My Story

Nancy – Part 6

The railing was now on my right. But, I was going up. Not down. Kenny had said going up was easier. Less scary. I remembered the SSB stairwell. Going up was absolutely less scary. I had to try. It was the middle of the day. No one was going to come by. To help me….

Nancy – Part 6

The door was locked. Duh! I had remembered my keys. But could I open the very heavy door. On the way out I had simply pressed the handle down. Pushed the door open. Fairly easy. Besides I had the hunger driving me. But pulling the door might be another thing. I had to try. How…

Nancy – Part 5

Getting across thirty ninth street. Thirty ninth was a busy street. You wouldn’t think it. But it was. Because drivers used it as a shortcut. To shave a few seconds off their commute. To get on with their important jobs. And, important lives. It was twelve thirty. Drivers grabbing a quick take out. Before they…

Nancy – Part 4

Kenny let the belt out just a tiny millimeter. To me it felt like a yard. I lurched forward. Out of control. Or, so it seemed. A fierce jerk brought me back. Into balance. “You’re okay. Now let’s take that step.” Kenny said. “And this time hold onto the railing.” I lifted my left foot….

Nancy – Part 3

t 3 I would solve the laundry problem later. I needed to eat. I scrapped together a bunch of change. Limped to my apartment’s front door. Got my cane from where it was leaning against the fridge. Unlocked the door. Went out to the corridor. Turned. Locked the door with my key. Limped down the…

Nancy – Part 2

I was napping. The phone rang. I limped to the kitchen to answer it. “Hi, Lyle” I recognized Nancy’s voice. “I think I left my Day Planner there. Can you check?” I limped to the living room Didn’t see the planner. Then I looked under the sofa. Voila! The wallet must have fallen out of…

Nancy

A knock sounded at the door. Like a starved woodpecker. Like a hestitant Jehovah’s Witness. I limped to the door. Peeked through the spy hole. I saw two women. Like Jehovah’s Witnesses. But they weren’t carrying satchels. Or, huge purses. I opened the door. Two brunettes. One about five two. The other five six. One…

Epilogue as Prologue

Epilogue as Prologue I died three times, that sixty third year of my life. The first time I died it wasn’t my fault, really. It was his fault. My doctor’s fault, that is. He had prescribed Morphine for my pain. I cleary remember him saying, “Now you know you to be very careful with this…

Stellar Progress

Does this happen to you? You get so fixated on working toward a goal that you don’t acknowledge or notice the progress you’ve made. Happens to me all the time. I could blame my perfectionism, which would be true to a degree. Or, I could blame being overly focused on the goal, which would be…

A Work In Progress

What do you call a project that is 365 days late and $ 300,000 over budget? A typical systems project. When I was a Systems Analyst — Yes Virginia, I got IT skills — at Imperial Oil Limited (Exxon North) we faithfully followed the Pied Piper of Project Management so we could avoid becoming victims…