Day 44

I'm sitting on a train, heading home to see my parents. More specifically, we are going to the hospital tomorrow for my father's one month, post stroke visit.

I've lived through enough to know that this was another turning point, when Dad had his stroke. We will tell stories now about before Dad had his stroke. We will talk one day about Dad never being the same after his stroke. We've already worried over what we should have done differently when Dad had his stroke. For several weeks prior to his fall, we noticed that he wasn't the same. Something about his facial expression. He seemed slower, less alert. Something just wasn't right. We should have done something then. But we did! Mom made him go to the doctor who said his thyroid was low. He wasn't home when they called so they told me about his thyroid. I knew it was nonsense. I cursed the lazy, overbooked family doctor I saw as a teenager and young adult. But I didn't do anything.

Then he fell. He told us some story about taking his meds without having had breakfast. We gave him some crackers and water and didn't call the ambulance. He told us not to. We knew he was going to fall as soon as we left him by himself, but we still didn't call the ambulance. We waited until he fell again. We learned not to question ourselves, our instincts.

This brings me back to healthcare and how far we still have to go in this country. Living in New York where the best of the best are available if you have enough money (this absolutely includes healthcare), I've forgotten how mediocre the healthcare is in my hometown and probably in most other rural communities. I've had enough hour-long visits with my New York doctor, his door closed, phone muted, to forget what it was like. I've forgotten how frustrating it is when the one person who may be able to help you leaves the room every two minutes of your fifteen minute visit. I've forgotten how scatterbrained the doctor can be when he has three other patients waiting in other rooms. I've forgotten how devastating it is when the doctor is in such a rush that he mixes up your paternal grandmother's diabetes with depression because it's the next disease on the list, then prescribes antidepressants instead of doing his best to find out that you have Crohn's Disease.

There is no reason why a DOCTOR should see a 64 year-old man with high blood pressure who is having trouble walking and is confused and NOT suspect a stroke. Looking back now, it is so obvious. Thyroid medication? A higher does of blood pressure medication? Did he really not suspect a stroke? Did he not think for a second that he should do the simple motor skills tests the doctor used at the hospital to help diagnose my dad's stroke? The simple, free tests that would have cost him only an extra five minutes? Where was his mind? On the insurance checks that would come rolling in after he cycled through the waiting room full of people?

So here I am on the train. I have to fight for my dad because he won't fight for himself. I'm not ready to let him die because the doctor is too busy.

Day 40

I probably spend a half dozen weekends in Toronto each year. Last weekend was my first visit this year. We usually have some family (and lately other) obligations. This weekend we had some extra time to spend downtown.

One way in which Toronto has New York beat is in gluten free dining options. It's been a few years since I gave up gluten and it definitely limits my restaurant options in New York. Toronto has several dedicated gluten free places and tons of restaurants and bakeries that serve gluten free options, a few of which we checked out last weekend.

After years of hearing and reading about it, I finally made it to Kensington Market. It was a little grungier than I was expecting but a good time. I think I would like to go back when the weather is warmer and really spend some time there. We had lunch at Kensington Cornerstone, a lovely little place with an entirely gluten free menu. There were chicken fingers! And sandwiches! And FISH AND CHIPS! The fish and chips really blew me away. It was so light and delicious. Go! Eat!

We also stopped at Haymishe bakery before heading out of town. The bakery is on Bathurst a couple of blocks south of Lawrence (I have no idea what I'm talking about, you might want to check that). They had a HUGE selection of gluten free foods. There were several different types of bread (I bought one after the proprietor insisted I squeeze a loaf), cookies, an amazing blueberry tart, rugelach, knish, rolls, schnitzel (!), more cookies, flatbread... I'm sure I'm missing some things. So I left with far more than I intended but everything was delicious, literally everything. Especially the dulce de leche cookies and the blueberry tart. And the flatbread. Oh, and the garlic/dill cream cheese. The bread was perfectly squeezy but I didn't get to it for a few days. I'll definitely get another loaf one day and eat or freeze it immediately.

I am so carbed out right now. Thanks for the memories (and the extra five pounds), Toronto!

Day 37

I had a strange dream last night. I can't remember the details, just that it was weird and stressful. It threw off my whole day. I'm sure this is why I destroy my teeth in my sleep. These dreams.