Worse Before Better

Attila figured his ankle would get better if he just soldiered through the pain, and kept moving. It didn’t. It got worse.

He insisted on continuing with his projects. The first was applying Mouse Free, a peppermint oil based gel, to the bottom of Grace, out at the Rideau Camp. It was applied with a paint brush. This project was completed this morning, and Attila was so played out that he asked me to drive us home, he usually drives, and he usually wants to stay out at the camp as long as possible. I drove us home, and unloaded Tank, to help keep him off his feet.

But, played out or not, he was determined to finish the new roof flashing under the dining room windows. Moving more and more slowly as the project wore on, he got out the extension ladder, the electric saw, the materials, went up on the roof (cringe) to measure, came back down, cut the pieces, up on the roof again to install the ice shield and the first piece, and measure, down again to cut the final piece, them up again to install the last piece. I opened the windows so I could hear him if he needed help. I dare not ask, as I would be told, “I don’t need any help!”

So I spent my time in the kitchen, to be near that open window, cooking bacon, Attila’s favourite, so that he could have a tasty meal. He needed a tasty meal because come hell or high water, he was going to the hospital emergency department as soon as he had a chance to rest, bath, and eat! By the time he was done the roof flashing, his resistance to going to the hospital had faded away to nothing. He was in a great deal of pain.

At 6:00 p.m. this evening, I drove Attila to the Emergency Department of the local hospital. It is currently 10:00 p.m. and I haven’t heard from him. He is going to call me using his cell phone, when he is ready to come home. I will pick him up. I anticipate that it will be around 2:00 a.m. or later when I get that call. It takes that long for them to give medical attention to people, even when there are only a dozen or so people in the Emergency Room waiting room. I don’t know why it takes them so long, they don’t seem in the least bit rushed. On my long wait times, there were no urgent cases in the emergency room, and it still took forever to be be seen and released.

I think I will sleep in my chair. it is easier to wake up alert when I sleep sitting in the chair. I will need to become alert quickly, so I can drive Tank over the hospital to pick up a very tired, very weary Attila.



Date: 3:00 PM EDT Sunday 19 August 2018
Condition: Partly Cloudy
Pressure:101.7 kPa
Tendency: Falling
Temperature: 25.0°C
Dew point: 16.2°C
Humidity: 58%
Wind: SSE 9 km/h
Humidex: 30
Visibility: 24 km


“Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools, because they have to say something.”
427 BC – 347 BC

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I am not sure why men have this aversion to seeking proper medical attention when they need it. I totally realize I can be a hypochondriac but my husband annoys the shift out of me and never goes to the doctor.

Emergency rooms. My daughter went a couple years back because her heart was racing at 120 BPM. It was still racing 5 hours later when she decided to just go home because she had to work in the morning. She went to he family doctor the next day and it turned out to be anxiety but WTF? Canada is great for it’s free medical care but the wait times are horrible.


Glad to hear there is no break! You might want to try and cook up some handwork for Attila to do for tomorrow.



I have a history of spraining both of ankles many, many times (mainly when I was much younger and was doing lots of exercise, and the pain is horrible. One day I was zipping down my mother’s porch steps and sprained one ankle when landing on it, then continued to the ground and caught myself with the other foot and sprained THAT ankle, too! It was horrible! I lived alone in Salem and drove a VW Beetle, stick shift on the floor! I was laid up for at least a week or 10 days with those two sprained ankles, and after that my ankles were never very strong.

Stubblejumpers Cafe

You might have to do some belly-dancing, Maggie, to keep him in that chair. -Kate