HEART and STROKE SAGA III

On Wednesday, December 13^th at approximately 7:45am EST or 4:45am PST (the time zone Ron’s and my biological clocks are attuned to) we entered the Salle de bal Victoria Ballroom on the second floor of the downtown Ottawa Marriott Hotel. The buffet breakfast was in full swing, but we were still in time for food and the opening remarks of the new head of the Scientific Review Committee of the Heart and Stroke Foundation. At 8:30 EST the large gathering dispersed and headed for their appropriate committee rooms—Ron to the Salon Albert and me across the hall from him, to the Salon Laurier. Both rooms were located on the Lower Level or Niveau inférieur. (I think the French appellation here is a bit insulting, n’est-ce pas?)

This year Ron was assigned to the Basic science stroke/neurophysiology/neuroregulation Committee while I was assigned to one of two committees devoted to Clinical cardiovascular and cerebrovascular research. Each committee had a Chair and a Deputy Chair and the members came from all parts of the country. On my committee both the Chair and the Deputy Chair were female as were the majority of the committee members. On Ron’s committee the opposite gender distribution was the case.

My committee had 39 applications to consider within a day and a half. Each application was summarized and judged on its merits by two committee members who had been assigned beforehand to do so. After their presentations, the debate began, with each application ultimately being awarded a numerical score from 1 – 5, with marks of 3.5 or better deemed to fall in the fundable range. There was little time for chitchat. Everyone got right down to the business at hand. I was impressed by the quality of the discussion and the energy and conscientiousness of my committee. We broke twice for coffee and once for lunch. However, by 6 pm everyone was ready to call it quits for the night.

The next morning the committees regrouped at 8 am, starting with a working continental breakfast served in their committee rooms. I cannot remember exactly when my group wrapped up. I think it was around 12:30 pm. Most of the members had their luggage with them, ready to go, to catch their flights home. Fortunately the weather, although frigid, was sunny, and there were no problems at the airport. Ron’s committee continued working until 2pm, at which time he and I met and chatted with the HSF staff. Our return flight was not scheduled to leave until the following day at 6:30 pm EST.  

Our room at the hotel was #722, one of the rooms which the Ottawa Marriott has refurbished to accommodate disabled patrons. Essentially this means that the bathroom has a roll-in shower and a tilting mirror to accommodate guests who use wheelchairs. When Ron and I first arrived at the Marriott three years ago, #722 was one of two rooms we ended up occupying. We had one room for showering, #722, and another room diagonally across the hall for sleeping and using the toilet. In the intervening years the hotel had addressed a number of Ron’s earlier criticisms.

1. #722’s bathroom room now had handle grips on both sides of the toilet, and

2. It now had two double beds for sleeping instead of a single double.

Nonetheless, the hotel still does not stock bed bars but Ron was able to improvise with one of the dining room chairs from the salle de bal Victoria which had a handle grip on the top of the chair’s back.

As Ron continually points out to hotel management in the establishments we have patronised since his stroke five years ago, a bed bar is a simple, inexpensive device which is indispensable for handicapped people, especially when they, like him, do not have the proper use of one side of their body. Ron’s right arm and leg still suffer from the after effects of his brain attack. He has to wear a brace in his right foot which slips into his shoe permitting him to walk short distances with the use of a cane; he is still only able to type with the thumb and index finger of his left hand; and he needs a bed bar so that he can pull himself upright in bed.

I doubt if there is a hotel or motel in Canada which does not have a crib or a high chair, but we have yet to find one with a bed bar.

In half-hearted defence of hotel management, most of whom belong to the class of people Linda Ferron terms “the temporarily ENabled”, I will say that, prior to Ron’s stroke, I had never heard of a bed bar either. Nor would I have been able to pick one out at a Red Cross Medical Equipment Rental Store. For those of you who have never seen one a bed bar is constructed out of aluminum for easy manipulation; it is sort of U-shaped with two long ends which attach to a handle bar and slip between a box spring and a mattress.

However, there was another problem with room #722, one which we only became cognizant of on the last night of our current stay. While I was freezing my ears and the tip of my nose, walking the three long blocks to the Parliament Buildings in minus 29 degrees (wind chill included) to check out the skating rink on the hill established to celebrate Canada’s 150^th anniversary, and, while Ron was conferring with Jean Woo, the seventh floor filled up with the parents and siblings of nine-year-old boys. The lads and their families were in Ottawa to take part in hockey games to be played on the outdoor rink on Parliament Hill over the weekend.

Ron and I remained innocent of their presence until approximately 8pm when the whole gang arrived on the floor after dinner, with much whooping and hollering. We figured the kids would probably settle down around nine and peace would reign. By 9:30 pm the rectangular hallway which accesses all the rooms on the floor was still being used as a race track for shrieking children. By this time I decided it was time to play the Grinch and dampen spirits. I donned a T-shirt over my night dress and stepped into the hall where I was greeted by a gaggle of parents who were drinking straight vodka from hotel glasses. When I voiced my complaint one of the moms said:

            “Wow. We didn’t know there was anyone else here. They told us at the desk that this was the team floor.”

            “Well, try to keep it down,” I grumbled. “Some of us need to sleep.”

            By 10 pm, after a couple of calls to the front desk and a couple of subsequent visits to the floor by the manager, I nodded off to dreamland. (I always use ear plugs.) I believe that Ron was not so lucky. Ironically, this, too, was a repeat performance from 2015 when the floor had filled up with a team of 20-something male hockey players who seemed more intent on partying than they did on preparing themselves for their games the next day. After my repeatedly calling the desk to complain about the noise, the hubbub eventually died down around 2 am.

            The next morning management couldn’t have been nicer to us, offering us a complimentary breakfast, a complimentary lunch and permission to check out at 4 in the afternoon. At some point in these discussions, amidst the constant jolly holiday celebrations and staff parties that noisily over crowd the lounges and dining areas of the hotel at this time of the year, I did manage to glean the reason for housing teams on the 7^th floor: It is the only floor in the hotel which is completely furnished with double beds.

(To be con’t.) 

HEART and STROKE SAGA II

The sun was rising as our WestJet flight to Ottawa took off from the Edmonton International Airport. Despite murmurings amongst the flight crew about a blizzard in Toronto which was creating havoc and diverting planes, the stewardesses greeted their passengers with confidant smiles and assurances of a pleasant flight. These did little to allay my concerns about an unscheduled overnight stop in Flinflon, e.g., which would cause Ron and I to miss the Heart and Stroke meetings. However, after a leisurely breakfast and a cup of heavily creamed coffee, my attention was quickly diverted by the tablet which our attendant gave me. I pulled a pair of ear phones out of my purse and immediately began playing with the touch screen. As some of you blog followers might recall, I am a technopeasant when it comes to up to date technology. This was my first time at the controls of the wondrous device. To my surprise the tablet was amazingly easy to navigate, with touch actually proving faster and easier than type. Nonetheless at length I grew bored. After winning back to back games of Free Cell and Spider Solitaire, I flipped through my options and settled on a movie: War for the Planet of the Apes.

            I will not attempt to justify my selection by suggesting that I was familiar with the critical acclaim the film has received. Nor will I argue that I know first-hand how impaired one’s emotions and judgment can become at 37,000 feet. (Hadn’t I been moved to tears by Demi’s Moore’s portrayal of G.I. Jane on a trans-Atlantic flight Ron and I had made a couple of decades ago?) Let me simply say that I have been fascinated by chimpanzees for much of my adult life. I love Jane Goodall and admire her tireless work on the chimps’ behalf.  Any movie which shows how compassionate and intelligent apes can be compared to humans immediately draws me in. However, just at the point in the film, (the point at the bottom of the plot W where the hero’s fortunes look the bleakest; in this case where Caesar, the head ape, is splayed out on an X- shaped cross), the Captain came on the air to announce that we were beginning our descent into Ottawa, where the temperature was minus three degrees and a snowstorm was blowing.

            We landed safely but were forced to wait out on the tarmac for a gate to be freed up so we could disembark. All the flight cancellations in Toronto had caused a ripple effect. Gates in Ottawa were at a premium. Thus it was here, stalled on a runway, where I beheld a wonder, the like of which I had never before witnessed. Seven huge snowplows sped nose to tail up and down the runways clearing snow. Each individual snow plow was a marvel in its own right. A large cab sat atop pairs of huge tires. A giant blade was affixed to the front of each machine while two more sets of monster tires backed two more giant scrapers down the body of the beast. A mixture of sand and salt fell from its bowels. Completing the spectacle, at the rear of the cavalcade, was a smaller snow plow which threw a plume of snow high into the dark sky. All the plows’ headlights were on full. It was only mid-afternoon EST but the snow was falling in thick clumps. Vision was blurry at best. Yet here were seven snowplows racing, circling and cavorting in unison in a stunning exhibition which might best be described as SYNCHRONISED SNOWPLOWING. In time a gate came free and our aged 737 moved into the freed up space.

            Being disabled Ron was able to enrol in WestJet’s One Person One Fare program which allows a personal attendant to accompany him for free (except for taxes). Ron and his attendant get to sit in the premium seats at the front of the plane, close to the wash room. We are also able to take advantage of the perks afforded the occupants of these seats: free snacks, free meals, free drinks, free movies. Needless to say I take full advantage of these special treats while Ron mostly sits with his eyes closed, sipping from an occasional glass of orange juice, stoically enduring the ordeal of the flight from his aisle seat. A couple of things have surprised me on these flights:

1. How early in the day some people start to consume alcohol, and

2. How much alcohol they can consume.

While the disabled are allowed to pre-board, they are the last to disembark. The gangplanks have to be cleared before the wheelchairs arrive. This year there was a new addition for some of the wheelchairs: a white motorized device that affixes to the chair and takes the load off the pushers. We saw only a few of these small machines but I do understand their value. Most of the people pushing the passengers who need wheelchairs are women. Pushing Ron up a long ramp to a departure lounge, down long corridors and up and down elevators to the luggage carousels is no mean feat. I have enough trouble bringing up the rear and navigating with two sets of carry-on baggage. Needless to say we are learning to travel lighter and lighter.

One footnote might be appropriate here: Over the three years in which Ron has been enrolled in OPOF, it seems that WestJet is refining this program. In a couple of airports some of the staff suggested that it was my job, as Ron’s personal attendant, to push his wheelchair. Fortunately, although I was called on to perform, I never actually had to do the pushing. I think it was obvious that, realistically, I couldn’t handle the baggage and push Ron, too.

Saga to be con’t.

HEART and STROKE SAGA

For the past three years Ron and I have served as lay reviewers for research grant applications submitted to the Heart and Stroke Foundation for funding. Each year clinicians, physicians, academics, cardiologists, neurologists, and therapists etc. meet in mid-December in Ottawa. They convene in different committees to review and debate the scientific merits and feasibility of the annual grant proposals submitted to the Heart and Stroke Foundation. The grant applications are made by researchers ranging from individual neophytes all the way up to teams of senior researchers well-established as world leaders in their fields. Each grant application is reviewed in committee by the applicants’ peers who then submit a report to the Heart and Stroke Foundation stating the strengths and weaknesses of each application along with the committee’s recommendation whether or not the application merits funding. Any committee member who might, for various reasons clearly spelled out by HSF, be deemed to have a Conflict of Interest when a particular grant comes up for review, has to leave the room and cannot be privy to the debate or to the committee’s decision.

An additional requirement which the Heart and Stroke Foundation makes of its grant applicants is that they also submit a summary of their proposed research written in a language which members of the general public can understand. And here is where Ron and I and other lay reviewers step in. Prior to the Ottawa meetings we have received, read and commented on each lay summary made by the applicants to the committees to which we have been assigned. Each committee considers around forty submissions. After each application has been debated in committee the lay reviewer is asked to give his or her assessment of the project. If a lay reviewer finds a project unacceptable, their report also goes forward to HSF and no research funds will be awarded until the lay summary is rewritten and satisfies the reviewer’s expectations.

The tricky part of the annual gathering is getting everyone to Ottawa in mid-December around the solstice and the beginning of winter, when temperatures are wont to plunge and snow is likely to blow.

Let this year’s saga begin.

LEG ONE

One of the problems with flying to Ottawa is that, outside of the big Canadian cities, there are very few direct flights to our nation’s capital. Any flight to Ottawa from Comox, for example, our preferred point of departure, involves changing planes en route. That is the given. Add to this a new wrinkle. The disabled, the large and the tall can encounter problems fitting into the tiny washrooms on the new Bombardier turbo jets that have become the normal aircraft for travelling to and from secondary sites. Scheduling a route to Ottawa can get complex. The comparatively comfortable 737’s now make few flights into Comox. However, with the assistance of a flight advisor from WestJet Ron came up with an itinerary that fit his bill:

            Comox to Edmonton via 737. (Overnight at the airport hotel)

            Edmonton to Ottawa via 737 the next morning.

But they had not factored in fog.

Fortunately our afternoon flight to Edmonton was only delayed and not cancelled as many subsequently were. After a wait of thirty minutes our plane appeared out of the grey bank and we were good to go. After takeoff we were immediately above the fog, and suffused in brilliant sunshine. This was the third time Ron and I had taken the late afternoon flight from Comox to Edmonton. On a clear day, with the sunset painting the tips of the snow-capped mountains pink, I am convinced this is one of the most beautiful flights in the world.

It was dark when our plane landed in Edmonton. A half moon hung in the clear, cold sky as a WestJet attendant wheeled Ron all the way to the Renaissance Edmonton Airport Hotel. As she rolled Ron through the grand, circular corridor which curves upward in a semi-spiral to the expansive lobby, I felt like we had landed in a galaxy “far, far away.”  In this ultra modern hotel all the furniture looks to have been designed by Pablo Picasso or Salvador Dali—all form and dubious function—and The Library has no books. However, the Halo had plenty of food. After eating our meal in the company of a large party of Christmas revellers, who feasted on the far side of the chain mail curtain which separated us, we retired early and staggered to the departure gate, the next morning, at dawn.

To be con’t.

HOUSE OF READING

I am writing this post in November, 2017. Ron’s epic reading tour five months ago, and our travels from Nanoose Bay through the Okanagan, the Kootenays and the Rockies to Calgary, and back to Nanoose via Kamloops, the Cariboo, Prince George and the Hazeltons, seem, like the Skeena, the river of mists, to have receded into the shape shifting world of memory. Yet a journey, once begun, seeks an ending . . .

The evening of Tuesday, June 20, found Ron seated at a table in the multi-purpose room in the Prince Rupert Library. The group assembled around him was small. It numbered the librarian, Kathleen, one sprightly senior from the general public, me, and Richard Wilson and his wife, Sharlene. Richard is a stroke survivor and he and Sharlene are the facilitators for the Living with Stroke program in Prince Rupert. Like Ron, Richard’s stroke has left him easily fatigued and reluctant to drive. Fortunately, he is still able to sing and play the guitar and his music has become the central focus of his life. He plays in a band which was to perform the next day at the Aboriginal Day celebrations taking place in Prince Rupert. As we were leaving Kathleen presented Ron with one of the library’s book bags which are decorated with Henry Green’s beautiful black and red stylized drawing of a halibut. The bottom of the bag reads:  Wap Liitsx   House of Reading

Prince Rupert is located in the traditional territory of the Tsimshian First Nation and has been a trading centre for thousands of years. More recently the trade was in sea otter pelts and then salmon. Historic canneries abound here. Today Prince Rupert is a thriving container port, in large part because it is the closest Pacific port for rail traffic going to and coming from Chicago and environs.

Ron gave his final presentation of the tour at a Lunch and Learn session at the Prince Rupert Hospital on Wednesday. It was a lively affair, attended by many student therapists in residence. One student was from New Brunswick, others from Ontario, while the majority were from BC. All had lots of questions and the session lasted long after the lunch hour.

In addition to his “official” duties Ron had a personal reason for visiting Prince Rupert. When he was eighteen he had spent a summer there working at various jobs. (When the rain lets up and the sun comes out it is common practice for people in Prince Rupert to take a “Sun Day” and quit their jobs.) At the end of the summer Ron was hired to work on a drum seiner. His memories of Prince Rupert and his voyage on the fishing boat down the coast to Vancouver have haunted him ever since. So, between and after Ron’s “official venues”, we drove around the town and spent time in the local archives while he reoriented himself and revitalized his recollections. His goal: to write a novel based on his “coming of age” experience.

Our own journey ended with a voyage down the Inside Passage. We had booked a travel package with BC Ferries and had to be at the terminal to board the Northern Expedition at 5 am on Thursday, June 22. We spent the first four hours of the trip sleeping in the cabin we had reserved and the rest of the day soaking up the scenery. As the vessel approached the southernmost tip of Haida Gwaii and Queen Charlotte Sound, we made our way to the back of the boat to enjoy the summer solstice sun set over the Pacific Ocean. Fortunately the sea was calm and the drama of fire into water long. The only distraction was the smell of smoke and the curious sight of vapers. (Why does BC Ferries let smokers have the best viewing area on this run?) The sunset coincided with our arrival at Cape Scott on the northernmost tip of Vancouver Island. The darkening island sent an unspoken promise: HOME. SOON.

THE PEOPLE of the RIVER OF MISTS

On the morning of June 13, Ron and I left Prince George, excited at the prospect of spending a week with our son, Owen; daughter-in-law, Jen; and little grandson, Lochlan, who live in New Hazelton. Instead of driving non-stop to get to Prince Rupert, or driving non-stop from Prince Rupert to get to Prince George, or heading north on the Cassiar Highway en route to the Yukon and Alaska, as we had done in the past, on this visit we were going to have the time to relax and visit with our family and to explore the area around the Hazeltons, both new and old.

            Our first taste of the exceptional treats in store for us came in Burns Lake where we stopped at the Overwaitea Mall, conveniently located just off the Highway of Tears. We were hungry. In search of nourishment in the mall, we chanced upon the Woodland Bakery where a tray of sausage rolls had just been pulled from the oven by a man with long black hair partially held in place by a pony tail and a hair net. Trusting what our noses were telling us, Ron and I promptly went to the counter of the bakery and ordered four of these rolls. Then we took our snacks out into the corridor of the mall and sat down to enjoy our late lunch.

            “These are the best sausage rolls I’ve ever eaten,” we announced to each other in unison.

            Returning to the Woodland Bakery for a bag of pastries to tide me over for the rest of our journey, I told the owner, a tall woman who, given her grey curls and glasses, looked to be in her early sixties: “These are the best sausage rolls we’ve ever eaten.”

            “I know, I know” she said. “People tell us that all the time.”

            “Well, it’s true,” I said. “And could I please have a chocolate éclair, a cream puff and a sugared doughnut?” I asked. (NB These were for me and NOT for Ron who is careful about what he eats.)

            The most outstanding geological feature of New Hazelton is, without doubt, Mt. Hagwilget, the northernmost peak in the Rocher Déboulé range. This mountain ascends, seemingly vertically, up its 6811 feet to crest in a spectacular arête, or sharp mountain ridge. Owen and Jen’s house sits near the base of this mountain which completely blocks them from the sun for two months during the winter. New Hazelton is surrounded by numerous mountain ranges—e.g. the Nass, the Kispiox, and the Bulkley, with its summit in the Seven Sisters Peaks.

            The area is also famous as the Totem Pole Capital of the World. It is the traditional territory of the Gitxsan peoples who have lived in the area for thousands of years and whose name means “the people of the river of mists.” The ancient village of Ksan is situated at the confluence of the Bulkley and Skeena Rivers in Old Hazelton. The houses which make up the historical village and museum form a single line, with the buildings facing the Bulkley River, and whose large decorated house fronts and poles are visible to anyone approaching from the river.

(Hint: To view this special site you could cut and paste the following link in your browser:  ksan.org  NB I didn’t have any film in my 35mm Minolta. In fact, I didn’t even have my camera with me on the trip. Perhaps I thought I would have enough to pack with all the books and our bags? However, I did kick myself for forgetting to pack binoculars.)

            Famous is a relative term. As the Ksan Museum brochure makes clear, the survival of the Skeena area’s precious artifacts and buildings is due, in part, to the region’s escaping the effects of colonization. Thanks to their isolation for much of their history, the Gitxsan were allowed to continue their traditional life style. Even today the area remains pretty much “off the beaten track.”

Fortunately for Ron and me, Owen and Jen know most of the local sites. They took us on numerous outings, the most memorable of which was our trip up the Cassiar Highway to the village of Gitwangak with its totem poles still in situ; to the National Park site of Battle Hill where a legendary Gitxsan chief held off all invaders, including the Haida; and to 37 Grille for lunch where Ron and I soon remarked in unison, “This is the best potato leek soup I’ve ever eaten.” Owen, Jen and Lochlan were too busy with their own meals to reply. However, upon leaving the diner, we did take home sample slices of the Black Forest Cake, the Chocolate/Caramel Explosion, the Cheesecake and the Maple Walnut Cake. (fyi Please cut and paste:  37 Grille, Kitwanga )

Our favourite outing was Anderson Flats, near the confluence of the Skeena and the Bulkley, on the opposite shore from Ksan. Here we could sit by the rivers, revel in the scenery, or stroll along the road, while Owen’s dog, Gus, ran free. A place to seek and find!

Ron, Lochlan, Pat and the Skeena

&

Lochlan and a misty mountain

NO ROOM at the INNS

Rain pounded our windshield as Ron and I drove through the June monsoon out of Calgary, all the way to the centre of Canmore. Here we were met at the side of the main street by Ron Deans who was wearing a yellow rain slicker over his shorts and T-shirt and standing under the protection of a golf umbrella. He guided us to his and Dianne’s nearby townhouse. We gratefully took shelter in their living room where a welcoming fire blazed in the fireplace. After the ‘busyness’ of the public events in Calgary we sat back and relaxed, feeling immediately at home. We helped ourselves to the generous array of buns, cheeses, meats, fruit and condiments spread out on the dining table, and washed down the delicious late afternoon meal with a glass of local craft beer.

Dianne was the first person to write to Ron after the publication of The Defiant Mind. She had found his book helpful and inspirational and she wanted to talk to him about her stroke. She first proposed they meet on Vancouver Island last fall, but her trip west had not worked out as planned, so Ron had put a visit to the Deans on his Stroke Month itinerary.

            Our conversation soon turned to the reservations Ron and I had NOT made for accommodations for the night. Apparently Albertans head for the Rockies in droves every weekend, monsoon or no monsoon. Dianne’s phone calls soon confirmed that all the hotels, motels and B&B’s in the surrounding area were full. Canmore, being just outside Banff Jasper National Park, is a favourite recreational destination. Given that there were no rooms to be had at any of the inns, the Deans graciously invited us to spend the night with them. We spent the rest of the evening enjoying a lively conversation and went to bed grateful for their generous hospitality.

            Ron and I awoke the next morning to discover the rain had stopped and that we were in the midst of towering mountains draped in white, fresh-fallen snow. A message from Noreen Kamaal arrived announcing that the two-day closure of the Trans-Canada Highway, caused by flooding just west of Revelstoke, had been lifted and the road to Kamloops was now open. After breakfast, and after promising to renew a budding friendship with Dianne and Ron, we resumed our travels, heading west through the Rockies. We were soon past Banff, Lake Louise, Golden and the summit of the Rogers Pass. We stopped briefly at Tim Horton’s in Revelstoke for a mandatory coffee and doughnut. Back on the Trans-Canada we were surprised not to encounter any single lane traffic for road repairs caused by the flooding. In fact, there was no sign of the road closure at all. The debris had been cleared away and there was no obvious damage to the road or to a bridge.

            When we reached Salmon Arm the sun was hot. The temperature on the dashboard of our car read 31 degrees. The water level in Shuswap Lake was exceptionally high from the deep winter snowpack, and it was still cresting from the heavy spring run-off. The last hour of our journey to Kamloops passed quickly. As soon as I smell sagebrush I immediately feel at home. I graduated from Kam High in 1965 and played basketball for the Red Angels. The Red Angels’ rivalry with the Salmon Arm Jewels was legendary in the sixties as the two teams duelled their way to league and district titles, competing all the way to the finals of the provincial championships which, way back then, were held in the old Women’s Gym at UBC. Being on my “home court” I calmly drove us to the main hotel in the centre of town where there was still room for us at the inn.

            The next morning we awoke refreshed. Ron had another Lunch and Learn Session booked for the Royal Inland Hospital at noon. At this gathering Deb Rusch did her “Living with Stroke” presentation “remotely” via teleconference. Ron followed by speaking about his stroke experience and his suggestions for treatment and therapy in answer to questions posed by the thirty plus therapists. The session was concluded by host Jeff Frison at 1 PM precisely. After chatting with a number of therapists in the hall outside the lecture room, Ron and I were able to resume our travels a little earlier than expected. This time, however, I was able to drive this leg of our journey north, through Clinton, One Hundred Mile House, Lac La Hache, Williams Lake and Quesnel, through moose country, secure in the knowledge that we had already booked a reservation at an inn in Prince George.

            

ENTERING THE SQUARED CIRCLE

At the Stroke Recovery Association of Calgary’s annual convention at the Coombs Theatre in the Foothills Medical Centre in Calgary on Saturday, June 10^th Ron was bottom of the card. Thanks to the advice of locals, and thanks to the ride provided by Donna Hastings, who picked Ron and me up at the hotel and let us off at the front door of the hospital, I did not have to navigate, drive or park and we arrived with ample time to spare. The Foothills Medical Centre is undergoing massive re-construction and parking is a nightmare, particularly for people with disabilities. Some people I spoke to even questioned the wisdom of choosing the Coombs Theatre, the SRAC’s usual venue, for this year’s convention. Possibly a hockey rink might have been a better choice? suggested some.

By 10 am Ron had made his way down the stairs to the podium in the large lecture room and was seated at a table behind a microphone. Vicky Jones, the Association’s President, made her opening remarks, introduced Ron and the convention was officially under way. Ron’s audience was half the size of previous years. Given the parking situation, only 100 people were in the audience. 200 people is the norm, a number corroborated by the generous amount of food later provided at lunch.

            For the first time on the trip I was unable to hear Ron’s presentation. I was outside the theatre in the lobby seated behind a table displaying bookmarks and copies of The Defiant Mind. This table was next to one of two entrances to the theatre. The only time I was able to catch a peak inside was when late arrivals opened the doors to let themselves in. Ron must have been “on form” during his presentation because book sales throughout the day were brisk. Occasionally I would hear the sounds of rippling laughter, and at 10:45am it was impossible to miss the sirens and the announcement that FIRE ALARM TESTING IS NOW COMPLETE.

            However, as I mentioned, Ron was not the main event. The guest speaker with this honour was Bret “The Hit Man” Hart, famous in the international world of professional wrestling. He was due up on the SRAC’s card at 1pm, after lunch. Hart is also known as “King of the Ring” or “Master of the Squared Circle.” He has held the World Wrestling title (in some or all of its professional associations) seven times and numerous other championships over a span of five decades from the 1970’s to the 2010’s. The son of a famous, Calgary wrestling dynasty, he is well-known locally for his wrestling exploits and for his support and endorsement of the Calgary Hitmen, who play in the Central Division of the Western Hockey League.

What is not so well known is that Bret Hart suffered a stroke in 2002. Although he was completely paralyzed on his left side for a time, he was able to return to the ring in 2003 after recovering his ability to bench press 300 pounds. Yet he still suffers from the emotional after-effects of his stroke. The double doors to the lobby were twice thrown open when a gentleman from the audience came out and grabbed a handful of napkins left over from lunch to give to Hart to help him stem the tears that fell non-stop throughout his address. Ron attended and confirmed that Hart had given a heart-felt and moving speech.

For me, the most emotional part of the day came later in the afternoon when Ron and I met the husband of a woman who was a patient on the stroke ward in the hospital. Word of all the tasty treats, available FOR FREE in the lobby of the Coombs Theatre, had spread there and a couple of the nurses had come down to fill up trays to take upstairs for staff, family and patients. The husband appeared to be in his late forties and his wife was probably close to the same age when her stroke had hit a few weeks earlier, a stroke which had left her “locked in.” Even at the world’s foremost stroke treatment centre some strokes cannot be helped and they continue to take life-shattering tolls. After her stroke, the only parts of her body this woman was able to move were her eyes. With the help of a computer and her eyes she was able to communicate some of her needs and wants to her husband and to the therapists who daily move her legs and arms to keep her large muscle systems active. Her husband was hopeful that new discoveries in mind-machine interface (MMI) might soon be available to help his wife, particularly as her neurologist was about to head to Geneva for an international conference where the most up-to-date findings in this field would be shared.

All stroke stories are emotionally powerful, but this gentleman’s was the most moving Ron and I had ever listened to. The most beautiful description we have read of what it’s like to be “locked in” is The Diving Bell and the Butterfly by Jean-Dominique Bauby. After his paralyzing stroke, Bauby dictated his memoir by blinking his left eyelid (his right was sewn shut) in response to the correct letter pointed to by a speech therapist using a French language frequency-ordered alphabet. The composition took ten months of four-hour daily sessions. Bauby would compose and memorize a passage during the night and dictate his text the following day. On March 6, 1997 the book was published. Bauby died three days later.

By 3 pm Ron and I were ready to leave. Thanks to a ride from Bev Culham, Manager of Health Promotion for the Heart and Stroke Foundation, we were able to arrive safe and dry at the hotel where our luggage was waiting for us at reception. Once behind the wheel of our trusty Toyota, luggage intact, I was able to navigate the twists and turns of the service road with all the savoir faire of a native Calgarian. Quickly out of the maze we found ourselves on TransCanada Number One, heading west. Even though we were late for a rendezvous in Canmore, with Dianne and Ron Deans, I drove slowly through the heavy traffic heading for the Rockies ― through the torrents of a downpour ― known by locals as The June Monsoon.

HEART and STROKE

At 11:15 am on June 8^th Ron and I got in our silver Toyota and headed for the Heart and Stroke offices in Calgary. Just to set your minds at ease, let me assure you that I had first consulted Google Maps in the hotel business area and had directions to our destination printed out. In addition, I had charted the route on my 2017 map of the city of Calgary. The distance was comparatively short and my call to Kristine Skogg, CEO Donna Hasting’s assistant, earlier in the morning had ensured that we would be able to unload the books Donna had ordered for each of her managers in the back alley behind the red brick building which houses the Heart and Stroke offices. All went as planned. Ron and I even got an escort to the parking lot where our Handicap Parking Permit was immediately put to good use.

            Ron and I then had the privilege of meeting and talking to Lou and Frank Nieboer. The Nieboers have been married for fifty years, an admirable record made all the more remarkable given that Lou had a serious stroke forty years ago when she was just thirty-four. Today she still bears the effects of her brain attack, but she insists on walking without a cane, although she does lean on Frank’s arm. However, the capacity she misses the most is her biting wit. Somehow her cutting repartee is still missing in action, but, like every other ability she has fought to regain, she is determined to rediscover it as well. Obviously the Nieboers have been a terrific team. Frank is the name-sake and recipient of the first “Heart & Stroke – Heart of Gold Volunteer Award” for exemplary long-time volunteering as Chair of the Alberta Board, member of the Heart and Stroke Foundation of Canada Board, founder of the Alberta Stroke Recovery Association and numerous other contributions. Both Frank and Lou have worked tirelessly to increase awareness and promote stroke recovery in Alberta and across Canada. Their devotion to each other and their work is inspirational.

            After lunch Ron opened his presentation by reading the passage from The Defiant Mind which describes his encounter with a fellow stroke survivor after a therapy session. Although the passage is long I think that it is worth quoting parts of it here, for it (and a couple of other passages which Ron read) generated a lot of insightful questions and discussion about what constitutes effective therapy for stroke survivors. The feedback from Ron’s presentation was very positive with fifteen out of seventeen of the Heart and Stroke Managers rating it the highlight of their Learning and Development Day.

I noticed a woman who had been admitted to the rehab unit around the same time as I was, sitting on one of the blue-matted exercise benches. The gym had emptied and was quiet, the way a museum can get near closing . . . The woman’s head was downcast and her posture was one of total defeat. Before I had my stroke I probably would have turned away, quietly, and left the room.  . . .  She was slumped over as if she wanted to sink through the floor. I sat down beside her and rested my elbows on my knees. This was difficult because my right arm still wouldn’t bend the way it was supposed to and still caused me considerable pain.  . . .

     For over a minute we just sat there staring at our feet, waiting, waiting as you do for the tide to come in or for the sun to set, waiting for the right moment to speak. Everything about the way she held herself worried me.

 . . .  Then I noticed tears running down her cheeks.

     She was pale and her face was carved into the sort of chunks you sometimes see in a Francis Bacon or Picasso portrait. She had a modest beauty, one I suspect she had been unaware of or unconcerned about throughout her life.  . . .  She had two sons and a husband who visited her daily. She was one of the lucky ones. Doted on, from what I could tell.

     . . .

     “You okay?” I asked.

     A foolish question, but I knew I needed to get her to talk.

     “Yes.”

     She gave me a quick glance.

     “No.”

     Now she studied me. Her grey eyes looked hollowed out and seemed to have sunk back into her skull over the past few weeks.   . . .

     “You’re doing so well,” she said. “I’ve been watching you.”

     She tried to smile, but the effort it took was too great, and her lips collapsed back into a grim line.   . . .

     “It’s so difficult,” she said. “I can’t do what you do and we’ve been in here about the same length of time.”   . . .

     “It’s impossible for you to see how you’re doing. You can’t see yourself,” I insisted. “You have to be convinced that you’re making progress. Then you will,” I said.

     I understood this despair. I had gone through this conversation with myself many times. Only other stroke survivors knew what you were going through, but there just wasn’t a vocabulary adequate to describe the ebb and flow of emotions.   . . .

     “I’ve tried so hard. I do everything they ask of me. But I still need the wheelchair.”

     “Every stroke is different,” I said, repeating the one tired answer that remains a constant in stroke dialogues, the one response which she didn’t want to hear from me, not from someone who was actually living inside a stroke.  . . .

     “It takes time,” I said, fumbling over my words,… so much time for all of us. You just can’t give up.”

     “Before the stroke I had two heart attacks,” she said. “Compared to this they were a piece of cake.”

     Then a sad look seeped back into her eyes.

     “I thought it would be the same. After both heart attacks I was back on my feet within a month or two. Not with this, though. I can’t see a way out.”

     As if sensing danger, she visibly recoiled. Like a snail, withdrawing into its shell. She gave me her hand which was cold and bony. Then I felt her body shiver and stiffen, her lungs fill, her eyes stare resolutely into mine, and it was then that I knew that, despite her apparent despair, she would never give up. She was one of those people who in the face of terror find the strength to be brave.                                

     “I just have to accept the fact that I’ll never be the same. I’ll never be the same person I was,” she said. “Part of me has died.”

     She paused to try to take in fully what it was she had just admitted to herself.

     “And I must remind myself that I can’t do what you do,” she added. “As you say, we’re all different. Our brains are different.”(pp. 44 – 47)                           

                                                                                                                                                    

After a short break Kate Chidester made a presentation on “Fueling the Brightest Research” and Dr. Hank Duff spoke about “Why Heart and Stroke Research is So Important.” He talked about the seminal effect the research grants he and some of his colleagues had received from the Heart and Stroke Foundation early in their careers. This funding had encouraged the establishment of a gifted team of heart researchers and specialists in Calgary. The freedom that these scientists were given in their research allowed for the development of a meritocracy, which, through self-selection made significant and serendipitous discoveries.

            Calgary, it seems, is doubly blessed with world class people in BOTH heart and stroke.

              In answer to a question about whether or not specific areas for research funding should be identified Dr. Duff paused to consider his answer.

“No,” he finally replied. “As in all areas of human endeavour, people learn and progress by making mistakes and we must always allow researchers the freedom to fail and thereby to learn.”

            Dr. Duff’s invitation to speak at the meeting had also been part of a ruse to get him to attend. Unbeknownst to him, he was going to be presented with the “Frank Nieboer – Heart & Stroke Heart of Gold Award” by Frank himself. Dr. Duff is the third recipient of this esteemed award since its inception in 2007.

Ron also got a tribute of his own after we got home from our Stroke Month Saga on June 24^th . He received a thank you card inscribed with the following quote:

           

“Ron is insightful about stroke and inspirational to stroke survivors, care givers, volunteers & all those who work in this space.”

           

                                                                                    Donna Hastings

Stroke Month Saga, con’t: CALGARY, Alberta

On Monday, June 5^th Ron and I proceeded east on #3, the Crowsnest Highway. The highway takes its name from the Crowsnest Pass in the Rockies where the road crosses the Continental Divide between BC and Alberta. After Ron’s talk at the East Kootenay Regional Hospital we spent the night in Cranbrook before proceeding to Fernie where we had complimentary accommodation thanks to the hospital staff in Cranbrook. In Fernie we visited with Randal Macnair and Carolyn Nikodym of Oolichan Books, which Ron had founded in 1974. In 2010 Randal bought the press and moved it to Fernie but Ron remains involved as an editor. Both visits, to Cranbrook and to Fernie, were special. The people and the scenery were splendid and between the venues we were often treated to the sight of large deer with very big, brown ears. Logically enough, this species of four-legged forager is called the mule deer.

However, it is not my intention here to dwell on descriptions of the flora and fauna or geological phenomena such as the Frank Slide. Nor will I comment on my faux pas in consulting a map of BC and Alberta published in 1998 when planning our route from Fernie to Calgary along Highway #22. Nor will I describe the fits of frustrated frenzy the author of The Defiant Mind threw when he realized that he was headed back to the Rocky Mountains and not to Calgary. Also, I will omit any mention of the difficulties one is likely to encounter when asking for directions at gas stations in Calgary. Suffice it to say that I did not encounter a local, at least not a local whose first language was English and who knew the city like a chuck wagon driver at the Calgary Stampede. I shall also refrain from describing the logistics involved in arriving at 1804 Crowchild Trail, the address of the Best Western Plus Village Park Inn, where we had reservations in hand, my cousin Cheryl being away on a hiking tour in the bucolic Tyrolean Alps. I shall merely note that when the weary traveller arrives at the above address, he or she will whiz by the aforementioned hotel, which can only be accessed by a service road known only to locals in the know. Instead, I shall simply remain grateful that somehow we found our way to the hotel, marriage in tatters but luggage intact, and happy in the knowledge that it was only 4pm; that Ron did not have to be at the reading at Shelf Life Books until 7pm; that Noreen Kamal and her husband were picking us up at the hotel at 6:30pm; and that I would not have to drive.

Recognizing that June was Stroke Awareness Month, the event at the bookstore had a unique format. Ron’s reading was complemented by Dr. Noreen Kamal, a Researcher and Adjunct Assistant Professor at the University of Calgary, the engineer who is responsible for implementing the world-leading stroke treatment now available throughout Alberta; and by neurologist, Dr. Amy Yu, who graciously stepped in on short notice for Dr. Michael Hill who had been called away to Hamilton and Toronto. The women were there to comment on stroke and to answer questions from the audience. The answers they gave were extremely enlightening, all the more so because their Department of Clinical Neurosciences at the University of Calgary is world renowned. Dr. Hill and his team led the international research and randomised trials for endovascular thrombectomy for large vessel blockages in ischemic strokes. Using this procedure a person suffering from a clot in the brain has a tube inserted into a blood vessel in their groin which can then be sent all the way up into the brain where a stent is released into the blood clot. Then the stent and the clot can be pulled back down the tube and out the blood vessel in the groin. Doctors Kamal and Yu are intimately familiar with all aspects of stroke treatment and understand how and when endovascular thrombectomy may be applicable and how effective the treatment can be in substantially reducing the disabilities which typically result from strokes. Given the diversity of people in the audience–poets, writers, caregivers, stroke survivors and readers–the event was exceptionally informative and enjoyable. A big thank you to poet Tyler Perry, author Betty Jean Hegerat and Shelf Life Books for arranging this evening and to Bob Stallworthy for reading some of his powerful poems written from the point of view of a caregiver.

IPPY UPDATES

The July 2017 Newsletter of the Independent Publisher has just featured a review of The Defiant Mind. To read “Once Upon a Time an Author Had a Stroke” click on the link below:

http://www.independentpublisher.com/article.php?page=2209

And, if you are interested, the review is also mentioned in Jim Barnes Editorial:

http://jenkins.dmplocal.com/main/index.php?action=viewsenthtml&id=10319&ids=715c4a9ea498b62bcc9a3a5db7b5666d0a0dd3a2

LOCAL and LOCO

On Friday, June 2 Ron and I left Nelson rather earlier than we had planned to. Word of Ron’s tour had spread and, as a consequence, he had received an invitation to talk at the Kootenay Boundary Regional Hospital in Trail. En route we passed BC’s largest lead-zinc smelter. It would have been impossible to miss the giant, silver, tubular structure which dwarfs the buildings in the town. By following the green H hospital signs, we found our way to our destination without any problems, and, at 1pm, Ron spoke to a gathering of about 20 hospital staff in the comfortable setting of the Board Room. As usual his audience was attentive and inquisitive and by 2:30 Ron and I were ready for a chocolate dipped soft ice cream cone from the Dairy Queen we had spotted in the centre of town.

            After cooling off with our treats, we needed directions to Highway 3 and the road to Creston. At one of the therapist’s suggestions, we had decided to head for the new Ramada Inn there. Drawing on my recent experiences in Nelson, I approached a silver-haired lady in the Dairy Queen parking lot who was heading for her truck.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Are you local?”

“Local AND loco,” she replied.

“Excellent. Is this the road to Creston?” I asked pointing to the road heading east.

“The very one,” she said. “Just follow it up the hill and keep on going.”

We did and, at the Kootenay Pass Summit, we were treated to the sight of a family of Bighorn Mountain Sheep who were grazing by the side of the highway. After a short but steep descent we entered the valley in which the town of Creston is sited. In my opinion, this is one of the most beautiful places in British Columbia and during our three day stay in Creston we seriously considered what it would be like to live there.

Features to recommend Creston:

1. An intact, original, living town centre with free parking, lots of parking spots for the disabled, lots of benches and well-kept flower plantings.

2. No big box stores.

3. Two picturesque grain elevators.

4. An abundance of orchards and farms.

5. A few kilometres drive away from the southern tip of Kootenay Lake.

6. A Wildlife Interpretive Centre near a wetland on the edge of town.

7. Tim’s Fish and Chips where the staff wear T-shirts sporting “Oh my Cod!” and “Just for the Halibut,” and the portions are double what you expect.

8. A wonderful, refurbished recreation complex, with a new swimming pool which has wheelchair access for the disabled.

And, most importantly for Ron and me, we got lots of REST in C-rest-on.

            

THE KOOTENAYS

Ron and I were late leaving Osoyoos. For some reason I was unable to repack the trunk of the Toyota in a timely fashion even though we were two cartons of books roomier. (Did I mention that I got 40% in mechanical aptitude in high school?) Also, I had not properly registered the fact that we were due in Nelson at noon, and I had been taking my time with our departure. Nonetheless, after tossing the bed bar in the back seat, I finally got the trunk lid shut and Ron survived the knuckle-biting ascent out of Osoyoos. (Did I mention that he is not fond of heights?) Unfortunately we encountered two construction delays and one torrential downpour. Consequently it was almost 1:30 pm when I parked the Toyota on one of Nelson’s main streets and got out to ask for directions to the Nelson Public Library. (Did I mention that we do not have a Smart Phone or SatNav?)

            Unfortunately the first three people I encountered on the busy sidewalk were tourists. I changed tactics. “Are you local?” I began to ask. Eventually locating a local, I discovered that we were only a couple of blocks away from our destination. Fortunately our host and stroke recovery facilitator, Marg Dietrich, was on duty at the library till 2 and she had been confident that we would turn up soon or later. After meeting librarian and author, Anne DeGrace, and unloading some books for the evening reading, Marg, Ron and I left to spend some down time at Marg’s house where Ron and I had been invited to spend the night.

Marg drove. Like most of the streets in Nelson which boast a steep slope, her driveway is very steep, has a sharp U-turn at the bottom and the top, and is difficult to find if you are not a local. The entrance to her driveway is also right next to the self-same steps that Steve Martin skipped down in the opening scene of Roxanne. I was thrilled to see them. After enjoying a cup of tea and some of Marg’s home-made rhubarb coffee cake, Ron lay down on the living room couch to rest. Marg and I made a brave attempt to sit out on her deck but the storm that Ron and I had battled earlier blew in and she and I retreated to the TV room and shared a wonderful bottle of local dark ale. (Did I mention that Marg and her husband had started the all organic Nelson Brewing Company?)

There were six of us for dinner at Max & Irma’s Kitchen. Writer Tom Wayman and author Barb Curry Mulcahy had driven in from the Slocan Valley to visit with Ron before the reading and Deborah Rusch had come to support Marg and provide informational materials about the Living with Stroke program after the reading. Meanwhile, I happily concentrated on the delicious pizza.

 Attendance at the library was excellent. There were over thirty people present despite the fact that another local author, whose mystery novel had just won a prize in Europe, was also appearing at a nearby venue. Ron’s reading was excellent. The audience asked lots of questions. Book sales were good and my long time friend, Suzanne, and I even had a chance to visit. 

LAKE COUNTRY

 After the Live and Learn session at the hospital on Monday, May 28^th, Ron had a book signing scheduled at Bookland in downtown Vernon at 3 pm. Deb and John, the volunteer stroke survivor who leads the Living with Stroke sessions in Vernon, also set up a table near Ron to give out information about their program. By 3:30 pm it was obvious to all of us that our presence was not going to draw a crowd. No doubt this was due to the intense heat. The outside temperature registered on our Toyota’s dashboard had flirted with 40 degrees Celsius. Consequently I was prompted to quote from Stephen Leacock’s piece “We Have With Us Tonight” from My Discovery of England in which Leacock notes that it had been his experience that audiences are very fickle creatures. They will not turn out if it is too hot, too rainy, or too cold, or even if the event is free. And, if there is a hockey game on, you might as well forget the whole event all together.

            At the mention of Stephen Leacock’s name, John perked up. John had had his stroke seventeen years ago and today appears to have made a full recovery (although he does confess he still has trouble reading.) However, long before his stroke, he had run a newspaper in the community of Enderby and Stephen Leacock had, for a few years, owned a cabin on a nearby lake. John had often met Leacock in the town, and, as John was able to take Leacock’s disparaging quips about his paper in good humour, the two became friends. I was thrilled to learn this and to be able to claim to have met someone who had actually known Canada’s great humourist. Ron, however, was downcast. By 4pm he confessed that this was the first time he had ever been skunked. Not even one book sold! (Bookland, however, did take five.)

            Fortunately the next day the Lunch and Learn session in the Murray Ramsden Boardroom at the Kelowna Regional Hospital was packed and the book signing at Chapters in the Orchard Park Shopping Centre later in the afternoon was a success. Local Living with Stroke facilitator and stroke survivor, Jennifer Monaghan, and many members from her groups came to keep Ron busy meeting people, swapping stroke stories and signing books.

            On Wednesday Lunch and Learn was scheduled for noon in the Penticton Regional Hospital. Again, there was a good turn out of hospital staff, and Deb’s and Ron’s talks were well received. Then, we had to dash to Osoyoos where Ron was scheduled to read at the Bits and Bites Café in the Chase Valley Business Centre on Main Street. And here, (omitting a description of the last two of the many unnecessary detours I had taken us on throughout the day) Ron actually arrived only five minutes late. Again Deb had provided provisions–coffee, tea, juice and delicious cookies from the Café–and the local stroke facilitator, Barb Roth, and many people from her group were waiting. Following Ron’s talk and reading the discussion was brisk, as it usually is with stroke survivors and their caregivers. One man in particular was upset with the local policy which requires everyone to report to the closest hospital in Oliver to be seen by a doctor who then decides whether or not a referral to the Penticton Hospital is necessary. This caregiver felt that this delay had definitely worsened the effects of his wife’s stroke. He was angry for, as many of us now know, TIME IS BRAIN, and prompt treatment essential.

            Later that evening Ron and I relaxed over a superb meal at the Campo Marina Italian Restaurant in Osoyoos. However, realizing that we were due in Nelson the next day, I began to wonder if we hadn’t bitten off a little more than we could chew.

(to be con’t.)

            

RETURN to the OKANAGAN

For Ron and me our Stroke Month Saga was the first major road expedition that we had attempted since his stroke in November, 2012. It had been eight years since we had headed up the Coquihalla Highway. The first feature that struck me as we neared the Nicola Valley was how green and plentiful the trees were. The last time we had passed this way evidence of the pine beetle infestation was everywhere. The orange and dying boughs on most of the pine trees suggested that this forest was in trouble and the prospect of a major forest fire loomed. Now it was obvious some kind of regenerative miracle had happened. Could the trees have healed themselves? I wondered.

            As we approached Kelowna the second feature we noted was how green the hills were. Where was all the sun-browned grass of yore? Could we be in Lancashire and not in the Okanagan? I wondered.

Actually I did know that the region had experienced record rain fall and snow pack melt. Kelowna was on flood watch when we arrived. Boating and swimming in the lakes were prohibited due to the high waters which were erasing beaches and concealing snags and other newly submerged hazards. The high waters were even challenging the clearance tolerances between Okanagan Lake and the nine year old William R. Bennett Bridge.

We found our hotel, The Fairmount, with relative ease. The weather was hot when we arrived. The outside temperature on our Toyota’s dash registered in the low thirties. After checking in we dined in the air conditioned comfort of the nearby Cactus Club and retired early. Could this trip be the one when I actually spotted Ogopogo, the legendary lake monster, kin to Nessie, famed in cryptobiologist and tourist lore? I wondered as I drifted into dreamland.  

We rendezvoused with Deborah Rusch, Manager Promote Recovery of the Heart and Stroke Foundation in BC, in the reception area of the Vernon Jubilee Hospital. As Deb went to pick up the lunch, Ron and I made our way to the Polson Tower for the first of the Lunch and Learn sessions.

            The purpose of Deb’s talk was to acquaint the health care professionals who attended with the new program which the Heart and Stroke Foundation began offering two years ago–Living with Stroke. This program is a community-based support and educational program designed for stroke survivors and their care partners. Each program runs for 6 – 8 weeks and is led by trained stroke survivors or professional therapists or a team of both. Unlike people who suffer from heart disease and who are usually able to return to their former lives easily, Heart and Stroke Foundation research shows that stroke survivors need and want support programs to help them cope with their recovery and with their re-integration into their communities. If this program had been offered five years ago Ron and I might not have felt like we had been abandoned and left to flounder on our own.

Ron’s subsequent talk immediately demonstrated that recovery from a stroke is a lengthy and challenging process. A stroke alters the brain, the mind and the self. The good news he shared is that the brain can heal itself and that recovery never ends. AND, he argued, if the stories of stroke survivors were taken seriously, if the anecdotal accounts of their stroke experiences were collected and collated by computer, the results would be scientifically significant. The results could teach us much about ourselves and about how the brain works. At the moment, the brain and the universe are our last two, equally UNKNOWN ZONES.

(Ogopogo not withstanding.)

STROKE MONTH SAGA

It all started innocently enough when Donna Hastings, CEO of the Heart and Stroke Foundation of Alberta, the Northwest Territories and Nunavit, invited Ron to speak at a meeting of her Regional Managers to be held in Calgary on June 8. Ron accepted and Donna suggested he also contact Vicky Jones, President of the Stroke Recovery Association of Calgary. Ron did and Vicky promptly invited him to speak at their annual “convention” on June 10^th at 10 AM SHARP.  Ron accepted. When Betty Jane Hegerat and Tyler Perry heard that Ron was coming to Calgary they arranged for Ron to read at Shelf Life Books on Wednesday evening, June 7^th at 7 PM or thereabouts.

In the meantime, Marg Dietrich, a facilitator for the Heart and Stroke Foundation’s Living with Stroke program, had already written to Ron, telling him how much she had enjoyed The Defiant Mind, and, with the assistance of Head Librarian, Anne DeGrace, the two ladies arranged for Ron to read at the Nelson Public Library on June 1^st at 7 PM.

I was pleased. My cousin, Cheryl, lives in Calgary and I thought this would be a good chance to see her. Also, I have always wanted to visit Nelson for many reasons: My long time friend, Suzanne, lives in Nelson and I thought that this would be a good chance to see her. Also, I am old enough to be a fan of the movie, Roxanne, starring Steve Martin, set in Nelson, and I thought that the reading would give me time to see the city first-hand.

When Deborah Rusch, Manager Promote Recovery of the Heart and Stroke Foundation in BC, heard that Ron was heading east she suggested that the two of them join forces. Deb would set up Lunch & Learn sessions at a number of hospitals in the BC Interior. Heart and Stroke would provide the lunch. Deb would talk about the Heart and Stroke Foundation’s new Living With Stroke program for stroke survivors, caregivers, and other interested parties, and Ron would follow with his personal story and a reading from his book if he were so inclined. He was.

So, on Saturday, May 27^th Ron and I packed up our aging Silver Toyota with baggage and bed bar and headed for Vancouver to pick up books from Ronsdale Press. After an overnight stay with our good friends, Bill and Peggy, we departed for Kelowna the next morning and our Stroke Month Saga was under way.

THE NEAR and THE FAR

On Friday, May 19^th Ron was invited to speak at the Probus Club of Nanoose Bay, a mere five minutes away from our home. The club meets in St. Mary’s Church Hall on Powder Point Road at 9:15 am on the third Friday of each month. This social club caters to the interests of a diverse and active membership. Guests are welcome to attend. However, if you wish to join, you will have to put your name on a waiting list until a space becomes available.

After the morning meeting was finished and coffee break over, Ron spoke to the ninety-five members present, his subject in diametric opposition to the jovial, boisterous atmosphere in the Hall. He began by reading a short passage near the beginning of The Defiant Mind :

“Imagine. Imagine you suddenly see the world disappearing down a tunnel. Darkness surrounds a diminishing circle of light as it recedes into the distance. Light is leaving you.  . . .  All energy has left you. Your limbs feel limp, your body sags into itself like a bean bag. You begin to slide off the front edge of your chair. Suddenly. Involuntarily. You are in slow-motion free fall. Perhaps it’s resignation. Whatever happens will happen. There seems to be an inevitability about this event that you don’t comprehend but that you curiously accept. Your body and spirit have been deflated in an inexplicable way. You are experiencing a mystery. And you are terrified.”

Ron spoke for nearly an hour to a rapt audience and, when he finished, the applause he received was generous and genuine. One member even gave him a standing ovation.

The focus of Ron’s talk was to emphasize how common strokes are:

            “Every forty seconds someone          

             in North America suffers a stroke.

             Every four minutes someone in

             North America dies from a stroke.

             Stroke is the leading cause of disability

             In North America.”

Yet he also emphasized how little we know about the brain, at one point quoting from Michio Kaku’s The Future of the Mind:

            “You may have to travel twenty-four trillion miles, to the first

              star outside our solar system, to find an object as complex as

              what is sitting on your shoulders. The mind and the universe

              pose the greatest scientific challenges of all, but they share a

              curious relationship. On the one hand they are polar opposites.

              One is concerned with the vastness of outer space, where we

              encounter strange denizens like black holes, exploding stars,

              and colliding galaxies. The other is concerned with inner

              space. Where we find our most intimate and private hopes and

              desires. This mind is no farther than our next thought, yet we

              are often clueless when asked to articulate and explain it.”

However, argues Ron, if stroke survivors were encouraged to talk about their stroke experiences and their individual stories were recorded, over time, given the enormous number of people who are stricken world-wide by stroke, enough data could be collected and computed, to provide a statistically and scientifically reliable picture of the complex workings of the mind: Findings which could enlighten us all about the capabilities of the brain and teach us the importance of knowing ourselves; findings which could lead to brain therapy as well as physical therapy.