Pumpkin Patch
Growing up where I did (the forest, the swamp, the bedrock, no farmland), I missed a lot of experiences that were common to a lot of friends. This is no complaint, growing up with the woodland creatures and awesome knowledge of the true age of things helps define me to this day, but I didn't see a lot of corn or pumpkin or any other crop, Halloween associated or not.
All I got to see were the occasional stalks of corn in a neighbours garden, rarely more than a dozen plants. One year we didn't get to carving a pumpkin, the whole thing (with seeds) ended up in the compost, the eldrich horror that took over the back yard was as close as I could ever got to visiting a pumpkin patch. People planted other gourds and there were always displays at the grocery store, but it wasn't Hollywood, it wasn't the TV Halloween special.
Last fall my my friend Claire and I set out to try and fill this gap in my experiences. We researches pumpkin patches with selections of gourds, looked at the fields to find one appropriate for my state (I still had most of my energy, but the fall was running down, I was getting close to restarting chemo, and I couldn't run the risk of actually getting lost). Wagon rides were an added bonus.
We found what we were looking for, but in an uncharacteristic moment picked a location much, much too far for our day trip, and instead quickly decided on a different farm near Alliston.
This farm had a field of beautiful, delicious squash, some photo opportunities, plenty of farm goods to buy, but no maze. It just had a path through the corn. My maize maze dream remains just a dream.
After loading up on squash and buttertarts and sparkling fruit juice (most of which I accidentally froze and didn't get to enjoy, further proof the trip was cursed), we visited a little Friedrich Banting's home and failed to uncover the secrets of its giant concrete sphere. We visited a little English store (called the British Shop) in Allison, where I failed to procure a deerstalker in my size, but did get a lot of sausage roll, before moving down the highway to Shelbourne for lunch/dinner at a place called The Tipsy Fox (chicken Caesar wrap, very good).
I got my pumpkin patch, wagon rides, cider and snacks. I never, and still haven't, found my maze. And at this point, I never will. And there's beauty in that, it was a perfect day that stubbornly refused to become perfect, and instead became what I needed from all my little adventures: a distraction from the horrors of daily life and a memory to escape into when I need it. I cannot explain why this particular memory is so strong (I can almost step into it, and I see it all so vividly), but I'm glad to have had it, and especially to have shared it. Thank you, Claire, for a silly fall day that went perfectly by constantly going silly.
Scrap-Book Post
This set of photos was taken over the past month.
I can't remember if I've said anything about the CT scan I got a few weeks ago, or the blood work I had done before I left for Bancroft, but that has happened, and it's time to see my oncologist. The appointment is tomorrow afternoon.
I don't have a good understanding of how people think I'm doing. I know I've been pretty vocal about how the surgical recovery has been going (very well, overall, but further gains are likely to be small, although its possible I don't yet know my capacity in some regards). But I have been less vocal (I think) about cancer symptoms.
I haven't been able to sleep through a night in weeks. I'll wake up, with my guts feeling like their solid, in the middle of the night. Sometimes water makes me have to use the bathroom with urgency. Sometimes it makes me throw up for a half an hour. Either way, sometimes I can get back to sleep, sometimes I doze until noon.
The list of things my dietician recommended I avoid a month or two ago has become largely mandatory. The small amount of coleslaw you get with fish and chips is usually fine, but salad or a helping of broccoli is a mistake. Fish never seems to be a problem, chicken is fine unless fried, and most red meat should be avoided. These rules must be followed exactly when far from home, or if I want to travel the next day, but can still be relaxed a bit if I'm staying in the Midland area.
The combination of chemotherapy and sleeplessness, at least, have left me extremely forgetful, clumsy and sluggish. I keep losing my keys. I've forgotten how to do basic computer stuff I've known for decades (or have tried to do it the Windows 95 way). I cannot focus on books, even though I got a fun adult book about dinosaurs from the library. My cooking abilities, long atrophied by years of deep depression, can't manage with my boring diet, tiny kitchenette and lack of energy to do dishes or other chores.
There are pains. Pains in places I especially don't want them, places that might indicate tumor growth (but probably not spread). But are they the sort that predate all this? I can't remember. I'll bring them up.
I'm extremely tired. I'm not particularly jazzed about continuing to do this. I've grown more and more convinced that the Bancroft trip is my post surgery peak, and that it's slow decline from here on. Those sort of thoughts are the way of madness, but the nature of the recovery and the disease means there will exist a peak or plateau.
Two weeks ago I was pretty certain I would not be restarting chemotherapy this time. The CT scan report only reinforces this conclusion. But the last few weeks have been rough, and I'm a lot less sure now.
One of the places that claims to be Canada's Smallest Jailhouse, Coboconk
Bees! Settler's Villiage, Bobcaygeon
Antique dairy truck, Settler's Villiage, Bobcaygeon
The Unconformity, near Burleigh Falls
The OPP Museum, Orillia
I've visited a lot of locks, and have so many more to go. This one has a restaurant with pretty good fish and chips
At the marsh
A tiny tiny tiny little historic site in Tay Township, near Midland. This sign is most of the site, sadly
<figcaptionHuntsville sculpture forest
Huntsville sculpture forest
Huntsville sculpture forest
Hogg's Falls, Beaver Valley, near Thornbury
Eugenia Falls, Beaver Valley, near Thornbury
High Falls, Bracebridge
Port Sidney Falls, Port Sidney
A lock! Huntsville
Huntsville has a lot of beautiful mural reproductions of Tom Thomson and the Group of Seven's artwork. This is the one that I liked most as a photo with me in it (the painting is Northern River by Tom Thompson)
The Jack Pine. Nearly a religious experience
At the McMichael Canadian Art Collection
At the McMichael Canadian Art Collection
You guys gotta believe me this is a really good rock pile, totally worth the 3 hour drive
Eagle's Nest Lookout, Bancroft
I think I'm technically in the clear here
Too heavy to carry
Giant Banting Sphere, Banting birthplace, Alliston
From the comments
James Petrosky: When I started, I had many reasons to take my selfies, but I was pretty certain they weren't for me. I have no idea if they were then, I don't have access to that brain state. They're absolutely, in part, for me now
James Petrosky: I took a drive, ate a shawarma, almost ate some additional Taco Bell (the line was too long), had a nice drive until I met a raccoon, found a potential corn maze that's very close, and feel a bit better. It's hard to make yourself eat when your stomach is off, even when you know it'll make you feel better. And I need to try harder to get out of the apartment every day, even for a little walk, even if it's hard once the October storms come and it's always so rainy. None of these steps solve anything, but it isn't about solutions, it's a about comfort. For that reason, I'm happy to see my oncologist tomorrow. I get to do a trip to Barrie, I get to talk to people and be around people who, sadly, understand my situation. I get to go for pho after, which is damn near the perfect food for if you're chronically underhydrated like me.
I don't like chemotherapy, but I like trips and cats and people, so if it's time for it, then I look forward to quiet days laying in bed watching old noirs.