new ground in my dialysis career


Back on August 28th I had surgery to prepare a fistula access point in my left forearm.  Fistulas offer better clearances than chest lines.  The down side is two fold, each run means the insertion of two needles in the forearm and one must keep the left arm pretty much motionless for the run. My runs are four hours in length.   In the beginning, only one needle is used, for the arterial flow, which is a slower speed than the venus.  So one of my chest lines is used.  Many patients have some difficulties getting their fistulas  to work initially.  Some need to get the fistual rebored.  So far in my case it has gone well.  But it is early days and I should not get too carried away.  Normally it takes some three months for the fistula to develop after surgery before it can be used for dialysis, so I am more or less on schedule.  One huge bonus, after the chest lines are removed, a little further down the road, I will be able to get wet.  Even go swimming. I live on Georgian Bay and it was tough this year not being able to go swimming.  Next year I look forward to swimming with Grace, the wonder pup.

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Midland stoneface my old photo


found this while poking around in one of too many digital photo folders on my newly repaired old desktop pc – Midland Ontario building 1881 first bank in Midland, Western Bank of Canada

Became the Preston Playfair Department Store Company Limited

John Huston – my photo realistic (I hope) pencil drawing of him


I lack patience and it was never more fully made clear to me than when I went through a twelve week drawing class. this was the final product of my efforts and it damned near killed me. For those not older folk or film buffs, John Huston was a director and actor, most famour for The Maltese Falcon behind the camera and Chinatown for his work in front. This was about thiry hours work. The course was taught by artist-techer Mark Tumber, great artist and a great teacher.

That was about ten yearas ago and since then I have finished a handful of drawings.  I am too impatient and find that photography better suits my flawed temperament.

November 11 was bright and still and cooler, more befitting November than the warmth of last weekend. I can wait for the snow to start coming and sticking on theground. Still I sat out for an hour or so on the back deck with the young dog, Grace.  She listened to the outdoor sounds and I finished reading the third in my recent batch of Tony Hillerman Navajo police mystery books.  What a great series, sad to think that TH is now gone and there will be no more. but 83 years is a good long run.

baby its cold outside


frost on the cars this morning is the surest sign that winter is approaching fast.  Snow pellets last night were smacking the windshield as I drove into Midland. Our neighbours tried calling our snow plough guy to renew their contract but found his land line out of service and no answer on his cell phone.  So they have gone with a new man.  We have followed suit.  I hope it was a lottery win not something negative.  I have let my beard grow back to full, my personal 24 hour scarf.  I wish it wasn’t a white one but it is.  My hair is still brown. A gift from my Mom who had brown hair with the the tiniest wisp of grey right up till her death just three days short of her 80th birthday. OTOH I can thank her and my uncles, her brothers for my male pattern baldness. My Dad had a small bald spot about the size of small doughnut on the top back of his head.  His hair turned snowy. He died in his 73rd year. I think of both often, just about every day.