Flowers are still blooming profusely here in the Kelowna area. I can't help but appreciate that. I'm also finding the steep, curvy roads less daunting and even rather enjoy the half-hour drive through heavy city traffic over to Mom and Dad's.

The hollyhock in the photo is a second-year plant having to struggle to prosper in the scorching micro-climate against our house on the farm.

What's happening here in mountain country?

Mom had a blood transfusion today because she's been so weak. She said she can hardly believe the difference it made. Just getting up out of a chair is no longer a hurdle.

She's had some fairly extreme pain in the cancerous kidney and chest; no one seems to know what is causing that, but it did subside last night before I got to their place.

She'd asked me to go over and help her have a sponge bath, as she cannot stand the smell of herself, she says. No one else smells anything, but she actually gags sometimes. Scented soap in the bathroom is another gag-trigger.

Joan and our niece Cara had come over too so we all sat on or near Mom's bed and chatted with her for an hour or more and by the time they left Mom was too tired for anything but sleep, and kicked me out.

"Shut up and go," she said, half-laughing while she tried not to gag and waited for me to exit so she could lock the door behind me and run to the bathroom.

To Joan and Cara she'd said, "Kathy doesn't think she is, but she's a good nurse. Not everyone is able to show their compassion to someone who is sick, or can figure out how to help."

I'm flattered, I'm glad my presence is a comfort and that she believes I can do something for her, but I am also afraid I may let her down one of these times. When I was able to help her that one night, it was because I had experienced pain similar to what she was having and for similar reasons.

I do seem to remain calm in the face of other people's panic and pain, but I gag when they gag or if someone vomits or I have to cope with cleaning it up. I manage to hide my gag reaction fairly well, mind you, as I don't want a sick person to feel bad or embarrassed about being helped.

Nurse? I don't think so. I do not have the guts for it, to be honest. With luck I might manage to do what needs to be done even if it damn near knocks me over. I think. I hope.

Now blood, that is a different story. A couple long glimpses of blood, even a small amount of it, and I'm down or at least feeling faint. Wimpette.

Tonight: toilet woes thanks to Everett. I had to go upstairs and borrow my neighbour's plunger. When the use of it wasn't working, I had to phone Scott to ask for advice.

Earlier this evening I tried to tighten the fluorescent lightbulbs in the kitchen, as one set of them doesn't come on properly except when it is so inclined, which is about a quarter of the time. My attempts were not successful.

It is at times like these when I even more frantically than usual wish Scott was here, I tell you. Things would be Taken Care Of, man.