Dare I ask about your week? Can you rate it on a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the best? Hopefully, it fell somewhere between 5 and 10.

  • Did you pass a difficult exam?
  • Did you welcome a new grandchild into your family?
  • Did you get a raise sooner than anticipated?
  • Did an old friend surprise you with a visit?

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Some weeks rate a 1, 2 or 3 which is typical of the human experience.

  • Did you have flat tire on your way to work?
  • Did a Hurricane named Florence ruin your cruise?
  • Did you miss a flight?
  • Did the well go dry?

I hope you were able to cope with whatever this week brought your way.

Our week was all about water, or lack thereof. As I write this, our 8-foot well has 11 inches of water; less than a foot! We have resisted drilling a well because of the prohibitive cost, but a dry well is no fun at all.

On Maggoty Monday, something unusual was going on in my left ear. By Tuesday, it felt tight which led to a constant dull ache. I made everyone, including my sister-in-law who is an RN, look in my ear, but it was too badly swollen to see anything. As the day wore on it grew worse until it throbbed. I could feel my pulse in my ear. Next, my face felt puffy and numb. What did all of this mean?

I allowed my imagination get the better of me. Did I have a tick in my ear? Had a fly laid eggs in my ear? Could it be an antibiotic resistant infection? If so, it could spread to my jaw, my teeth and who knows where? I may need surgery to remove half my face. Would I need a face transplant? Somehow, I left my imaginary world and returned to reality.

Now I had to have it checked. We have no family doctor yet, so at 11 pm I left for Queens General Hospital ER, some 60 km away. Less than half way there I heard a ding ― the gas light came on and I was alone on the highway in the middle of nowhere. I refused to look at the gauge that indicates how many kilometres I could go. Phew! I made it to Liverpool and wheeled into the nearest gas station.

Second stop? Queens General Hospital. Triaged and registered I waited my turn in the nearly empty room. I met a couple of interesting people who came in after I did — a chef from LANES PRIVATEER INN who needed a tetanus shot, accompanied by her boyfriend’s father, a crane driver from MOSHER & RAWDING CONSTRUCTION who had spent years working on the Lockeport waterfront. Small world! Eventually, the the waiting room conversation turned to the lack of rain this year and we exchanged our tales of woe.

An hour or so later, I was ushered into the only available examination room , the Cast Room to wait for Dr. Burrill. He was unable to see in my ear, assumed I had an ear infection, wrote prescriptions for Amoxicillin and Ciprodex, and instructions to return if my ear didn’t get better in a few days. I left the hospital at 1 am.

Part way home, the sky opened. It was like driving through a car wash. I slowed down to a crawl. At this rate, it would take forever to get home. I rolled in the driveway at 2 am, a fine ending to Turbulent Tuesday.

Glenn’s Wonky Wednesday picked up where my Turbulent Tuesday left off. He had spent the better part of two days on a stepladder insulating the ceiling in our new bedroom.

At one point, the ladder wobbled and Glenn instinctively reached for a rafter. Oops, he missed, grabbing the newly installed insulation which set off a domino effect. The plastic that covered the insulation ripped and in the blink of an eye the insulation and the plastic were on the floor. All that hard work for nothing!

Glenn appeared at the door with fire flying from his eyes, smoke billowing from his ears, looking as if he had just murdered someone. I made an executive decision to refrain from such platitudes as:

  • Now, now, this too shall pass.
  • Just think about how much worse other people have it.
  • Be thankful you are not in the Carolinas.
  • It is what it is.
  • Everything happens for a reason.
  • You know, it could be worse – the well could go dry.

When his rage subsided he declared, “We’re going out for supper! I want a salt fish dinner at the SEADOG SALOON!” I could live with that.  (Thank goodness it wasn’t the saloon at the O.K. CORRAL. There was no chance I could handle a gunfight today.)

We chose a table on the deck overlooking Shelburne Harbour, the world’s third deepest natural harbour,  just one table away from a small group of local officials having a serious discussion about the sorry state of healthcare in Shelburne County. Is the Nova Scotia Health Authority going to close our hospital and turn it into a holding facility for patients waiting on nursing home placement? That’s the million dollar question and no government wants to be remembered as the one who shut down Roseway Hospital. Mom, the queen of all eavesdroppers, would have been proud of me as I strained to hear as best as I could — plugged ear and all.

Thankfully, Tranquil Thursday broke the spell of Maggoty Monday,Tumultuous Tuesday and Wonky Wednesday.

Shelburne Woodworkers delivered our siding, Builder Richard showed up to tell us he will be working here the next, two days, a receptionist from “DJ’S Well Drilling” called to let us know they will drop off their equipment later today and begin drilling for water early tomorrow morning, Dr. Noel Baker of Barrington is accepting new patients for three hours on Saturday morning, I have surpassed my daily goal of 10,000 steps and my sister-in-law just walked in the door with homemade rolls, date squares and chocolate macaroon cookies.

What more could a soul ask for? A Fabulous Friday?

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