September 8, 2014 | Occasus | Issue 4 | Creative Nonfiction

Between Now & Then

It’s been 906 days (or 2 years, 5 months, and 22 days) since the last time I remember not giving 1 fuck.

917 days ago: a long overdue break begins.  Vacation days accrued: 11.  Amount of nights booked at Algonquin Park: 9. Gas: 125.3 (jacked-up for the Long Weekend).  Hours spent traveling: 5.  Kilometres traveled: 469.  Suitcases: 2.  Tent: 1.  Beer: 24x2 (minus 4 that were lost somewhere along the way).  Joints smoked: ???  Time of arrival: 15:30.

Because of at least 3 more 24’s I recall buying, numbers for the rest of the stay at Algonquin become a bit fuzzy beyond that first day.  There were 82 photos taken during this time period, however, and records there show at least 12 great bonfires were had.

Skip to the final day, July 31.  Time of awakening: 9.  Beers drank in the next three hours: 4 between the 2 of us.  Pounds of bacon eaten that morning: 0.75.  Minutes spent staring at the fire: at least 25.  Time spent packing: about 30 minutes longer than it should have.   Time of departure: 13:30.

Kilometres travelled on the way back: 645.  Gas: 118.5.  Road-side diversions: 3.  Ice cream cones eaten: 2 (4, if you consider each cone had 2x the amount of scoops).   Level of the car’s volume whenever a singalong song came on.: 10.  Time of arrival in the London area: 21:30.  Pieces of bad news not delivered while we were away: 1.

Amount of months a crucial M.R.I. scan had been sat on: 5.  Rate of tumour’s growth during that time: 1.3 centimetres.  Stage of cancer’s development: 4.  Expected years left: 2 to 5.   Reason the news of my mom’s cancer wasn’t divulged I left for Algonquin?  They didn’t want to spoil a trip I’d waited countless days for. 

Age that Mom was forced into early retirement: 53.  Years she had been a Registered Nurse: 33.  Amount of years before she was eligible for a full retirement package: 2.  Percentile that her benefits were cut by after she was forced out of nursing and into being nursed: 45.  My dad’s age when this began: 79.  Number of wheelchairs he owns: 2.  Years married to one another when they learned about the cancer: 31.  Years before the horrors of the cancer would really be known: 2.

Amount of kilometres between my place and my parents’ home: 45.  Times travelled between these 2 places over the next 2 years: 196.  Conversations with my girlfriend about moving back with them: 1.  Level of support she’s pledged to me: 100%. 

Times that Mom fell while walking in the first 2 months of me living there: 56.  911 calls: 2.   Concussions: 1, confirmed.  Amount of times she’d  wandered off in the snow in just her pyjamas: 2.   Heartbeats skipped: 5.  Regrettable things I’ve said: 3.  Times I’ve meant it: 0.  Apologies for things I said out of fear: 3.  Months until 24/7 medical assistance would arrive: 2.  Hours I’d sleep each night until then: 4.

P.S.W. visits these days: 8 a day (between 2 parents).  Nurses: 4 visits a week.  Nurse Practitioner: 1.  Sighs of (temporary) relief: incalculable. 

RYAN BATES is in the Honours Creative Writing and English Language and Literature program, and, with a little luck, he'll be able to earn a Master's degree from U.W.O. in Journalism in the near future.