YARMOUTH, N.S. — The morning of his surgery, Gary Nickerson laid in bed, looking at his toes.
Because of the unbearable pain in his right leg and foot, he couldn’t wiggle them.
He could just stare.
Nickerson’s voice was the one people in southwestern Nova Scotia had woken up to, had turned to and had listened to for decades. But on this morning in a hospital room, words were difficult as his emotions processed what was going to happen.
It had only been three months since the former CJLS-Y95 radio journalist and news director had retired after 40 years on the job in Yarmouth.
He had plans.
But at this moment, all he could do was stare at his toes.
Later came the surgery to amputate his leg.
An unexpected turn in life
It was early January when the pain, aching and discolouration in Nickerson’s foot began, before spreading throughout his leg.
And then came the cold.
It was so uncomfortable, so unbearable, he went to the hospital in Yarmouth. The next day, he was sent two hours east by ambulance to Kentville. Days later, there was a surgery to try to correct the circulation issue affecting his leg. A heart attack years earlier was a suspected culprit of the problem he was facing now.
Each day after that surgery, nurses would check for blood flow. It improved, but only a tiny bit. Medication wasn’t easing the terrible pain.
More surgeries wouldn’t help.
“I knew it was going to get worse,” Nickerson says. “I said, ‘Am I going to lose my leg?’ and the surgeon said, ‘I’m afraid so, because it will just get infected.’
“You process that as best you can,” says Nickerson. “You don’t want it to happen, but you also want to get it over with.”
He hoped for below the knee.
The amputation was mid-thigh.
After the amputation
“I woke up from the surgery and I didn’t know where I was. I thought I was in a post office,” Nickerson says laughing.
Beyond that, there wasn’t much to laugh about.
“For the longest time, I didn’t want to look at it. I didn’t want to touch it.”
But it was hard to look away.
“You’re looking at this stump and to me it’s hideous. Then you feel sorry for yourself. I didn’t want to feel sorry for myself.”
Nickerson reminded himself things could be worse. He could have lost both legs. He could have lost his sight. Look at all the people who are so much sicker.
“But then you always come back to, 'I can’t do this. I can’t do that',” he says.
The ghost pain says your leg is still there. Except that it’s not.
And so you adapt.
Listen to Gary Nickerson talk in this video about how he's been adapting and things he's learned.
Nickerson learned how to swing himself out of a chair and from bed to get into his wheelchair. Remember to put the brakes on the wheelchair, he stresses – a lesson learned the hard way.
Nickerson, who lives alone, was blessed with the support of many friends while he was in the hospital and after his Feb. 18 release. They visited, took him for drives, helped him shop for groceries.
It wasn’t just a change in his body he was adapting to; he also had a new accessible apartment.
New surroundings. A new normal. A new beginning.
And then the coronavirus (COVID-19 strain) pandemic hit.
His building restricted visitors.
People were told to stay the blazes home.
There were no bubbles yet.
Now he was adapting to his new normal in isolation.
You're not alone: The delivery window
But soon came that tap, tap, tap on his apartment window – the window he calls “the delivery window.”
Good friends Quinn Taggart and his wife Donna Warner, Ritchie Hopkins (who Nickerson calls his “brother from another mother,” because they’re so close) and Donna Parnell starting delivering meals that they and Hopkins’ mother Phyllis had prepared.
The menu was scrumptious. Rappie pie. Seafood chowder. Roast beef and chicken dinners. Corned beef and cabbage. Homemade sausages. Fish cakes. Donair rolls. Sweet and sour meatballs. Cornbread. Strawberry pie. Barbecued beer-can chicken. And on it went.
If this were a movie, the soundtrack would be obvious: Randy Newman’s You’ve got a Friend in Me.
“Just to have that connection with people – it was always good to see them,” Nickerson says. “The kindness. It touched me ... that they would take that effort and time to do that.”
Meaningful friendships
At Taggart’s house, Sunday dinners have always been a big deal.
“You might microwave a few things during the week but when it comes to Sundays, it’s always a sit-down family dinner – chicken, roast, ham, etc.,” Taggart says. “I thought there is no reason why we can’t bag something up and take it to Gary.”
Knowing that COVID-19 restrictions had isolated Nickerson didn’t sit well with Taggart.
“I wasn’t going to let that happen,” he says. “And I just wanted to make sure he was getting some home cooking.”
Watch the next video to se Quinn dropping off a meal of beer-can BBQ chicken to Gary.
Taggart applauds Nickerson for maintaining a positive attitude throughout everything. And he is grateful for all of the friendship support Nickerson receives.
“As much as it takes a village to raise a child, it also takes a village to keep track of people,” Taggart says. “If everybody adopted somebody that needed some help, not necessarily a senior or family member, but anyone who needed some help, it might inspire other people to do the same thing.”
There is a lot to be said about the bonds of friendship and its impact – especially when it’s needed but also unexpected.
“When all of this outpouring began, I was bewildered and humbled,” says Nickerson. “Really, really humbled.”
The road ahead ... together
Nickerson continues to prepare for when he goes to the Nova Scotia Rehabilitation Centre in Halifax. He’ll be measured and fitted for his prosthetic and will work with the team there for several weeks.
“I’m told it’s a lot of hard work and not everyone can wear one," he says. "I’m hoping I’ll be one of the ones who can. I know there’s a big challenge ahead, but I’ve met some challenges in the past and I know I can do it again, especially with my friends.”
“You just never know how things can change,” he adds, getting especially emotional when he talks about all of the carefree things he used to do with his grandsons.
“Stiff upper lip,” he says to himself, to ward away tears.
It’s not that things can’t still be done. It’s just that they’re not as easy to do.
“You think, 'My God, I never thought I’d be in this position where I have to rely on people or accept their kindness',” Nickerson says. “Quinn would often say to me, ‘People do it because they want to', and that took a lot of getting used to.
“It’s a humbling experience, but a positive one. There is more kindness and goodness out there than we think there is.”
5 Questions with Gary Nickerson: Watch the video:
Today is the third in a series being presented by Saltwire Network. It tells the stories of Atlantic Canadians and how their resilience has helped them overcome great personal challenges. Know someone as resilient as heck? Write your story, or submit theirs (with permission), to [email protected].
