As it turned out, it was not the long drive, snow, wet and icy roads, cold, dark, or commuter traffic that had been stoking the intangible anxiety that had underpinned my existence for days.
Nor was it the specialist appointment itself, or the doctor’s arrogant attitude, the loss of dignity revealing a private condition to a near stranger, or the pain that comes with the exam.
In the end it was the return to a place I hadn’t been since July 29, 2024 – the University of Alberta campus, in an annex part of the hospital. Heading north, north west.
(Under the dog star sail—
Over the reefs of moonshine—
Under the skies of fall—
North, north west, the stones of Faroe)
I was about three minutes in to my drive when suffocating trauma memories from the cardiac ICU ward unexpectedly flooded back. The memory blinded me temporarily. I gasped, as one would if suddenly stabbed in the back with a knife, and tried to regain my bearings. Another, blinding like lightning, I gripped the wheel and was grateful for a red light.
(All colours bleed to red)
Thus began a long, 45 minute journey back in time. I realized as I turned onto 23rd Ave I was retracing my steps of that last morning. After the hours of sleep Dad had granted us 3:00-5:00 am, and after the phone call for family to gather.
I passed through the same 91st street intersection that gave me a speeding ticket when I was racing to Dad’s bedside, after being told his situation was grave a few nights prior to the 29th (I spent that night with him, holding his hand, pouring my heart out. Despite being unconscious, he rallied for a few more days).
I passed along the familiar road Dad and I drove every day of my three years at Strathcona High School where he taught, remembering the talks, the tapes we’d listen to. Songs I’ve mentioned before running through my head-
(All this time—
The river flowed—
Endlessly—
Like a silent tear—)
It’s funny how memories go. When they return, you’re reminded not just of what happened, but your mind state, your emotions – I remember the feeling of blessed completeness of feeling at the center of a massive wheel of intertwined family and love, when all my grandparents were still alive and in my orbit. The excitement at being exposed to new thoughts and possibilities and the hope and promise I felt of a life before me, including the excited apprehension anticipating university. Worlds – no, universes – away from where I am now. It’s that screeching reality pressing in, and the awareness of the chasm between then and now that rips through the chest.
I turned onto Argyll, driving the same path Dad and I took every school day morning at 7:30 am. I passed where the pulp mill workers were on strike for years on end – where the acrid smell of wood and smoke would flood the car vents.
At last, I deviated from the well-worn wagon trail, but on to another. Instead of turning to take the High School route, I continued straight. A later trod path, from the days of attending University to earn my degree, and 7 years after graduation and teaching when I would return to work at the Stollery with pediatrics.
The final stretch of road toward the Mazankowski Alberta Heart Institute was especially rough. It was hard to distinguish what was splashes on the windshield and what were my tears. And then finally a sudden veer left, turning away from the place where my heart died a thousand deaths.
Denoument
The specialist appointment had its usual assaults and indignities but before long I was turned around and headed home. Oddly enough the sunshine came out, to the point of blinding brilliance, as I made my way south. The sunshine and blue sky offered a more hopeful outlook, and I reflected on how in time, at some point when things felt less bleak, I would need to forge a different, new path for myself.
(It’s a cruel, crazy, beautiful world—
One day when you wake up I will have to say goodbye—
Goodbye—)
(It’s your world so live in it!)
***
- Songs:
- Why Should I Cry for You, Sting (Twice)
- All This Time, Sting
- Cruel, Crazy, Beautiful World, Johnny Clegg (Twice)