Are We Having Fun Yet?
This is yours truly's personal experience as a Canadian coming to Ecuador to live out what's left of my life. This post is more of a journal covering my preparations for filing for residency as a pensionado and my journey to avoid being forced to return to Canada.
Your own experience will be determined by where you live, which will then determine if you deal with an Ecuadorian consulate or the Embassy in Ottawa. The general advice if you are looking at moving to Ecuador is first to visit the country for an extended period, at least a month and more if you can. Your tourist Visa gives you ninety days to explore the various regions and determine what area you might want to move to. There are vast differences in areas of the country, from climate to culture. Coming from Canada you will certainly experience culture shock with Ecuador. For some people it's simply too much. Others consider it an adventure. The number one issue you will face everywhere in the country is language. The more proficient you are in Spanish the better off you will be. Bring a good translation book or a smart phone with Spanish downloaded. The Ecuadorian people in general are very warm, friendly and more than willing to help you, but you must make an effort to speak to them in Spanish.
Ecuador has more diverse regions than just about any county in the world. The difference between living in a large city like Guayaquil, which is very hot and humid all day, every day, and anywhere in the mountains, such as Cotacachi, at very high altitude, with more spring-like weather all year, are vast. Many places, such as Cuenca, which has a very large Expat population, have many of the things that Canadians are familiar with, such as malls and theatres. More remote areas don't have many of these common North American type venues.
In my case I made the decision to up and move to Ecuador, for many reasons I won't go into here. I had spent sixteen months living in Boquete, Panama, so I had some experience with the culture shock and knew that it wouldn't be a problem for me. After months of research I made the decision to move to Cotacachi in the mountains, mostly because I had spent fourteen wonderful years in BC and saw many similarities in Cotacachi. I am no fan of extreme hot or cold weather, so Cotacachi's climate seemed ideal.
After considerable research on the immigration requirements of Ecuador I traveled to the consulate in Toronto to start on preparing my documents. Unfortunately, before my four hour trip from London, I was given totally inaccurate information on what to bring. For example, I had brought colour copies of my various identification. What I didn't know was that any documents had to be notarized and then submitted to the official government documents office, a government agency I didn't even know existed. Off I went to the closest notary and then to the government office then back to the consulate, only to be told that they were closing at 1:00 in the afternoon. They told me I needed a bank statement showing I had sufficient funds, something they didn't qualify, so off I rushed to my closest bank branch and came back minutes before the consulate was closing. They told me they couldn't deal with me and that I would need to come back. No concern was shown for my four hour trip.
Given the frustration of dealing with the consulate I contacted the Embassy in Ottawa and I met Rolando, who turned out to be an incredibly helpful person. After I explained my disappointing experience with the consulate he informed me that he would, in fact, be moving to the consulate in the new year. He then asked me to send him my passport and the documents I had prepared and he said he would get me a six month Visa, which he did. He was most helpful in getting my Service Canada pension letters translated and many other things. When I left Canada I felt that I had everything I needed to apply for my Visa when I arrived in Ecuador.
Here's the first of many mistakes I made. With a six month Visa I was in no hurry to apply for residency, plus I had to wait to receive my GIS pension to pay to file. Second, I didn't know that you had to register your Visa right away. No one told me that nor was there a word on the government website about it. Lessons learned.
Although I did have the funds to apply for residency originally, I ended up in a private hospital for four days, which cost me an outrageous $1,200 so there went my residency fund. What happened with my GIS pension would fill a book. Save to say that the amount I was promised to receive by the end of Janaury didn't happen. After three months of calling Service Canada, getting nowhere, I contacted my MP in London, who then started going through what I had experienced, also getting nowhere. In total desperation I then emailed the Minister, somewhat dramatically saying that there would be a letter on my cold dead body blaming my government for my demise. To my considerable surprise I received a call from a supervisor at Service Canada two days later advising me that everything had been sorted out and I should receive the money in a couple of days.
Another important factor that I learned only after I arrived here was that there was a three month waitig period before you could apply for the national health care plan, and that was only after you received your cedula, a process which also takes about a month after you apply. Thanks to my pharmacist and OHIP I had managed to bring a six month supply of my very important diabetic medications with me, but with the delays in applying for my cedula I would run out long before I was in the plan. Given that my Visa was about to expire on May 29th I had contacted a facilitator in Quito to start the process when I hopefully got my GIS, but time was running out on me. He had registered my Visa, but was waiting for the $850 to start my application.
Prior to finally getting my GIS I had posted a desperate plea on Facebook for help. A person had advised me to contact an organization called VisaAngels in Cuenca. I could write yet another book on how wonderful they were in helping me, although what I had to go through was difficult, to say the least. Kathy, one of the angels, told me that recent change to immigration laws for Canadians would make it very difficult to file in Quito. Her experience was that it was much easier in Guayaquil. She wanted me to come to Cuenca where she was based and we would travel the three hours to Guayaquil to file my application there. Despite the fact that I thought my documents were perfect with the help of the Embassy, they weren't, so she had to arrange to do a number of additional translations.
I left Cotacachi on an early morning bus and I asked the driver if I would then catch a bus in Otavalo for Quito and then Cuenca and he said that was correct. When I arrived in Quito I asked where the bus was for Cuenca and was told several different places, all of which proved wrong and then finally I got the right booth. She informed me that the only bus to Cuenca left at 10:00 o'clock that night, twelve hours from now. Obviously panicked now I started wandering around looking for help. A man told me that I was at the wrong bus terminal for a bus to Cuenca and then found me a taxi to take me to the right terminal. I should have asked, but the next thing is that I have a thirty dollar taxi fare to the new terminal. I did find the right bus which was leaving in a hour, but it didn't get into Cuenca until 10:00 o'clock that night. Nine hours in that bus was no fun.
The next morning Kathy picked me up at the ungodly hour of five o'clock from my hostel and we headed off to Guayaquil, three hours away. Once the sun came up we realized what amazing country we were traveling through, high up in the mountains. Another couple, Richard and Carolyn from Winnipeg, were also with us to file for their residency. Other than the crazy traffic, the only comment I can make about Guayaquil is how unbelievably hot and humid it was. I can't believe that 2.6 million people make it their home.
We had some running around to do after we arrived, things I had no clue why we were doing, but we were in Kathy's capable hands so we didn't question anything. When we finally arrived at immigration I couldn't believe how huge the office was and how many people were waiting to be dealt with. When our number finally came up Richard and Carolyn went first. A few minutes later Richard comes back, hands me my file and photos and tells me that Kathy said that my Spanish was good enough to go it alone, so watch for my number to come up. Given how all this had gone so badly from the start I was trying not to shake. When my number was called I was met by a most grim looking man who I thought just wanted to deny me acceptance. I did notice that he was the only one of the clerks who was wearing a suit and tie so I told him he looked very professional. He seemed to warm a little, although he must have gone through my documents five times, reading every single word. My only goal was to not shake. Finally he sent me off to pay my thirty dollars and things appeared to be fine, which Kathy confirmed later, they were and I could stay in Ecuador. I still won't feel totally relaxed until I actually get my cedula, which I also just learned I need to go to Guayaquil again to get my photo taken and receive my cedula.
Only fitting that after Giovanny at my hostel made numerous phone calls about getting a more direct bus back and his mother had actually gone out to the bus terminal to buy my ticket, after I had confirmed that I had to switch buses in Otavalo to get the one for Cotacachi, I peered out the window and realized that we had not stopped in Otavalo. I asked a fellow passenger where we were going and he told me to Ibarra, so after all those hours on the bus I manage to find a way to spend even more hours getting back to Cotacachi. I was never more happy to finally be home and now I have thoughts that hopefully this will now be my home forever. Hopefully I will soon receive the email telling me I have been approved and then off I go again to Guayaquil. My cedula entitles me to a fifty percent discount on in country flights, so maybe I can fly back and avoid that long bus ride.
My Facebook Post
Admittedly out of total desperation, I did this post on Facebook. I got a lot of responses, mostly sympathy and one offer to invest which turned out to be bogus.
A friend recently wrote a very lengthy post about her health challenges and she generated a huge amount of support, which I’m sure she appreciated. Partly because you never know who is reading your posts, but mainly because I find myself in a desperate situation, I am making the difficult decision to lay out my cards in the hopes that someone can help.
In making the decision to move to Ecuador I did a lot of research on gaining my residency. Working with the Ecuadorian Embassy in Ottawa I had all the required documents prepared to submit my application. When I turned 65 in October I would be receiving two pensions which met the minimum income requirements for residency. I would also be receiving another pension, called the GIS. Last September I spoke directly to a lady at the GIS processing centre who confirmed that I would receive $455 a month starting in November; however, they were running sixteen weeks behind in processing so the money would be deposited in my account by the end of January. I asked her if I should wait until I actually received this money before traveling in Ecuador and she assured me that there would be no problem and told me to “have a good time”.
I sold everything I owned and came to Ecuador December 2nd. I knew that with the lower cost of living here I could survive on my two pensions and I had some extra funds as a safety net. I planned to file my residency application in February; however, I took sick and my landlady made the unfortunate decision to bypass the public hospital in Otavalo and instead take me to a private hospital in Ibarra. When I went to check out four days later I was shocked to be presented with a $1,200 bill. There went my money to file for residency but I figured I could file after I had received the GIS pension. I needed to file in February because of the three month waiting period for my medical coverage.
January came and went and no deposit. Thus began more than a two month process of phoning them every week, but getting no response. They threw all kinds of new requirements at me and at one point said they would not approve any funds until I returned to Canada. Finally I got my local Member of Parliament involved and she had a way of speaking to the GIS people directly, so she got some answers, none of which were good. They said that the information I had been given back in September was all wrong and they approved a payment which was a fraction of the $455 I had been told. This has left me with no way to fund my residency application and my current six month Visa expires May 29th, forcing me to return to nothing in Canada. I have nowhere to live and will be homeless trying to get into scarce space in shelters. My limited pensions mean that I will need geared to income housing; however, the wait list in Toronto is currently two years.
The saddest part of being forced to return to Canada is losing the website business I have worked on day and night for eight months. Before I came to Ecuador I registered WelcomeToEcuador.ca, a website designed for Canadians who were looking to visit or relocate to Ecuador. After arriving here I also registered domains for Banos, Cotacachi, Cuenca, Guayaquil, Quito and Vilcabamba. In addition to display advertising I was also developing business directories, events calendars and forums. My primary site is coming up on page one of search results now, plus 144 people have subscribed to the site without any promotion. Working with the Ecuadorian Embassy in Canada I got approval to use the official tourism logo, the only site that can, plus they said they would keep me informed on any developments by the government.
Accepting that returning to Canada will destroy my business I am willing to sell an interest in the business to be able to stay here and grow the business. I am proposing a forty percent interest for five thousand dollars, far less than it’s worth, but I must accept the reality of my situation. I would expect a ten times return on this investment within a short period. Anyone familiar with the business of websites knows that growth can be exponential if you have the right formula. International Living just voted Ecuador the number one country for retirement and there is huge interest from Canadians right now. Over half of the sixteen hundred lots available at Mirador San Jose have been sold to Canadians.
On a personal level I love Ecuador and I love Cotacachi, where I live. Everything from my research about the country has proved to be true and I don’t want to leave. My plan was to travel the country, taking photos and writing articles for the websites. I was about to hire a Sales Director to handle business directory listings and advertising sales. I know the business is there and will be profitable. I just hope that someone shares my faith in Ecuador and will join me in growing this business.
Thank you.
The only constant in life is change
This website was originally mostly for my kids, just in case they or the five grandkids I have, who I have never met, ever wondered about me. Then it was the model for a project I developed, YourLifeDomain, which I honestly believed would be very successful because it allowed everyone to have their very own website about their life. I'm sure it went nowhere only because I didn't have the clout of a Google or Microsoft, even though I tried very hard to pitch it to them. I'm sure like everything else they will come out with something similar soon and make millions from it.
At too many other times in my life the site has been therapeutic, allowing me to vent about something that was bringing me down. This is one of those times. I doubt anyone is still following me or cares, but this is still a record of sorts of my life, good and bad. Right now is really bad, probably as bad as it's ever been. Like everyone I've had some traumatic moments in my life, the worst still being when my Dad died in my arms. Some decisions I've made have not always worked out, like when I made the decision to move out West to be with my mother for whatever years she had left after being diagnosed with cancer. I had no idea that one of the consequences would be losing my daughter, who I now haven't had any contact with for over twenty years. I honestly thought she would come out for vacations, partly to see me, but also because she loved it out West and she loved my family. I don't know if what happened was her decision or her mother's, because she was always so paranoid that Heather would move out West and leave her. I'll never know. Not a day has gone by that I don't think of my daughter and miss her terribly.
Late last year I realized that I was basically wasting my life just praying that one day my kids would make the decision to connect with me and I would get to be involved with my five grandkids. I had been living in a city I loathed, London, for five years and there was no good reason to think anything was ever going to change with my kids. My dear friend, Heather, basically summed it up that I was molding waiting for something that would never happen. We talked for hours about me wanting to move to Ecuador where I had a shot at a much better life. She was oh so correct in saying that I would regret not going, giving up on my dreams.
The more I researched Ecuador the better it looked. I knew there was no way I could survive in Canada on my limited pensions and I faced just eking out a living. The cost of living was so much lower in Ecuador and I would certainly be better off there. They also had an excellent health care program where everything would be included for only eighty dollars a month, including my very expensive medications. They had just removed the age limit of sixty and removed pre-existing conditions, which being diabetic, would have excluded me. I was looking at several really nice apartments for under three hundred dollars a month, unheard of in Canada. Plus, no more winter.
Prior to coming to Ecuador I had done a huge amount of research on websites about Ecuador. Ecuador was hot and not many Canadians even knew where it was, let alone all the wonderful things it had to offer to Canadians. I registered WelcomeToEcuador.ca and got to work. I barely had the site functional and already had 127 people subscribe to my site, so I knew I was on to something. I was at the Ecuadorian consulate in Toronto and one of the people there was on the visitor computer and on my website. When I mentioned to her that it was my site all the other people there said they had also visited my site and loved it. That was very encouraging.
I had also been in touch with the Ecuadorian Embassy in Ottawa about some of my documents. They were equally impressed by my website and not only promised to keep me up-to-date on information about Ecuador, but they approved me using the tourism logo on my website, a major fact given that no one else could do this. Things were starting to look very good.
I sold my wonderful little Honda and just about everything else I owned and flew to Ecuador December 2nd, full of promise about how much better off I was going to be, plus a sense of adventure about exploring this new country. I still had some misgivings about my kids, but, as Heather had said, there's always Skype and I could come back for a visit if that was in the cards. I had started working feverishly on my website project and had total faith that this was going to be successful, allowing me to travel the country to take photos and write articles, while making extra money to make my life even better.
My first major setback was ending up in hospital. Instead of taking me to a public hospital where everything was free, for some unknown reason my landlady took me to a private hospital in a nearby town. I didn't realize it was a private hospital until they presented me with a whopping twelve hundred dollar bill on being discharged. This was a major financial setback.
When I first looked at my finances for Ecuador I had been receiving my early pension plus I would soon receive the OAS, for just under a thousand dollars a month total. Not enough to live on in Canada by any means, but I would do better in Ecuador. This was before the dollar tanked so that hasn't worked out as planned. The other major part of my planning was the GIS that I would receive for six months. I spoke to a lady at the processing centre who had my application in front of her. She said I would receive $455 a month but that it would not be deposited until the end of January because they were that far behind. I knew that this pension ended if you were out of the country for more than six months so I told her I was thinking of traveling in Ecuador and asked if this would be any problem. She assured me that it wouldn't and told me to have a good time.
The end of January came and went and no money had been deposited. Thus started a program of calling Service Canada each and every week trying to find out what was going on. This money was needed for me to file for permanent residency in Ecuador and I needed to do this right away because it takes time. Getting nowhere I contacted my MP asking for help. She got answers although they weren't great. Instead of the $455 I had been told I only got $144 a month, not enough to file for my residency. My current Visa expires May 31st and without a residency application file I have to leave the country. This means returning to Canada with nothing. I have nowhere to live. I face getting off the plane and having nowhere to go. The saddest part will be giving up my dreams of Ecuador, mostly my website business.
The only possible alternative to returning to Canada is selling part of my business to be able to afford to file for my residency and stay here. I've approached some people back in Canada and, through my doctor, hopefully some contacts of hers in Ecuador. I have no real idea what the business is worth, although the name is certainly gaining some traction plus I am starting to show up on page one of search results. I worked all day, every day, seven days a week for months on my sites and that's certainly worth something compared to someone starting fresh. I've proposed forty percent for five thousand dollars US, not because that's all I think it's worth, but because that's what I need to survive. Not the right way to value a business with so much potential, but I accept that if I return to Canada the business is dead. There is simply no way I will ever be able to afford to return to Ecuador.
I've started planning my return, sad as that is. I've contacted COPA about my return flight. I've basically given my notice to my landlady about my wonderful apartment. I'm going to be selling everything I can't take with me, like my monitor and my printer. I continue to work on my websites just in case something happens, but it's hard to stay enthused, at least the way I was before. The time I have left seems so very short and it's depressing to say the least.
A near death experience changes your perspective on life.
Last night was as close as I ever hope to come. My cabana is freezing so I have a fire going constantly while I work on my computer. Every once in a while my landlady will come down to deliver a meal and she'll comment on how much smoke there is, something I don't often notice. Big mistake. Last night I thought I was just tired so I laid down on the bed for a quick nap. The next thing I remember is waking up in hospital with the doctor and the family all crowded around me. To my considerable shock when I asked what time it was I had lost three hours.
Life is timing. Apparently my landlady had brought down my dinner and found me unresponsive. They had called an ambulance and rushed me to the hospital, according to the doctor, within a scant twenty minutes of dying from carbon monoxide poisoning. Way too close for comfort.
To say that life has been challenging since making the decision to move to Ecuador would be a gross understatement. I could write a book on the factors that led me to this life-changing decision. After five years languishing in London, Ontario my dear friend Heather put it best. She said I was basically molding waiting for things to happen. My biggest wish after landing in London had been that my kids would reconnect with me and I would get to meet my five grandkids. Heather made me realize that I could well spend the rest of my life, living in a place that I loathed with a passion, waiting for something that would never happen. If I at least focused on me and did what I wanted to do and went to Ecuador and then the kids had a change of heart there's always Skype and I have a return ticket to visit if that was in order. Made sense to me.
As I said, there were a ton of other factors that led to the decision. My finances were in a total mess, with the house of cards I had built about to collapse on me. I had been drawing ODSP and not claiming the money I was getting under the self-employment program, meaning I would need to repay my support payments. I also had not been claiming my self-employment benefit to my landlord, who would take thirty percent of it. That was all about to get matched up through the government and would leave me in a mess with huge debts I could not pay back. Add how much I hated living in London and it was clear I had to get away.
It came down to moving back out West or moving to another country. My life out West had been amazing but I realized that my deteriorating health would mean that life would not be the same. My parents were both gone and I was estranged from my brother and sister, for good reason. I didn't have any boats or dirt bikes or snowmobiles and living on my meagre pensions I never would. I wouldn't be roller-blading or cross country skiing or hiking in the mountains. I couldn't even dance for hours at the Corral, something that was a huge part of my life. Many of my wonderful friends from those years had moved on and it was clear that life would be a hollow shadow of what it was before.
That left leaving the country and the question was to where? My time in Panama convinced me that there was no way I would ever go back there. I started researching various countries in warmer climes and settled on Ecuador for a host of good reasons. My research showed that Ecuador was positioned to be a prime tourist and retirement destination for Canadians. I felt that if I built a website dedicated to Canadians I could generate some extra income from the site. WelcomeToEcuador.ca was born and has consumed my waking hours since arriving in Ecuador. In my research I met Ana, a lady who lived in the Otavalo area and she offered to help me to get settled. She also expressed some interest in working for me and she was bilingual so that showed promise. It also helped me to decide on living in that area. The mountains were spectacular and reminded me of BC. The climate also seemed ideal. I booked a week at what looked like a fabulous cabin, intending to look for an apartment while I was staying there.
The cabin turned out to be more than I could have wished for and the family greeted me with such warmth that I thought of staying there longer term. With Ana's assistance we sat down and negotiated a deal for me to stay on a month to month basis. It was to include all meals, firewood, my washing once a week, DirecTV, cleaning and, most importantly, hi-speed internet for my work, for $350 a month. Looked like a good deal at the time but I soon learned that things are different in Ecuador.
When we first discussed me staying more long term I asked what current bookings they had. They only had two nights in February that had not been confirmed and they said they could put them in another cabin anyway. No sooner had I paid the rent for a month than they told me I had to move out to the main house for two nights. No sooner had I got settled back in than she tells me I have to move out yet again for two nights starting today. Not exactly what was planned or agreed. Added to this was she came and asked me to pay another month's rent to "help them out as a friend". This certainly caught me off-guard but I found myself explaining that because of the $1,200 for the hospital visit I had no extra money to "help out". That didn't go down too well. No sooner had I dealt with that than she asks me for $200 to pay their taxes. I've already paid the rent two weeks in advance, which I probably should not have done.
There's a lot of other things that aren't going according to plan. My cabana is freezing and they don't have the promised firewood, so I had to go and buy my own. My meals have basically been rice and salad and I've spent a fortune at the SuperMaxi in Ibarra on real food. No sooner do I give it to her to put in the fridge than someone in the family eats it. For New Year's Eve I bought two bottles of Bacardi Rum, but because I was feeling so lousy I only had one drink. The next day I discover that they have drank both my bottles and I'm still waiting for them to be replaced. Not only did I get to buy the rum but I also got to pay for the taxi even though they spent hours shopping. I seem to be the "cash cow" for everything. Oh, and my washing once a week? I have to beg for underwear. Cleaning? I get to do the cleaning. DirecTV? Still waiting even though I paid an extra $10 for it. Hi-speed internet? Still waiting and now they inform me that I have to pay an extra $20 for that. Time to move? You bet.
Another one of those life moments
We all experience those life-changing moments - getting married; the birth of a child; the death of a parent; changing careers; traumatic experiences and major health issues. They change our life path and shape who we are. Life is a combination of opportunity, dumb luck, fate and our own decisions. Among my life changing moments were getting married far too young when my soon to be wife got pregnant. The birth of my son and daughter, two of the most life altering experiences. Getting divorced after trying too hard to make it work for twenty-three years. At the time I didn't know it would result in the biggest regret of my life - losing my children. I have not spoken to my daughter in over twenty years and my attempts to reconnect with my son two years ago failed miserably. I have only held one of my five grandkids in my arms when she was just born. I believe my grandkids believe I am dead. The greatest mystery of my life is why my kids chose to cut themselves off from me and my entire family. I have always suspected that my ex was so paranoid about my kids moving out West to be with me in a place they loved that she lied to them and didn't give them any of the cards and letters I sent in the early years. They obviously believe I simply abandoned them which could not be further from the truth. I got so desperate to see my daughter that I drove down in the dead of winter, nearly losing my life in the process, only to have my ex and her new husband squirrel my daughter away and not let me see her.
The most traumatic and life altering event was the death of my father, who died in my arms after having an asthma attack in the water and what the coroner called "dry drowning". For an agonizing half hour I administered CPR, not really confident that I was doing the right thing until the paramedics told me to keep doing what I was, believing that I was killing my father with my own ignorance of CPR. My mother suffered from Alzheimer's, something my father could not deal with, so after he died I moved in with her to care for her. No one who has not experienced caring for someone with these horrible disease could ever understand just how difficult it is. My brother and sister were not the least bit supportive and her care fell only to me. I felt trapped because I couldn't go anywhere and leave her. The few hours I got every week when a caregiver came to give me a much-needed break were never enough. My own life was put on hold. My asshole brother, a nurse, only looked after her for one night and couldn't take it. He forgot to give her her medications. In the morning he called me and said to get home because he couldn't handle her, something I did 24/7. After eight long months pleading to get my mother in to a care facility and finally succeeding, my ignorant sister pulled her out and put her in an assisted living facility in Revelstoke. No sooner had she arrived than she was found wandering the streets of Revelstoke with no clue where she was. My sister went through the hell I had been living through and was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I had warned her that if she removed Mum from the care facility she would be assuming full responsibility for Mum and I would do nothing more. I have never forgiven my sister for what she did, and never will. In my eyes she killed our mother.
When your body starts falling apart. It will happen to you someday too.
The expression "the raves of the ages" is no more appropriate than when it comes to your body and your health. The years catch up to you long before you're ready. Yes, someday you will need the dreaded pill minder to keep track of all your pills and when to take them. That medicine cabinet that used to contain your Pepto and aftershave or perfume will soon be jammed with pill jars of every sort imaginable, many of which you won't even remember what they are for. Your calendar will go from keeping track of all the fun things you have planned, to all the doctor's appointments and tests you have. You'll be poked and prodded in every way possible trying to figure out what's now wrong with you. You think twice about taking that long awaited vacation because you don't want to be too far from your doctors.
Not that many years ago I was in the best of health. Even though back in 2004 I was diagnosed as diabetic all I took was Metformin to control it. I rarely checked my sugars, although I know I should have, but I could always tell by the way I felt. My diet didn't change much either, in fact, during my extensive renovation, when I didn't have a kitchen for six weeks, I ate fast food for every meal. It helped that I was busting my ass physically every day to work it off, but I was none the worse for wear and felt great.
My years in the Okanagan were filled with every activity imaginable. I roller-bladed for miles every Sunday. I dirt-biked in the hills around Kelowna and Revelstoke with my Dad and siblings. I water-skied, even learning to slalom. I ran a hiking club all year-round, hiking some really tough trails around Rose Valley and McDougall Ridge. In the winter I snowmobiled around Kelowna, but mostly in the mountains around Revelstoke. I downhill skied at Silver Star and Big White as often as I could afford. I cross-country skied at TeleMark usually three times a week. I played racquetball in a league at the Courtplex and usually went out and played for three hours on Sunday mornings. Back then they had a bar at the Courtplex and I would go off the court and light a cigarette and all the guys would look at me, amazed that I didn't cough my lungs out. I took the Canadian Lung Capacity test, three times, because the guy testing me couldn't figure out how I smoked, but I was in the top three percent of Canadian males. He figured his instruments were faulty. The most enjoyable thing I did was dance my butt off three nights a week at the Corral, usually from nine til two. That really kept me in shape.
My last couple of years in the Okanagan were spent renovating, first my parents' place to sell and then my own renovation from hell (long story). In my last year I worked fourteen hour days, usually seven days a week and it was all very physically demanding. When I did my river design out of rocks I figured I moved some fifteen thousand heavy rocks, placing them all around the house. Then there was framing and drywalling and painting and flooring and installing bathroom fixtures and kitchen cabinets. There was no shortage of things to do, but I loved it.
Even when things went horribly wrong and I had to flee the country to Panama, before I knew it I was renovating a three apartment house for a guy back in Kelowna. Other than playing a little pool at a local bar and taking one day to go to the ocean with friends, plus my side trips to Costa Rica to keep my tourist Visa alive, I worked very long days all over again. Except for a cold I could not seem to get rid of, I was healthy as an ox. I did continue the small doses of insulin I had been put on back home because of all the stress I was under and my sugars had spiked to life-threatening numbers.
When I returned to Canada to the safety of my cousin's place in Rexdale I did things like ride my bike all the way down from Islington and the 401 to go across to Centre Island. At one point after thinking I was not far from home I started walking, not realizing just how far it was. It had to be around thirty kilometres or so. I was exhausted by the time I got home. When I first moved to London, another long story, I biked all the trails in one day, quite the distance. I roller-bladed the trails and I ice-skated in the winter. Not a lot to do in this town. I did manage a couple of nights of dancing as well.
The downhill slide began when I was forced to leave the apartment I had been renting when the crazy landlady threatened to change the locks on me. I had no idea where I was going and stayed in my car, then a series of shelters. During this period I ran out of my medications, was out of them for six weeks and ended up in the hospital. I did not know at the time how much damage this had done. While living at the last shelter I got a job at Home Depot. At the time I could not afford decent steel-toed shoes so I bought the cheapest ones I could find and they were incredibly painful. After my shifts walking the concrete floors I could barely walk and this started it all.
Soon my feet were painful all the time. It felt like someone was holding a match under my feet and stabbing me randomly. Sleep was difficult. Walking was painful and I couldn't do anything physical anymore. Soon I was seeing a host of doctors and being put on all kinds of pills and doses of two insulins. The total lack of exercise and the insulin packed on almost forty pounds and I didn't wear it well. I had trouble hoisting myself up off the couch. The pain was intolerable and it sent me into depression. An EMG at the local hospital confirmed that I had peripheral neuropathy in my feet and it was starting in my hands, which terrified me because I spend all day on the computer. The doctor also said that the pain level was about a three and it would eventually be a ten. Not good news.
The other issue was that I developed what's called an incisional hernia which was a result of the botched surgery done in Panama to remove my gall bladder. It was painful at times and I was sent to consult with a surgeon at University Hospital. He confirmed that I had the hernia and required surgery, but said I was too fat for the surgery and if I had it done I might be in even more pain. He said I had to lose at least twenty pounds before he could operate. Just more good news. The results of the ultrasound for the hernia also showed that I had an enlarged liver and spleen. I still haven't seen a specialist on this one. I am also being referred for bariatric surgery but the wait times here in Ontario are up to ten years. I am also seeing a urologist in December because things aren't working down there, if you know what I mean. It's probably a combination of my age and the medications I take, not to mention my boy hasn't been called on to perform in years.
For me, the scariest issue is cancer. My mother nearly died because she had fifth stage melanoma but they caught it before it reached her lymph nodes, so she survived. Had it reached her lymph nodes and spread she was given less than a five percent chance of surviving more than six months. It was a terrible time for our family, partly because my mother was in the pink of health. She had never smoked and she walked five miles every morning. It made us all more aware of cancer. I had a birthmark on my forehead that had changed colour and developed little bumps. When I had it checked it turned out to be fifth stage melanoma and I had surgery to remove it. Just recently I had another birthmark that the doctor didn't like the look of, so I had a biopsy which came back positive as zero stage melanoma. The pathologist had the surgeon repeat the surgery to take a larger sample and I am waiting for the results. It's frightening on so many levels to think you have cancer.
So, if you have your health, treasure it. Eat right. Stay fit. One day you will look back on those days with longing. We are all mortal. I'm reminded of the saying, "live every day like it's your last because one day you will be right".
Never underestimate how much of a difference you can make
This was a very sobering experience and came as quite the surprise. My last post asked my "friends" to help me with the most important decision in my life. I am alone here in London with no friends to talk to and I hoped that people who I felt had been close friends in the past would give me their advice. With the exception of a handful of people, frankly people who were not what I would call "close" friends, not one of the people I asked for help from responded, even those who knew me very well for years.
Yes, I left the Okanagan in 2007 to go to Panama, so it's been seven years and I guess even your friends forget you after all those years, but I have kept in touch through Facebook and emails. The ironic part is that many of those same people have connected with me asking my advice. I chatted with them on Facebook or by phone and gave them all the time they needed, often several hours, but when the tables are turned and I ask for help, they're nowhere to be found. Sad.
One of the factors in thinking about moving back to the Okanagan was to reconnect with what I thought were my many friends. I had such great memories of all the great times we had over the years and thought it would be great to share some new times together. Apparently I am incredibly naive and stupid.
Without hopefully being too dramatic there has been a fourth option that I didn't mention in my original post. There have been times over the last few years, starting with being ripped off for everything I owned in Panama, really dark times when it all seemed to be too much to handle. Discovering that the girl I loved, the one I moved to London for, cheated on me with someone else she met on the internet, which broke my heart. Being forced to go to a shelter and lying in filth sweating in hundred degree heat trying to sleep. Getting kicked out of the shelters when the government screwed up. Sleeping on the floor of a colleague's office. Finally getting a job at Home Depot and my own apartment, then having my hours cut back to a minimum and I couldn't pay my rent. Going without my vital medications for six weeks and ending up in hospital, resulting in painful peripheral neuropathy that has ended any physical activity. Researching and applying to over a thousand companies for a job, with no response. The government denying my application for a disability pension because I missed the deadline for a Medical Report because I could not find a family doctor in London. Getting wrongfully dismissed from the worst job in my life at Stream and taking a year to get paid. Being turned down by three different Meet-Up groups with no explanation.
The worst time in all of this was when my diabetic specialist put me on Oxycontin, a narcotic, with no warning about the side effects. My life went from working long hours on the computer every day trying to get anything going, to lying on the couch all day, crying because I was so depressed. My seventh floor balcony looked awfully inviting many times. The struggles I had fought so valiantly, like the heartbreak of missing my kids, suddenly became overwhelming and I didn't see the point in continuing to fight. I had lost my will to survive.
I was very fortunate that I did fight back a little and researched the Oxycontin, only to learn that one of the major side effects was thoughts of suicide. In all there were seven side effects and I had all of them. I called my family doctor for advice on how to wean myself off this dangerous drug and I got back to normal. I had come far too close to ending it all. Part of the reason I asked for advice from my "friends" was to avoid making another mistake.
The fact that so many "friends" didn't think enough of me to give me just a few minutes out of their busy lives speaks volumes about who I thought I was to them. It has certainly given me a different perspective on my options.
I do again thank those who did take the time to try to help me.
Friends, I'm asking for the most precious gift you can give - your time
Those of you who know me know what a mess the last few years have been for me. Everything that could go wrong went wrong and I ended up at one point living on the streets. It was not a good time and it was a real low point, but I've managed to sort of get back on my feet.
Now I'm faced with one of the biggest decisions of my life and I'm really struggling with it. I need some help from those who know me well. I hope that you value the friendship that we had enough to invest a few minutes in giving me your honest opinions here. I don't have a single friend here in London so I'm lost being on my own. Much as I've tried these past five years in London, I don't have a "significant other" to talk to. First time in my life I've been alone and the timing could not be worse.
As I see it I have three options; one, to continue to struggle with my business, getting it to the point where I could sell it and improve my options. Realistically that would take probably three years, at which point I will be 68 years old with maybe not a lot of time left. I might mention here that I have doggedly applied for over a thousand jobs with not one response. Not all that surprising, I mean who is going to hire someone so close to retiring at 65? I don't get to tell them that I went bankrupt and I don't have a nickel to spare. Retirement is not an option, at least until they put me in a box.
The hardest part of staying here in London is that, first, I loathe this city more than any place I've ever lived in my entire life. The people are cold and arrogant. Those who know me really well would find it very hard to believe I was turned down by three different Meet-up groups, all with no explanation as to why. That really hurt and made me angry. I never had that kind of brush-off when I first arrived in Kelowna, in fact, the opposite was true and I soon had a very large group of wonderful friends. The city is dying because of all the employers who've closed up shop. Thousands of good paying jobs have been lost over the last couple of years. There's very little to do here. The rivers and lakes are too polluted to swim in. The ski hill is a joke, more a bump than a hill. Much of the business district is empty stores. Not exactly the place to be optimistic about growing a business in.
The other part of living here breaks my heart. When I first came to this area I held out hope that I would get to see my two children and all the grand kids. My son did make a half-hearted attempt to see me two years ago and that was it. I haven't seen my beautiful daughter in over twenty years now. She has two kids I've never met. My therapist suggested I might well live out my life and die and still have never been in touch with them. But the other two options mean I will never ever see any of them again, and that is a very hard decision to make.
So, option two was to return to the place I love - the Okanagan, but, you know that saying, "you can never go home again"? My life in the valley could not have been any better. I had wonderful friends. I danced my ass off at the Corral and had so many great dance partners. I owned three boats during my time and was out on the water as often as I could be. I water-skied, even learning to slalom. I downhill and cross-country skied. I snowmobiled around Kelowna and Revelstoke with my Dad, my brother and my brother-in-law. My son and daughter came out for the best three weeks of my entire life. I roller-bladed and skated. I even paraglided. My Dad and I went dirt-biking for more than ten years and every single ride was awesome. I played racquetball every week in the winter and I played in the pool league for over ten years. Life was very good.
If I was to return to the Okanagan now, well, first my Mum and Dad are both gone. I am estranged from my brother and sister for very good reasons. I don't have a boat or a dirt-bike or a snowmobile or skis or a racquet or anything I would need, even if I could do any of those things, which today I can't. My peripheral neuropathy means I can barely walk, let alone dance or ski. Not going to happen, so my life would just be full of regrets. My friends have all moved on or scattered across the country. Sure, it would be nice to see them again and get in a few hugs, but it would never be the same. Kelowna is also a very expensive place to live so it would be a struggle on my measly pension. More on that in a minute.
Most unfortunately I also hurt some people when my business failed. I went down owing a lot of money and my goal to see the house I gutted and rebuilt over a year and a half fell apart when one of the Westbank Chief's said in the press that anyone who bought on native land was "stupid". I ended up with a very beautiful white elephant. Then the "friend" I left living in the place let the snow build-up so much that the roof collapsed. I lost everything and not a lot of people would exactly welcome me back.
The third option, one I have researched to death, partly because of my not so great experience in Panama, is moving to Ecuador. The place I have researched has spring-like weather all year long, so no snow and no humidity. The cost of living is very cheap and there's a very good chance that my health will improve by eating better and living in the mountain air. The people are friendly and Ecuador is fast becoming the best place for people to move to or retire. I have started building a website, WelcomeToEcuador.ca, which is designed for Canadians looking to visit or move to Ecuador. The government has just increased the tourism budget significantly and there are a lot of opportunities everywhere, especially Real Estate. My dream is to travel around the country on my dirt-bike, taking pictures and writing a blog for the website, plus getting advertising to give me a little extra income.
Here's the financial differences. When I turn sixty-five I no longer receive ODSP, which right now pays for my meds to the tune of about seven hundred dollars a month; however, I'm told that I will be able to continue to get assistance from the Feds. Right now I am receiving my small CPP, just under five hundred dollars, which I took early to survive. I will then get my OAS, which should be around five hundred as well, but then I also get the GIS because my income is so low, and that will be about four hundred dollars. All tolled it will be about fifteen hundred dollars a month, not enough to live here comfortably because my rent is "geared to income" so they will take about six hundred and fifty dollars in rent, far more than my apartment is worth. If I were to return to the Okanagan I wouldn't be guaranteed to get any assisted housing, so my rent anywhere is going to be expensive.
The issue with moving to Ecuador is that I am not allowed to receive the GIS if I am out of the country more than six months, so I would lose that. I would be hopeful that I can supplement my income with the website after six months, but there's no guarantee on that. Without any other income I would be left with about a thousand dollars a month, but my current meds in Ecuador would be about three hundred dollars. The government has just passed a law about a national health care plan which I could join as soon as I am a permanent resident. It's about seventy dollars a month and covers all prescriptions.
So, if you've read this, you are a true friend and I thank you. Please share your honest opinions, good or bad. I'm usually a pretty decisive guy, but this one has me in knots, mostly about my kids. No matter what, that's the tough part.
Living with pain
Not that long ago really, in terms of a lifetime, I was in great shape and very healthy. During my years in the Okanagan I was incredibly active. I ran a hiking club, year round. In the summer months every Sunday, weather permitting, I would roller-blade usually for several hours. I had several boats and went water-skiing at every opportunity, even learning to slalom. I biked the Kettle Valley many times. My Dad and I dirt-biked all over the Okanagan and in Revelstoke. I played tennis, although not as often as I would have liked. I even para-glided, which was awesome. In the winter I downhill skied, cross-country skied and snowmobiled. I played racquetball three times a week, including Sunday mornings which usually ran three hours or more. I danced for hours usually once or twice a week at the Corral. Most of my many good friends were twenty years younger than me because people my own age couldn't keep up. I was a very fit one hundred and seventy pounds and, despite the fact that I smoked and ate my fair share of fast food, I had all kinds of stamina and energy. I slept like a baby and was rarely sick, usually a cold once a year or so.
Things changed in 2004 after my dirt-bike accident where I tore up my foot pretty bad. The doctor said I had to stay off my foot for probably up to a year because if I re-injured it I may never walk again. I heeded the advice and basically sat around eating and watching TV. Soon I had ballooned to two hundred and twenty pounds. Suddenly I had all kinds of health issues, like acid reflux, and I couldn't walk up the stairs without puffing. When I went to my doctor he was shocked at my weight gain and bluntly told me I had better lose the weight or I would probably have a heart attack. This was also when I was diagnosed as diabetic.
Over the next few months I managed to lose the weight and gradually returned to my active lifestyle. I felt so much better and my diabetes was controlled by only Metformin and nothing else. After my Dad passed away in 2005 I moved in with my mother to care for her because she had Alzheimer's. This was a twenty-four seven job so I had little chance to do anything that meant leaving her. My brother and sister were useless in giving me a break. I did manage to do a lot of work around the house and I completely rebuilt the beach area and added a new dock.
After my sister took my mother to Revelstoke I sold the house and moved to a place that I basically took over the mortgage on and worked my tail off for a year and a half gutting and rebuilding. Seven days a week I worked very long and physical days. One consequence was that by the end of the day I could barely walk because of the pain in my feet. I had plantar fasciitis big time, but I found inserts called HeelThatPain which worked really well and I still wear them today. At one point, after things fell apart with the reno, I was under such stress that my sugars were off the chart. My doctor put me on large doses of insulin which brought down my sugars. He also told me that I was a poster child for a heart attack and I needed to find a way to get out from under all the stress. This is when I moved to Panama.
In Panama I got involved in the renovation of a multi-apartment house for a guy back in Kelowna and again worked long days, seven days a week. In the sixteen months I was in Panama I took one week-end off. My meds continued to be Metformin and reasonably small doses of one kind of insulin. Then I had my gall bladder attack and my emergency surgery in a third-world hospital that nearly killed me.
After I was forced to return to Canada my first doctor was horrified at the twenty year-old type of invasive surgery I had and which would not bode well in the future. I still managed to remain fairly active in Toronto, mostly biking and some roller-blading. Then I moved to London and soon the downhill slide would start. I did continue to bike the trails around London and get in some roller-blading and ice skating before I started having issues with my feet. This started after I worked four months at Home Depot, walking the concrete floors in cheap work boots. By the end of even a four hour shift I could barely walk.
The pain in my feet continued to get worse and my doctor suspected I had peripheral neuropathy, which was soon confirmed by an EMG at the hospital. Not only did they confirm I had it in my feet, but it was also starting in my hands. This was particularly disturbing because I spend twelve hours a day on the computer. As my sugars continued to deteriorate my diabetic specialist doubled, then tripled my two types of insulin. This, combined with a total lack of exercise resulted in putting on thirty-five pounds. The acid reflux returned along with a host of new ailments. Just recently an ultrasound confirmed that I have what's called an incisional hernia as a result of the botched surgery in Panama.
So, today this is my life. I am already on the maximum daily dose of Gabapentin, the pain killer for my neuropathy. Despite this the pain is twenty-four seven. I walk with a cane because the pain makes me lose my balance. The pain in my hands is now getting worse by the day. My hernia is painful, but the surgeon can't operate until I somehow magically find a way to lose weight. My shoulders, which were diagnosed as "frozen shoulder" are painful, especially when trying to put a coat on. My knees are starting to ache like I have arthritis. I have to take a sleeping medication to stay asleep at night. I can't eat anything without it causing unbelievable flatulence and belching. Because my sugars remain high I am having trouble with my vision, especially first thing in the morning. I have to magnify my windows to be able to read on the internet. I need a nap every day mid afternoon, partly because I have sleep apnea and also because of the meds I'm on.
There are days when I don't think I can take it anymore. I just came out of fourteen weeks of counseling, which helped but offered no solutions for my situation. My therapist couldn't believe what I have been through or how much I am dealing with now. My mental health is about as good as my physical health. The horrible situation with my kids, realizing that it's been twenty years since my daughter had any contact with me. I have five grandchildren I've never met. I live in a city I loathe. I have no friends and no social life. Life is really taking a toll on my sanity right now. I am usually such a decisive person, but right now I am adrift. My quality of life is diminishing rapidly.
A day that changed my life forever
August 16th, 1969, the day I got married.
How I met my soon to be bride was funny. I was at a house party with my then girlfriend, Bev Jackson when Janice and her friend Lynn came walking down the stairs. At the time I did not know that Lynn had already warned Janice about me, saying I was a "sucker for blondes" and Janice had beautiful long blonde hair.
As soon as I saw Janice I jumped up and went over to her and said, "Hi. I'm Gary. Will you marry me?" She replied by telling me to f*ck off. I told her that we were going to get married and that she might as well accept it now. I don't think I got much further that night. No surprise there. She no doubt thought I was a lunatic.
What I didn't know and never really thought or cared about was that she had a pretty steady boyfriend, Doug. It didn't sound like a great relationship as he was a control freak. She seemed terrified of him which I didn't like. Somehow Janice and I ended up going out somewhere and when we came home to her parent's place Doug came screaming up in his hot car. Janice was just getting out of my car and, true to form, he went for her and not me. Just then her mother came out of the house, sensing trouble, and tried to calm things down. That's when, shocking as it was, Doug split in Janice's face and stormed off. Both her mother and I could not believe he just did that but it was what it was. Pretty demeaning, not to mention gross.
In all honesty Doug was a pretty big boy and, if he couldn't have Janice I figured some day he would go after me. I'm a lover, not a fighter, so I wasn't looking forward to it, but I knew no matter what I would fight for Janice.
We were at a school dance in Bramalea and I was dancing with different girls I knew when all of sudden these arms are flailing away at me trying to punch me. I had no clue who it was but I just tried to keep him bent over towards me so he couldn't get a good shot in. I assumed it was Doug but something wasn't right. When they broke us up and I was outside someone finally told me it was Brent, a friend of mine, who, for some unknown reason, thought I was hitting on his girlfriend, which I wasn't. It was my one and only fist fight and it sure was a weird one.
The fall before I met Janice my parents were planning to sell their place and move to BC, but they couldn't sell and my Dad decided they would wait until the following spring. At the time I was working at the bank and playing in the band, so I doubt I would have gone with them anyway, but the decision became easy after I met Janice. Doug had eventually given up and Janice and I were together. We had a ball doing all kinds of things together and I was in love with her from the moment I first saw her. She got along great with my parents and my family, which was important to me. One thing led to another and she got pregnant. There was never any question about us getting married so the plan was on to get married as quickly as possible.
We got married in what was Streetsville at the time by the Reverend David Busby, who was more known for buzzing around town on his Harley than his sermons. After the pictures we headed to her parent's place, planning on having an outdoor reception, but as we got closer the heavens opened up and it poured rain. We were terrified at the thought of all her Scottish relatives and my English ones being trapped together in the house. No doubt chaos would rein supreme and there was a good chance of a fight or two once they started drinking.
Our fears were for nothing. They all got along famously and didn't seem to care if Janice and I were there or not. My favorite moment was when her cousin Billy fell all the way down the stairs with a case of beer he was carrying and after he landed at the bottom all he asked was if he had broken any beers. He was quite the character.
As we got ready to leave because we were heading off early on our honeymoon to Cape Cod my Dad gave me the room keys for what was the Thunderbird Motel at the time, not the classiest place in town. We had been planning to just stay at my apartment and leave from there, but Dad seemed so tickled that he got us the room for our wedding night so off we went. When we got in the room and sat on the bed we heard a tinkle sound. My crazy father had ripped open the box spring and put a child's tinkle toy in, no doubt expecting we would discover it as we made love. Unfortunately that didn't happen and it was the first sign I got that this marriage might not be what I was expecting. Janice slept soundly in the bed while I sat at the foot of the bed on the floor wondering what happened.
The next morning we were in a bit of a rush because we had a long trip ahead of us and we now had to go home first to grab our bags. We checked out and got in the car and then Janice remembered the tinkle toy still in the bed. She worried that if they discovered it they would probably go after Dad for the cost of replacing the box spring. So I had to go back in and ask for the key, pretending that we had forgotten something in the bathroom. After I managed to dislodge the fairly large toy I realized I had nothing to put it in so I got to walk through the lobby carrying the toy, to some very strange looks from the staff who knew it was our wedding night.
Despite the horrible wedding night we did manage to have a good trip to Cape Cod, well, maybe except for one incident. We had checked into a nice motel on the Western Summit in Massachusetts and Janice was feeling the romance of the place I guess. We were both naked and just getting up to put our clothes back on when the door flung open and in walked a member of the staff with an elderly couple, showing them the room they obviously thought was vacant. I was just outside the bathroom so I ducked in and I think Janice jumped back in the bed. The next morning when we went down for breakfast who should be sitting at the next table? Yup. The elderly couple who had barged into our room.
The rest of the trip was good except we overstayed our welcome in Cape Cod because it was so cold and we hoped the next day would be warmer. It wasn't and I ended up driving straight back fourteen hundred miles in one very long day because I had to be back at work.
Our marriage lasted twenty-three years but there weren't a lot of happy ones.