Bumps In the Road
Chapter Fourteen
May 21
Larry was back to being argumentative, disagreeable, cantankerous, belligerent, self-centered and downright unpleasant. He also became even more unmotivated. If I didn't agree with him about something; he became very angry. He wouldn't discuss anything. He was very upset that he hadn't heard anything about the date for his Driving Assessment. It was another bump in the road. I e-mailed the ICBC therapist to let her know that he'd become very anxious about not hearing of a date for when he will be having the Assessment. She responded that she had heard nothing either.
June 9
Larry still had not got a date for his Assessment and was becoming angrier and more frustrated with each passing day. The ICBC therapist came to visit him and said, "I hear you've been getting a little bit cranky, Larry." She explained to him that things take time and he wasn't the only one waiting. She said that's bureaucracy.
Larry had earlier angrily called the ICBC coordinator and said he was going to drive the motorhonme to Kelowna on the first of July whether he had his license back or not. She told him she would make sure there were roadblocks up if he did. I began to wonder if they had slowed the process for him obtaining his license because of his high frustration and high irritability level as they did when they kept him in the hospital longer because of his poor behavior. I suggested to Larry that perhaps this was the case. I also suggested that they were not the ones to be having temper tantrums with because they were the ones who hold the powerr and determine when things are going to happen. He just became angrier with me.
During this period of time Larry continued to be very difficult. He was unable to contain his anger and frustration and took it out on me and the young grandchildren particularly. He seemed to be able to make an effort for other adults though. I tried talking to him in an effort to get him to attempt to contain his anger and frustrations but he always insisted that no fault lay with him, insisting instead that his problems were me, ICBC, the doctor or somebody else. He kept insisting that he didn't need an Assessment to get his license back; he knew how to use a clutch and a brake. I tried to explain that it was more than that; it was a cognitive test as well as a physical assessment. He insisted that if it took much longer, he'd drive anyway.
Summaries and Previews are available for my first fiction novel entitled "His Sins", a three generation family saga as well as for my first non-fiction book entitled "Rollercoaster Ride With Brain Injury (For Loved Ones)". My third book, 'Life's Challenges, A Short Story Collection' is also available. All of these books can be ordered through my blog or by e-mail at: writesylvia@shaw.ca or orders@trafford.com
Monday, October 4, 2010
Preview II - Rollercoaster Ride
Doing Things His Way
Chapter Six
September 20
Today, thirty days after his accident, I arrived at the hospital and was told by his nurse that Larry had gotten out of bed and walked to the bathroom. He was not supposed to bear weight on one leg for eight weeks and on the other for twelve weeks. In his right leg he has a pin from his knee to his ankle running down the centre of his tibia and held in place with screws. In his left leg he has a plate holding his femur together with screws attaching the plate to the bone and screws holding the pieces of bone together in his knee.
"You know Larry," the nurse patiently explained, "you could injure yourself and end up having to spend more time in the hospital than you may otherwise have to. If you rebreak your leg you'll be back at square one again. The bone has to heal around the plate."
Larry agreed that he didn't want to be in the hospital longer than he had to be. I thought that was the end of the matter and presumably so did the nurses.
A few days later Larry was again caught walking down the hall with his bare butt hanging out of the back of his night shirt. This is the same man who was too embarrassed to be seen wearing shorts in the summer because he thought his legs were too thin. The nurse again said, "If the bone isn't given a chance to heal around the plate and the rod, it will require another operation. You're doing yourself damage."
But Larry is convinced that he can walk and insists he can go to the bathroom on his own. He doesn't listen to the nurses, the doctor or to me. "We'll just negotiate the time I have to stay off my leg," he told me.
"Larry," I said with a fair amount of exasperation, "some things can be negotiated but the healing of bones is not one of them; you'll just have to accept it. The healing process can't be hurried but it can be hindered and it definitelty can't be negotiated."
"Everything can be negotiated," he told me angrily.
They sent him for x-rays and decided that, as yet, he hadn't done any extensive damage. After his last escapade they put a monitor on his bed so that if he tries for another adventure, it will alert them. He was extremelty angry about the monitor.
"I wasn't walking in the hall," he later told me belligerently. "I was up on the roof and no one said anything about that. I spent the night up there and then they left me sitting in a wheelchair all morning. I met Todd at the railway station too and no one worried about that either."
He was becoming an increasingly difficult patient. One of the nurses told me it was for this reason that he wouldn't be going home because of how difficult he would be for me to handle. "You're wrecking it for yourself," I told him. "If you don't listen and do as you're told, you'll be staying in here a lot longer."
His only answer was an angry glare.
Chapter Six
September 20
Today, thirty days after his accident, I arrived at the hospital and was told by his nurse that Larry had gotten out of bed and walked to the bathroom. He was not supposed to bear weight on one leg for eight weeks and on the other for twelve weeks. In his right leg he has a pin from his knee to his ankle running down the centre of his tibia and held in place with screws. In his left leg he has a plate holding his femur together with screws attaching the plate to the bone and screws holding the pieces of bone together in his knee.
"You know Larry," the nurse patiently explained, "you could injure yourself and end up having to spend more time in the hospital than you may otherwise have to. If you rebreak your leg you'll be back at square one again. The bone has to heal around the plate."
Larry agreed that he didn't want to be in the hospital longer than he had to be. I thought that was the end of the matter and presumably so did the nurses.
A few days later Larry was again caught walking down the hall with his bare butt hanging out of the back of his night shirt. This is the same man who was too embarrassed to be seen wearing shorts in the summer because he thought his legs were too thin. The nurse again said, "If the bone isn't given a chance to heal around the plate and the rod, it will require another operation. You're doing yourself damage."
But Larry is convinced that he can walk and insists he can go to the bathroom on his own. He doesn't listen to the nurses, the doctor or to me. "We'll just negotiate the time I have to stay off my leg," he told me.
"Larry," I said with a fair amount of exasperation, "some things can be negotiated but the healing of bones is not one of them; you'll just have to accept it. The healing process can't be hurried but it can be hindered and it definitelty can't be negotiated."
"Everything can be negotiated," he told me angrily.
They sent him for x-rays and decided that, as yet, he hadn't done any extensive damage. After his last escapade they put a monitor on his bed so that if he tries for another adventure, it will alert them. He was extremelty angry about the monitor.
"I wasn't walking in the hall," he later told me belligerently. "I was up on the roof and no one said anything about that. I spent the night up there and then they left me sitting in a wheelchair all morning. I met Todd at the railway station too and no one worried about that either."
He was becoming an increasingly difficult patient. One of the nurses told me it was for this reason that he wouldn't be going home because of how difficult he would be for me to handle. "You're wrecking it for yourself," I told him. "If you don't listen and do as you're told, you'll be staying in here a lot longer."
His only answer was an angry glare.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Preview I - Rollercoaster Ride
Our First Day In Hell
Chapter I
Tuesday, August 22
I always felt that if something happened to anyone close to me, I would know. But I didn't until I received that life-altering phone call. It was the phone call no one ever wants to receive. I had waved goodbye to Larry from the doorway when he left on his motorcycle at 9:30 a.m. on August 22nd. I then went into the backyard to paint a lattice we were going to put around the hot tub to give us more privacy from the neighbors.
At 10:30 the friend he was supposed to be meeting at 10:00 a.m. phoned to say Larry had not arrived. A faint wave of apprehension washed over me but there was still no major premonition. I pushed the thread of uneasiness away. Maybe this was one of the rare times he was late. Maybe he had to stop somewhere first and got held up. Maybe traffic was bad. Maybe there was construction. There were many reasons why someone could be late; I knew them all. I tried to concentrate on my painting.
At 11:00 a.m. when his friend telephoned again, I could no longer ignore the uneasiness. Putting the brush down I tried to think of what to do. Should I drive the route I thought he might have taken? Maybe his motorcycle had broken down. Maybe he had run out of gas. I didn't try his cell because I knew he couldn't hear the ring above the noise of the motorcycle. I was still pondering the problem when the phone call came at 11:15 a.m.
"Hello, is this Sylvia? This is Karen. I'm the social worker at the Emergency at Royal Columbian Hospital." As soon as I heard 'Royal Columbian Hospital', I knew immediately that the call had to be very serious because anyone injured in Surrey would normally go to Surrey Memorial Hospital.
I broke down, barely able to speak. She said, "He's alive but it's very serious. Do you have someone who can drive you?"
"I think so." I was barely able to think coherently.
I called my daughter but she said that my grandson had just broken his leg and they had just returned from the hospital. "Oh Mom, I can't move him. He's in so much pain."
Unable to remember how to get to the hospital, I asked her for directions. My brain had literally turned to mush and any previous knowledge of how to get there had evaporated.
Unable to stop the floodgate of tears, I cried the whole way there, praying that Larry would be alive. Finally, after what seemed to be hours later I arrived at the parking lot but was completely stymied by the parking meter. With my non-functioning brain I had no idea how to use the machine to get a ticket. While tears continued to stream down my face I asked a young lady for assistance. Looking at me strangely, she explained and finally, with shaking hands, I managed to get my Visa card into the slot provided.
Karen, the social worker, met me in the Emergency and led me to a Family Room. "They are stabilizing him and then he'll be going for a CT scan. I'll let you know when you can see him. A doctor will come and speak to you and let you know the extent of his injuries."
Unable to speak, I could only nod.
With no one there until my children began to show up, my only company was the terrifying images that plagued my thoughts. I could not control my flood of tears and no matter how many times I brushed them aside, they continued to fall. It was like trying to contain water in a bag made of cloth. The half hour or so I sat alone in that room with my brain alternating between mush and the horrible images that cascaded through my head, my usually calm nature did not hold up very well.
Chapter I
Tuesday, August 22
I always felt that if something happened to anyone close to me, I would know. But I didn't until I received that life-altering phone call. It was the phone call no one ever wants to receive. I had waved goodbye to Larry from the doorway when he left on his motorcycle at 9:30 a.m. on August 22nd. I then went into the backyard to paint a lattice we were going to put around the hot tub to give us more privacy from the neighbors.
At 10:30 the friend he was supposed to be meeting at 10:00 a.m. phoned to say Larry had not arrived. A faint wave of apprehension washed over me but there was still no major premonition. I pushed the thread of uneasiness away. Maybe this was one of the rare times he was late. Maybe he had to stop somewhere first and got held up. Maybe traffic was bad. Maybe there was construction. There were many reasons why someone could be late; I knew them all. I tried to concentrate on my painting.
At 11:00 a.m. when his friend telephoned again, I could no longer ignore the uneasiness. Putting the brush down I tried to think of what to do. Should I drive the route I thought he might have taken? Maybe his motorcycle had broken down. Maybe he had run out of gas. I didn't try his cell because I knew he couldn't hear the ring above the noise of the motorcycle. I was still pondering the problem when the phone call came at 11:15 a.m.
"Hello, is this Sylvia? This is Karen. I'm the social worker at the Emergency at Royal Columbian Hospital." As soon as I heard 'Royal Columbian Hospital', I knew immediately that the call had to be very serious because anyone injured in Surrey would normally go to Surrey Memorial Hospital.
I broke down, barely able to speak. She said, "He's alive but it's very serious. Do you have someone who can drive you?"
"I think so." I was barely able to think coherently.
I called my daughter but she said that my grandson had just broken his leg and they had just returned from the hospital. "Oh Mom, I can't move him. He's in so much pain."
Unable to remember how to get to the hospital, I asked her for directions. My brain had literally turned to mush and any previous knowledge of how to get there had evaporated.
Unable to stop the floodgate of tears, I cried the whole way there, praying that Larry would be alive. Finally, after what seemed to be hours later I arrived at the parking lot but was completely stymied by the parking meter. With my non-functioning brain I had no idea how to use the machine to get a ticket. While tears continued to stream down my face I asked a young lady for assistance. Looking at me strangely, she explained and finally, with shaking hands, I managed to get my Visa card into the slot provided.
Karen, the social worker, met me in the Emergency and led me to a Family Room. "They are stabilizing him and then he'll be going for a CT scan. I'll let you know when you can see him. A doctor will come and speak to you and let you know the extent of his injuries."
Unable to speak, I could only nod.
With no one there until my children began to show up, my only company was the terrifying images that plagued my thoughts. I could not control my flood of tears and no matter how many times I brushed them aside, they continued to fall. It was like trying to contain water in a bag made of cloth. The half hour or so I sat alone in that room with my brain alternating between mush and the horrible images that cascaded through my head, my usually calm nature did not hold up very well.
Summary - Rollercoaster Ride
"Rollercoaster Ride With Brain Injury (For Loved Ones)" was written to tell the story of the first year following Sylvia's partner's serious motorcycle accident and subsequent brain injury. It was also written with the hope of assisting those who are experiencing a similar tragedy realize they are not alone.
It tells of those first terrible days when her partner was in a medically induced coma as a result of his sheared brain injury. No one could say what his prognosis would be. At this stage of an injury, no one knows what will happen because no two brain injuries are the same. Life looks bleak for family members during these early days.
When he came out of his coma at ten days post injury he suffered from retrograde amnesia; he had lost ten years of his memory. Even without such a devastating occurrence, there are monumental changes in the life of a brain injured survivor and his family.
"Rollercoaster Ride With Brain Injury (For Loved Ones)" will help readers learn that it is sometimes two steps forward and one back and that it is important not to take things personally when their brain injured loved ones become angry or verbally abusive. They will realize also the importance of setting boundaries for themselves and not to feel guilty if they wish time for themselves; or if they occasionally feel frustrated. After all, their life has changed also.
The first year following a brain injury is difficult. This is especially true when family members are battling cognitive and behavioral problems, frustration and anger management difficulties, confusion and short-term memory loss, perseveration, dependencies, possibly seizures, a change in personality, role changes and lack of motivation as well as other brain injury impairments. Depression and apathy are also often potential problems.
Included in the book are also sample cognitive exercises that the author used at an early stage in her partner’s development which helped immensely in his progress towards recovery. The author is convinced that the earlier these exercises can be instigated following a brain injury, the better chance of a more successful recovery there will be.
However, as the author points out, there will be many ‘bumps in the road’ along the way and as time goes on there are adaptations and adjustments that will be necessary to make if there is going to be a new life made. Life usually isn’t the same as it was before a brain injury; the brain injured survivor will have changed.
Any road that is not travelled alone makes the trip much easier. By reading "Rollercoaster Ride With Brain Injury (For Loved Ones)" the reader will realize that many others have travelled the road before them.
It tells of those first terrible days when her partner was in a medically induced coma as a result of his sheared brain injury. No one could say what his prognosis would be. At this stage of an injury, no one knows what will happen because no two brain injuries are the same. Life looks bleak for family members during these early days.
When he came out of his coma at ten days post injury he suffered from retrograde amnesia; he had lost ten years of his memory. Even without such a devastating occurrence, there are monumental changes in the life of a brain injured survivor and his family.
"Rollercoaster Ride With Brain Injury (For Loved Ones)" will help readers learn that it is sometimes two steps forward and one back and that it is important not to take things personally when their brain injured loved ones become angry or verbally abusive. They will realize also the importance of setting boundaries for themselves and not to feel guilty if they wish time for themselves; or if they occasionally feel frustrated. After all, their life has changed also.
The first year following a brain injury is difficult. This is especially true when family members are battling cognitive and behavioral problems, frustration and anger management difficulties, confusion and short-term memory loss, perseveration, dependencies, possibly seizures, a change in personality, role changes and lack of motivation as well as other brain injury impairments. Depression and apathy are also often potential problems.
Included in the book are also sample cognitive exercises that the author used at an early stage in her partner’s development which helped immensely in his progress towards recovery. The author is convinced that the earlier these exercises can be instigated following a brain injury, the better chance of a more successful recovery there will be.
However, as the author points out, there will be many ‘bumps in the road’ along the way and as time goes on there are adaptations and adjustments that will be necessary to make if there is going to be a new life made. Life usually isn’t the same as it was before a brain injury; the brain injured survivor will have changed.
Any road that is not travelled alone makes the trip much easier. By reading "Rollercoaster Ride With Brain Injury (For Loved Ones)" the reader will realize that many others have travelled the road before them.
His Sins Comment
"His Sins" is a captivating novel about how some decisions have the capacity to withstand lifetimes and generations. We follow one man's decisions and see how the ripple effect lasts generations affecting not only his children, but his children's children, and their children also. It makes us think twice about the lives we lead, and the intentions we hold dear to our hearts. It warns us of our motivations and how they not only affect our own individual lives, but also the lives of those we love most, and even the lives of those we will never meet. "His Sins" makes us remember that what we do is important, and what we feel is even more so.
Helen Edwards, M.Ed., Mental Health Therapist
Quote by Thich Nhat Nanh, Vietnamese Monk
If you look deeply into the palm of your hand, you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. Each is present in your body. You are the continuation of each of these people.
Helen Edwards, M.Ed., Mental Health Therapist
Quote by Thich Nhat Nanh, Vietnamese Monk
If you look deeply into the palm of your hand, you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. Each is present in your body. You are the continuation of each of these people.
His Sins Preview III
Part III "Hello, my name is Adam Bennett. I'm the school counselor at St. George High, over on Broadway."
"Really? So you're the counselor I've heard so many good things about; all the progress you've made with the children in that school. From everything I've been told, it's a pretty tough school. Is that right?"
"A lot of the inner-city schools are tough. Most of the children are on their fifth or sixth dad with many of them not knowing who their original dad ever was, so it's no wonder really that they have a tough time. In fact I wonder sometimes if the mothers even remember or care. Alcohol and drug addictions are rampant in the area. How can any child grow up unscathed under those conditions?
"Many also have lived on welfare most of their lives and move as often as they change their socks; keeping just ahead of the rent collector. A lot of the children don't have a thing that they can call their own so stealing at a young age is not considered by them to be a crime; it's purely a matter of survival. They don't have the books or the clothes that they need for school but they know where they can get them, real quick. It's just a quick stop at a local store; a quick look around, a grab and they're gone. Most are quite proud of their ability not to get caught.
"It's enough to make a person cry when you see how so many of them live. I should say how they exist because that's all they're really doing. But on a happier note, it's sutrprising how many of them actually do make it in spite of their difficult backgrounds. Enough about what I do. I was told that you have your own counseling practice."
"You have been doing your homework. Yes, I do. It took me a while to get there though. I initially took business management courses before I realized that what I really wanted to do was to become a counselor.
"I know what you mean about the poor homes and the difficulties they experience. I go into a lot of those homes and try to turn families around but for most the extreme poverty has beaten their spirits into the ground. However, over the years there are a few that I have had some luck with, especially if we have been able to build up their self-esteem and self-confidence," Sarah Ann said.
"I agree that self-esteem and confidence are the key issues involved with these children. Not just the children but with their parents as well, especially some of the single mothers. If the parents can feel confident about their abilities, they will be able to pass that on to their children. But if they don't, their negative attitudes will be passed on to their children instead. I try to drum into their heads that negative attitudes will get them nowhere; only more negativity. How are you enjoying the Seminar so far?"
Sarah Ann shrugged her shoulders. "A lot of the classes are quite similar to others I have taken in the past."
"I know what you mean. You never know what you're getting when you sign up for them." Adam smiled, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "Ah, are you free for dinner this evening? I don't want to put you on the spot but I'd really like it if you would join me."
Sarah Ann hesitated momentarily. "As a matter of fact, I am available. I would love to, Adam."
"Really? So you're the counselor I've heard so many good things about; all the progress you've made with the children in that school. From everything I've been told, it's a pretty tough school. Is that right?"
"A lot of the inner-city schools are tough. Most of the children are on their fifth or sixth dad with many of them not knowing who their original dad ever was, so it's no wonder really that they have a tough time. In fact I wonder sometimes if the mothers even remember or care. Alcohol and drug addictions are rampant in the area. How can any child grow up unscathed under those conditions?
"Many also have lived on welfare most of their lives and move as often as they change their socks; keeping just ahead of the rent collector. A lot of the children don't have a thing that they can call their own so stealing at a young age is not considered by them to be a crime; it's purely a matter of survival. They don't have the books or the clothes that they need for school but they know where they can get them, real quick. It's just a quick stop at a local store; a quick look around, a grab and they're gone. Most are quite proud of their ability not to get caught.
"It's enough to make a person cry when you see how so many of them live. I should say how they exist because that's all they're really doing. But on a happier note, it's sutrprising how many of them actually do make it in spite of their difficult backgrounds. Enough about what I do. I was told that you have your own counseling practice."
"You have been doing your homework. Yes, I do. It took me a while to get there though. I initially took business management courses before I realized that what I really wanted to do was to become a counselor.
"I know what you mean about the poor homes and the difficulties they experience. I go into a lot of those homes and try to turn families around but for most the extreme poverty has beaten their spirits into the ground. However, over the years there are a few that I have had some luck with, especially if we have been able to build up their self-esteem and self-confidence," Sarah Ann said.
"I agree that self-esteem and confidence are the key issues involved with these children. Not just the children but with their parents as well, especially some of the single mothers. If the parents can feel confident about their abilities, they will be able to pass that on to their children. But if they don't, their negative attitudes will be passed on to their children instead. I try to drum into their heads that negative attitudes will get them nowhere; only more negativity. How are you enjoying the Seminar so far?"
Sarah Ann shrugged her shoulders. "A lot of the classes are quite similar to others I have taken in the past."
"I know what you mean. You never know what you're getting when you sign up for them." Adam smiled, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "Ah, are you free for dinner this evening? I don't want to put you on the spot but I'd really like it if you would join me."
Sarah Ann hesitated momentarily. "As a matter of fact, I am available. I would love to, Adam."
His Sins Preview II
Part II Elsa
Chapter I
Walking aboard the C.P.R. Ferry from the downtown Vancouver wharf, Elsa clutched her battered old cardboard suitcase tightly. She had the beginnings of a hard lump in the pit of her stomach. Waving at Katrin she leaned on the railing of the outer deck, letting the icy wind whip at her hair. As the vessel moved further out into the water, she watched the deep troughs of waves following behind as it made a wide arc, gradually leaving the wharf, and Katrin, far behind. She might have been crossing the ocean back to Scotland, so lonely did she feel.
Seagulls screeched overhead, occasionally landing on the railing nearby. Wrapping her coat more tightly around her body for warmth, she remain on the deck, not wanting to go into the interior of the crowded ship. She preferred instead to be alone with her misery.
Her parting from Katrin had been difficult with each girl promising to write every day. Elsa and Elizabeth had parted with hugs and promises of letters but Elsa knew that Elizabeth, with her active social life, would have little time for writing. Her father had made no comment when she had told him about the job she had secured for herself and had barely acknowledged her farewell. Her mother had awkwardly kissed her eldest daughter on the cheek and Elsa had smiled wryly when she realized it was the first kiss she ever remembered receiving from her mother. Even Katrin's parents' farewell had been more affectionate than her own family's had been when they had said goodbye. This fact did not bother Elsa and nor was it a surprise.
She was to be met at the Ferry in Nanaimo and then would be driven to the inland logging camp further up the island. Mrs. Clarkson, the lady she would be working for, had said that it was a two hour drive from the Ferry and to be prepared for the rough ride.
"For the most part," she said, "the logging roads are barely cleared enough for the large trucks that travel back and forth constantly. I only go when I have to and now with another baby coming, it's not worth the trip."
Elsa had never travelled to Vancouver Island before and in spite of the biting cold and her extreme nervousness about the task before her, she discovered that she was beginning to enjoy the ferry ride. She was even vaguely excited about the new life before her. She knew she would be responsible for the care of three small children, as well as household duties. The care of a small baby would be exciting too, she expected.
"The meals will not be your responsibility, Mrs. Clarkson had written, "but all of the other duties of running the household will be expected. My husband is very particular about his meals so I will be preparing them myself." Her duties did not overly concern her because she was used to work but she wondered what her employers would be like.
"Would Mrs. Clarkson be a difficult mistress? And Mr. Clarkson? Would he be friendly? Maybe even too friendly? Elsa was particularly shy and uncomfortable around men and for that reason was more concerned about her meeting with Mr. Clarkson than she was about meeting his wife. As the ferry ploughed its way through the water to Nanaimo, Elsa had many questions running through her head.
After the Ferry had docked, she walked out to the passenger loading area and saw a bright red pick-up with 'Anmore Logging Inc.' stencilled onto the side with bold black lettering. A man of perhaps fifty stood beside the truck, a haze of purple smoke circling his head. He had black curly hair, streaked with gray and what appeared to be a two or three day growth of whiskers on his weathered face. His eyes were alert and intelligent as he watched a group of small children playing, a pateneral and good-natured smile hovering on his lips. Elsa walked timidly towards him. "Mr. Morrison?"
"Ah, you must be the new girl, Elsa Stewart," his friendly face was wreathed in a huge smile.
Elsa nodded her head causing her hat to bob vigorously on her head. She grabbed it before it could fall to the ground, feeling her face grow warm with embarrassment.
"It's very nice to meet you, Miss. The Clarkson children have been bouncing around for the last few days, plenty excited about meeting you." Elsa decided she liked this tall man. Grabbing her suitcase, he threw it into the back of the truck before turning to open the door of the cab for her.
"By the way, the name's Cye Morrison," he said extending a weathered hand in Elsa's direction. "Must be pretty scary for a young girl like yourself coming all this way to live with complete strangers." Elsa swallowed with difficulty as she struggled to hold back her tears.
Chapter I
Walking aboard the C.P.R. Ferry from the downtown Vancouver wharf, Elsa clutched her battered old cardboard suitcase tightly. She had the beginnings of a hard lump in the pit of her stomach. Waving at Katrin she leaned on the railing of the outer deck, letting the icy wind whip at her hair. As the vessel moved further out into the water, she watched the deep troughs of waves following behind as it made a wide arc, gradually leaving the wharf, and Katrin, far behind. She might have been crossing the ocean back to Scotland, so lonely did she feel.
Seagulls screeched overhead, occasionally landing on the railing nearby. Wrapping her coat more tightly around her body for warmth, she remain on the deck, not wanting to go into the interior of the crowded ship. She preferred instead to be alone with her misery.
Her parting from Katrin had been difficult with each girl promising to write every day. Elsa and Elizabeth had parted with hugs and promises of letters but Elsa knew that Elizabeth, with her active social life, would have little time for writing. Her father had made no comment when she had told him about the job she had secured for herself and had barely acknowledged her farewell. Her mother had awkwardly kissed her eldest daughter on the cheek and Elsa had smiled wryly when she realized it was the first kiss she ever remembered receiving from her mother. Even Katrin's parents' farewell had been more affectionate than her own family's had been when they had said goodbye. This fact did not bother Elsa and nor was it a surprise.
She was to be met at the Ferry in Nanaimo and then would be driven to the inland logging camp further up the island. Mrs. Clarkson, the lady she would be working for, had said that it was a two hour drive from the Ferry and to be prepared for the rough ride.
"For the most part," she said, "the logging roads are barely cleared enough for the large trucks that travel back and forth constantly. I only go when I have to and now with another baby coming, it's not worth the trip."
Elsa had never travelled to Vancouver Island before and in spite of the biting cold and her extreme nervousness about the task before her, she discovered that she was beginning to enjoy the ferry ride. She was even vaguely excited about the new life before her. She knew she would be responsible for the care of three small children, as well as household duties. The care of a small baby would be exciting too, she expected.
"The meals will not be your responsibility, Mrs. Clarkson had written, "but all of the other duties of running the household will be expected. My husband is very particular about his meals so I will be preparing them myself." Her duties did not overly concern her because she was used to work but she wondered what her employers would be like.
"Would Mrs. Clarkson be a difficult mistress? And Mr. Clarkson? Would he be friendly? Maybe even too friendly? Elsa was particularly shy and uncomfortable around men and for that reason was more concerned about her meeting with Mr. Clarkson than she was about meeting his wife. As the ferry ploughed its way through the water to Nanaimo, Elsa had many questions running through her head.
After the Ferry had docked, she walked out to the passenger loading area and saw a bright red pick-up with 'Anmore Logging Inc.' stencilled onto the side with bold black lettering. A man of perhaps fifty stood beside the truck, a haze of purple smoke circling his head. He had black curly hair, streaked with gray and what appeared to be a two or three day growth of whiskers on his weathered face. His eyes were alert and intelligent as he watched a group of small children playing, a pateneral and good-natured smile hovering on his lips. Elsa walked timidly towards him. "Mr. Morrison?"
"Ah, you must be the new girl, Elsa Stewart," his friendly face was wreathed in a huge smile.
Elsa nodded her head causing her hat to bob vigorously on her head. She grabbed it before it could fall to the ground, feeling her face grow warm with embarrassment.
"It's very nice to meet you, Miss. The Clarkson children have been bouncing around for the last few days, plenty excited about meeting you." Elsa decided she liked this tall man. Grabbing her suitcase, he threw it into the back of the truck before turning to open the door of the cab for her.
"By the way, the name's Cye Morrison," he said extending a weathered hand in Elsa's direction. "Must be pretty scary for a young girl like yourself coming all this way to live with complete strangers." Elsa swallowed with difficulty as she struggled to hold back her tears.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
His Sins Preview I
Part I - Alexander and Janet
Chapter I
Alexander sat, sullen and silent, a brooding scowl etched on the forehead of his young face, giving him the appearance of having aged prematurely. His icy hands circled the mug of steaming sweet tea while he watched from beneath hooded eyelids. Seething with anger, he saw his father double over in a bout of uncontrollable coughing, the phlegm heavy in the older man's congested chest.
After the spasm had passed, his father sat up and wiping the beads of sweat from his face with the back of his coal-blackened hand, he reached for his own mug of the hot sweet black tea. Swallowing the tea in great, hurried gulps, fearful of being late for his shift in the pit, he began another bout of strangled coughing. Looking away, Alexander was no longer able to watch his father. At only thirty-eight years of age, his father gave the appearance of being a much older man, as did most of the men who spent their lives in the mine.
'The mine will kill him,' Alexander thought bitterly, unable to hide the anger he felt at his father's acceptance of what life had dealt him, 'but it'll not be getting me.'
Turning to face his father his thoughts were focused as they were every morning on how much he hated going down into the pit. 'He dinna care 'bout leaving the mine but I'll not stay a minute longer than I've got to,' Alexander vowed under his breath while his father continued to gasp for air.
"Give over with you and help your Da," his mother cuffed him on the side of the head. Her shrill voice caused him to purse his lips tightly together knowing that whatever he would answer in response would only early him another cuff for his effort.
"There's naught wrong with me, Elsa. We'd best be leaving now lad." He picked up his meal bucket, the tally lamp and flask of pit oil. Alexander followed him with the 'ricketty' and the black powder.
"You help your Da now," his mother's harsh voice followed him into the cold morning air. "He don't need no lazy lump of a son when he's feelin' poorly."
By the time they reached the entrance to the mine, having pedalled on their bicyles in the freezing rain, Alexander's clothes were as damp as his spirits. 'No point in worrying none about it with water running in all of the seams too,' he thought bitterly. Alexander was never dry enough, warm enough or full enough. It was five a.m. and the night was still as black as he knew the inside of the coal mine would be at the bottom of the shaft.
No one spoke as the miners were lowered three thousand feet into the bowels of the earth. Each one silent, and each one dreading the thought of yet another gruelling day, knowing this day could be their last.
Alexander worked with his father in their own area of the mine and today they were working in a coal seam that was only twenty inches in depth. He crept along behind his father, holding the tally lamp as high as possible, it being the only means of lighting their way. He could hear one of the mine's ponies snorting in the distance in their underground stable. Alexander knew that the lives of the ponies were no better than his or his father's, or any of the other miners that worked each day in the mines.
"The ricketty, lad," his father reached behind him and Alexander handed the older man the small hand drill so he could drill holes in the coal seam which he would fill with explosives and a long fuse. "The black powder now, lad."
When the explosives were set, Alexander backed quickly out of the seam, closely followed by his father. Alexander always said a thankful prayer that his father always knew exactly how much powder to put into each drilled hole. He didn't want his life shortened before he could get out of this black hell-hole.
He had plans and, unlike his father, they didn't include spending the rest of his life under the ground breathing in coal dust until his skin turned gray and coughing up his insides by the time he was thirty-five. He was only eighteen and he'd already been down in the mine for four years. 'Four years too long,' Alexander often thought as he worked silently beside his father beneath the unforgiving earth.
Each time they heard the series of explosions go off, they crawled back into the seam with their picks. It was Alexander's job to load the tubs with the coal and push it along the underground rail. By the time he had pushed it to the end of the haulage line and placed their identifying pin in the tub, the sweat was running down the inside of his already damp shirt. He retrieved an empty tub and brought it back to the opening of the seam. By the time he returned to where his father was chipping at the coal with his pick, Alexander had cooled off and was shivering again. He constantly alternated between freezing cold or dripping sweat. He wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand and renewed his deep hatred for the mine.
Chapter I
Alexander sat, sullen and silent, a brooding scowl etched on the forehead of his young face, giving him the appearance of having aged prematurely. His icy hands circled the mug of steaming sweet tea while he watched from beneath hooded eyelids. Seething with anger, he saw his father double over in a bout of uncontrollable coughing, the phlegm heavy in the older man's congested chest.
After the spasm had passed, his father sat up and wiping the beads of sweat from his face with the back of his coal-blackened hand, he reached for his own mug of the hot sweet black tea. Swallowing the tea in great, hurried gulps, fearful of being late for his shift in the pit, he began another bout of strangled coughing. Looking away, Alexander was no longer able to watch his father. At only thirty-eight years of age, his father gave the appearance of being a much older man, as did most of the men who spent their lives in the mine.
'The mine will kill him,' Alexander thought bitterly, unable to hide the anger he felt at his father's acceptance of what life had dealt him, 'but it'll not be getting me.'
Turning to face his father his thoughts were focused as they were every morning on how much he hated going down into the pit. 'He dinna care 'bout leaving the mine but I'll not stay a minute longer than I've got to,' Alexander vowed under his breath while his father continued to gasp for air.
"Give over with you and help your Da," his mother cuffed him on the side of the head. Her shrill voice caused him to purse his lips tightly together knowing that whatever he would answer in response would only early him another cuff for his effort.
"There's naught wrong with me, Elsa. We'd best be leaving now lad." He picked up his meal bucket, the tally lamp and flask of pit oil. Alexander followed him with the 'ricketty' and the black powder.
"You help your Da now," his mother's harsh voice followed him into the cold morning air. "He don't need no lazy lump of a son when he's feelin' poorly."
By the time they reached the entrance to the mine, having pedalled on their bicyles in the freezing rain, Alexander's clothes were as damp as his spirits. 'No point in worrying none about it with water running in all of the seams too,' he thought bitterly. Alexander was never dry enough, warm enough or full enough. It was five a.m. and the night was still as black as he knew the inside of the coal mine would be at the bottom of the shaft.
No one spoke as the miners were lowered three thousand feet into the bowels of the earth. Each one silent, and each one dreading the thought of yet another gruelling day, knowing this day could be their last.
Alexander worked with his father in their own area of the mine and today they were working in a coal seam that was only twenty inches in depth. He crept along behind his father, holding the tally lamp as high as possible, it being the only means of lighting their way. He could hear one of the mine's ponies snorting in the distance in their underground stable. Alexander knew that the lives of the ponies were no better than his or his father's, or any of the other miners that worked each day in the mines.
"The ricketty, lad," his father reached behind him and Alexander handed the older man the small hand drill so he could drill holes in the coal seam which he would fill with explosives and a long fuse. "The black powder now, lad."
When the explosives were set, Alexander backed quickly out of the seam, closely followed by his father. Alexander always said a thankful prayer that his father always knew exactly how much powder to put into each drilled hole. He didn't want his life shortened before he could get out of this black hell-hole.
He had plans and, unlike his father, they didn't include spending the rest of his life under the ground breathing in coal dust until his skin turned gray and coughing up his insides by the time he was thirty-five. He was only eighteen and he'd already been down in the mine for four years. 'Four years too long,' Alexander often thought as he worked silently beside his father beneath the unforgiving earth.
Each time they heard the series of explosions go off, they crawled back into the seam with their picks. It was Alexander's job to load the tubs with the coal and push it along the underground rail. By the time he had pushed it to the end of the haulage line and placed their identifying pin in the tub, the sweat was running down the inside of his already damp shirt. He retrieved an empty tub and brought it back to the opening of the seam. By the time he returned to where his father was chipping at the coal with his pick, Alexander had cooled off and was shivering again. He constantly alternated between freezing cold or dripping sweat. He wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand and renewed his deep hatred for the mine.
His Sins Summary - Fiction
“His Sins” is a three-generation family saga about how the actions of one member of a family can be felt, and can continue to be felt, by future generations.
Part I – Alexander and Janet – Alexander, at eighteen years of age, is determined to leave the mine; a mine that is killing his father who, at 38 years old is already coughing up phlegm and coal dust. Alexander’s anger becomes intensified with the eventual early death of his father and the stillborn birth of their first born child causing yet another delay in his ability to leave the mine. He finally manages, along with Janet, to leave their mining community in Scotland for a new world where they believe that the streets are lined with gold. In the Peace River District of Canada, he finds that riches are not everywhere as he had thought. Realizing that disappointment and bad luck have continued to follow and haunt him wherever he has traveled, he takes his anger and bitterness out on his family.
Part II – Elsa - Daughter of Alexander and Janet, was conceived on a night when Alexander, while in a drunken state, had taken Janet without thought for the pain he was inflicting upon her. She is loved by neither father nor mother. As a result she grows up where loneliness is her constant companion becoming the one who bears the brunt of her parents’ frustration and unhappiness. Because of the lack of love shown by her parents, Elsa is completely lacking in self-esteem placing her in a vulnerable position. As a result she marries a man, much like her father, who is happy to have a wife that can be so easily controlled. And while raising seven children, she remains completely under his thumb, always fearful and intimidated.
Part III – Sarah Ann is the second child of Elsa and Peter. Born with spunk, she is spirited and determined. Watching her father’s treatment of her mother, she quickly resolves to never allow herself to be treated in such a way by any man, ever.
As she grows older, appearing to be unscathed by her parents’ dysfunctional relationship, she happily dates telling all that marriage holds no interest for her. Until she meets Adam! It is then she realizes that her family history has had an affect upon her as well. As Adam becomes more serious, she discovers that her issues of “trust” and especially “commitment” are problems she will have to overcome if she doesn’t want to lose Adam forever. Will she be able to resolve her dilemma?
“His Sins” is a story about families and relationships; about what the results can be of one person’s actions on another. It is also a story about the power of the human personality and how adversity can be overcome with strength and determination. Although it tells of bitterness and resentment, it also speaks of love.
Part I – Alexander and Janet – Alexander, at eighteen years of age, is determined to leave the mine; a mine that is killing his father who, at 38 years old is already coughing up phlegm and coal dust. Alexander’s anger becomes intensified with the eventual early death of his father and the stillborn birth of their first born child causing yet another delay in his ability to leave the mine. He finally manages, along with Janet, to leave their mining community in Scotland for a new world where they believe that the streets are lined with gold. In the Peace River District of Canada, he finds that riches are not everywhere as he had thought. Realizing that disappointment and bad luck have continued to follow and haunt him wherever he has traveled, he takes his anger and bitterness out on his family.
Part II – Elsa - Daughter of Alexander and Janet, was conceived on a night when Alexander, while in a drunken state, had taken Janet without thought for the pain he was inflicting upon her. She is loved by neither father nor mother. As a result she grows up where loneliness is her constant companion becoming the one who bears the brunt of her parents’ frustration and unhappiness. Because of the lack of love shown by her parents, Elsa is completely lacking in self-esteem placing her in a vulnerable position. As a result she marries a man, much like her father, who is happy to have a wife that can be so easily controlled. And while raising seven children, she remains completely under his thumb, always fearful and intimidated.
Part III – Sarah Ann is the second child of Elsa and Peter. Born with spunk, she is spirited and determined. Watching her father’s treatment of her mother, she quickly resolves to never allow herself to be treated in such a way by any man, ever.
As she grows older, appearing to be unscathed by her parents’ dysfunctional relationship, she happily dates telling all that marriage holds no interest for her. Until she meets Adam! It is then she realizes that her family history has had an affect upon her as well. As Adam becomes more serious, she discovers that her issues of “trust” and especially “commitment” are problems she will have to overcome if she doesn’t want to lose Adam forever. Will she be able to resolve her dilemma?
“His Sins” is a story about families and relationships; about what the results can be of one person’s actions on another. It is also a story about the power of the human personality and how adversity can be overcome with strength and determination. Although it tells of bitterness and resentment, it also speaks of love.
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