The quote, as
many of you will know, is Bilbo speaking in The Lord of the Rings, by J.R.R. Tolkien:
It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your
door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no
knowing where you might be swept off to.
A birthday and an enjoyable week, then several
cancelled flights, some delayed, fog and snowstorms, a couple of ambulance rides,
two nights in emergency, surgery, hospital visits, meeting interesting people,
and so on – all within twenty-three days and some hours.
It began with a visit to Edmonton on February 13 of
this year, to celebrate my 76th birthday with my son and grandson. A
few wonderful days. Scheduled to return on February 21. My son drove me to the airport,
and I noticed fog, thought nothing of it.
My plane arrived a little late, and we would be
delayed starting. Finally, we were asked to line up so they could get us loaded
and on our way as soon as possible. We stood. And waited. Then the dreaded
announcement: the plane is cancelled (I’ve never experienced a cancelled flight
before – a bit of a new adventure), and you should get an email within half an
hour of your rebooked flight. Nope, not in half an hour, but an email that said
rescheduling in about an hour. Nope. So, I called the WestJet number and got a
real live agent who was very helpful and was finally able to book me on a very
early flight to Calgary and thence to Saskatoon, leaving on February 24. By
this time it was dark and late so I didn’t want to take the airport bus, LRT,
and one more bus, so my son agreed to come pick me up. He said he was off work
Saturday and wouldn’t mind taking me to the airport and getting an early start
to his day.
On Friday (23) afternoon, I got a call from my son’s
girlfriend. She’d just had a call from his workplace – he’d had a bad stomach ache,
and fainted so they called an ambulance to take him to hospital (St. Albert).
She was coming to pick me up. In hospital emergency, he was in fairly good spirits
but some pain and had a slight fever. Eventually he got pain meds (he’d
initially refused them, worried they’d upset his stomach), but these were IV. Later a
CT scan, determination that the fever didn’t mean he was contagious (for a
while we had to mask, gown and glove when going into his room, that he finally
got). By the time they diagnosed him and gave him prescriptions it was 3:30 am.
Oh yes, he wasn’t allowed food or drink this whole time, just ice chips. Early
on in the evening I called and cancelled my early morning flight.
About two and a half days at home, soft foods and
liquids. I rebooked a flight for March 2. Tuesday afternoon my son is in severe
pain and his prescription pain killers are not working. “I’m calling and ambulance,”
I said. “No,” he responded, “I don’t want to go back to emergency.”
After watching him writhe in pain for a little
while, I called an ambulance. It took a while, but they finally arrived, got
him loaded and gave him IV pain meds which began to work. I rode in the ambulance. His girlfriend reaches the hospital later, brings me tea and a sandwich.
More hours in emergency as they took blood, vitals,
gave pain meds, more ice chips, and eventually an x-ray. He’s admitted to the
hospital. His girlfriend has to leave, go home to take care of her children as
her mother has to leave. By this time it’s about 2:30 am. I decided to stay in
a nearby hotel, so I could stay with my son until he got admitted and then I
could easily return the next day. Checking in at the hotel, I couldn’t remember
my PIN number of my credit card, couldn’t remember where in my wallet I had secreted it for situations
such as this. The receptionist was kind and checked my card in manually. Gave
me the compassionate rate for people visiting the hospital.
Next morning a lovely buffet breakfast, included
with the room. Taxi back to the hotel. I don’t remember how long but my son’s
girlfriend came, and we eventually went back to Edmonton.
Hospital visits when we could, including my
grandson when we could. They gave my son IV pain meds and antibiotics, no food or
drink allowed, only ice chips to wet his mouth. They were hoping this regime would
result in healing.
Thursday afternoon my son’s girlfriend phoned me, my
son had phoned her, they were going to do surgery, didn’t know the time. I
called the hospital, surgery scheduled about 5 pm, could be earlier, could be
later, but if I wanted to visit, I should come soon. Phoned his girlfriend
back, she had her daycare kids and her own kids, couldn’t leave right then. I
said I’d take a cab; she could come whenever possible. I was able to be with my
son in preop, right until they took him in for surgery, both of us fairly calm.
The indispensable and wonderful girlfriend came, lots of hugs, some
tears. We decided to go out to eat, nearby fast food. I needed to get out of
the hospital for a while.
My son got out of surgery and post op a bit late,
but all had gone well.
Next day we are back, and so on. My son is up and
walking, but still no food.
My son’s father is scheduled to arrive by bus on
the evening of March 2 and I’m scheduled to fly out that afternoon. No dice for
me: one plane cancelled, another booked, that one cancelled, too. Snowstorm in
Saskatoon. They rebooked me for March 6 – this time the rebooking was quicker, and by email (maybe the airline has learned something?).
I took the airport bus, LRT, and one more bus, then walked the couple of blocks
to my son’s house. My X is already there – the bus ride had been scary but he
made it. The house is big enough to have our space. I haven't had much conversation with him in years. He talks a lot, catches me up on his life. I'm somewhat interested. He has characteristics of my son - they both forget where they put things, for example.
My son makes progress, is allowed gum to chew,
candies to suck, then popsicles.
I leave for the airport on March 6, having
cancelled a dentist appointment for March 5 in Saskatoon.
I have a carryon bag, as I have had all the time and
previously going through security on my other attempts to get back to
Saskatoon, no problems. This time when I get through the screening my suitcase isn’t
there. I see it has been set aside with a couple of security people who have
other suitcases. I’m told my bag must be searched. Fine. My son had given me a wonderful,
zippered artist case with pencils, erasers, etc. for my birthday. What I’ve
forgotten or didn’t notice is that there is a small xacto type knife to
sharpen pencils. (Note that this has not been a problem in my previous times through
security). I’m told I have 3 choices – leave the knife with relatives (no one
is at the airport with me), give it up (no way am I giving up part of this
present from my son!), or check my bag. Easy decision. I am escorted out of
security and pointed to the WestJet desk where I check my bag and it’s sent
onto the plane. Back through security. I’m puzzled by this incident, wonder
later in a sort of paranoid way if the reason they targeted me this time is
that I’m wearing my hamsa hand earrings – they are also called the hand of
Fatima (Islamic tradition) hand of Miriam (Jewish tradition) and hand of Mary
(Christian tradition). Who knows.
Our direct flight plane is a little late getting in
(we’re supposed to leave at 4:40 pm, arrive Saskatoon 6:55), but it arrives,
people disembark. Usual announcement, the plane needs to be cleaned, they’ll
get us on as soon as possible. Next announcement, a mechanical issue they have
to deal with, plane will leave somewhat later. Soon I see that the screens that
usually show the gate, destination and departure time is now showing airport
announcements/ads. I say to the woman sitting beside me, “That looks rather
ominous.” Shortly thereafter, the plane is cancelled due to a mechanical
problem. People who need to make connections should come up to the desk and
they’ll see what they can do. For those of us waiting to go to Saskatoon, there
is soon an announcement that another plane will fly to Saskatoon at 6:15 pm at
a different gate. However, this plane is smaller and won’t hold all of us so
they ask for volunteers to take a later plane. Those who do volunteer will get
$150. What the H, I might as well because if this plane also gets cancelled, I
could use the $150 to take the bus home. The later plane leaves at 8:30 pm, via
Calgary to arrive in Saskatoon after 1 am.
Chatting in the line waiting to take this deal,
what exactly is happening, what is the schedule? I’m one of the first to get
mine done (they promise to move my baggage from the old plane to the late
plane), so I explain to others. We also get emailed a meal voucher for $30 from WestJet. Lots of time
before my plane leaves so I go to the Belgian Bar Café (Edmonton airport has
lots of good stores and eateries), because they advertise Stella Artois beer, I’ve
never had it, have read about it in books, and by now I really need a beer! So,
I have that (it’s good) and some cheese croquettes, tasty.
I have books to read, a crossword book, to occupy
my time until departure. Take another trip to the washroom before flight time.
The toilet flushes twice before I even sit down. I’ve been texting to various
people all this time, who want to know where I am and what’s happening. One of
them, after I mention the toilet incident, texts back, “Get out of there now!”
Still, I’m staying pretty calm through all this, not convinced yet that I will
get home this time.
Finally, we are boarding and as we walk out, I’m chatting
with one of the women who’d also been in line and it turns out we are sharing
two seats at the back of the plane. Waiting for take off, we chat with another
woman across the aisle, as well as one of the flight attendants. My seat companion
tells me she is a nervous flyer. I say, “You can hold my hand if you like, I’ve
been holding me son’s hand a lot lately.” It just feels natural and as we take
off she does. We chat on the flight, good conversation about ourselves, life. Of
minor interest, the place where she works (she’s a legal secretary) has toilets
that flush surprisingly with small motions as well.
Calgary airport. It seems huger than Edmonton’s,
and I do a search, find out it is and also busier, but not so busy tonight.
Hang out with my seat companion, get tea and a cold drink at Starbucks. She
says, you should text people a picture of palm trees, say, guess where I am.
Instead I text a picture of a cardboard tree, and owl and a beaver in the airport.
Could be classified a sculpture perhaps. Back to hang out with the other woman
we met and other Saskatoon people. I say, “This feels like some kind of weird
pyjama party.” “Without the pyjamas,” says the other woman.
Finally, we board. My former seat companion is
across the aisle from me – this is a bigger plane, 3 seats per side. At take
off, she reaches over and we clasp hands.
Finally, Saskatoon. Did they transfer my suitcase? I
wait to the end. It’s not there. I’ve never had a lost bag before (this is an adventure I can do without!), and my son’s
wonderful present is in it. I have to get it back! The young woman at the lost
baggage claims desk is friendly. I hand her my original baggage claim tag, don’t
know if it’s still good as I’ve changed planes. She immediately says, “Oh I
remember this bag, it came on the earlier flight from Edmonton. She calls a
woman to take me around the airport, the woman goes and brings back a red suitcase.
It’s mine!
It feels like I’m the last passenger at the
airport, no more planes are coming, though there are a couple of people with suitcases,
must be planning on waiting for a connecting flight or someone to pick them up.
I go out, 3 cabs are still there.
I get home at 3:20 am on March 7. I’m supposed to
go for minor surgery to have a cyst removed on Friday, March 8. Decide I can’t
face it, call and leave a message to cancel.
My neighbours have kept the snow cleared from the
front and one side of my house – amazing people.
I wake up about 8:30 am, feeling all right. Soon
after I get a call about the surgery, can’t I make it after all, after a day of
rest (the surgery requires me to be at St. Paul’s Hospital by 6:45 am even
though the surgery isn’t until 8:30 am)? I am tempted to yell and be rude, say,
“I’m 76 years old!” but I keep my explanation short and calm: I’ve had numerous
plane cancellations, am just too tired, am sorry, I know this will mean I’ll
have to wait longer, but I can’t make it.
Another friend drops off milk, fresh veggies, buns
and chili in my front porch!
In replies to my texts and WhatsApp family and
friends have been so supportive.
That evening, I’m still thinking about the woman
who wanted me to make the surgery, so I decide to leave a longer message of
explanation. It relieves any lingering annoyance I have about that.
And when I look at my Facebook page, the woman who
was my seat companion has found me! I love the photos of her and her family.
In the next couple of days two neighbours offer to
drive me anywhere I need to go because my car is snowed in my garage in the
back alley. Another neighbour across the alley gives me the name of someone who
clears snow for a fee. I’ve left a message – if I don’t hear, other neighbours
have offered to help shovel my garage doors clear.
Life is an adventure, is fascinating, and though I
like the calm periods very much, I had many interesting, unexpected, and wonderful
experiences on this trip. And I felt part of an incredible community of people.
I wish for the world that everyone could be supported and treated so well. I hope that’s not a totally impossible dream. I know that many people all over the world do what they can in small and large ways to help others, and I know many will continue to do that. Maybe someday the whole world can be a kinder place.
