One Week In

It doesn't feel like I've been here a week yet, but at times I feel like I've been here all summer. I guess in a way I have.

Last night was bad for Mom. Another of the tumors started bleeding, maybe burst, they're not sure yet, and so she lost some amount of blood in her urine. The nurse last night thought it was a lot, Monica didn't think it was as much when I was talking to her this morning, but they're doing tests to confirm. Another blood transfusion is on the list of options being considered right now. It was bad enough that by the time I got in to the hospital this morning they had a catheter installed and the urine collection bag clearly still has new blood flowing in. Now we're into the realm of risk assessment, I guess. Monica had Mom on a mild blood thinner because there's a risk of clots forming in her legs and travelling to her lungs since she's not moving on her own at all now. Unfortunately, the bleeding into her bladder is real now and the blood thinners are at best not helping, at worst contributing to the problem. So Monica said she's decided the best course of action right now is to stop the blood thinners, risk the clot and try to manage the very real problem of internal bleeding.

It's been mercifully quiet here this morning. Normally it's nice to see the flow of visitors coming in, but with her so weak this morning and having gone two nights in a row without decent sleep, it's good that today she can just snooze and hopefully regain her strength. My sister should be arriving in the next few hours, she thinks by about 6:00pm but based on where she seems to be from the text messages I think she may be here sooner than that, and I really hope Mom is feeling strong enough to enjoy the reunion. It'll be the first time I've ever met Trish face-to-face, so this is going to be a pretty big day. Last week Mom made it clear to me that she wanted us to meet here, in her room, so she can be there to see us together, so we're going to do the best we can to make that happen.

To Anyone Reading

I just wanted to say thank you for leaving comments, for the mail to my home email and the messages on Facebook and for just reading and being here through this with my family and I. I don't reply to most of the comments and I only respond to a small amount of the email, but I do read them all and I share them with Mom whenever I see one for her.

So thanks, I really appreciate it and I wanted to take a moment here to let you know.

Nice Day.

Today really was a nice day, in both senses.

The first day after Hurricane Bill blew through was still spotty, cloudy by times and a bit drizzly, but today the clouds broke before dawn and the humidity was completely gone. So yeah, the weather was nice. Warm but with the breeze that I always associate with summer days on the Island, so pretty much like any late-August summer day.

The big news is everything that matters, though. In a very real sense today was the first nice day I've had in a long time. I got up with the alarm (well, the second alarm, but everyone's entitled to one free 'snooze' I figure) and Dad wanted to go out to breakfast together. I thought it was perfect because my father and mother-in-law (Hi Julia!) were coming today to visit Mom in the hospital and I was going to ask Dad if he minded putting them up for the night and I'd spend the night at Steve and Brenda's place.

Turns out he was in a sermonizing mood this morning, though, and I guess he wanted an audience because most of the time we were eating breakfast he was lecturing me on one thing or another, usually about his own health taking the occasional detours into the land of what's wrong with all of the doctors in PEI and occasionally going as far afield as how bad the winters are and how he didn't know how he was going to make it through another but how he and his girlfriend were supporting each other through thick and thin and how everyone should always do that. I think it was some sort of back-handed attack on Mom for leaving him again, those seem to come as naturally to him as breathing and I genuinely believe he doesn't even realize he's doing it anymore, but it annoyed me just the same.

Some good did come out of it, though. One of the little verbal cul-de-sacs he wandered down was how he felt bad that he wasn't visiting Mom more in the hospital but that he didn't know if she wanted to see him and how when he was there it really tore at him to see her like that. Before I could talk any more about that he'd wandered off into how Mom's doctor was also responsible for his sister no longer being with us and such, but the little bit of an apology and regret was there all the same and I'm not going to forget it. He does still care about her and it really does hurt him to see her like this, I'm choosing to focus on the nugget of positive in the heaps of junk that he sends out at times like this.

Anyway, I'd been hoping to catch Monica during her rounds this morning but my breakfast with Dad ran long and by the time I made it to Mom's room it was nearly 8:20am and Monica had been come and gone. I was a little pissed, but I decided that there was nothing to do about it and I'd see her tomorrow anyway, but I got a second kick at the can. A little before 9:00am the nurses came to give Mom a shower and I slipped off to grab a coffee from the cafeteria and there was Monica walking down the hall toward me. We talked for a few minutes, she wanted to know my impression of how Mom has been doing and told me what she thought. Basically we both agreed that yesterday and today she's seeming quite a bit better, quite a bit more alert and in much better spirits. When I came in this morning she had been eating some toast with a little strawberry jam on it -- she ended up eating nearly half a slice -- but when Monica was talking to her she had been trying to eat some Rice Krispies too. Granted, she only ate maybe two teaspoons full, but that's awesome right now. Monica said that if she still seemed to be doing this well tomorrow they'd probably try to take her off the IV fluids and see how she does.

Then we started talking about Trish and her plans to get to Summerside. I said that I was sure Trish would want to talk to her but that she probably wouldn't be arriving until Friday afternoon, but before we went much further on that, Monica cut me off and said that she thought Mom would be in fine shape to see her by then. So I took the opportunity to ask again the question I hate asking but that I've at least gotten one honest answer to from her before. How long do you think she has, based on what you're seeing? She gave me the textbook answer, which I didn't really care for, but she tacked on that she thought it might even be a month or two now, which is far better than the pair of weeks she had told me to prepare for late last week.

So that's good too. I came back to the room and spent the next couple of hours with her then Gregory and Zita came in and I slipped out to the bank to deposit the money we got for her furniture into her bank account. I think Mom had expected me to keep the money for her furniture, she had sort of said something about that before when she tried to give it to Gregory for helping her out and he refused to take it. Doesn't matter, though, it's for her stuff, it's hers until she doesn't need it anymore. But the nice thing about that part is I couldn't do the deposit to her account from my bank card so I went in to see a teller. The teller asked my name and I told her and I explained that I was trying to deposit it to my mother's account and I had a joint account with her but I didn't know the number. She asked me my mother's name and I said "Phyllis" and she looked up at me, smiled and said "Well of course it is!" I can't remember her name for the life of me, even though I tried to commit it to my swiss-cheese memory at the time, but she's one of my Mom's friends down at the bank. We spent the next five minutes or so just talking about how she's doing.

I don't even know probably a quarter of the people who know and love my mom here.

Anyway, back at the hospital, Reverend Wilkie had managed to get ethernet run to Mom's room and so I fired up the laptop and the webcam and like magic the skype-fairies brought me a connection to Ryan, my nephew. We didn't get video working and voice was spotty but it was enough for me to know that we would be able to get skype up and running so Mom could talk to them all this afternoon. When I went out for lunch I grabbed a wrap at Subway and came back over to Mom's apartment to use the internet there. After maybe half an hour of farting around Jim (my brother-in-law) and I got it working so we could see and hear each other and we set up a plan for them to contact us as soon as everyone was home.

Another victory in a growing list for the day.

I got back to the hospital and found mom had company again but while we were talking Steve's mother came in to say hi. I know Mom didn't recognize her at first but as soon as she said her name Mom figured it out. She visited for a few minutes and said she had come by to bring me some lunch. I thought she was kidding at first but it turns out she was serious, she was thinking I probably wasn't eating all that well, with all the time I was spending at the hospital -- she's right -- so she brought me a bag full of food, all home-made I think. I'll skip ahead to supper time here briefly and say that I couldn't believe what she had brought me when I opened the bag. Salad, shepherd's pie, a bottle of water, a blueberry muffin, an oatmeal cookie and a fruit salad (I think that's everything, there was a lot in there). I know I'm getting extra emotional here lately but I started misting up a bit while I was heating up the shepherd's pie, just the incredible kindness everyone's offering can be a bit overwhelming at times. I can't thank everyone enough. Anyway, I ended up eating about half the shepherd's pie, the whole salad and the muffin (Actually, Mom even had a bite of the muffin, she said it looked good and after a minute of careful consideration decided to try a taste when I offered it to her) and I'll have the rest for tomorrow.

Okay, so then there was the call with Trish and the kids. It worked exactly as it was supposed to. Well, not exactly but as close to it as I could ever expect. I set up my laptop and logged in to skype and about twenty to five they called us (for the record, I really dislike using the term 'called' for what skype does, it has practically nothing to do with telephone technology, but it's the way they want to describe themselves so I guess they get to name it whatever they like) and Mom spent close to an hour talking to the kids and my sister.

Oh, and if MarkA is reading this, I owe you at least one thank you for all of the compiz-poo you bullied me into learning. With ccsm, it took me no time at all to figure out the hot-keys to smooth scale up the micro-sized skype video window to full screen size so my mom could see them clearly. For the rest of you, don't worry if you have no idea what that paragraph is about, it's basically an in-joke from work.

Anyway, the even better news from that is Trish and Jim have the papers they need and they're leaving tomorrow morning for the Island, they expect to be here on Thursday afternoon / evening. George and Julia told them, too, that if they can make it as far as Fredericton tomorrow, they can stay at the farm. That would be in the suite they built for me to rent when I was living there my first year out of University. It's just one good, heartwarming thing after another today.

So I left the hospital about an hour ago, earlier than I planned tonight but Mom was already tired from the day and her friends Valerie and Libby (the mother of my best friend growing up) were there and I thought I could trust them to not stay too long and I'd let them visit in private. So I came here, to Mom's apartment again, and decided I had to share all of this with you. I don't remember the last day I had like this and I don't want to forget it. These are really the ones I started this blog for in the first place.

Now I think I'll check on Steve and Brenda and see what they're up to and probably bring Bailey another Timbit in a crumpled paper bag.

My Dad

Yesterday was Saturday and was really busy. I got in a bit late and missed the doctor that was doing the rounds (Dr. Royce? Something like that, I can't be sure from the way Monica pronounced it and I didn't think it really mattered anyway since this doctor wouldn't really know anything about Mom's case anyway), I guess she was in pretty early too. It was around 8:30am by the time I made it in and they were already done with breakfast and morning pills. Today was much the same story, I was late (later this time, I slept until a little after 8:00am so it was about quarter to nine before I got here) and missed her again. No big deal though, I guess, since even Monica likely doesn't have much to say to interest me anymore. I expect when Trisha gets here there'll be conversations I'm more interested in hearing, but most of what I needed to know I've already been told and it's not the sort of information that really solicits more questions for me.

Yesterday morning, though, was not good. Another one of the little incidents I don't want to tell Mom about because she really doesn't need to hear it. I got up in plenty of time yesterday morning but as I was eating breakfast at Dad's place he sort of seemed to be opening the door to discussion about the headstone question again.

Okay, I'll back up a bit, I think I left something important out here.

Mom wanted to share one with him and (I think I mentioned before that) I was going to ask him for her. I never quite found the right time -- is there a right time to ask your father if he wants to split the cost of a headstone with his estranged wife? Probably not -- but I called him last Wednesday and told him I was coming back to the Island for another visit and I'd probably be staying with him. I also told him that he should try to get in to visit her if he could get a chance. It turns out when he came in he told her that I'd said she wanted to see him. She took that to mean that I'd thought they should talk about the headstone thing themselves and not get me involved -- absolutely not true, but an understandable mistake -- so she told him what she wanted. I guess they talked about it and he said no, that he didn't know if he wanted to be buried in Grand River or if he wanted to be buried with Shirley (his current girlfriend) or what.

I found out about all of that on Thursday when I was talking to Mom first. She sounded upset about it and I said I might just mention it to him again once more when he'd had a bit of time to think about it and maybe he'd warm up to the idea a bit. So that's what happened yesterday, he seemed to be bringing it up. It was something like "has she told you about anything she wants to do" and a couple of other final arrangements and will and testament type stuff. I said no, not really, that we hadn't talked about that yet and he started talking about the pain we went through with my Uncle Herbie's estate, such as it was and how it was better to have it all taken care of before the end. So I thought this was him edging up to the headstone conversation again.

I told him that the only thing she'd told me is that she wanted to share a headstone with him and that was about it. I think he was waiting for me to mention it, but it definitely wasn't in the way I'd thought. He started in on a long, unfocused speech about how the bishop had written a letter and it had been published in the Summerside bulletin about how plots were being held for people who hadn't paid for them because other family members had said they wanted to be buried together and how people would have plots on PEI and then move away and get buried there and that the church was cracking down on things like that so they wouldn't run out of spaces to bury people ... I didn't hear it all, I tuned most of it out and only started paying attention again when he got around to "I told her no, I didn't want that." If you know me reasonably well you'll know I was on my best behaviour when all I did was say "Okay, that's fine, you've made your decision so we don't have anything else to talk about there. I was just telling you and I'm just warning you that you've probably got less than a month to change your mind if you want to." Then I left the house.

When I got in to the hospital Mom mentioned I'd missed the doctor and I apologized and said that I was talking to Dad and didn't make it in as early as I'd thought I would. She just said "that's okay" and then something like "it's nice that you two are getting along." Obviously I didn't correct her and it wasn't really a lie to not tell her that we'd been squabbling a bit again, but the truth is not much has changed between my dad and me. He starts to make a speech, I tune him out until I find a good route to escape then I throw up something as a distraction and bolt.

Anyway, in the past now.

There were a lot of visitors yesterday, Janet stopped by in the morning and then offered to come by again in the evening to sit with her if I wanted a break. I really feel bad about that, I feel like I should be here every second I can, but it's really difficult and I'm really grateful for her and for Gregory and Zita offering to keep her company while I step out for a bit. I still feel guilty about it, though.

Another alarm in the hospital, second one since I got back from lunch. The nurse said she thought they were running some tests but since I saw three fire trucks here at the first one with their lights on, I'm thinking it's not planned. Maybe the storm's causing some problems, though it's really not much of a storm. At least not yet.

I hung out with Brenda and Steve again that night and only got back to Dad's around 12:30am, so I slept right through my alarm. At least I think I did, I didn't hear it but maybe it didn't go off, I'm still figuring out the new phone and reading the manual seems to be beneath me for some reason. I'm usually pretty good about reading the instructions but I guess I'm just convinced I can figure out how to set the alarm on a cell phone without help. Anyway, when I did get up this morning he was already gone but he was back before I could get out of the house. I wasn't trying to avoid him but I also didn't really want to get into another fracas with him if I could avoid it, so I thought I'd sneak off and just leave him a note. Anyway, turns out he was in a reasonably good mood today and we chatted a little bit about Mom but mostly just small talk. When I left I told him I'd be at the hospital most of the day and he said he'd probably be by later.

Mom was seeming pretty tired this morning, but she said that she'd eaten half a slice of toast for breakfast, which is huge for her, so I'm thinking she was actually feeling a bit better this morning. Her and I talked for maybe half an hour and I was telling her about talking to Leonard when there he was at the door. The rain had lightened a bit but I guess Sharon's husband had given him a ride over. He stayed for close to an hour and most of the time he was nearly in tears. I knew from the conversation on Saturday night how broken up he was about the news. We talked in the hallway for a few minutes too and he just kept coming back to "are you sure there's nothing they can do? She doesn't seem that bad."

Anyway, Gregory and Zita showed up and while they were there I drove Leonard home and when I got back I wasn't there for more than fifteen minutes or so before Dad showed up. He stayed for quite a long time and we had a pretty good conversation this time. I know he's really upset about it too but sometimes ... well, you never know how he's going to react and how he's going to show how he feels, so I'm just glad everything went smooth and he didn't seem to upset Mom.

Gregory and Zita are here now, I'll add more later.

Talking With Monica - Pt. 2

Okay, so Janet is sitting with Mom for a bit (though mostly right now Mom's just sleeping and not doing much of anything else). Janet said she thought she saw Gregory sitting at Tim's on Granville, which fits the normal pattern for 10:00am on a weekday morning, so I thought I'd stop by there to chat with them and have my requisite coffee. I got there though and he wasn't there (but I saw a guy that could easily have been mistaken for my uncle from the road) so I just got my coffee and came here to Mom's place so I could post an update and maybe run into my aunt and uncle here.

They're not here right now, though, so I'll get this update up and if they haven't arrived by then I'll head back to the hospital.

I got to the hospital this morning just a little after 8:00am and by about twenty past Monica was there. Mom's instincts were right. We talked for a bit but since I'd been going into this meeting with a clear objective (just like the last one, have one or two, clearly defined objectives and stick to them) I quickly had her cornered. She kept it light as much as she could but after a couple of minutes I think she got the message that I wasn't being brushed off so she took me aside and gave me her best assessment.

It's not good. But I knew it wasn't going to be.

They're not doing IV feeding because Monica really only believes it will "prolong her dying, not her living". Her words. I guess she wanted to make sure she drove her point home. She gave me a pile of examples of times when they have done IV feeding for people around her and some of her patients -- the analytical part of my brain was wondering how real they were and how many were like the "a parishioner stopped me after mass last week..." type stories the priests give as part of their homilies, my understanding is that very rarely are those spontaneous writings of the local priest, but a selection from some suggested stories given to the priests that relate to the week's readings -- and how she would have definitely put Mom on IV feeding if she had thought it would do any good but that with her being so weak and the cancer being so aggressive, she thought it would only do harm. She said at this point yes it would keep her alive a little longer, but she thought it would be the difference of 3-4 weeks instead of the 2-3 she thinks Mom has now. Apparently Dr. Kahn's last note to Monica said the same thing.

The last thing Monica said to me before we went back to Mom's room is something I want everyone reading this to keep in mind.

Monica has not told her the estimates of time left and any time Mom asks her, she says "nobody knows", so please don't say any different.

Again, this is a diary for myself first, so I have something to look at later and remember how it all happened, so I'm putting it all down, but because I'm also sharing this with you, I do occasionally have to make requests like that.

Talking With Monica

I was determined to get in to talk with Monica this morning and Mom said that she usually takes Friday off so I should be in kind of early just in case. I had Dad wake me up around 6:30am and we went out to breakfast at the Linkletter. That was kind of a painful experience for a few reasons. First, literally it was kind of painful because my back's been bothering me again and I left my meds at Mom's last night. Second, Dad and I really have a difficult time finding things to talk about and even though I know he wants to have a relationship with me, it's tough because the things that matter to him really don't to me and he's not good at small talk. I could start talking about the state of our garden this year, just looking for anything to have a normal social interaction and he'll turn it into how much longer he has and whether he wants to keep the house and where he'd live if he sold it. I wish I could find a way to convince him that not every conversation has to be about things of grave importance. Sometimes it's nice to just shoot the shit. Third, he's still twitchy and odd, the way he has been at least since his first heart surgery (honestly, I think the shock of how close he came that first time unhinged things a little bit, he's never been the same since then). He spilled some syrup on the table and when the waitress came by to wipe it up he flinched and hit her. Not hard but enough to make her jump too. He apologized and said he thought it was a fly on his arm, but this is just the kind of stuff I've come to expect from my dad over the last twenty years. I left her a big tip.

Anyway, after I left him I stopped by Mom's place -- Gregory and Zita had obviously been there after I left last night, still working -- picked up my Robax and posted the blog entry from last night. (With my old PBeM-style formatting, I knew I was forgetting something but I was in a rush to get to the hospital. Damnit. I'll have to try to remember to fix it this time.)

Damnit, one of the orderlies here is whistling Jingle Bells. That's going to be stuck in my head for a long time.

Janet just popped in. Finish later.

Day One - Tide's Out

First: I'm writing this on Thursday night at my Dad's place but I'm posting it on Friday. When I say 'today' I mean 'Thursday'.

The flight home was fine, really nothing to speak of except that it was over before I really knew it. It never really registered with me while I was looking at the flight time that in just about an hour and a half we could fly from Ottawa to Charlottetown. That's 13+ hours of driving. If it wasn't so stupid expensive, I'd be doing it all the time.

I'm staying in PEI for the long haul, though. That's almost a certainty at this point. It's funny (as in ha ha, though I suppose also in the peculiar sense, from a certain point of view) how it worked out, though. Even this morning, one of the last things Christine said to me as I was getting out of the car was that I could either change my ticket so I didn't have to fly back on Monday and then turn around to come right back again, or I could just get a one-way ticket for next weekend. I said yeah, but that I would ask the ticket agent on my way to the gate about changing it now since I was pretty sure I should be staying anyway. Then I nearly forgot to ask the agent after I dropped off my bag. I was a good fifteen feet away from him when I remembered. Had there been anyone in line behind me I would likely have just left and planned to call Air Canada later, but there was nobody behind me and I decided I'd get this out of the way right now.

So I went back to explain my situation: I originally planned to fly back on Monday but I had a bit of a medical emergency in my family and I'd probably be needing to stay longer. Can I change my ticket? He told me yes, but there's a change fee and I could tell I was venturing into unfamiliar territory with him. He said he thought it was $75 but then he said he thought that if I called up more than 24 hours in advance of when the ticket was supposed to have me flying it would only be $50. Then he said he thought that more than 24 hours notice was half the price of the less than 24 hours notice so we don't know what costs what except that less than a day costs more but either is arrangeable. That's cool. Then he started looking at the file and asked me "when did you say you were flying back?" in that tone of voice that clearly said he was seeing something that made him question my story. I replied truthfully, Monday evening. He confirmed this for me: Monday, September 21st. I said "no, Monday. After the weekend." and that's where he said something that made me question, just for a moment, if he was a bit slow. He said "have you bought your ticket yet?", obviously already convinced the answer was 'no' and I was asking some crazy hypothetical question about changing a ticket I didn't already have.

We had a few minutes like this before I realized what was going on and I said something like "let me check my itinerary", opened my backpack where I had printed it out the night before, and saw that, yes indeed, the return ticket Christine had bought me for "Monday" was for a Monday that wouldn't occur for another four weeks in the future. I laughed, told the agent that clearly my wife had different plans for me than I thought and that I'd take it up with her now. He seemed a little confused by the whole turn of events but was happy enough to see me go.

After I passed through security I hopped on the internet and turned it into a game with her, forwarding her the itinerary that she had sent me earlier in the week with only a suggestion that there was something wrong and she should try to figure out what. Then I started goofing around on Facebook for a while, exchanging nonsense wall posts with Tracey and MarkH.

Gregory and Zita were already waiting for me when the plane arrived and on the ride back from the airport he told me everything that had been going on. He and Zita had mostly finished with the packing at Mom's place, they'd left the bed set up there in case I wanted to stay there (I did at first but now I think that would be an extremely bad idea) and they left Mom's computer out (which I expect I'll make use of to post this tomorrow). He also told me about the video link they planned to set up between Mom's hospital and either the hospital near Trisha's place or the one where she works. They'd hoped to have that today (or Trisha had hoped to have it today) but it'll probably be tomorrow. He's also managed to sell some of Mom's furniture so I don't have to worry about it and he insists on giving me the money even though both Mom and I think he should keep it since he's done so much work for us. Anyway, there's that and he also had some good suggestions for me on how we can get Mom's stuff back without needing the storage unit.

Once again I'm so glad for Gregory's help that I don't think I'll ever be able to thank him properly.

I spent most of the afternoon with Mom. We talked for a bit then some of her friends dropped by to visit, Doris Murphy first, then some other women who's names I forget -- I'll try to get them tomorrow -- and around 6:00pm I left to get something to eat. I had some cards for Steve so I called them and Brenda invited me over to dinner since they were about to put some steaks on the bar-b-que and Steve's parents, sister and her new baby were coming. I took her up on the offer and probably stayed there until about 8:00pm when I went back to the hospital and met Norma on the way out.

I had missed a call from Trisha while I was driving so I called her back when I got there and Mom and her got to talk for a bit, but by now Mom was seeming pretty tired and I only stayed for another hour and a half or so. Talking to Trisha, though, I found out she's got the same questions for Monica that I have, though being a nurse her's are better formed and more to-the-point. Mine are "what can we do" and "isn't there some way we can try giving her food through IV" while hers are more "why aren't you giving her X" where X is something I've completely forgotten. I need to write this stuff down. Anyway, tomorrow morning I'm going to be waiting for Monica when she comes in to check on Mom and I'm going to be looking for answers of some kind.

After I left the hospital I came here, to Dad's. He's still not dealing well with it, though it's in his own way. He's all about conspiracy theories and blaming Monica for not finding it sooner and how the story doesn't seem right to him because he knows people that have lived for decades after they've had cancer so why is this one so bad? He still isn't at a place where he can think about what's happening right now and how we go forward. At least I recognize it, though, and I can deal with his inability to deal. I forget the stages of grief so I don't know if he's further along than me, I think 'anger' is before 'denial' and 'bargaining', which seems to be the two I'm bouncing between these days, I think I skipped right over 'anger' but who knows, maybe I'm just taking a different path.

Anyway, that's about all I've got for right now. There's more, but I'm exhausted and I'm going to have a lot more to write up tomorrow anyway, so I'll wrap it here.

Oh, yeah, the title. Tide's out. As I was walking across the utterly silent, mostly empty parking lot of the hospital on my way to the car tonight I could smell the harbour. Tide's out, I thought, looking up at the sky and breathing in the smell I disliked so much as a kid, the one Mom always used to say made her just sick. It's the one I'm now associating with long summer nights spent at the Lobster Carnival with my best friend, Yancy, visiting my Aunt Stella who passed earlier this year, and playing with my cousins from Ontario when they would come to the Island on summer vacations. Love that smell.