I’m happy to announce that my story, “A Cup of Tea”, has sold to Golden Visions Magazine and will be in their July 2010 print issue. Support a small press and buy a copy (or PDF), won’t you?
Monthly Archive for May, 2010
I’m off to Chicago for another day of work meetings and decided to give the Wordpress iPhone app a try. Not bad so far.
I spent several years working downtown in the late nineties so going back via train is always a bit nostalgic. I made a few transient friends along the way — names forgotten but faces that will always be familiar.
Walking through the tall marble white walls in Union Station’s grand ballroom or its darker coridoors I catch the scent of popcorn and it takes me back in time to those younger days. In some ways I am that same person, full of curiosity and wonder. The decade has changed me for the worse, too. I’m more distrusting, more likely to question motive and intent. The saddest thing for me is I can’t decide if that’s really a bad thing.
Nostalgia brings us back to older days, but not always better days. As much as I’d like my innocence back, bitter experience is a shield that protects us from self-inflicted harm. A sheltered life isn’t really living, is it?
This was a good news/bad news kind of week on the medical front. I wish I had more energy to talk about it, but I am running low on spoons and need to conserve them.
Good news:
- Kidneys and Thyroid are normal.
- It’s not Multiple Sclerosis.
- It’s probably not Lupus.
The bad news:
- There is still a chance it could be Lupus, so I had more blood drawn to confirm/deny.
- I do have Fibromyalgia. All of the symptoms fit.
- I need to have a sleep test to determine if I’m suffering from sleep apnea or cataplexy, and to see if it explains the occasional fugue states I sometimes experience.
I will have a lot more to say about Fibromyalgia. Right now I’m still in the acceptance phase, which isn’t always easy. Figuring out my limitations and triggers is going to take some time. I’ve already started re-evaluating my diet, to try and determine what foods may be causing flares. I imagine that this could be a long process of self-discovery.
I also have just over a month before I leave for Clarion, so I’m going to be busy wrapping up all of the legal and medical stuff, and reading. Lots and lots of reading. Lots of work, too. And when Clarion is over, I can go back home to Canada. If I’m quiet, sullen or manic, well, you know why.
I had hopefully one of the last post-divorce court dates this morning. Nothing terribly surprising came out of it. Judge says I need to pay my ex’s lawyer fees since I didn’t meet the original terms of the agreement (to which my attorney still argues was an impossibility). That’s a hard lesson chalked up to experience. Never be afraid to question your lawyer, or fire them, if you don’t think they have your best interest at heart. This morning boils down to:
- I owe a bunch of money I don’t have
- I don’t have a lot of time to pay it
I’ll be figuring out a plan of action over the next week, but I’ll find a way of pulling it off and put that bill behind me. It may be time to say goodbye to my desktop computer and monitors, though. Anything I can do without, I will. I’m pretty accustomed to life on the laptop now anyways. Frankly, the more I can get rid of, the less I have to move and the sooner I can do it.
Health-wise, it’s been an odd week. I had a theory about all of the symptoms I’m having. Between the autoimmune and similarities between Fibromyalgia, Chronic Fatigue, and Lyme Disease, I decided to get re-tested for Lyme. I spent last summer taking care of Dad in Wisconsin and had more than a few tick bites for my efforts. The good news is that test came back negative. The bad means we’re no closure to figuring out what’s wrong. Next week, I hope, will start bringing some answers.
I’ve also had three nights this week where I’ve been in bed before 10pm and slept more than 8 hours. That’s highly unusual for me. It felt good while it lasted. The insomnia and restlessness seems to be back tonight, but hey, I also wrote 300 words of a new story so I won’t complain.
Tomorrow I’m off by train to Chicago for the day. I have a meeting for the day job that will hopefully lead to bigger and brighter things for the company. More resources means more time I can spend doing the things that make money, which takes care of many of our current worries.
My friends and family, you are all awesome. I miss being home with Andrea and the menagerie dearly but this is turning into a life lesson about getting things done that need doing and not procrastinating. Summer will fly by, debts will be settled, and life will move on together.
I’ve spent the last few days in a work and stress-induced fugue state, trying to wrap my head around things. Andrea and family went to meet with our immigration person on Monday. The only sure way that I’ll be allowed back into Canada is for us to file for immigration first. That sounds easier and quicker than it actually is. We’re facing up to a few months before that can happen.
The paperwork portion isn’t difficult, just painstaking. Most of it is filled out already. It boils down to money, the main reason why we hadn’t filed sooner. Until the house in Illinois sells, I’m stuck paying it’s mortgage and basic utilities and upkeep. On top of the maintenance I’m paying from the divorce (only 15 or so months to go), that leaves little in the way of extra cash.
There’s also a criminal background check that I need to order from the FBI, as part of the immigration process. No worries there; I have an unblemished record. The painful part of that is the big bold “please allow thirteen weeks for processing” on their website.
The plan:
Send off the request for my background check, since that may take up to three months. Get all of the paperwork filled out, get my fingerprint card, and find a local doctor that can do the immigration exam. Hurry up and wait.
The house here is mostly empty. Most of the furniture was sold to pay bills. I’m going to spend the next couple weekends packing up what remains in the garage and basement, getting the house completely empty, and selling the last few things that I won’t be taking with me or can easily be replaced. That way, the only thing left to do when we get an offer is to sign the papers.
With the summer coming, anything I can do to make the house look prettier will help. If I need to muck around the lawn on my hands and knees to pluck dandelions and plant flowers, I will. At this point, I’m willing to go door to door and ask if anyone’s interested in buying a house.
I’m not sure what more I can do to sell the house faster, other than lower the price below my break even point. That’s an option I’m looking into, if I can work the logistics. People have been coming to look at it but no one’s been interested enough to make an offer. The high property taxes are not helping, either. I’m open to creative suggestions. A short-sale or going into foreclosure aren’t an option, by court decree.
My weekdays (and nights) are filled with work. It’s the one thing in my control that I can do to bring in more money. It’ll come, but it’ll take a bit of time. Between this and Clarion, the odds of me getting home before August are slim. Possible, but unlikely as much as I wish it so.
The next couple weeks will be filled with the day job, trips to various doctors appointments and tests (trying to pinpoint what’s wrong with my autoimmune system), house work, and paper pushing. In between I’m scrambling to read for Clarion and keep up with the writing. Hopefully this summer brings the end of the outstanding divorce issues that have been hanging over us like a storm cloud and we can start the process of getting back on our feet.
I spent the weekend in Ann Arbor, Michigan, where the day job graciously put me up in a hotel in exchange for some long and late work hours. On Saturday I went to the Arbor Brewing Company on the recommendation of a friend, both for a change of scenery and because I have not been eating much of anything since the whole border ordeal went down.
I sat in a window booth, watching the wind blow and the rain drive down on hapless pedestrians as I hacked away at the keyboard. The weather matched my mood and none of the laughter or cheery conversation around me did much to change that.
I had a nice sweet potato bisque and chicken nachos — one thing this place is known for is their use of locally grown and organic foods — and lots of ice tea. Much later, the waitress came over to the table; I knew something was up by the way she stood. She wasn’t just there to refill my drink for the twelfth time.
“It’s soup karma,” she said. “I get free soup everywhere I go. Pass it along.”
She dropped off the bill and walked away. For as shitty as I was feeling, that sure made my day. Thanks, Jacqueline.
There’s so much that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours that I scarcely know where to start. For the uninitiated, I am American and my wife, Andrea, is Canadian. I have a house in Illinois, empty and for sale by court order from a previous marriage. In August of last year, my wife and I moved in with her Mom in Ontario, Canada. Prior that we had been living with my Dad in Wisconsin, in his three bedroom trailer, with our three large dogs and four cats, helping him recover from major back surgery.
We went to Ontario with the intention of it being a temporary stay. The company I’ve worked for the past five years is based in California. I’ve worked from home every day of that but there was talk of me moving closer to the office. We’ve debated pros and cons of this over the months, but half of my salary still goes to maintenance to my ex-wife (for another 15 or so months) so the finances to do any kind of move, while still paying mortgage on a house I can’t live in, can’t short sell and can’t let go into foreclosure by court order under threat of imprisonment, limits us.
Two months ago, we made the decision to stay in Ontario and scraped together enough money to retain an immigration consultant who used to work for the Canadian government, as an Immigration Officer, Area Manager for the Department of Citizenship and Immigration, and later a district Adjudicator with the Government of Canada’s Immigration and Refugee Board (for over twenty years). The immigration process is kind of a big deal and I did not want to screw up something so important, even if it takes us longer to scrape enough together to have it done this way.
We had our initial consultation and got copies of all of the paperwork we needed to fill out, and we needed to make an appointment to come back so I could go across the border and back through Immigration, meet my consultant and wife and fill out a visitor record to make things official and travel back and forth without issue.
Right after that first consultation, I headed to the states for the beginnings of the medical hell I’ve been going through. That took much longer than expected. I came back to Canada for two weeks, with little energy to do much more than work or sleep, and then headed to Dearborn, MI on Tuesday of this week for three days of company meetings. Last night, I headed back to the border, expecting a smooth crossing and looking forward to home cooking.
I knew there was trouble when the border guard told me it would be a minute and frowned. He handed me back my passport with a yellow slip of paper and told me I needed to go inside and talk to Immigration. I was nervous, but as far as I was concerned I was doing nothing wrong.
The first person (Immigration Agent A) I spoke to took all my information, essentially what I said above, and told me that I have been living and working illegally in Canada. Flabbergast doesn’t begin to describe what I felt. She told me that Andrea needed to come there with the paperwork to prove that we were working on my immigration or she was denying entry.
I called home; Andrea doesn’t drive and the family car just lost its muffler so that sparked a minor crisis of car swapping. Two hours, some rude remarks and an eye roll from Agent A, Andrea and family arrived with our documents. At this point I thought it would be a short delay and we’d be on our way, lessons learned. Silly me.
By this time, the lobby had filled with people and there was a shift change. We waited a while for turn in line and presented our documents and restated our case to Agent B. B. seemed to share the same opinion as A., that I was an illegal foreign national. Both maintained that I should have filed paperwork shortly after Andrea and I married, not more than a year later. B. tells us that to immigrate to Canada I need a sponsor and that Andrea does not qualify to be my sponsor, which is not what I’ve been lead to believe. We’re then sent out to the lobby, and later called in individually to be interviewed.
We don’t know what to think at this point. It’s clear that the border thinks I’m doing things wrong. Heck, maybe I am. That sure wasn’t my intention. Andrea and I are just barely holding it together, running through the what ifs. We think we have sufficient evidence to show that we are working through the process, even if we have been slow about it. Eventually I get called in again and directed to a supervisor.
Agent B has written her report against me and the manager makes the final decision. I tell him everything that’s happened, from the beginning. He tells me that there are three options; I can be held over for a hearing, deported and banned from entering Canada for one year, or be allowed to leave of my own accord. Once more back to the waiting room.
For the last time, my name is called over the loudspeaker. I’ve now been sitting in the Immigration office for six hours and haven’t eaten for fourteen. I’m tired, scared, and in despair. I was still clinging desperately to a shred of hope but I knew, as I stepped up to the window, that the effort was in vain.
The fact that we produced paperwork showing that we were working through the immigration process, even if it wasn’t filed, was the only thing that kept me from being held over or outright departed. He gives me paperwork to sign, and print out from their manual that shows why they claim Andrea cannot support me. They say that Andrea must make at least 22k a year in order to be my sponsor, regardless of the fact that I have a full-time job, and will continue to have one when I move to Canada. In fact, I’m told on several occasions that I won’t be allowed to work while I’m being sponsored.
As it stands, I was allowed to voluntarily leave Canada with the clothes on my back and what I had in my truck – two dirty t-shirts, socks, and sundry. A book, my laptop, fountain pen, and moleskins, and that nights does of medicine. I had to say my goodbyes to Andrea and her mom and drive back over the bridge.
We’re not really sure what’s going on right now. Andrea, like me, is a writer, but doesn’t have a day job. Even if she did, it likely wouldn’t pay that much, especially in the small down we live in. If what I was told at the border is accurate, there is no way I would be able to live with Andrea in Canada.
I had a follow-up call with my immigration consultant today and he believes that the border people were wrong on multiple points, both with my legal status and Andrea’s ability to be my sponsor. She’ll meet with him on Monday and see what can be done and what timeframe we’re looking at.
I managed to get my two most critical prescriptions filled today. It’ll be a couple days before I can get a new glucose meter and I’m going to have to do without my newest medication because insurance won’t cover a refill this soon and it’s way too expensive to fill without. I’ll just have to deal with the effects of that. Work put me up in a hotel in Michigan for a few days to deal with some issues undistracted, so that is one less immediate worry.
I was heading back to Illinois next week where I have someone to stay with, for another round of doctor visits. Those plans will carry on as expected. What I don’t know at this point is when or if I’m going to be able to go back to Canada. Being separated from my family is just about the hardest thing I can imagine. The next couple weeks should tell if we continue the immigration process to Canada or if we reverse course and bring Andrea to the states. We might be apart for a couple of weeks or it could be a couple months. The situation sucks, but I take partial blame for it. Ultimately, we should have been more orderly and prompt with filing paperwork and such. Now we’ll have to wait and see what the damage is.
My thanks to everyone who’s been there for us through this ordeal. It means the world to me to know that I have friends like you out there.
