Laid Off

I got canned last Tuesday.

It wasn't anything that I did wrong. I am actually a pretty good teacher, I think. It's a little complicated and it has something to do with the fact that the "feds" have taken over the teaching of English in Canada and have decided to cut certain programs.

The Manitoba government was doing a great job running the EAL programs but when the feds want to take over, I think there's not much anyone can do.

Tuesday night I had a weird dream. I have not remembered a dream I've had in years. It was Sunday morning and we were going to a mega church in Toronto with Kristen and Andy. It was a 15 minute walk from the parking lot to the church and I was wondering if it was really necessary to go through that much trouble just to go to church.

Wes was with me too. I had suspected that our marriage was over and I knew that we were going to talk the next day but I didn't think anyone knew. As we were walking to the church we met a good friend from Winnipeg who expressed her condolences to us about the break up of our marriage. Kristen and Andy looked at me too with sadness and concern in their eyes. They knew too. I was surprised that everyone seemed to know that a break up was imminent except me.

It was the same with my job. I kind of suspected that I would lose it and when I got to the staff meeting it seemed that everyone knew except me. I was not informed by my supervisor until the staff meeting. Very unprofessional I would say.

I don't need the job for the salary but I realize I need a job to challenge me and keep me connected with my community.

So now I'm back to trying to decide what I want to do. I'm not ready to retire but I want a job that is flexible so I can do some travelling, visit my parents and spend time with my grandkids.

Think I 'm asking for too much?

August 13, 2012

On Tuesday, August 13, we will gather to celebrate the best of times and the worst of times. I thought the worst of times was Wes' collapse on our couch at 10:00 PM and the 6 minutes of chest compressions that I performed on him while various family members watched in horror and disbelief. Watching the paramedics defibrillate him the first time was awful. I turned away every time I heard the word "clear" because I can't describe to you the horror of watching that.

But I think the absolute worst for me was when the doctor explained to me that they wanted to cool his body for 24 hours to give his major organs (the brain specifically) time to rest and heal. At that point I realized that although he was alive, I had no idea what other damage might have been done with him "down" for so long. That was hard.

Those 24 to 36 hours of not knowing if Wes would even survive were both the hardest and the best times of my life. People coming and going all day, dropping off pizza, coffee, snacks, gum; taking over the family room at the ICU; holding Wes' cold hand; visiting with individual people in the hospital room; Eric, Joey and Micah maintaining a nighttime vigil; delicious food in the fridge and the counter when we got home; pride in my children and their significant others; support of sisters; the best olive oil money can buy; laughter mingled with sorrow; people who provided childcare in the middle of the night so family could be at the hospital with me.

All the time not knowing if we'd have Wes back at the end of it. Or if we'd have to make a decision to "pull the plug." Or if we'd have to build a wheelchair ramp in our house. Or if his personality would change...

And then, that morning when he woke up.

"Wes, do you know who I am?"
A look from him that told me, "Are you nuts? Of course I know you."
"Squeeze my hand." And that's what he did. Three times. Hard.

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep again but at that point I knew I had him back.