Dying Man's Daily Journal - More of my own story

Many have indicated they have either personally benefited from my share some of my own experiences or know of others that will. With that in mind I will try and finish one of the worst times in my life. A time when the stress, I believe can only have contributed or aggravated my current conditions.

I have often written of my belief that based solely on my own statistics about 5% of the population falls into the general category I refer to as jerks. Contained withing this general category I include the “serious” abusers, the criminal element the bad apples and warped sickos of society. The small percentage of society that has somehow seemed to have gained the upper hand. This small minority of the population causing the much large majority of society to live in a state of fear. Fear may be to strong a word for many, maybe nervousness would better suit many. I think every where I have lived has had it’s own “bad part of town” or “bad element”. Everyone I am sure knows what I mean. The bad part of town being the area you are even a little reluctant to drive though at night. We look out of our car windows, with a mixture of nervousness, shock and awe as we see the “unsavory” people on the streets. We feel a little bit of relief when we get out of “that part” of town. We say to ourselves, “there is sure no way I would want to live there” and drive on to the comparative safety or our own homes and neighborhoods.

When I really think of it, I have to wonder, how many people do want to live there. Very few, would be my guess. How many are forced to live there? Here many will jump in with the automatic answer, ” well if you don’t like living there, move, that is what I would do.” Sounds so simple, if you don’t want to live there just move. But what if you are in a circumstance where you just can’t move, you are virtually trapped there. You have no choice you must do your best to raise your family in the best way you can in that environment. I would ask all just for a moment to put aside the multitude of excuses or reasons that you will immediately come up with to as to why you would never live there, in an environment which to you would be so unpleasant, so dangerous. Just for a moment really try to imagine how you would feel if by some chance you were suddenly forced to live there, with no other choices or options available to you. I think if you are honest with yourself thoughts such as fear and dread would enter your head.

Finances could be a factor in many cases. Rent for an apartment or a home would obviously be cheaper in that area. There could be a multitude of reasons why you are forced to live or remain where you are living in fear for your family and for yourself. I know that feeling, I have lived it, I have experienced it. I had but a short taste of the life others must endure on an ongoing daily basis.

I am going to share our last 5 or 6 months living in Norway House. I do have a bit of a duel agenda going on with this. I want to share and give and understanding of what so may go through, must live with on a daily basis. If we really understand what others must live with, possibly we would be a little more prepared to help as needed. Plus, I admit to having an element to poor me in this area or time of my life.

This is about my final days in Norway House and my final days with the bank prior to permanent disability. Norway House is in fact the home of the Norway House Cree Nation. Vi and I both enjoyed much of our time there. It is a beautiful community filled with wonderful people. Norway House is what many would refer to as an Indian Reservation. First Nation I believe is the both correct and politically correct term. I really want to be clear that the event I talk about are not any sort of reflection on the community, just a couple of that 5% of the population that lives in every community.

This was an extremely difficult time for me. I had just been forced to phone my boss to tell her I was incapable of completing the duties of my position. It is kind of strange or not what I had expected, with all of my heart related issues, it was my memory that ultimately did me in. Memory is an amazing thing, when you start to loose it you have no idea it is happening, you don’t know what you have forgotten, obviously because you have forgotten it. It sneaks up on you bit by bit until slowly its reality begins to hit you right in the face. I have a lot of stories about my memory and how I came to realize just how bad it had become, but I will save those possibly for another time.

It was this, that made it clear to me, I was not able to do my job the way it should be, in the way that was fair to the bank and to my customers. The doctors at the time thought my memory issues were a side effect of the combination of medications I was taking. As time passed though it became obvious it was more than that. This brought a tremendous amount of stress as I had a decision to make. Do I go to the bank and admit I am not capable of carrying on in a professional manner or do I try and hide it and hope it will clear up. If I tell the bank what will it do to my future career. I have been told I live by my own honor code, I am not so sure about that, and I am not sure if it is a good thing or a bad thing.  I did what I knew in my heart I had to, I phoned my boss and was placed on short term disability. Making that phone call was one of the toughest things I have done. I had to admit I was unable to complete the job as it should be done. At that point for the previous year or so the doctors had repeatedly suggested I take 3 to 6 months off, for the sake of my heart. This is what I ended up doing, my memory forcing me to take time off for my heart.

Home I went with strict doctors orders to rest, relax and avoid stress like the plague. Huh, relax avoid stress proved to be impossible as we were heading into the most stressful 4 or 5 months of our lives.

Our time of the break ins, home invasion, confronting intruders at the front door, barricading our doors to keep intruders out while we slept, our unanswered pleas for an alarm system and of being told by the RCMP they feared for our safety.

I had hoped to finish this whole time with this post but as usual I have ramble so much. I have spent all day poking away at this bit by bit. I am surprised how difficult this is for me, just writing of these events seems to bring up emotions from a very difficult time. I hope to finish it off tomorrow.

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