Flat-Out Friday: Red is for Remembrance

Monday is Remembrance Day. Before I met Matt this meant a few different things, none of which have the slightest bit of importance to me now. It's sobering to think of how little this day mattered until I fell in love with a soldier.

When I chose to be with Matt, I chose to be in the military too. Not as an active service member, of course, but the military isn't just made up of the men and women who serve our country without question every single day. It's also made up of the spouses that stand behind their soldiers, the children, the support staff, the service workers... Like the saying, "it takes a village to raise a child", it takes a village to keep a soldier in service. 

So if it helps, think of us all as one great big village. And every year on this day, our village puts aside the internal differences that divide us and comes together to honour the memory of every single person who has given the ultimate sacrifice to keep us safe. It is the one day where it doesn't matter if your beret is blue or green or black. We don't care what your rank, or your spouse's rank, or your parent's rank is. We can all find common ground on which to stand and be grateful.

And no, I haven't been with Matt for a long-term deployment, but I've felt the effects of not knowing if he's okay and where he is through the domestic operation for the Alberta floods. I haven't been out of touch for days at a time, but I have been unable to see him for months while he is on yet another training operation. And I wasn't around when the horrible things he experienced in Afghanistan were fresh on his mind, but in the quiet of the night when he's had a bit too much to drink I have heard about them, cried with him about them.

It's those stories I remember every November 11. Those things that happened while the world was fighting in a place most of us had never found on a map. The things that make a grown man cry while you hold him. The stories that no one should have to have bottled up inside them. I remember those and I stand with my village, supporting my soldier and all the others, remembering with them that they are the reason we can stand together in peace, and feel love, sadness, and solemnity openly. All these things were why, one month fresh from the hospital after my accident, I stood on the open prairie in the relentless wind beside my soldier and shivered. Why last year, even though it fell on a weekend, we held our own quiet ceremony together and toasted the memories.

This year, as Matt goes with a few other soldiers to a grave on the outskirts of Edmonton to remember a good and brave man, I will be standing with members of my village remembering him and all the others who can no longer stand there with us. I will hold my head high, my poppy pinned next to my heart, and recite "In Flanders Fields" with the crowd until I start to cry. 

And my poppy will be red.

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Flat-Out Friday: The Great Motorcycle Debate

About the only thing that Matt and I have disagreed on since we've been together has been motorcycles. And really, it's only been since my accident that our opposing opinions have actually come up against one another. It's not that I am against anything that goes fast on two wheels, or other people owning them - in fact, my family has a long, wonderful relationship with cycles.

My grandfather started his working life at the locomotive construction yard in Kingston, tinkering away on huge steam engines. When the yard closed, he went to work at Queens University, and in his spare time he opened a small shop that repaired and rebuilt motorcycles. He owned all kinds of them - the last one I remember is a Triumph that he posed with for his retirement picture. My mum grew up driving them. My father owned one. I drove on the back of a moped in Bermuda with my dad when I was just a little girl. By all rights I should be completely comfortable with two-wheeled transportation.

But something about watching helplessly as a 10-ton vehicle drives over you and smashes your pelvis makes you reconsider your opinions about everything.

Lately his friends have been goading him about not owning a bike. They have been trying to convince him that he is less of a "real man" because we don't have one. And while I understand the practicalities of owning one - less gas, frees up the car for me, etc. - I have been balking at every turn.

I think it's because it's something I can control. No, I can't control what other drivers do on the road, or what happens every time he crosses a street, or the dangers of his chosen profession. But the one thing I do have some control over is our owning a motorcycle. And the very last thing I ever want anyone I love to experience is what I did one August morning. But when I think of motorcycles, my mind inevitably goes to that unfortunate few rides that end with the rider skidding across the pavement and under the tires of a much larger vehicle.

Will this reaction fade with time? Or will I always be hesitant of bikes? Am I being completely irrational? Is this something I should just accept? Honestly, I don't know if I can just swallow my fears and watch Matt drive off on one. But am I just being stubborn by not letting him explore this desire? All this is enough to make me sick. Blech.

What do you all think? I'm asking for some advice from you, my readers. What are your thoughts?

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Week in Review: Catch My Breath

What a whirlwind of a week! There was so much to do, and I get the feeling that this is only the beginning; September is going to kick-start a crazy autumn season. Although it'll be full of crazy while by myself, as Matt heads back to Wainwright for two months, which may be better or worse, depending on how things go. To start, we had supper with friends on Monday night - a giant, 22lbs of smoked pork supper - to celebrate a birthday. I spent all day Monday making cakes: a buttermilk chocolate one and a gluten-free banana spice one. Both had cream cheese frosting and sprinkles, because no cake gets made in this household without cream cheese frosting and sprinkles.

Tuesday I went to physio. NBD. Wednesday I had an appointment with a new psychiatrist (that's right, folks - I'm seeing three now!) at the hospital so it was an emotional rollercoaster of a day. Thursday I spent the day feeling sick and playing video games because sometimes you just need a day to do that, but it was a good thing I did because this weekend was non-stop.

Friday I headed back to the hospital to see another of my mental health professionals, cried some more, came home, got prettied up and went out to dinner in Sherwood Park for their 120th Anniversary of the County celebration in conjunction with the Lord Strathcona's Horse (Royal Canadians) regiment exercising the Freedom of the County. To explain quickly, a "freedom of the city/county/whatever" ceremony dates back to medieval times when certain units in armies had close ties with certain cities. These units got preferential treatment and were allowed inside the city fully armed and ready for battle. In return for letting them rest inside and replenish supplies, the city was guaranteed protection from outside forces and the assurance that no soldier would take advantage of the situation (and fall to plundering or raping, for example). So Stratchcona County, being another namesake of Lord Strathcona himself, thought it would be super cool for the Strats to come into town fully armed and march through to show their friendly association. Got it?

LCol Peyton riding through in his tank. Tanks are the new horses, yo.

The Friday night was a black tie/Mess Kit affair as I did my best to be arm candy for my husband so he could schmooze. In attendance was the Lieutenant Governor of Alberta, along with the Mayor herself, the Colonel, the RCMP Superindendent, and the deputy Premier. Yeah, it was tres fancy. We got home around midnight after dropping off our carpooling friend.

We so fancy

Saturday morning, however, was no time for sleeping in! Matt had us out the door by 7:30am and off to the base to drop him with the rest of the regiment for the convoy of tanks, armoured vehicles, trucks, and buses to depart toward Sherwood Park. Yes, you read that right, folks: they took their tanks down to "free the County". LCol Paul Peyton rolled up in his Leopard 2 and hopped out, put on his sword, and proceeded with the ceremony. He was accompanied by his 100 man honour guard, of which my sweet husband was a member. He was so excited to be a part of it, and even more excited about the sword he got to flourish about. The whole affair was incredible. Matt's never been a part of a "Freedom" ceremony, and I've never seen one, so it was a big deal for both of us.

Sunday we had to do all the pesky stuff that still needed done, like the laundry, etc. And then we were off again to another friend's house for some more delicious smoked meat; this time beef. We got to catch up with them and meet their little one for the first time, which was a big hit with me.

I know that so far today I've done the dishes that have piled up since... last week some time, and vacuumed half the apartment. In a minute, I plan to go have a nap, and then I might fold some clothes. Maybe. This week I have no appointments booked until Thursday and I plan on making the most of the time I have available by finally cleaning the apartment properly (something that hasn't been done for a solid month now) and catching up on my sleep. Because whew, I'm beat. Being popular is so hard sometimes.

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Week in Review: Get a Life

We have friends! I mean, not that we didn't have friends before, but Matt and I are both the sort of people that have a few friends we really, really like, as opposed to a lot of friends who are just all right. Whatever. The point is that we have friends who like us and we like them and they want to hang out with us, like, twice a week. It's uncanny!
 

Awww, aren't we cute?!

We went to Trivia Night again on Thursday - did not do nearly as well as the first week we attended, but the experience was marred by a malfunctioning microphone and a case of "pub near capacity". We still had a lot of fun but I was jangled by the time we left ("jangled" was Matt's word; it's a good one). Friday night we attended another military party: the All Ranks Dinner/Dance at Schank's, which is this crazy pub with bowling, virtual golf, mini golf, an arcade, pool tables, and three bars for two stories of drinking craziness. Basically, it was huge. Matt was the runner-of-all-things-running that night, so I helped with the technical stuff as his familiarity with and patience for computers is moderate at best. Everything went off well, and we had a good meal, some great conversation, and we won a door prize which we are using for admission passes to K-Days here in Edmonton, basically the city's equivalent of the Expo in Ottawa. It's great because Matt will be on summer leave while they are on, so we can fully enjoy all they offer and get me plenty of weight-bearing exercise walking around looking at it all.

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Week in Review: Science Experiment Goes "Boink"

As any Calvin and Hobbes fan will recognize, the title of my post today refers to the small blond boy's escapades with his transmogrifier, a cardboard box that at times duplicated, transformed, and transported him on epic adventures. This past week I've felt like someone has transmogrified me into something I'm not usually, and taken the regular me out for pizza.

Everything aches, and I wish I was exaggerating. I have been laid out cold with a headache three times. I haven't been sleeping normally, as you can probably tell by my tweets and posts at all hours. I'm pale (for me) and wan, black circles under my eyes, and don't ask me how I'm doing because I just might start crying.

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Flat-Out Friday: The Great Deluge

I can't sleep. It's 3 am and I'm making hot chocolate in an effort to try and normalize myself. I can't sleep because I'm having a mini-crisis. I'm having a mini-crisis because of this: Calgary has declared a state of emergency in response to the flooding of the Bow River. Dams are overflowing. Authorities are evacuating over 25 neighbourhoods. People are banding together over social media to offer support to those effected by all this. Environment Canada's Weather Office is now saying it will continue to rain in Southern Alberta until Tuesday. And I'm glued to my Twitter feed. They have evacuated the Calgary Zoo. The Zoo! Do you have any idea how hard the transport of that many animals would be? And where would they take them?

This is one of those things that sets off my anxieties. It is a situation completely beyond my control that is effecting people I care about, and, I'll admit it, me. Even here in Edmonton, it's effecting me. Thursday night was Date Night again. Matt and I went out for supper, and it was supposed to be a fun, relaxing evening to celebrate his long weekend. He got the call just before our meal came; we took it to go. I drove him to the base, and right now he's somewhere south of here, coordinating military efforts to support the Calgary Emergency crews and meet with city engineers to lend help. It's not looking like he'll be here tomorrow night either. And I'm not holding my breath for Saturday night's all ranks dinner/dance.

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Week in Review: Head Spins

What a week. I feel like my head is still spinning. Actually, that might be the weather. It's been really weird here for the past little while: like today, which had bright blue skies this morning but by 3pm it's expected to be thundering and lightning. It makes everything ache, which makes my head feel all dizzy-making, which gives me a "my-brain" ("migraine" for those who haven't had a toddler say the word to them), which causes me much napping. It's a cycle, and a vicious one. This is also why I can't seem to keep a proper swim schedule. I suppose the lesson here is, don't worry about it. Just swim when you can and everything will turn out okay.

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Flat-Out Friday: Home to Stay

It's been a long haul of exercises this spring, but finally, FINALLY, Matt is home to stay.

Yesterday felt a lot like the day I came home from the hospital after the accident. My physical therapist and occupational therapist escorted me to make sure I could manage getting up the stairs to our second floor condo, and then up the stairs again to the second floor. They checked to make sure my detachable handle on the bathtub was installed properly, that the bath seat was an appropriate height, and that I could get in and out of bed. After they approved my stay, they left and, for what felt like the first time in my whole life, I relaxed. I made it up to my bed and snuggled in for the longest nap ever. It was glorious. And when I woke up, Matt was lying beside me, grinning. I had finally made it home to sleep beside him.

Escaping!

I imagine that this feeling is similar to the one that Matt has when he arrives back from the field. Though I did not have to sleep in a tent or poop in the woods, I did have to put up with nurses and two courses of antibiotics for the diseases I caught while hospitalized. Though I wasn't living on rations, I was living on hospital food. And though I could see my husband and speak to him unlike his absense, we still did not get to hold one another until that homecoming.

Everything I worked towards while I was in recovery, every step I took and squat I did and wobbly moment I had was all work-up training to go home. Every single day I fought a thousand little fights and won, building my stength and courage up for the risky business of living away from immediate medical attention. I pushed myself until I couldn't push myself any farther. Despite all my setbacks, I persevered. And the reward, that glorious nap in my own bed, the waking up in my husband's arms: it was all worth it.

When I woke up this morning, I couldn't stop staring at Matt. I imagine that's how he felt too, like I would disappear if he blinked. You don't realize how incomplete you are until the one you love isn't there, even temporarily. Today, when I stretched and snuggled in closer, I was whole once again.

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