Quaintrelle Weekender
The miracle of Ativan.
Sorry, sorry, sorry for the delay on this missive (you did notice, right?) the week got away from me.
I had an MRI and subsequent neurologist visit which took up some time, natch, and I thought I was done with it all, only to find out MORE tests were needed, not that they thought it was going to show anything, but just to be safe, and health care is free in Canada, so what the hell?
Oh… I know the hell. My hell of being trapped inside a magnetic tube at the mercy of a stranger as to when I’ll be sprung. A teensy, tiny medical coffin where my only means of escape is the benevolence of another. This situation does not calm my control issues and it really doesn’t sooth my claustrophobia.
I have a tendency to totally freak out in those tight imaging chambers… and the first MRI had me squeezing that little panic hand balloon like it was a cow utter and I was going for gold at a 4H milking contest.
I was seriously contemplating ripping apart the billion-dollar machine, but then I realized I’d just have to come back and do it all again, so I leaned so heavily into my meditative box breathing you’d think I was the Bhagavad Gita on the on the battlefield of Kurukshetra.
So when the neurologists told me they’d just like another little looksie, this time at my whole spine – meaning I would have to go alllll the way in – my only response was to have a full meltdown right there in his office.
The doctor asked if I wanted an Ativan (not for the current panic attack unfolding before his eyes, but the psychotic break that was definitely going to happen whilst stuck in the MRI machine two days henceforth.) I told him I couldn’t because I didn’t have anyone to take me home, as per hospital law. He smiled a little smile, this god amongst men, and said, “you take the train, right?” When I confirmed I do indeed ride the rocket, he said, “welllll…” and without further explanation, gave me a prescription. “Just a baby dose,” he whispered and winked.
I showed up at the hospital on Thursday, and as I was walking into the waiting room, stuck a pinhead-sized pill under my tongue, feeling weirdly like a drug addict sneaking a bump at rehab. Nothing much happened. I’m not sure what was supposed to happen, but since I was still anxious about the upcoming procedure, about 15 minutes later, I surreptitiously took another.
Then the attendant called me into the pre-screening room, where she let me know, much to my surprise and delight, this would take one full hour of, “table time” and require a dye to go into my system through intravenous. I just about passed out. While waiting outside the MRI room, veins pumped and ready, I popped a third.
And let me tell you, Ativan is GREAT.
Hello and welcome to Quaintrelle Weekender, my weekly postcard of what’s on my mind this week.
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This Week’s Big 3
Grace and Frankie – As per ush, I’m late to the party on this one, but I call it fashionable. This series has me howling with laughter.
The Zuni Cookbook – I seriously doubt this book needs a lot of introduction. If you have yet to discover it, I suggest you add it to your culinary library posthaste. I was reading through it again last night and still found myself digging out my highlighter to take notes on Judy Rodgers’ sage cooking wisdom. The gift that keeps on giving, and the recipes are excellent, too. Obvs.
Toronto International Festival of Authors – The weekend of June 5-7 TIFA is hosting a crime and mystery festival full of master classes and panel discussions. I’m not even close to being a murder-mystery-thriller writer, well, except this one time, but I’ve registered for a few events. I’m really looking forward to it.
BONUS! Wine, Women & Wealth… a little reminder that June 3rd is my own event at Vantage Venues downtown Toronto. It’s such a great night of financial empowerment woven in with fantastic wine and great food and a seriously interesting group of people. I think you should be there.
The Weekend Menu
Last Sunday’s Dinner: I was at my sister’s house, where I usually am on Sundays. She made her excellent moussaka; her recipe is a hodge-podge of a few she cherry-picked from, but the one gift linked from NYT Cooking looks pretty close to hers.
Tonight’s Dinner: Orange & Saffron Malfadine
The Weekend Cocktail: The French Dorchester Deux, big batch for a crowd
The Weekend Wine: Mirada Organic Rosé, Castile-La Mancha, Spain $17
It’s the Freakin’ Long Weekend and I’m Gonna Have Me Some Fun…
Sorry, I know the guy’s a major perv and deserves his three decades in the clink, but tell me that doesn’t make you want to dance? Just a little?
I’ve got my theme music cued up … it’s the bi-annual window wash and garden planting. It doesn’t look like much, but trust me, a two-day backache awaits. So does a gin and tonic.
Monday looks to be 30°F… I think a pool day is in order.
Whatever you get up to, I hope it’s fabulous.
Until next time –
xo – Erin
On one of the worst days of my life, my oldest friend showed up with a bag of kettle corn, a couple of Ativans, gave me a hug, and drove off like a redheaded Angel of Mercy.
Please be well. And see if you can score some more of that wonder drug.
They (palliative care staff) came and picked up the sealed container of The Good Drugs less than 24 hours after my husband died, but I kept the Ativan. Hope all is well and you enjoy the long weekend. It’s raining in Mississauga.