Gosh, I look like I am wearing a toupee in this photo or some sort of wicked comb-over. Luckily the chap sitting next to me isn't. Then we'd looked like Abbot and Costello.

Gilles shaved his head when I was on chemo. And he has appreciated the 'freedom' so much that he continues to do so. I, on the other hand, begged to differ. Although it may not be the colour I ordered, it's hair on top of my head and I'm claiming it.

This mugshot was taken last Wednesday at the Mandarin Restaurant in Toronto. We were on a bus trip on our way to the Canon Theatre to see The Color Purple stage show. It turned out to be quite a performance. What a story and the singing was incredible. We had super seats and all was well. We were the youngest on the bus I believe, and it took a little bit for us to shake off the notion that bus trips were for the elderly. We haven't quite made it there yet, but we had a super time despite this mindset. The trip was a gift from some of my students so I was bound and determined to have a wonderful time; and we did. That was until we were on the way home. We got a call on the cell phone from ConnectCare - the emergency call system that is in place for my Dad who lives in London. He had pressed his button and the ambulance had whisked him off to the emergency department with a suspected heart attack.

I almost had a heart attack myself when I heard the news. Talk about feeling helpless. Stuck in the middle of traffic in Toronto is not a good place to be at such a time. Thank goodness my sister was at Dad's side and she kept me posted.

It seemed an eternity until Gilles and I got home from Toronto, though. Prayers came fast and furious as I tried to be patient. I wasn't five minutes in our own house gathering up a few items of clothing and the like before I rushed off for another two hour drive to London. I didn't get there until about 11:30 pm. Dad was still in emerg but his tests were nearing completion, thank goodness. I searched out the doctor and she said that all was well and Dad had just had a bad angina attack. Thank you Jesus! By 1am we were back at Dad's home. We settled down for the night and I was being very thankful that Dad was home and out of trouble.

I can't say the same for me. 5am rolled around with a vengeance. I woke up and realized I was very, very sick. I knew this was not a good place to be. After numerous trips to the bathroom battling Montezuma's revenge, my only thought was to get out of my dad's house so he doesn't contract whatever wretched little viral monster was coursing through my body. I had a cup of tea and a few spoonfuls of yogurt to prepare me for the trip but I promptly decided the projectile production that followed did not warrant anything passing my lips for a while.

I made sure there were some safetly belts in place for my dad before I left and then I high-tailed it home plotting all the Tim Horton's washrooms on the way. I made it home without having to stop, thank goodness but I was out of sorts for the next day and a half. Sigh. What a lasting memory for our 31st wedding anniversary!

This Friday I am heading north for a delightful colonoscopy - more tests - so the delightful diet that I have to endure over the next few days is not thrilling yours truly, if you know what I mean!

What ever happened to those carefree days when my brain and body worked in sinc and my medicine cabinet was bare? Sigh. Life does have a funny way of going on.