I won't lie. Since the pandemic started, I've been on an emotional rollercoaster, feeling uncertain, sad, and anxious. However, one day, a few weeks ago, back in July, sticks in my mind. It
was kind of a mess for me, and, honestly, I got more than a little depressed.
I had so much to do that day. (Don’t
I always?) I had a ton of emails and text
messages that I wanted to work on, but the internet was completely out, and I
couldn’t use my iPad’s data plan either because it was all spent up. Why, you ask? Because of the fact that my internet
connection had been unreliable all month, so I had to use my data plan in order
to do my work work online.
I love to watch Democracy Now!
while I have my breakfast most mornings to get some news and relax while I’m
eating. (Yes, yes, I know, this sounds totally counter-intuitive, especially considering
all of the absolutely horrendous things that are happening in the world today.)
However, because of the stupid faulty internet
connection, I wasn’t able to watch Democracy Now!
Fortunately, Brittany called Tek
Savvy and everything got straightened out... that is, until the next day. (But
that’s another story.) Fixing the internet
took awhile, and Brittany was also helping me do the laundry,
That morning, I was training a
new person how to do the basics: assist
me with getting out of bad, eat breakfast, get washed and dressed. You know, the
regular stuff people do every day without having to really think about it. And,
with my regular employees, the people who know me and my daily routine so well,
I don’t have to think about it either, unless I’m doing something out of the ordinary.
I like the trainee, I really do.
They’re kind and respectful, and try hard to please me. And that was part of the problem. They were trying way too hard this day. Even though it was their fourth time training
and I had repeatedly told them over a two week period to please not hover over me
or treat me as if I were a delicate little flower, they continued to do these
things.
Because the trainee kept asking
me every few seconds if I I wanted another bite of pancakes, I. became too anxious
to to finish my breakfast. Instead., I suggested
that they take a break for an hour, to get lunch or something. I had tons of
computer work to do anyway. When the trainee
came back fifteen minutes early, I asked them to please take my debit card and go
to Loblaws and buy a small birthday cake.
It was late by the time I got washed
and dressed, and Brittany and I had to hurry over to Hair of the Dog to pick up
the mac and cheese we’d ordered and then run over to Allan Gardens. We were going there to celebrate Motria’s birthday.
I always love driving
in my power wheelchair, zooming around, looking at all the different people and
the beauty of the summer season. Driving around, even for a short
jaunt, removed all of the pressures that had been weighing on my mind that day … for a while at least.
Brittany and I stopped at a set
of lights for a period of time that was long enough for us to see one homeless
man kick another homeless man, who was sitting beside Tim Horton’s mumbling to
himself. The kicker yelled out, “That’s for stealing from me! You fucking
asshole!” He ran off immediately afterwards. The man who had been kicked didn’t
seem to be badly hurt. He mumbled, “I didn’t deserve that, did I? No. Well, maybe…. I can’t remember….”
The lights turned green and
off we went. We never spoke about this incident, but I kept thinking about it for
the rest of the day.
Brittany and I found Motria,
and the three of us sat in a a beautiful, shady spot in Allan Gardens. The foliage
was lush and green, and the flowers were so incredibly colourful and vibrant. There was such a a wonderfully wide variety
of everything as well.
During the early evening,
whenever the conversation began to make me feel a little uncomfortable, I simply
focused on the beauty of the flowers that surrounded us and thought about how
I’d paint them.
As the three of us noshed upon
macaroni and cheese, sweet potato fries, Prosecco, and, later on, chocolate
birthday cake, the conversation was mainly about our dreams for the future. Where would we be in five to ten years?
Ten years, I mused. I’d be 72
by then. Despite the longevity that ran
in my family, would I still be alive? And,
if so, would I still be bidding farewell to people I love because they sought
out greener pastures? Would I still be training
new employees, some of whom I’d have an immediate connection, others painstakingly
longer?
Brittany was talking about how
much she hated the city these days. It was too crowded and expensive, she said,
and the growing number of condos was taking the very charm away she’d been attracted
to when she moved here ten years ago.
Recently, one of Brittainy’s uncles
had offered her the house that he lived in in up north. It was an old house that had been in their
family for generations, but he was tired of taking care of it. Because it was old, the house needed a lot of
work done to it, which would cost money. Brittany sadly admitted that she wasn’t
able to afford something like this at this point in her life. Plus, one of her sisters who had two small
children might decide to to take the house anyway. And yet, that pull to go back home and live
with her family, in a beautiful, secluded town in Ottawa, was still very strong
within her.
I hated myself for the knee-gut
reaction I had in response to this news – even though Brittany had told me the
same thing the week before! My stomach clenched and I felt like running away and crying, The
song “Don’t Speak” repeated in my head.
(It wasn’t the first time that this song had haunted me since the pandemic
had begun and I was sure that it wouldn’t be the last.)
Don’t get me wrong, I
love Brittany and wish her all the luck in making her dreams come true. It was just that for the past four months
there were a couple of people who had decided to leave and go into self-isolation
and I’d had to scramble to find other people to cover the shifts and train them. Indeed, two more people were going to leave
my employment next week and I wasn’t 100% sure if I was going to be keeping the
newest employee. My anxiety levels were off the chart!
Motria and Brittany then started
chatting about how wonderful it would be to just go away somewhere by themselves
for a few days, preferably near a body of water.
When they asked me where I’d
go if I could, just for a few days, I dodged the question by commenting on how lovely
it was to see monarch butterflies in Allan Gardens. I hadn’t seen one around in years.
Sadness, regret, and envy welled up
inside of me. There have been so many times,
especially during this bloody pandemic, when I wished that I could just go away
by myself, just me … and yet, I always came back to the realization that this would never
be possible. To live my life, I will always need assistance from people. That’s just how it was and will be, forever. I love my employees, I do, and most of them are
my closest friends, and yet, just like the people who had left my service, I
felt the same kind of pull to go out on my own and try new things and have adventures.
When I go on my semi-annual
trips to London, England, I always take three or four employees with me. I book
the flights and the flat, and I consult with everyone about which shifts they’d
be able to take. (Of course, for my own benefit I always try to to match up the
right person with the activity of the day. (For example, Megan was the best person
with whom I could go pub-hopping and stay out late. If I wanted to buy new shoes at Irregular
Choice or clothing at Collectif, Brittainy was the one who shared my
enthusiasm.)
I’d say that for 99% of the
time, I’m happy with the way things are. It’s just that within these four and a half months
I’ve been juggling so much, much more than usual. People talk about how PSWs get burnt out with this type
of job, and that's a valid concern - but what about the Self-Managers, the people like myself who keep the
shifts in order, keep track of the payroll, make sure that all of our employees
are content, as well as trying to live our best lives?
I knew that I would get over
these negative feelings, I always did. On that day, though, I was feeling
particularly low and burnt out and frustrated.
As we were packing up the leftovers
and getting ready to leave, I did what I always do: I pasted a smile on my face
and buried my feelings way, way down. I took
a few pictures with Motria and the beautiful flowers, and then hugged her goodbye. There was no reason for her to know how unhappy
I was. I didn’t want to ruin her birthday celebration.
Brittany and I started to head
home after that. On the way, I noticed
that the homeless guy was still sitting outside and talking to himself. Brittany was far ahead of me, probably dying
to get into the coolness of my air-conditioned apartment. (It had been so hot and
humid outside, even in the shade.) She
hadn’t seen the car almost hit me as I was crossing a small side street. I could see that the driver wasn’t looking
where he was going, so I stopped. When he did see me, he stopped. I decided it was safe to carry on, but the driver
also started to move forward. We played this crazy game of Chicken one more
time before a guy behind me bellowed: “Hey, jackass! Stop and let her cross the road!”
So, I did. I crossed the street and silently the man behind me.
Brittany was at the front door
of the apartment building waiting for me. When I told her that a car
had almost hit me, she said, “Well, that’s Toronto drivers for you.”
In that moment, that single
tiny moment, depression washed over me once again and the thought I had been
toying silently with all evening long exploded in my mind. Go, just go. Drive off in any direction and keep
on going. Where? For how long? I had no idea. It was just a fantasy.
I followed Brittany into the
building and upstairs. As I sat in my apartment, I began to unwind and think how nice it had been to sit outside with Motria and Brittainy at Allan
Gardens. Despite the heat and humidity, it
had been a beautiful day. I had loved all of the sights and and sounds and scents.
The food, drinks, and cake were all superb.
I smiled at the memory of hugging
Motria. She was one of of my oldest and
dearest friends. She was more like a sister
to me.
I smiled at the memory of the
guy behind me on the street who had yelled on my behalf at the the the driver who
wouldn’t let me pass.
Ok, I didn’t have the perfect
life and I couldn’t do things exactly how I wanted – but wasn’t that true for
most people? And yes, I still felt sad
and regretful that so many friends had left, and more would most certainly leave in
the future. I still had many friends by my side, either in my employment or some who
were just a text/email/phone call away.
Not only that, but I had strangers
on the street who had my back.
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