Frozen Sushi

My daughter has been asked to be part of her Elementary school's track and field team. They are being bused to the Zone Championships at Swanguard Stadium. She's the second fastest girl in her class, third in her grade.

Betty and I congratulated her. Betty mentioned that when she was in school she was always among the last to be picked in sports, but first when it came to the spelling bee. She had joined the volleyball team in grade eight only to become the team assistant. Team assistant?, I asked her, What exactly did you do as assistant? With downcast eyes Betty said quietly, Nothing.

***

Forgot to mention a great "photographic" moment I espied on Fraser Street over the weekend. A young man with a baseball cap and an elderly gent in a wheelchair were seated at the window table of a Chinese-Western cafe sharing a plate of french fries. It was dark inside, the cushioned restaurant benches and melamine-topped tables mostly empty. The two did not exchange words, maybe none were needed. They sat in the quiet enjoyment of dipping and eating the fries with their fingers—one set of hands young, quick, ready to take on the world, the other veined, discolored, ready to be taken by the world.

***

The in-laws told us to go by their place after work yesterday to pick up some sushi, a maki dynamite roll, it turns out. A frozen dynamite roll. Trust me, rice doesn't freeze/thaw well. What was somebody thinking?

Brokeback Mountain 2*/5*, Body Fat, and Baking

I finally bought an oven thermometer to figure out why my New York Cheesecakes, though tasty, were sunburnt. I suspected an inaccurate oven dial. This turns out to be the case. The Kitchen Aid mechanical thermometer gives a reading of 400°F when the oven dial reads 325°F, and similarly, 325°F when the oven indicates 260°F.

We also bought a new-fangled scale that gives weight, body fat, and total body water readings. I'm 151 lbs., with 16% body fat, and at a very aqueous 67%. The 16% means I'm fit. [My ego once again undergoes inflationary expansion.]

I woke up at 3:00AM Sunday morning and read Annie Proulx's short story Brokeback Mountain. Admittedly, short stories aren't my thing, but I am partial to love stories. However, this love story just did not move me. Sure the desolate landscape adds to the loneliness and coldness. Sure there are things that go unspoken and remain so to the end. Still, I remain unmoved.

There are maybe one or two memorable lines, like "...if you can't fix it, you've got to stand it." I for one would not be inspired to adapt it to the big screen. One other thing. For some reason, I was conscious throughout that I was reading a book and never became fully immersed in the universe created by the writer.

I bought the book because it includes the screenplay for the celebrated motion picture. I'm interested in the mechanics, formatting practices, and process of crafting a script. I have the DVD but don't intend to watch it till I've read the whole book.

The 2*/5* rating is for the short story only.

South Hill Celebrates

The family and I spent the afternoon on Fraser Street to check out the South Hill Celebrates event. Here are some shots. Note: I've just figured out how to use the special effects features of my latest image management software.

[Panorama with truncated people]


[A self-portrait + effects]


[Ouch! Now you know why I don't eat red meats + tad of saturation]


[A riot of colours + tad of saturation]


[A really neat bush with flowers + warmth]


[Celebrity politician + cropped]

Aside from the hip Fraser Bakery (now known as Breka Bakery and Café) and a European deli just south of East 49th, it really felt like East Vancouver. The strip is anchored by a Fields store, and by Dollar Giant. I really, really want to live in the west side now...

Chapters Sale: Due Diligence

If I recall correctly, there use to be a sign inside each Chapters store that boasted "100 000 Titles In Stock". I suspect that the real in-store figure is more like 40 000. Without knowing how many and which of these 40 000 titles were Chapters "bestsellers" and eligible for a 50% discount come Sunday, I wasn't sure if a trip to the store this weekend was worthwhile or not. (All other books are 20% off.) So I did some reconnoitering this evening.

I flagged down an employee with pink and blue hair. She led me to the computer kiosk to look up the bestsellers list and started to mention that she'd probably have to go to the front desk to generate a printout, when we were interrupted in mid-sentence by a 50-ish man sitting at a table (which I hadn't noticed till this instant), arrayed with what were obviously his book—the author at a book signing, no less.

He pitched the premise and plot—JFK's second assassin (the conspiracy theory people were right after all!) was grooming his son, who was living in northern BC, to assassinate the current president. I read the back cover and thumbed through a few chapters. The sales associate had left for the front by this time. Not my genre, I told him, as gently as I could. I noticed another book off to the side. It's a book about how, after he was clinically dead for eight minutes in a drowning incident, he eventually made sense of the world and found god. Make that God. I beelined to the Biography section as soon as I got the list in my hands.

A very short list, it turns out. If it's correct, then there are a blistering total of 22 titles. 22 out of 40 000 means 0.6% of the books are at 50% off. And when you factor in the current exchange rate of 1.12 versus the 1.3 to 1.4 currency conversion typically set for each book (e.g. $29 US, $39 CDN), then the 50% isn't so attractive anymore and not a big hit to Chapter's wallet.

A price comparison of two non-bestsellers on my list of to-gets yields the following:

The Caine Mutiny, $17.44 at Amazon.ca, $18.36 at Chapters (20% off list).
Second Coming, $17.44 at Amazon.ca, $18.40 at Chapters (20% off list).

So the 20% off non-bestsellers is not so attractive, either.

If you're comfortable with ordering online (I am) and don't need a title immediately, then the Chapters promotion is a non-event.

I was going to say words of encouragement to the author on my way out, "Keep up with the writing," perhaps. But he had trapped another patron. So I thought the better of it and left.

List of Books to Pick Up at Chapters this Sunday

Chapters is having an in-store 50% off bestsellers and 20% off all other books sale this coming Sunday, May 28th. You need to be an iRewards member. I'm currently building a list of books. An asterisk indicates a good chance of my actually making a purchase, assuming that the title is in stock, of course.

I welcome any suggestions.

Non-Bestsellers:

1. Love, Love, Love: And Other Essays; Light Reflections on Love, Life, and Death - Charles C. Taliaferro
2. On Love: A Novel - Alain de Botton *
3. How Proust Can Change Your : Not a Novel - Alain De Botton *
4. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay - Michael Chabon
5. stuff by David Eggers
6. The Caine Mutiny - Herman Wouk *
7. Einstein's Dreams - Alan Lightman *
8. The Eyre Affair - Jasper Fforde
9. Marriage, a History : How Love Conquered Marriage - Stephanie Coontz *
10. The Sins of Scripture : Exposing the Bible's Texts of Hate to Reveal the God of Love - John Shelby Spong
11. Chance: A Guide to Gambling, Love, the Stock Market and Just About Everything Else - Amir D. Aczel
12. The Second Coming : A Novel - Walker Percy *
13. Crossing to Safety - Wallace Earle Stegner *
14. Love in the Time of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Edith Grossman (Translator) *
15. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole *
16. Handling Sin - Michael Malone *

Notes: 4., 6. recommended by W., who, as a book, would get a mixed review.

Bestsellers:

1. See updated entry.

Hahahahahahahaha:

1. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
2. Mission Impossible 2 Movie Script Screenplay - Robert Towne
3. Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood - Rebecca Wells [Sorry, the title is just way too irritating]

Interesting Title, But...

1. A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian - Marina Lewycka

Long Weekend Mish Mash

Yesterday, Matthew for the first time, recounted a dream:

Grandpa said "Where's your new whistle?"

I told him "It's in the box [of toys on the bed]."

How he's grown! Also, he came up with this one yesterday:

London Drugs is falling down, falling down, falling down...

Betty's mom tells us that Matthew's been boycotting wieners of late because "they're made from cow penises." Evidently, Matthew overheard me telling this to Shaula.

***

Betty and I spent all Saturday indoors cleaning up our hovel. I have five full garbage bags of clothes, accumulated over the last ten years plus, to give away. I'm surprise I'm not currently doing time for all the fashion mistakes I've committed. Truth be told, most of the articles are simply too large for the slimmer me. Lots of quality stuff, some unworn.

Which reminds me, my sister-in-law was over with the family for dinner and admitted defeat. I was the winner of our diet bet (I lost my 10 lbs. and she failed to lose her seven).

***

Betty and I took a morning walk in the 'hood, then visited Victoria Drive to pick up some bakery. Despite being peppered by the slightest of raindrops and the coolish temperature, I'd say the warm season has finally arrived. The humidity certainly made it feel warm. I am amazed at all the greenery, especially when it has that saturated after-a-rainfall spring green colour. Yep, even here in lil' ol' East Van.

Later, I took the kids to see Over The Hedge. It's quite good, actually, what'd you expect these days, but the experience was marred by an overzealous laugh-at-everything patron behind us, a fifty-ish woman.

[Newspaper-cum-trash box, Victoria Drive at East 43rd Avenue]

The Jerk

Okay, I had an encounter with the arrogant, scornful, self-important, high and mighty, swollen-headed jerk. The first person in line had momentarily left, so that left just me in the room, awaiting my turn. Then he walks in.

"Is that yours in there, or is that someone else's?" were his first-ever words to me.
"No, somebody else's," I said.
"That's no good," I thought I heard him mumble. He leaves his stuff on the counter and leaves the room.

Well, excuse me. Sorry if I was in line before you. Should I have consulted with you first? Deepest regrets that I'm not on your roadmap to greatness. In sackcloth and ashes that I'm not cute and have breasts. Humblest apologies about my being born. Here, why don't you just go ahead of me, walk all over me, and then, maybe as a favour to you, I'll kill myself—outside of course, I wouldn't want to make you feel queasy or anything.

How would you like me to run a marathon on a hot day and then pick you up by your nose with my armpit, you jerk?

Assaulted by Caffeine

Caffeine: bitter alkaloid found especially in coffee, from the Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary.

My daughter and I can certainly attest to cafffeine's bitter aspect, tyro coffee drinkers that we are.

We started the day off doing some banking and then with a visit to Oakridge Mall. We had to buy some canned salmon at Zellers for Betty's parents and I had to pick up three Jazz Festival tickets from Ticketmaster. Betty had to get her watch band sized at the jeweller. I couldn't find any springform pans at The Bay kitchenware department.

The plan was to lunch in Kerrisdale at the Caffè Artigiano, primarily to check out the lattes. So I ordered a tall low-fat latte, and for my daughter, a tall ice latte. My latte was served in a small cup, very creamy and unlike its much larger brethren at Starbucks. I poured in one packet of Splenda and took a sip. Talk about bitter! A second packet of Splenda did not mollify the assault on my taste buds. I looked at my daughter, who was scrunching up her face. Two Splendas and one sugar could not tame her ice latte. I took a swig, and even with so much sweetener in the drink that some of the crystals didn't dissolve, it was still too bitter.

I guess part of this can be explained by the smaller cup sizes: the same number of espresso shots per drink as Starbucks but with less liquid. The stuff was more bitter than an Americano at Starbucks.

[SOAPBOX MODE: ON]
In the second paragraph, I called myself a tyro. I make self-deprecating remarks like this often. If there's one thing I try never to do it's to become an instant expert on topics I know very little about, or be a jump-on-the-whatever-is-in-band-wagon'er—like the person who starts explaining the minutiae of two-man bobsledding or the pommel horse [what, did this person just watch a short feature about the events a few hours ago?], or that guy in my previous workplace who wore Croakies (neoprene straps for preventing eyeglasses from slipping off) because all the "cool" people were doing it, or all those gadget lovers who somehow, by some miraculous fiat granted by the mere acquisition of the latest and greatest, become the next Ansel Adams [Ansel Adams being probably the only photographer they can name].

Give me a break. Understanding and craft take time. And some humility and self-assessment are in order. Aren't there some sayings to the effect that we're all slobs/losers most of the time?

Note, I am far from perfect. But I can account for that by saying that the theoretical doesn't necessarily match up with the practical (what is practiced).
[SOAPBOX MODE: OFF]

I ended picking up a 9" non-non-stick springform pan (i.e., a springform pan) at the Basic Stock store. We also dropped into COBS Bread for some jalapeno twisty bread but they were out.

We spent the afternoon at Metropolis at Metrotown. I was looking for casual summer shoes (sneakers) to go with my jeans and shorts. Nothing I liked was on sale. We also picked up some groceries, then made our way home.

Dinner was at the Thai House. The pad thai, chicken satay, and gai curry were better than last time, mainly because my sinuses were clear, a lull in my hay fever. Betty and I decided that we weren't going to travel any further than Seattle this summer and instead be tourists in our own town and see and do things we've always been meaning to do. The savings in the hotel costs should afford us some pretty good eats—why leave this wonderfully diverse culinary city to dine at mostly subpar restaurants elsewhere?

Mother's Day Weekend

If you're only as good as the last cheesecake you made, then that explains why my weekend so far hasn't been a slice. It's 4:31PM on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon and I'm indoors baking another New York Cheesecake. Whatever you do, make it good. Neko Case is singing her heart out on the boombox in the kitchen while I'm breaking a sweat.

We had a Mother's Day lunch for my mother at the Japanese restaurant on Kingsway. Brother number two footed the bill for my mother, brother number four, and the four of us. That was nice. Betty and I haven't eaten there in ages and I'm sure the place has changed hands a few times since our last visit, so it was good to know that the food is good, especially the sashimi and tempura.

My mother is selectively forgetting details about Matthew's autumn preschool drop off/pick up plans, so that's pissing me off. Bro' number four told us that Season's Restaurant is trying to woo him back as sous chef. There were no long awkward moments of silence at the table.

Betty and I finally got our thank-you from an unnamed Asian male (for fulfilling a favour): an offer to pay for part of Betty's mom's dinner. Gee, that's a mighty nice gesture—he could've at least picked up the take-out instead of having us do it. Works out to $19 for four hours work, a bitchin' $4.75 per hour. Talk about taking the easy and cheap way out. But I'm not surprised. Generosity, charity, and selflessness are alien concepts here, no matter how many bible stories are thrown at him. There's a bumper sticker that comes to mind: "Jesus, Save Us From Your Followers." Well, there's some progress this year, payment was in immediate cash instead of a postdated cheque.

And no, the money doesn't matter to me. The thought does.

As for me, I bought Betty an elegant rectangular black-dialed Seiko with bracelet band from Rodeo Jewellers, baked her a cheesecake, did all the dishes, sterilized the countertop, and dropped her off at Value Village while I stayed home to play baker man.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

My ADSL went down this morning. My daughter's elementary school plummeted from a top 30 percentile to a bottom 32 percentile in the latest elementary school FSA results published in Saturday's Vancouver Sun.

The only down thing that was positive this weekend was my achieving the goal of losing 10 lbs. My sister-in-law and Bro' number one and family were glaringly missing this weekend. I strongly suspect sis hasn't lost her 7 lbs and didn't want to lose her side of our bet. But I did it, I did it! I'm setting my sights on five more, yep a whopping 15 lbs total by June 30, 2006. Whatever you do, make it good.

As I finish writing this entry, cheesecake #2 is done. The colour and texture are perfect. There are some cracks, but I can live with them. I need an oven thermometer then, because clearly too high a temperature was what wrecked my previous attempt. The oven dial reading is off substantially.

***

What makes people happy? Whatever it is, would it sustain me? What would?

***

I have to unclutter my life. Get a thermometer. Accept the smaller cracks. Starting now.

[Addendum. This entry was written on Mother's Day but posted today after getting the ADSL back up. None of the cheesecakes, as it turns out, met my standards. I blame Martha Stewart. I purchased and used one of her heavy-duty, grey-coloured springform pans. The colour and added mass create an uneven heat transfer such that the periphery cooks much too quickly. I'm reverting to a standard pan to test out my theory.]

Catch Up Entry

As I try to record the past week's events, I have Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here playing, and I'm sitting in the kitchen in front of my Dell notebook eating hemp granola. No, I'm not going to be that goofy guy at the party who holds the same cup of beer all night and pretends to be drunk [stoned].

Yellow matter custard
Dripping from a dead dog's eye
Crabalocker fishwife
Pornographic priestess

All around the mulberry bush,
The monkey chased the weasel.
The monkey thought 'twas all in fun.
Pop! goes the weasel.

I've been trying to polish off three DVDs before having to return them, so that has kept me rather busy. I managed to watch Ma Mère starring 51-year old Isabelle Huppert [Google her]. An unnamed co-worker should check her out—she puts unnamed's older-lady faves Martha Stewart and Katie Couric to shame.

The movie is too over the top for me, with its fetishes, depravities and full frontal male nudity. I couldn't sympathize with any of the characters and the ending was stupid.

The second disc was Off The Map. You can go to IMDb to check these movies out. I will say that I really liked the kid in this film; usually I find 12-year olds irritating at best but the girl played by Valentina de Angelis was pretty, smart, and spunky—big-time junior high school crush material. I had difficulties with the abrupt character development, though. The IRS guy is ill at one moment, madly in love with the wife in the next, and then in the end, metamorphosizes into a renowned painter. Similarly, we don't see the husband progressively come out of his depression. He's completely withdrawn at the start and completely normal at the end with no in-between state.

That said, I'm very glad that there are enough like-minded people to produce movies like this. It's very slow paced, spartan, sublime, in other words, guaranteed to not do well at the box office. Great acting by all. Recommended for people who like the slow, sublime, and spartan.

I didn't get around to the third video.

***

Shaula passed Red Cross Swim Kids level 6 on Tuesday.

***

I have now lost 8 of 10 lbs., almost there!

***

I filled in the census form Wednesday. Short and easy.

***

Two good lines from a borrowed copy of Dave Toycen's The Power of Generosity:

[Generosity] is the lubricant that soothes our daily living...

Generosity is the first car in the train of virtues.

The Weekend

After work on Friday, Betty and I went to the local gym. We then picked the kids up and went to Rogers because Shaula wanted to rent the just-released on DVD animation Hoodwinked. I watched the last 20 minutes. It looked pretty good to me, more sophisticated than Finding Nemo, Monsters, Inc., and the ilk.

We went for a 30 minute walk first thing Saturday, and met up with Betty's parents for a dim sum brunch on Victoria Drive. Total bill for four adults and the two kids, including tip: $20. In contrast, I paid $18 just for myself for a dim sum lunch with co-workers in Richmond on Friday.

Saturday was International Astronomy Day, so at noon we made our way out to the planetarium where I spent about a half hour checking out the displays and the Antares Optical booth. Antares is a local telescope manufacturer/wholesaler. They had a "everyone's a winner" draw. My prize was a coupon for a 25% discount off all accessories on a future purchase.

Next, we went to West Point Grey, West Tenth Avenue near UBC, actually, to do some shopping. We rarely venture this far west. I bought a few toys for the kids at Kaboodles, Betty a pair of jeans at Changes, and I bought some chocolate at Daniel (see picture).



On the way home, I dropped by Vancouver Telescope's new premises at the corner of West Fourth and Blenheim. We never made it to the Café Artigiano in Kerrisdale.

After dinner Betty and I went for another 30 minute walk. We spent the rest of the evening, hours, going through my clothes to see what can be given away: I've since lost weight, and it was high time for me to relinquish some of my pack rat attitudes given our shortage of storage space.

Betty and I hit the gym Sunday morning and then the family hit our second home, Metrotown mall. Here's what I picked up:



Pomegranate sure seems to be in these days!

The four books I bought (Algernon, Charlie, and I, Blindsided, Birders, Speaking of Success), all non-fiction, were from the clearance tables at Chapters. The Pamela Wallin (yes, Pamela Wallin the news lady) book is very good based on a cursory read. When I got home later, I looked them up on Amazon and Chapters. Lucky for me, Algernon, Charlie, and I and Blindsided garnered good reviews.





We also made our way to the Burnaby Public Library. I took out The Power of Generosity and Field Notes on the Compassionate Life.

Food Associated with a Place

I've eaten the following foods that are associated with a place:

1. Buffalo Wings in Buffalo, NY
   My friend Mike and I stopped by a family restaurant for some wings on our way to NYC. We slept in the rental car just north of Binghampton, NY that night, facing a low mountain and train trestle. The beginning of September, if I recall, the leaves beginning to turn colour. This was years before Mike moved to New Jersey.


2. Philly Cheese Steak in Philadelphia, PA
   A cheese steak is slices of steak and cheese between buns. This was at a 50/60s-style diner. I was in Philly for work.


3. Bagels in NY, NY
   Betty and I were visiting Mike when he lived near Paterson, NJ. Okay, so I physically bought the bagels in New Jersey, across the Hudson from NYC, but they were nevertheless authentic. A breakfast place we went to had an inept cashier. I got more change than expected. Mike turned a profit. Mike mentioned that the customer immediately before him had a puzzled look when he got his change back. Mike was renting a place that had a bug problem: millipede-type things. Almost as creepy as spiders. These things just glide across the floor until you whack them with a slipper.


4. Montreal Style Smoked Meat in Montreal, QC
   At the famous Ben's Deli.


5. Pastrami sandwich in NY, NY
   In a deli in Greenwich Village.


6. Nanaimo Bar in Nanaimo, BC
   Had some last summer while shopping at Woodgrove Centre.


7. Ribs in Memphis, TN
   At the Rendezvous and at Corky's. I was there for work. The hospital I visited is now gone.


8. New England Clam Chowder in Boston, MA
   On vacation with Betty.


9. Gumbo, Jambalaya, Crawfish, and Beignets in New Orleans, LA
   Again, there for work. Definitely a food-loving city. Beignets are donuts without the hole, coated with icing sugar. Had some at the Café Du Monde. The crawfish was served whole, head and all. Some had eyes missing , so I spent most of the meal looking for them so that I wouldn't bite into one by accident. I did the same thing on another occasion when I was served a seafood paella.


10. Grits
    Either in Georgia, North Carolina, or Tennessee, I don't recall.


11. Quiche, croissant, crêpe (with Nutella) in Paris
    On vacation with Betty and Shaula. Room service provided croissant and coffee every morning.


12. Dutch pancakes in Amsterdam
    I believe I had strawberry and whipped cream on mine. This was in the Jewish part of town.


13. Poi in Hawaii
    Only because it was free (Betty and I sat through a Time Share indoctrination presentation to earn tickets to a luau.). Blando.

To do:

Starbucks in Seattle
Mississippi Mud Pie in Mississippi
Key Lime Pie in Florida

Heart & Stroke - Part II

This is the second of three parts. Most of the text below has been lifted from my website's blog.

• 2003-mid-December
  I get my heart ultrasound done. I mention to my Betty that I had bad vibes about the visit. The techs initially said that I should hear back from my doc within five work days, longer if things were normal ("no news is good news."). To tease some info out of them, I re-stated the five day turnaround time as I was leaving, with an inflection in my voice, but got only a hesitant "you'll hear back from your doctor."
  
  The visit included an unexpected "bubble test", which is essentially the injection of a saline solution containing bubbles into a vein on the arm to see if there's a heart problem. IV number one, ouch!!!! If the bubbles migrate from the right chamber to the left, it would be visible on the ultrasound device and indicate the presence of a hole. Of course I didn't know any of this at the time. During the procedure, one of the techs mentioned something like "was too aneurysmal" or "too aneurysmic" to the other tech, which sounded about as positive as "overly malignant". When the exams were over I could tell by the main technologist's body english that something was up.
  
  Later the same day, I get a CT neck and a CT brain scan. They inject dye into me. IV number two, ouch! I am told that the dye makes me feel warm all over, and gives the sensation of wanting to go pee. True on both counts. It's pretty neat, actually, since you can feel the stuff makes its way through your circulatory system in a matter of seconds.
  In the picture above, dressed in "Gaelic" colours, I am at the VGH parking garage about to go home. You can just make out the bandages near each elbow.
  


• 2004-January-13
  Well, the neurologist confirms what I already knew, that I indeed had had a stroke. This is three months after the incident. The CT brain scan shows that the area by my right temple was taken out. Lucky for me, it's not an important part of the brain; had it been my left side, the clot would've affected my speech. There are no visible clots, the arteries look fine, my cholesterol level was much better, where it should be (not that it was way high or anything) thanks to the aspirin and Lipitor pills. Something or other in my liver is elevated because of the meds. I'll have to get another blood test to monitor it. If it doesn't come down, I might have to ease off the Lipitor.
  
  Turns out I have a hole in my heart, what is known as a patent foramen ovale, or PFO. The specialist said it so quickly that it took Betty's and my combined recollection to piece together what the diagnosis was, and some sleuthing on the internet. It's pronounced PAYTent forAYmen oVALly. As fetuses, we all start off with a hole in the heart, but I guess mine didn't close up after birth. PFO is very common, about one in five people have it. The current belief is that it explains a lot of the historically "unexplainable [cryptogenic] strokes", and plays a role in the extended air flight deep-vein thrombosis clots and strokes ("economy-class syndrome").
  
  Mr. Neurology schedules me for a down-my-throat echocardiogram to check out the geometry of the opening, and for more bloodwork to see if I have a clotting disorder [turns out to be 7 vials' worth of the red stuff]. If the opening is problematic, I can elect to have surgery, which apparently takes only an hour or two to plug the hole—no cutting required!

[continued in next posting, Heart & Stroke - Part III]

Heart & Stroke - Part I

Friday marks the first anniversary of my heart procedure (performed 05/05/05). For me today's entry is the raison d'être for blogs: a written record I can refer to years from now when my memory gets fuzzy about the details. So here is a chronology of events leading up to the tri-5 date, with some commentary.

• Wednesday, 2003-October-22
  I take the day off from work for Shaula's appointment at Children's Hospital. She had broken her arm six weeks before so today was cast removal day. Betty is also with me. We have time to kill before the 1:00PM appointment, and I'm hungry and light-headed, so we go to Oakridge Centre to grab a bite at around 11:30AM. I'm in the food court fishing through my pockets for an Orange Julius coupon. In an instant I nearly black out and almost collapse. Something went very wrong in my head. I am confused, disoriented and have a massive headache, and struggle to make it back to the table where Betty and Shaula were seated, bumping into people. I almost throw up. I scramble for Betty's hand in an attempt to hang onto something I could make sense of. I can hear her but can't see her. She leaves to get food and I have an anxiety attack. I drink a strawberry shake, unsure if my medical episode was caused by super low blood sugar and hunger.
  
  I make it back to the car and rest. Betty and Shaula join me a half hour later and somehow I drive to Children's. Finding a parking spot was an ordeal. Round and round I went in the lot looking for a free space, and round and round things went in my head. I have another anxiety attack. I survive the cast off and make it home and call in sick Thursday.


• Comment
  I did not suffer any major cognitive, speech or motor problems. Months later, still dizzy, I was able to skate. What I did experience is hard to describe. The best way to put it is that the stroke (for that was what hit me) affected my "sense of place". Whenever I was in motion—be it driving, walking, or, especially, as a passenger, my mental sense of where I was physically headed differed from what my body was telling me; the two were out of synch. Kind of like the jolt one gets when mounting a staircase in the dark and miscalculating the last step. My feet constantly dug into the hallway floor at my workplace, in mid-stride, because I would misjudge the vertical positions of my feet relative to the ground.
  
  When it came to driving, the first weeks were weird. I would notice the traffic around me but had a so-what attitude about it, as if the comings and goings of the other vehicles weren't for real, surreal even.
  
  I had a headache for many months and was dizzy, then light-headed, for a whole year, walking around the office more dazed than my usual self. Even now, I am off-kilter from time to time, but this could be related to my eye operation of last June.


• 2003-October/November
  I see my GP on Friday the 24th. He tells me to move my arms and walk around the office, fills in a requisition for lab work and an ECG, and has his assistant make an appointment with a stroke specialist. His diagnosis was a TIA. I get the first of my blood tests done a few days later, the ECG at the same time. Later, the results show a higher than average level of bad cholesterol. Everything else was normal. He then orders an ultrasound of the carotid artery.
  
  Sometime in November, I see the neurology/stroke specialist. He's younger than I am. I don't recall exactly what was said. He wasn't very personable, and faked sympathy (or wasn't very good a showing it). He has me walk and move around the corridor outside his office, orders some bloodwork, prescribes Lipitor, tells me to take 325mg of aspirin once a day, and says I probably suffered a stroke (so I was now officially a stroke survivor). He also has his assistant schedule a heart ultrasound and some CT head scans for what ended up being a two month wait. Anxious months, I might add: there was a 4% chance of somebody my age having another stroke within the year. As far as I was concerned, a 4% chance of a bullet through my head while driving to work on Knight Street.


• Comment

I was quite depressed at this time. Freaked out by the drawing of blood. Upset at the waitlist. Worried about suffering another stroke while driving. Or at home alone with nobody to call 911: time is of the essence for the victim; the earlier one is rushed to hospital the more brain cells the doctors can save from dying. Worried also about being cognitively impaired, and of course, not being around for the family. I recently read a sappy email chain letter explaining the true meaning of FAMILY: Father And Mother I Love You. Hokey, but entirely applicable to how I was feeling. When I read Robert Munsch's, Love You Forever I remember crying.

I'm getting ahead of myself, but I end up being diagnosed as having had a paradoxical embolism, a form of stroke.

[continued in next posting, Heart & Stroke - Part II]

A Profound Statement?

Right now, my hayfever is getting the better of me. If I had gun, I'd shoot my nose off.

***

A co-worker made the following statement:

Success on the Dance Floor Translates to Success in Bed.

This is bugging me. How true is it?