Rain on Dartmoor. Watercolour on Arches 300lb cold pressed. 7.5″x22″, unframed
The Downer Bridge. Watercolour on Arches 300lb cold pressed. 7.5″x22″, unframed. NFS.

 

Isle of Skye. Watercolour on Arches 300lb cold pressed. 7.5″x22″, unframed
Sea gate at Fortress Louisbourg. Watercolour on Arches 300lb cold pressed. 7.5″x22″, unframed

A new novel!

Cry it from the rooftops!

It’s only taken me five years to write, which by comparison to other novels I’ve written is positively light-speed. But at long last I’ve finished The Rose Guardian. 

This novel is a bit of a departure for me, in that it’s not fantasy, historical or even science fiction. The Rose Guardian does slide comfortably into magic realism, but is most definitely mainstream. What have I done, you say? Well, I’ve written what I think is my best work. Yes, yes, of course I would think that. Every writer thinks that about their latest work. But really, it is, and I can hardly wait to share it with you, read what you have to say about The Rose Guardian. 

I sweated over this one. It was by far the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write, which is a bit surprising in that it required little research. What it did require was commitment, a willingness to dig deep, to apply everything I’ve learned about writing, about crafting a believable story and reach into the mind of my reader. To communicate a common experience, and elevate it beyond the common. That was hard.

You want to know what it’s about?

So now I suppose you’re going to want some kind of synopsis, a marketing blurb, right? Oh bother, I do detest having to come up with those, but because you’ve asked….

There is a conversation that should have happened between Vi Cotter and her mother. Now it’s too late.

But sometimes the dead speak through the legacy they leave, and in this case Vi’s mother bequeaths, among other things, her journals. Do we sometimes seek absolution from the grave? Do we seek reconciliation between the child, the woman, the crone?

In a story of unspoken truths and hidden fears, The Rose Guardian explores the cages we make when we fail to unlock our secrets.

When, where and how

The Rose Guardian releases in trade paperback and eBook September 1, 2019 through Five Rivers Publishing. And yes, I do realize that’s my publishing house. But honestly with all the ridiculousness of going through an agent, a medium to large house, it just doesn’t seem sensible to do otherwise than use my own house, and I have a great team in that publishing house.

The cover is being created by Jeff Minkevics, who has promised something quite other. I can hardly wait.

So, in the meantime, you need to go and purchase my latest, Caliban, which released earlier this year. If you order through my website, I’ll personalize it for you. And while you’re shopping why not pick up a copy of From Mountains of Ice, and Shadow Song, maybe my collection of short stories, And the Angels Sang?

Woohoo, I’ve finished another novel! The Rose Guardian. WATCH FOR IT!

New personalization feature for print books!

Great new feature available

My printer now offers a great new feature which allows personalization of any individual print book. So excited about this.

When you order any of my books through this website, you can opt to have your book personalized. All you have to do upon checkout is fill in the message you want to appear, whether you wish me to digitally sign the book, and that information then will appear in your copy, which is drop-shipped directly to you. And it only costs an additional $5.00!

Just in time for seasonal gift giving too!

Did I mention books are wonderful gifts! For the people you care about. For you. For your co-workers. Employees. The barista who makes your coffee every morning while you’re frantic to get to work. The school bus driver. Any bus driver. Random people on the street.

Books, books, books, all personalized. Do it. Do it often.

Tomato Salsa

It’s September, and that means an abundance of succulent, savory-sweet, drip-down-your-chin tomatoes.

One of my favourite pleasures is to be in the garden, weeding, harvesting, and to pick a tomato from the vine, bite into that wonderful fruit warm from the sun, and just let all that flavour burst in my mouth. It feels sinful. And isn’t.

Among my many tomato strategies is to make salsa, which I often ended up using not just as a dip or additive for any number of Mexican-inspired dishes, but also added to pasta or rice, even heated and eaten as a chunky soup.

So without further ado, here’s my concoction for salsa.

Ingredients

8-10 cups chopped tomatoes (I use a plum tomato, but use whatever you have in abundance)

4 red bell peppers, seeded and chopped

2 large white onions, peeled and chopped

2 bulbs garlic, peeled and finely minced

6 lemons or limes or both, zested and juiced

1 cup chopped cilantro or flat leaf parsley

8 jalapeno peppers finely chopped (I leave mine with the seeds, but you may want to remove them for a mild salsa)

Preparation

Combine all ingredients into a large pot over high heat. Bring to the boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 30 minutes.

Ladle into sterile pint jars. Cap tightly and process in a water bath for 15 minutes. Remove from bath and let cool. If you’re using metal lids, they should snap, which indicates a good seal. When the jars are cool, wipe down and store in a cool, dry, dark place until ready to use. Keeps about 10 months. Yields about 7 pint jars.