A not-so-good kind of day ...

Today I left here at 7:30 a.m. to go to a doctor's appointment. I mentioned the chest pains as well as the other unrelated symptoms that concerned me. She checked my blood pressure (high), and listened to my lungs (fine) and my heart (not fine ... some signs of arterial schlerosis). She was more concerned about the chest pains than the other symptoms, and sent me for a heart X-ray and an EKG and prescribed nitroglycerine spray. She also orderd an ultra sound for the other condition, and told me that both problems were of serious concern, but the priority had to be the possibility of a heart attack as that would kill me faster than uterine cancer. No ... she didn't actually use those words but that was her meaning.

Oh, she also told me not exert myself. The only way I can avoid that up here is to drop dead.

At the medical centre, I discovered that I had to pay for the EKG up front because Quebec doesn't cover it in Ontario, and that the ultra sound would have to be done in Quebec because they wouldn't reimburse it at all.

So I got the heart X-ray and the EKG, and headed back to Wakefield where I filled my prescription.

By now I was panicking because I was getting so close to the time when Peter Weeks would be inspecting my roof and its leakages (1:30).

I tore up Mountain Road and nearly slammed into a brown station wagon followed by a black truck with a ladder on it. I recognized the ladder. It was Tom's. We both stopped, and he told me that Peter had done his inspection and was the driver of that brown station wagon. Tom would come back to tighten some screws on the roof ... when it was safe.

A potential client came up to introduce me to his dog. Annie, the dog, turned out to be fifteen years old, terribly arthritic, and unable to cope with my hill. I felt very sympathetic, and wondered if I shouldn't offer her some of the nitro spray.

I called Peter. The news was not good. Mike had screwed up badly when insulating, installing the flashing and ventilating the roof. In addition the roof was a complicated one, and the mistakes would be hard to fix.

Then I tried to get hold of Havoc's owner whose letter and cheque have still not arrived after more than a week. She is still playing the message from February. I don't know exactly what game she is playing but I am determined not to let her get away scot-free. I can't afford to allow her to steal $300.

Kenya and I sat down and watched Betty Page ...

I wish I still had that kind of youthful innocence, vitality and exuberance. Maybe if I had, today would have felt like a better day.