'Cole Hurt Her Face!

"Celtic Healthcare," of which I have plenty of experience now

I spent most of my time sleeping in, reading, and loading up on arnica tablets to speed the healing of my black eye. Senan became fascinated with my colourful look and if I walked away to so much as use the toilet he would come running out into the hallway asking, “Where ’Cole?” After my hospital visit on Wednesday, in which the doctor said everything was in order, we started going to the juice shop each day with Bff tied up outside. One day Senan thanked the ladies for his juice, then added, “’Cole hurt her face!” The nutritionist in the juice bar actually encouraged me to put pineapple on my bruise, which I did on Thursday. If the arnica was making the healing speed along at an incredible pace, it was nothing when compared to the pineapple. Within fifteen minutes there was an obvious difference! It did sting a bit, but it was unbelievable. Now, on Sunday, you would never know I had surgery just over a week ago.

Fionnuala’s birthday was last Sunday, but I was pretty tired for it. Senan got to blow out the candles on at least three different cakes. There were a few random days after the surgery where I had no energy whatsoever, and now that I have it back I can really tell the difference. For example, on one gorgeous day Fionnuala and I met up with Rosaleen and Senan at the Tram Yard for hot chocolate and cakes outside in the blinding sun, then the two of us took Bff for a walk overlooking Dalkey Island. It really is beautiful in Dalkey, even the village. Dale came out on Friday after an expensive check-up of 50 euros at the dentist and we did a similar walk the next day. It really felt like spring was coming when Fionnuala, Senan and I were watching Bff sitting on a bench across the road from the juice bar when it started hailing. Shortly afterwards there was a rainbow. Senan was a little traumatized by the hail, and I’ll admit that it hurt my cheek as well, but it was enjoyable weather despite being very cold!

Senan with invisible snow behind him (last week)

Tomorrow I will go in to a General Practitioner here in Dalkey to get the large black stitches out since they weren’t ready on Wednesday. The insurance company wants me to fax them a ton of documents, including evidence of when my “vacation” began. Hopefully the doctor will be able to help me sort it all out, even though they don’t have my medical chart. The insurance company also told me that they won’t pay for my follow-up appointment in six weeks since it’s not an “emergency.” I find that very weird considering this is all part and parcel of the emergency. Dale also stopped in at the Social Welfare office behind his work and found out that I should be eligible to get my wages back, so I’ll be on the “dole” before long. I need to get those forms from the doctor as well. Afterwards Dale and I will have to get home and get ready to fly to Scotland to see Sydnee, and then later in the week bus to Stockport for the English MacCarrons! Dale and I still can’t agree on whether we are staying in Ireland or going home, but we will at least get to check these visits off our list!

Fionnuala and I also went to Penneys in Dun Laoghaire, where I added to the collection of underwear she had picked up for me (50 cents!) and bought a pair of dark jeans and bright peach jeans for under 10 euros each. Even Roisin and Dameon bought me a Get Well scarf and a little stuffed fox because, “Everyone needs a teddy when they’re ill or healing.” Considering Fionnuala had also bought me pajamas and a few shirts, Dale and I thought it would be appropriate to get everyone here a Thank You, which included a white and red wine, and a big box of Ferrero Rocher.

Canadians everywhere!

Today the two of us took the DART into town to join our Canadian buddies at the Woolshed, a New Zealander’s pub that was airing the gold medal men’s hockey game. It was the first time I had officially been out since the accident, and I was really nervous about getting hit in the face, since a good hit would break my cheekbone again. Luckily there were only outbreaks of “Oh Canada” in the packed pub rather than uncontrolled elbows. It was great to see friends again, including Katie, who Heather brought out after they were done work. They brought with them a Get Well card signed by all our coworkers, which was really fun to read. The game obviously went well, and I’m really glad to have gone and experienced it with all those other Canadians! I had no idea there were that many of us here in Ireland!

Ocean's photo: Go Canada! Also I look normal (at least from this distance!)

Hospital Bed for One, Please

I spent the next two days at Rosaleen and Vincent’s trying to cram crumbs softened by soup into my mouth. Fionnuala kept bringing me fresh smoothies and Senan stared at my face for a bit, but was surprisingly not scared by all the colours. On Wednesday Fionnuala drove me back to the hospital for my appointment. We were very late because there was a rain storm that had everyone commuting to Dublin stuck on the freeway. We waited all morning for the appointment at the in-hospital clinic. My face was burning very mildly without any painkillers. Then, in one of the private rooms, the very tall woman doctor from Edmonton told me I wouldn’t be having the surgery today (even though I had been fasting). It took me a minute to realize she was trying to tell me I needed to be checked in to the hospital, and that I might have to stay for a few days. It was the only way to get me on the waiting list for the surgery. Luckily I had packed a backpack since I knew I would have to stay one night after the surgery, and Fionnuala had even bought me some new pajamas and shirts. She and I went up to the food places upstairs while I waited around for a bed.

Fionnuala had to go for an appointment around 2:00 so Rosaleen and her friend came to wait with me. I was given my own room and washroom shortly after this, which was a nice surprise. Doctors, nurses, and even a student nurse named Donna, who was the same age as me, kept coming in and out of the room to ask me questions. No one took my insurance information, but Rosaleen had called ahead when we were running late and mentioned it. We’re not sure if the knowledge that everything would be paid for helped the situation or not. But considering I had to stay overnight, I was glad to find my insurance papers in my sock drawer, where I had effectively forgotten all about them. It was the same insurance Dale had bought with SWAP, from Bon Voyage.

With a slightly collapsed cheek and crooked smile

Rosaleen and I talked all afternoon while I ate scrambled eggs and tea until Fionnuala showed up again with Dale. He told me that a postcard had arrived from Grandma just that morning. Unfortunately visiting hours were only until 8:30 so I delved into “The Cuckoo’s Calling,” JK Rowling’s new book under the pseudonym “Robert Galbraith.” I didn’t sleep well that night because of all the noise of nurses walking back and forth, and all the beeping of the computer right outside my room. I also couldn’t help but think about the accident, repeating in my head how I was just riding the bike, then how my face hit the ground, and then how I jumped back up again. It bothered me that I couldn’t remember taking off my gloves, my purse, or my hat. I’m pretty sure my over-the-shoulder purse must have flown off, but I still don’t remember any “tumbling.” It was very windy outside still, but I was most annoyed when I was woken up before eight in the morning by a few of them asking how I had slept. I had wanted to sleep for a long time since I had to fast for the surgery and didn’t know if it would even be that day, but clearly that wasn’t going to be an option.

The blonde doctor on the Max Fax Team—the Maxillo Facial team—eventually came in to set my IV. This was what I had been dreading more than anything because over time needles have become disgusting to me. She just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t get dehydrated, but it was repulsive to have something sticking out of my vein all day, and possibly for days on end. I knew this would be the worst part for me; I'd had surgery before. When she left I freaked out for a few minutes until someone else came in to take blood from my other arm and I had to pull myself together. I was disappointed to have to move out of my room and into a ward with six other women that afternoon. It smelled like lunch in the noisier room, and I felt pretty miserable. I tried listening to my iPod, but luckily one of the nurses came over at that point to say it was time to get ready for the surgery. I changed into the obligatory open-ended blue robe and compression socks, then hopped onto the big chair/stretcher to be wheeled to the theatre. One of the ladies with a bandage across her nose said, “Goodluck! You’ll be fine,” as we went and I felt bad that she had to repeat herself because I didn’t even notice the first time.

I had to wait ages in the next ward with another guy who had a broken arm. Eventually I couldn’t wait any longer and had to ask if I could use the toilet first. One of the surgeons showed me to the staff toilet and joked, ‘I bet you were like, “Should I say something, should I not….”’ When I got back to the waiting ward they were ready to wheel me to the theatre, but we made a stop in the anaesthetics room first. Everyone kept asking how I had hurt myself, and not a single person was surprised when I said, “the Luas Line.” It was shocking. They also almost all called me "Nicola," but I'm pretty used to that by now and don't mind! It's like my Irish name. The Irish doctor went to put another IV needle in my other hand, and I asked, “Can’t we use this one?” and raised my other arm. He laughed and nodded, then sent some saline into the IV to clean out the blood, followed by what he said would precede the anaesthetics. He said, “This will make you a little light-headed; that’s normal.” It took a minute for the ceiling to wobble a little. Next thing I knew I was in a room full of people laying on the green stretchers.

“Is it before or after?” I asked.

I think it took the nurse a minute to realize what I meant, “After, dear.”

So tired, but doing well!

I realized after a while of being woken from very solid sleeps that the doctor had tricked me so I wouldn’t know it was time to go under. They wheeled me back to the Anne Young ward and I slept on and off until I asked the nurse what time it was. My phone was locked up, and knowing that visiting hours were at “half seven” I convinced myself that no one was coming when she said it was quarter after seven. But Fionnuala, Dale, and Rosaleen all arrived shortly afterwards. Dale made me laugh so hard I actually snorted, and I don’t even remember what it was about. But I also had my hair piled on top of my head like Pebbles and tied with a surgical glove, which was not how I had left it. That night I was still woken up quite a bit for the nurses to check my pulse and my eyes. They also made me sleep upright. In the morning I got up to go to the washroom and went to clean some blood from my hair, where they had made the incision into my scalp without cutting a single hair, and ended up having a streak of warm blood come rolling down my face. I had to get a nurse to help me clean it up since it kept coming. After some antibiotics in the IV early that morning, they eventually took it out, served me some porridge for breakfast that I wasn’t interested in eating, and sent me downstairs by myself for an x-ray. I waited for ages, but then the x-ray took no time and I went back upstairs to collect my belongings.

A nurse collected myself, a guy in a wheelchair, and two guys with nose bandages to bring us to the discharge lounge. Another nurse joined us in the elevator and when he spotted us he joked, “Was it a two-for-one deal?”

Back in Dalkey with my cheek in place

I waited for a long time in the discharge lounge, where Dale and Fionnuala joined me while I waited for my papers from the blonde doctor. Fionnuala sorted out my bill for the ambulance, then we headed to Dalkey. Even right after the surgery my cheek looked better, but with the arnica I’ve been taking regularly for bruising it’s mostly yellow now with a slightly black eye. It’s a little more difficult to eat again, and I still don’t have much sensation on the left side of my face apart from tingling. The doctors said that in rare cases this is a permanent loss. Fingers crossed that that’s not the case. I couldn’t sleep at first on the night after the surgery, but it was nice to be thinking about the events of the day before instead of Sunday. I did have a solid nap in the middle of watching Friends for a good hour. So when I do sleep, it’s very sound. Yesterday I felt very weak, but today I feel much more normal. I Skyped with Mum as well, but the sound was working poorly so I had typed as she talked and it was a little amusing. 

I will be back to see the doctor on Wednesday for a check-up, and to fill out forms to send to the insurance company, but I’m off work until the 25th. Unfortunately Dale and I already missed our Galway weekend, and we were planning to go to Scotland with Sydnee on the 24th for a week. The insurance won’t cover lost wages, and I’m not sure how much work covers yet, but with Dale losing his maternity-cover job in March we may not be able to go to Scotland at all. Hopefully we won’t have to go home, but things are uncertain with finances at the moment.

I have had a number of check-ins and offers of help from work and friends, which has been very nice, and Rosaleen and Fionnuala in particular have been a huge help. Yesterday was Fionnuala’s birthday, and she still came home with a gift for me! Overall I’ve heard, “You poor t’ing” so many times I feel like I should be in more pain just to deserve it!

I Broke my Face

We went to Fitzgeralds on Monday and brought Camille along from work. She is one of the new interns, and since she is from France we thought she would fit right into our group of random nations (mostly Canadian). When I saw two girls ordering off the USIT menu I invited them to join us, and that’s when we found out students at Trinity go to Fitzgeralds and ask for the same menu in order to get better prices. Oh well, I can’t say I’m any different, apart from my connection to Dale.

I was happy to have two days off in a row on Wednesday and Thursday; I’d forgotten how great it was to actually have a weekend and do nothing with it. Everyone else was working so I watched some TV on the laptop and did some reorganizing of the house, and nothing else. After work on Friday Dale and I went to Anne’s to watch the Sochi Olympics Opening Ceremonies, and then it was pouring down rain and we had to work the next day so unfortunately we didn’t make it to Caillan’s birthday party. We made sure to go out Saturday to KT’s though, and I let Caillan know that I owe him a drink. KT’s party started at Fitzgeralds, where a rugby match had the bar filled with red and white clothing, and there was even live music. I had never seen Fitzgeralds so full! Becca and I cut off the hangar-straps from our dress and shirt to put together a necklace for KT’s birthday pin, which was resourceful and surprisingly successful! We stayed for a drink, and when our collection of people had all arrived we headed through the cobbles of Temple Bar and arrived at The Porter House. The Welsh inside The Porterhouse looked like a bunch of “Where’s Waldos,” and they were happy to sing KT some songs in Welsh for her birthday. Dale and I didn’t drink much, and we left around midnight to grab a cab because I had to be up at 5:30 the next day. I knew I was going to be tired, but was banking on my recent two days off to help me through it.

Sadly, I didn’t make it to work on Sunday. As usual, I had to take the bike in the dark because the bus doesn’t run early enough, and when I went to cross the Luas tracks just around the corner from the hotel, I found myself smashed face-first into the ground without any reaction time, not even fear. I staggered up immediately with a horribly loud alarm bell sounding in my own head. I grabbed my bike and focused on two things: just get off the tracks, and then sit down. But I couldn’t straighten the bike out because the wheel had turned completely around and I didn’t have the time or energy for it, so I dragged it to the side and sat on the sidewalk. By then a man who had been passing in the only vehicle around had run over. He asked if I was alright and I said, “I’m okay,” and then groaned, “Ohhh, my head,” which may have seemed contradictory. He made me sit farther back where it wasn’t wet, which I thought was pointless since my goal had been sit, not pick a spot for a picnic. He asked if it was the Luas tracks that did it, cursing them because apparently it happens all the time. I had no idea what had happened; I was minding my own business, and then I was down. He ran back to the car for water as his wife arrived and asked if I wanted an ambulance. I just kept panting, “I don’t know,” because I honestly didn’t know how all the medical stuff would work in Ireland and I was having a hard time breathing, not to mention hearing. I told her I could hear really loud ringing and she made up her mind for me. Her husband came back with the water, then snatched it from me after a sip when the operator said I couldn’t have anything.

The lady called work for me, then the ambulance arrived, the paramedics shone lights in my eye, and then I walked into the ambulance through steps mid-way along the side. I couldn’t see very well; one of the paramedics sat to my left facing me, but it was like my left eye was picking up bright shafts of light from right behind him. When we arrived at the Emergency Department in St. James’ Hospital, I sat down and both paramedics went to reception with my information. I put my head between my knees, feeling an intense need to vomit that centered around my stomach rather than the impulse in the throat. One of the men came back and told me I needed to go into Triage, and I just said, “I think I might throw up.” He grabbed me a bag, and after a minute they both walked me into the side-room, where they took my blood pressure and I sat until I started to feel more aware. The nurse in Triage asked about the Luas line tracks and said one of their doctors had once broken their hip doing the same thing.

Then I was sent back to the waiting room with my headache for five hours. Work called reception and asked for me. I spoke to John, who I’ve rarely talked to before, and he asked if he could get my bike for me, or do anything. I really appreciated the concern. I texted Heather, who had already heard and wanted to know if I was alright, and called Dale from the bathroom. Since his phone wouldn’t call out, I tried Niall and Leonie a few times too, and asked Niall to pick him up and come out. It was a rude awakening for seven am on a Sunday! Dale and Niall sat with me until twelve, Dale getting ice for me since no staff offered. Niall had to pop out for a minute eventually, and then someone finally realized I should have been seen by now.

Before the bruising really started

I went to a doctor who gave Dale a hard time for not having proposed to me yet, and then made plans for him to do it on Valentine’s day at the Whitefriar Street Church where Saint Valentine’s remains are. He also gently hinted at a lecture on helmets and being Catholic but already living together, which was very amusing in its stereotype-form. But one of the  first things he said was, “Luas line?” as if to say, “Yes, another?” The doctor said my jaw was fine, just that muscle and nerve damage was causing my teeth to feel numb and my jaw not to open. He was concerned that I may have broken my cheekbone, so he sent me for an x-ray, then cleaned up the scrape on my forehead. This was no big deal compared to when I passed out on my face three years ago and the doctor practically took an SOS-pad to my forehead to clean it up.

Dale and I both figured it would be fine, thinking it would hurt a lot worse if it were broken, but it turns out my cheekbone was, in fact, fractured in two places. The doctor said he was going to get someone to come in and see if I’d need surgery or plates once the swelling went down. Again, I thought that would be unnecessary. Again, it turns out I was wrong. They scheduled me for an appointment on Wednesday and said hopefully I’d be able to have the surgery then, and if not, then next week. They could have done it immediately, but because I was forced to wait so long in the Emergency Department, there was now too much swelling. Incidentally, it’s the swelling that apparently makes my cheeks look even, but my left one is actually caved in a little. It was hard to believe it was so bad, but when we headed outside to wait for Niall, I started laughing. I managed to break my face...

Niall came back to pick us up and take us to the people who had called the ambulance and kept my bike safe. They lived in a nice, sunny area nearby. The bike seemed fine by now, and the lady was very concerned. She said her husband had seen the whole thing, and she had just seen me tumbling. I don’t remember any tumbling at all. But she said they both thought I was a goner, and made a point to tell me how concerned work sounded when she had called them. I thanked her, and then we left to get my prescriptions. I have four different pills to take, and all of it only cost 16 euros.

I was getting a lot of text messages by then, from Rosaleen, Leonie, Fionnuala, Heather, and even work. As soon as we said goodbye and thank you to Niall, I called work to get it over with. I spoke to Gillian, who was hosting, as well as reception and Michael, the supervisor. He was not surprised to hear I would be out of work for one to two weeks. He said not to worry about this week for now, and we’d see what the doctor said from there. He told me everyone had been really worried because the lady who called said I was taking an ambulance, and there was no other clue as to how bad it was. Susie, the Food and Beverage manager, sent a few texts throughout the night telling me to just ask if I needed anything! Between work and my family and friends, there’s a lot of support going on right now.

The next thing I did was Skype with Sydnee, who was with my family in Manchester. She said they offered money if I needed it, and they want me to visit soon. Then Sydnee managed to get a hold of Mum in Canada, who I Skyped with next. She felt terrible that she couldn’t be here to help me, but immediately set out looking up whether or not BC Medical will have me covered. I sent messages to my other sisters, and Dad and Cecilia. I Skyped with Dom, who thought it sounded worse than it actually looked, which seems about right. I’m especially lucky considering my face is so numb that it doesn’t really hurt. Cecilia managed to get a hold of Dad, whose reaction was similar to Mum’s. He felt bad that he couldn’t be here, but started trying to find out if I was really covered for medical. But even though they aren’t here, I’ll be well taken care of at Rosaleen and Vincent’s, where I’ll be going to stay for a while. Fionnuala has already gone out to get me the ingredients for a juices-only diet. I’m not looking forward to a whole five to six weeks of that though!

That evening Heather and Anne came over and we relaxed and watched the sixth Harry Potter. I obviously started nodding at some point, but it was nice to do something ordinary after a day at the hospital. Today the only difference is the colour of my bruising, and that my right arm feels sore. Not too bad, considering! Even my notoriously bad back and neck feel fine. I think the lesson is that I need padding for everyday-wear.

Today: it's easier to smile to the right!

Breaking and Entering Ancient Burial Grounds?

Newgrange

The view looking away from the tomb

After the fifth Harry Potter movie on Thursday, Dale and I woke in the morning with plans to go to Newgrange with my relative who we shall call Gwen. She drove us out, which was a nice change from bussing everywhere. The day was looking gorgeous as we hopped on a shuttle from the Visitor’s Centre to the ancient burial grounds. I had wanted to see Newgrange since learning about it in Ancient Civilizations class back in high school, plus we had to keep postponing between the three of our schedules, so I was pretty excited. The tomb is older than the pyramids of Giza at over 5000 years old. It is water-proof and covered over with grass like some kind of hobbit-hole. Our guide kept suggesting all the purposes the tomb might have had, but reminded us that no answers are known.

Looking into the passageway

We entered to tomb through a passageway that had us ducking and turning to fit between the stones. Then the guide turned out the lights as we all stood in the middle of three tiny chambers where ashes had been found 200 years before. In the pitch black she slowly simulated how a beam of light would light the chamber on the summer and winter solstices and encouraged us to enter a draw to be one of the few people who get to experience the actual solstice from inside Newgrange. She drew our attention to a fern or wheat-like carving on the wall, and even pointed out some graffiti from the 1700s, including the name “Disney,” though there was no proof that it was Walt Disney's.

Dale and I in the hail

The house-like structure nearby

When I stepped back outside expecting the bright sunlight, I was shocked to find hail pelting down. We walked around the outside of the tomb and got soaked, noting a little house-like structure off to the side. Then we hurried back to the bus and spent some time looking through the exhibit at the Brú na Bóinne Visitor Centre after a warm lunch of hot chocolate, soup, and a chocolate rice-krispie square.

What the Irish may have once worn

What the Irish may have lived in

Walking along the collapsed Dowth

Then, unplanned, we drove around looking for Knowth, one of about 40 burial mounds in the same area. Knowth and Dowth are the largest after Newgrange. We stopped to ask directions from a friendly Irishman in a truck, who cheerfully had us follow him on the way to drop off his kids somewhere. He absolutely flew down the narrow back country roads, but stopped to point out Knowth from a distance, then later pointed us in the direction of Dowth. Dowth was interesting because there was no Visitor’s Centre or fee, and therefore nothing to stop us from climbing all over it. Unfortunately, due to poor archaeological explorations, the entire top of the hill has caved in to form a large crater. We still were able to peer inside the entrances.

A locked entrance into Dowth

Knowth at night, surrounded by barbed-wire fences

Now I shall tell you a fictional story. By the time we arrived at Knowth it was getting dark. Dale, who had gotten soaked at Newgrange because he left the tomb before Gwen and I, decided to stay in the warm car and continue his nap. Knowth is not open to the public until April, so the two of us walked through a farmer’s field along the barbed-wire fence until we found a spot that looked like it had been tampered with. Gwen unwound the fence like a pro until there was a gap just big enough to squeeze through. Armed with a “torch,” we climbed the wooden steps that allow us to stand on top of the tomb. Then we headed back down and proceeded to explore all the smaller mounds that encircle the larger one. Most of the tomb entrances were blocked off with barred gates, but one was not. I took the torch and crawled along the tunnel at a very low crouch. When I reached a turn, I realized it went on quite a long way, so I called back for Gwen to explore it too. I had to hold the torch pointed at the corner because it was too creepy to light her crawl and not know what was down the passage on the right! However, we soon ended up back outside!

A creepy tomb passage? Or a set?

There was one point in the night where both Gwen and I were separately scared by a standing rock wrapped in a tarp that we thought for a second was a person. There was also the creepy addition that a spider's web in one tomb's entrance was magnetically attracted to the torch, which several tests proved. On the way back through the fence my glove was ripped right off by a link, and then Gwen's pants got caught. We had a great time shivering and laughing at it all, and even had an amazing view of the stars away from the city. It was hilarious to us that our big breaking and entering day was so nerdy as to involve an ancient tomb. I'll admit I thought of Indiana Jones a few times. All the while there were intermittent gunshots as hunters gamed for what we suspect must have been quail.

But back to the truth: we stopped at KFC on the way home, then had to drop Dale off before I went to Heather’s house party since he wasn’t feeling up to it. The house party was quite fun, despite the fact that most of us had to work the next day. Edvard, Dylan, Katie, Alison, and the two new interns, Camille and Alina came out to join some of the usual Fitz-ers. Dylan was eager to play drinking games, and he and Katie taught us all how to play Skadoosh, which turned out to be hilarious. I didn’t drink much, however, which meant I survived the next day at work.

I was more than a little surprised at work to receive a compliment from my most troublesome supervisor, who said she was impressed with how I had handled lunch the day before by staying very calm and dropping bills efficiently and quickly. She said she knew I had been nervous at the start but was clearly doing well. I was astounded. I knew I had been doing better, but to hear it from her was unheard of. To be honest, work has been a lot better ever since the one manager was fired for slapping a chef. I even had a good laugh the other day because someone put a creepy dummy in the corner of a ballroom so that when Edvard opened the door in the morning with no light on, it looked like someone was staring across at him from the other side of the room. I also had a short “job chat” with my favourite supervisor later, and he told me that I get good reviews from the customers, which I didn’t know, as well as planned to help me learn some of the jobs I haven’t been trained for, such as hosting and increasing my wine knowledge. I’m a little afraid for an ax to fall at the moment, because all I can really complain about is my lack of sleep!

Yesterday felt like a spring day as I walked my bike home beside Heather, although today poured so badly the roof leaked quite a bit at the back of the restaurant. But after all, we do still have several more weeks of winter according to the groundhog, who earned Heather and I a mocking from Dylan! I also chatted a bit on Skype with Dominique in India today, which is weird to think about. Apparently Danielle will be visiting her soon, while Mum will be off to Israel!