Sew a needle pulling thread

I enjoy sewing.
The first time I ever made anything with fabric, I was in grade eight and I made a denim apron and matching chef hat for my Dad. My only recollection of him ever wearing them is when he posed for a picture when I first brought them home. After that I was in theatre school and I was on the costume crew for a play. I was asked to narrow the pant legs on a pair of navy corduroy jeans. After I was shown how to use the unfamiliar sewing machine, I was off; it was like second nature for me. I bought my first sewing machine at a boxing day sale in 1988. I took the bus to Sears at Metrotown and purchased a Kenmore. A couple years ago I had to retire that machine and my friend Pansy gifted me the brand new Kenmore he'd just bought on a bit of a whim.
I've been sewing costumes, making aprons, constructing patchwork blankets, designing cool bags (I made a funky carrying bag for me Wii that Bug got for me) and much more.
I've even made some dresses for my son. Over the years he's wanted to dress festively for various events. We marched in the Pride Parade together in drag. I'd made a huge sweeping dress for myself and one for my son out of neckties. I chronicled our experience in a short story that became a part of an anthology called Charmed Lives (Lethe press 2006).
I've also made several things for Bug.
He wanted a bag to carry a new portable DVD player he'd bought. It had to carry the player, all the cords and a small stack of DVDs. Bug came up with the idea of putting a window in the flap and affixing a picture from his childhood on it. I took a piece of plastic from a cheap dollar store picture frame and hot-glued to the bag with the picture safely behind. It was a very clever idea and looks great. I've also made Bug a couple pillowcases, two napkins made with his signature skull motif fabrics and also a patchwork duvet cover with large squares of shirtless men material.
I've also altered much of Bug's clothes. His waist is so small that even small pants are big on him. I've had to take in all his sweat pants and pj bottoms.
I love that I have this ability to make things out of pieces of material. It's a good skill to have. Sewing is very creative and meditative for me, especially when I'm constructing a patchwork blanket, sewing on square to another square to another...

Until the next time...

Blurred boundaries

Bug is well on the mend from his dental surgery. His spirits are good, although he's having energy dips. He's healed so quickly.
It was a good weekend, although busy and bit stressful. Having my son visiting at the same time split my focus and energy. I'm grateful that Bug's Mom stayed with him through the weekend.
It's interesting how disruptive this surgery has been on Bug's and my life together. Our routine has been thrown off. Bug's Mom took Monday off work as well and was intending on hanging with him through the day. I went over in the morning, as is my usual routine on Monday morning and I was ready to do my caregiver thing.
I realize now that it was an attempt on my part to normalize our lives again. It felt good that morning to get a load of laundry in the washer and Bug soaking in a bath. In the process it caused Bug's Mom to feel redundant. She was fully prepared to do all these things for Bug and here comes the pushy boyfriend to take over.
I felt shitty. I could feel this tension and I was saddened as Bug's Mom cleaned up her things to go home.
I felt a responsibility to be there for Bug. I have a strong work ethic that stems from eighteen years growing up on a farm. My mind was saying 'It's Monday, go to work damn it!' Yet I could have had that time with my son. He was contented watching Pokemon on Youtube, but I put Bug's care before time with my son.
I was like my Dad in that moment. He put lots of things before his own sons.
In that moment I was able to justify that I was doing a good thing. I was doing my job. Taking care of Bug. On the surface I was a great guy.
If I had taken the time, let Bug's Mom care for him and I stayed with my son, then it would have been a win/win for most of us. My son would have had me to play Super Mario Brothers and Bug's Mom could her part as Mom.
Yet... I had a need to be with Bug. He had a need to be with him.
So where does caregiver and boyfriend meet and end?
Yes, that is a huge question and one that I will be working on this whole relationship. I feel that most of the time I succeed at being aware of this balance. It's a delicate balancing act on a very fine edge.
I've had a few people leave my life in the past couple years. Friends come and go and it's all cycles, but I'm aware these friendship endings coincided with my relationship shifting into caregiver for Bug. I understand that some people may have a moral and ethical problem with Bug's and my duel relationship.
I get it.
But... the comfort, love,respect, care, ease, joy that Bug gets from our duel relationships can be seen and felt by everyone who knows him.
I'm aware that Bug's Mom understands my reasons for coming over on Monday when she had it all under control.
What really drew me to Bug's home, tapping on the front door, mere seconds after 9:00am was love.
I love Bug and I wanted to be with him.
I wanted to do for him.
It may be wrong in some people's mind that we've blurred the boundary of relationship and caregiver, but it's working for both of us.
Love has a way of blurring boundaries.

Until the next time...

A son and a Bug

Time management is something that I pride myself on, but at times it kicks me in the butt. Being able to manage my time is one thing, but then trying to manage Bug's time and then when my son comes to visit... well, I become like a little robot with smoke rising from it's shell as I frantically twirl around on the spot.
Being responsible for three people who all have their needs, wishes and desires definitely has its pitfalls.
Even last night, Bug and I thought it would be fun to watch a movie with his Mom and my son. Three of us were on board, but my son wasn't interested. I tried to convince him that it would be great if we all were together. He wasn't having none of it. We ended up being at my place together and Bug stayed at home healing from his surgery with his Mom.
Many times my son will be staying with me when I have to care for Bug. I'll crawl out of bed, tiptoe around my home as my son slumbers, then go get Bug's day started. My son is in his mid-teens so he can be on his own for some time. He calls Bug's place once he's up and I'll ask all the Father-like questions: What time did you wake up? Have you had breakfast? Did you take your medicine? He answers in the affirmative and then asks if he can watch a DVD, play Nintendo or whatever else is of interest to him this visit.
We've shared several meals together at Bug's home and my son loves to hang at Bug's place because he's got cable TV (I have a TV, but no cable). My son sits mesmerized by the flashing images on the screen as I putter around getting dinner ready. When I first got my Wii, my son and I would hang with Bug as we worked our way through the levels of Donkey Kong Country Returns.
It is a balancing act for me to make sure that Bug gets his care and that I get time with my son; he only comes twice a month for visits, so our time is precious. This has always been a struggle for me since my son's been born. Being in an intimate relationship and being a Dad don't always go well together. I've had my share of break-ups because the guy I was seeing either didn't want kids in his life, or he resented that my son was a higher priority than him.
I love that my son is getting to know Bug and also that he is hanging out with a person with a disability. When I was growing up we had friends who's sister was deaf. That was the only disability I'd ever been around. I had a huge prejudice about what I perceived a disabled person was like. Being with Bug has opened my mind and my life. He's doing the same for my son.
My son and Bug kid around with each other all the time. For some silly reason Bug likes to call my son by a different name and my son teases Bug about all sorts of things. They seem relaxed and comfortable with each other.
I feel like the day is a success if I have time with my son and Bug together. We all share laughs, eat food and be in each others company.
This to me is the perfect way to manage our time.

Until the next... uh... time...

Applesauce gratitude

I'm grateful today for applesauce.
I can also add banana's and warm baths.

Yesterday Bug had dental surgery at the UBC hospital. Bug's Mom came along and I was so grateful for her help and support. I slept over at Bug's place Thursday night into Friday morning where Bug's Mom came a knocking shortly at 7am. We were awake and I'd just released my bladder of its nighttime pee. I quickly threw on jeans and let her in.
Together we got Bug up, dressed, bathroomed and out the door.
He had to be at the hospital by 8:30 for a 10:30 OR time.
It was a day of waiting for Bug's Mom and me, first with Bug and then the almost four and a half hours he was in surgery.
The pre-OR nurse who checked Bug in was great and relied on Bug's Mom and me to help get his vitals, an IV drip hooked into his arm and get him comfortably settled on the narrow gurney. Bug could keep his clothes on as they were working on his mouth, although no one could see what he was wearing under all the warmed up blankets covering him.
The dental surgeon arrived shortly there after and checked in with all of us. I had met her before almost a year earlier at Bug's initial appointment. She's a very pleasant woman with an easy manner. She explained what she was possibly going to do from the cursory check-up she'd done, as she hadn't any x-rays yet to see if there were any hidden surprises. She also said I could come in the OR with Bug until he was knocked out.
I was wrapped in a hospital robe and a blue paper cap covered my freshly shaved head. I helped steer the bed/gurney into the small OR space bustling with activity. There were four identically dressed people buzzing about like a machine. It was mere seconds and they had Bug off in La-la Land. Then he became an object that they stuck things to and shoved things into and very shortly I was ushered out of the room.
He looked so vulnerable.
I found Bug's Mom and we went to the cafeteria for a muffin and beverage. We talked, played cribbage (she beat me two games to zip) and got more beverages. At almost the three hour mark we returned to the waiting-room where our impatience grew as the minutes ticked by on the large wall clock secured above the door on the other side of the room.
Finally the dental surgeon showed up. She was smiling and apologized for the long wait, but the x-rays had revealed some hidden cavities.
In the end Bug had seven fillings and three extractions from the right side of his jaw.
We followed a nurse into the recovery room where Bug was lying, still heavily sedated. It was obvious he wasn't aware of our presence, but after awhile his eyes focused and he croaked out, 'What happened?'.
Bug's Mom and I chuckled and told him had dental surgery.
Shortly there after he repeated his question. He wasn't aware of what had transpired.
As he grew more cognizant, he finally asked, 'Is it over?'
'Yes Bunny, it's over. You did great.'
The recovery nurses said Bug could go home and helped untangle him from the layers of blankets and pillows tucked around his body. She noticed Bug's t-shirt and laughed. She called over the other nurse to read it too. The red t-shirt reported 'My balls itch' and the second nurse indicated to me, 'Obviously you dressed him today as a Mom wouldn't put that shirt on him.' Bug's Mom assured the nurse that she was very correct.
Bug's Mom was such a help getting Bug home. He had some unfortunate retching that had continued from the hospital, in the car on the drive home and at home.
Bug was hungry and tried apple sauce. He loved it.
He tried to go pee, but couldn't seem to get it going, so I ran a bath and his bladder relaxed with hot water. At bed time he was able to keep a partial banana down.
The simple things help make a situation like this bearable.
I'm very grateful to Bug's Mom for her continued support, love and help.
I'm also grateful for apple sauce.

Until the next time...

Locking the door

There's this moment just before I put the key in the lock where I get this pang in my gut. The street lamp casts an orange glow over the outside of the door. Inside the blind is settling back in place after having been jostled about from the door opening and closing. It's dark inside where an hour earlier a warm glow emanated from the apartment within. I insert the gold key into the deadbolt, the other keys jangle in protest and I lock the door. I stuff the cluster of keys into the front right pocket of my jeans and take the first steps away from the apartment building.
Locking a door is usually about keeping unwanted people and things out, but in Bug's case, it's also about locking him in.
When I first started putting Bug to bed, before I got hired to be his caregiver, I would feel this sting of panic course through my body. It felt so vulnerable to secure the deadbolt of his front door, knowing I was locking a disabled person in their home.
There were times I'd get in my car and cry. The tears would flow and most of the time I was crying because of a feeling more than any thoughts going through my mind. I'd shed tears at Bug's bravery for having the self awareness that he needed to live alone and one of the consequences of this decision was to lay in bed, alone, until someone came to unlock the deadbolt in the morning. I'd cry sometimes at the feeling of 'How could I just leave him like that?'. There was a helplessness in me that couldn't change this situation for Bug, not that he ever asked me to change it.
It was an overwhelming sense of compassion for him.
Bug is a true symbol of bravery.
Bug has a specific routine before getting into bed and many evenings once I've turned the last light out, I'll glance back to Bug's bedroom where the TV flickers light over the walls and the muffled dialogue makes it's way around the now dark apartment. I stand there for the briefest of moments grappling with the conflicted feelings of leaving. I know Bug has chosen to live alone, but standing there in the darkened space I'm filled with that niggling sense from the first times I fled his apartment so he wouldn't see my cry.
These days I walk the six minutes it takes to get back to my apartment and it's the time needed for that slick of guilt to slip away.
I can hear Bug's last words to me.
'Don't forget to turn out the lights and lock the door.'
I usually retort,' You tell me that every time.'
'It's my job,' he fires back and lets out a loud chuckle.
I'm reminded that the locking of the door brings Bug a sense of security.

Until the next time...

Grumpy face

I'm grumpy today.
No! Not the sterilized Disney dwarf with his arms definitely crossed and a scowl on his face. OK, I do have a scowl.
It's so difficult to have a bad day when being someone's caregiver. I woke up tired, but fine for the most part. The walk to Bug's place was really nice, but the morning started to unravel for no particular reason and now here I sit grouchy like Oscar in the garbage can.
I've been productive: one load of laundry washed and dried, Bug needed a hair cut so I shaved his head, then he had a bath, I cleaned up the hair clippings that somehow made their way all over the bathroom, now Bug is out of the bath, dried and dressed.
A nice busy morning.
Bug is such a sensitive intuitive guy and he picks up on my moods in a heart beat. Literally it can be a sigh or a look or one wrong word and his mood shifts. It's difficult for me as I really want to be a happy easy going guy all the time. I feel I success about 90% of the time, but it's that other 10%? That's the real bugger to get a handle on.
Here's the thing though, getting a handle on being a grump isn't about getting a handle on it. Sure we can all conjure up ways to ease the anger. A nice bath with candle light, or a walk in a wooded area, or mediating, yoga, nice cup of tea or coffee, etcetera. But what about just being a grouchy dumb face for as long as one needs to be a grouchy dumb face. Our society has such trouble with anger. I accept that I have anger, but I haven't been shown how to successfully be in that anger. I know what I can do take me out of it, but why should we as people eject ourselves out of our anger?
The worst part about being a cantankerous grump face is the effect it has on Bug. It isn't fair that his energy or day be affected by my mood. I'd just love to hole-up in my home and grumble away to myself until the feelings subside.
How did Florence Nightingale do it or Mother Theresa? Gandhi? Did they have hissy fits and throw things when their anger got the best of them? I have an image of Florence tossing a bedpan (empty I would hope) in a fit of frustration. Or Gandhi ripping the glasses from his face and gripping them tightly in his fist as anger pulsed through his body.
Nah...
Gandhi probably prayed harder and Florence sucked it up, put a smile on her face and carefully placed the said bedpan down politely.
Sigh...
Well, anyway, I guess I'll take my surly self away from this keyboard. I'll be a crabby face and sulk home where I can lay my crotchety self on my bed and read a book in an irritable manner.
But first I'll need to give Bug a hug, kiss his forehead and tell him I love him.
I'll do my best to soften the scowl creasing my forehead.

Until the next time...

Oh boy!

There was a sharp knock on the door.
It surprised both of us, as the knock was unexpected and it was on the door we don't use very often. Bug has two entrances to his home. The one to outside with the automatic door opener on it and the second door that goes to the hallway. I use this door to access the laundry room and mailbox.
Once Bug registered the knock, he said with delight, 'Batman!'.
There wasn't a second knock but I could hear something being set down on the floor outside the door. I quickly unlatched the deadbolt and was greeted by a female postal worker.
'I was going to leave a note,' she exclaimed reaching down to grab the parcel. She handed it to me and dashed off to make more deliveries.
I carried the small cardboard box to the dining-room table. It had the familiar Amazon.com markings on it. Bug was wiggling in his chair with excitement. He'd been anticipating the arrival of this set of DVDs for a few weeks.
Bug's excitement reminded me of a quick clip I saw of him when he was about four years old from old family movies. It was Christmas and Bug was sitting on the floor leaning against him Mom who was helping him open his presents. As each new neatly wrapped present was put in front of Bug he would exclaim, 'Oh boy, oh boy!'. That excitement was with Bug again as I hastily tore the packing tape from the box, releasing three colourful DVD sets. Vibrant graphic images of Batman, his sidekicks and villains adorned the three cases. This series was originally aired in the early nineties. Bug used to watch them with his friend John.
Bug has been talking about getting this Batman for some time. We'd check out the prices of the boxed sets at HMV whenever we were in the mall. They're an expensive set and the price always forced us to walk away. Several days Bug would log onto the computer and stare at the listings for this series on Amazon. Each day he'd report that the price had or hadn't changed. Then one day I got an update that the price was surprisingly lower, in fact less than a third to half the price in the store. I told him to go ahead and order them using my credit card number. He asked if I was sure.
'Go for it.'
Bug promptly tapped out the order, added the items to his shopping cart and proceeded to the virtual checkout. Done! Now all he had to do was wait.
'Now I can't wait until I get the Superman series next!'. That's Bug, always looking ahead to the future!
For me... I'm going to be a Batman widow for the next weeks as Bug hungrily devours the contents of these discs.
It's great to see how much joy these DVDs can bring him.
'Oh boy, oh boy!'

Until the next time...