A Hermit's Life

When you live alone in a remote location, you sometimes encounter problems that do not have easy solutions. It's different from living alone in the city where you have access to almost any service you might need.

If you get sick out here you cannot easily ask for help, especially if the problem is not life threatening,but it isn't always possible to get to town for medical attention and groceries.

I lost my glasses in the snow a while ago and was in a quandary because I couldn't see well enough to drive. I had to use a magnifying glass just to use the Yellow Pages so I could phone the different opticians. Fortunately, Sarah offered to drive me into Ottawa. I am not sure I could have asked her for help, so I was very glad she offered.

A month or so ago, a spider bit me several times. I couldn't see the bites because they were behind me. I tried sleight-of-hand and mirrors, all to no avail. Finally I put the digital camera on the ironing board and took pictures of the site. Have you ever tried to take a photo of your butt? It's not easy, especially if you are spatially challenged. It would have been a lot easier to ask someone to look and tell me what was driving me crazy, but that's a request you can't make of everyone.

Anyway, the reality is that, despite such drawbacks, I quite like the hermit's life most of the time.

Today began before dawn again ... I hope that Havoc's arrival tomorrow will allow me to sleep until the sun rises. For some reason a puppy's warm body curled up in bed against me is a cure for insomnia. I think I remember when a lover's body had the same effect.

When I got up, I went through a series of scenarios based on my need for fresh fruits and vegetables, Havoc's two week stay which will curtail my activities, and the weather. I finally came to the conclusion, yet again, that I really don't want to ... or need to ... leave my hermitage here on the lake ... or at least I can get most everything I need in Wakefield.

Being a hermit is still an alien experience for me; I am new to the concept of burrowing in for the winter and being self sufficient within my den. I get pleasure from small joys now: a walk at night when the snow crunches under my boots; playing in the woods with the dogs; sliding down the hill on the sled I use to bring in groceries and wood; and watching my movies.

Last night I walked down to the mailboxes with Kenya after dark. I didn't bother to leash her. I knew we'd likely be the only ones out and there is virtually no traffic any time but even less at night. It was fun. She stayed close and was a good companion. The stars were bright in the sky and the moon just a little fatter than a sliver. Writing about the cougar seems to have calmed my fears. Also I know Kenya well enough to know that she will alert me to anything dangerous ... and will be cautious enough not to charge in where she shouldn't. She WILL make a lot of noise ... and no predator wants that kind of attention giving him away.

In December I gained weight, lost energy, became breathless and suffered chest pains on exertion. I blamed it on eating rich food over the holiday, and thought perhaps my heart was acting up. My doctor was 1 ½ hours away and I was busy so I didn't seek medical advice; instead I tried to figure it out myself. Finally it dawned on me ... I had stopped using my asthma medication. As the Advair wore off I slowly became more and more asthmatic. Regaining the ability to breathe was just as gradual a process. It took me a couple of months: one to get the permissions necessary to reduce the cost of Advair from $129 to $40; then a second month for it to work on the condition. I am delighted that I can once again walk for three miles and climb the hill without wanting to collapse, and of course, as soon as I was able to exercise again, my heart and lungs became stronger and I lost the weight. This is not a place in which you can enjoy life if you cannot exert yourself. It takes a lot of energy just to survive, and without the ability to breathe, it stops being fun.