Where to start?!

The wheelchair was the final touch.  Our trip to Toronto was supposed to have been a lovely visit to family, but instead it turned into a nightmare of gargantuan proportions.  An old injury in my right hip became dangerously inflamed and aggravated because I stupidly decided to stroll through the Eaton Centre.

What a dumb idea!  Right outside our downtown hotel, one of the entrances looked perfectly innocent.  Until we started to meander.  Frankly, I knew it was a mistake, but kept going -- why I have no clue?!  I think we ended up in Buffalo by the time we turned around to walk back, but by this time it was miles! 

The next day I was completely unable to walk.  Not only did B have to call Calgary, get a prescription approved and pick it up a few blocks away, he also had to walk Yonge Street to buy me a cane.  But that wasn't the end of it.  He also had to secure a wheelchair for the remainder of the weekend.  And my dearest husband is in his 75th year!!  (I guess if one survives having been born a member of  'The Raj' in India in the early forties, one can survive and conquer anything.  He does.)   
But seriously.  How charming is moi in a wheelchair in the public thoroughfare?!  I hate people like me in elevators and public areas and want to put a fork in their entitled eyes, but there I was, trapped and being smashed into walls and corners by my well-meaning husband who suddenly lacked any sense of distance, space or vision as he pushed me from pillar to post. 

In the middle of the night I was in such excruciating pain he called the front desk and an ambulance and stretcher appeared.  Off we went to St. Michael's emergency, where we were stuck for five-and-a-half hours while staff ran around treating street drug addicts.  I was only in pain, not near death, so we waited and waited and waited.  Finally, a doctor appeared, gave me a shot and some pills and sent me on my way.  Apparently in Ontario no XRays are taken for "back pain".  Really?!

There are other Toronto tales; here are a few:

Yonge Street is still a dirty, disgraceful mess.  Beggars, crazies and druggies with dogs litter the sidewalk sleeping.  Rudy Giuliani where are you?!?!  You could not pay me to live in Toronto.  Ever again. 

In the hotel elevator, before I became a cripple, I met three Air Egypt crew who tried to look calm in the face of the tragedy that had just unfolded.  We chatted and no one even mentioned it. 

One good thing about The Centre of the Universe is that it is a magnificent urban forest, with huge trees everywhere.  Our hotel courtyard was teeming with birds, adorable, right in the heart of downtown. 

A cashier told me about a device which can read your credit card inside your purse and wallet just by standing near you for a few minutes.  He told me to get the three half-circles removed so crooks can't do this again.  It happened to me a couple of months ago in Banff.  Some guy in Detroit was using my credit card!!??  Good thing B tracks me around town or we would not have noticed. 

The non-music in hotel lobbies is hideous.  Just electronic noise with no beat and no point.  I think the theory here is to drive patrons insane so they order more wine.  With the pain I was in, I bellied up every chance I got! 

Toronto's waterfront -- once a polluted mess -- has been replaced not with parks and beauty, but with cheek-by-jowel-chock-a-block ugly condos.  Ugly money won there. 

Trapped in my wheelchair at the airport I found myself next to two teenaged slobs who had plunked their fat asses (why are all teens fat now?)  into the handicapped seats while one braided the other's hair.  I kid you not!!  I almost said something, but was restrained by B, who by this time had had enough of me. 

Final word of advice:  If you are on Celebrex, never go off!!  Oh, and by the way, got a $250 bill for the ambulance.  Happily, my insurance will cover it, but you and I are still paying for the drug addicts' rides.