Then we tackled the turtle pond, which takes time to empty, clean and refill. In the process we discovered that the back garden hose had sprung a leak too big to repair. Having moved the front garden hose to the back, we filled the pond and watched Jade and Ruby clamber back onto the basking slab. 
Now it was time to walk Sasha. The main route we take is by the Fraser River, which in late afternoon looked beautiful, sparkling in the sunshine.
Finally, we made our way to the tennis courts.
At 5-1 in our first set, my son told me I needed to move around more on court. Fair comment. My knees felt like lead, the rest of me marginally lighter. So I started chasing the ball for all I was worth. Then came a difficult shot. Valiantly, I reached for the high ball, in the process losing my balance, falling and landing, my head smacking on the hardest all-weather-surface I have ever played on. Ouch! My son and the couple on the adjacent court rushed over to see if I was okay. I stood up, went over to sit down. Then after ten minutes or so, finished the game and set. I had a large lump on my head, my left elbow hurt but apart from that I felt okay. Then I looked at the court fence, only to see a larger version of it behind. Oh dear- double vision.
Remembering Joely Richardson and her head injury on the ski slopes, my son and I decided we'd should play it safe. An hour later we were on our way to Richmond Hospital, south of Vancouver. Throughout the bus and Sky train journey, I wrestled with myself - was I making too much of this? The fleeting experience of double version, however, persuaded me I wasn't.
On arrival at the hospital, the first question the stony faced receptionist asked me was for my insurance plan. I explained I was a visitor to Canada. She then told me it would cost $955 dollars to be seen by a doctor. I reeled. But I went through with it, worrying about what would happen if I needed a CT scan.
After a wait, I was seen by another clerk to complete the paperwork. With a stony face she took further details. Are these staff trained not to smile, or offer warmth and empathy, I wondered as I provided information. I plucked up courage to ask what would happen about paying for any necessary treatment, having seen the costs of scans - $3000 for non-Canadian citizens. Yes, we were insured, but claims aren't sorted out overnight. With the same stony expression - yes, those staff are definitely trained to be as unwelcoming and cold as possible to patients - she explained that further costs would be billed to me. Phew!
Another wait in an area in which a wall telly blasted out some horrendously "laugh every five seconds" comedy. Then I was seen by a male nurse, who actually smiled - yes, it was a smile - and took details of my injury, checked my blood pressure - high, but understandable he agreed, given the circumstances. Another long wait. By now I was in another waiting room, showing a telly programme about how to prevent dementia - the little I could make out, suggested I already had it. Then I saw someone - nurse, I think, who checked my eyesight.
Another even longer wait, and I saw a doctor who went through the criteria for recommending a CT scan, decided I fitted none of these. Great! He conferred with a senior doctor, who agreed with his conclusion and explained it was unlikely I'd experienced an internal bleed. Finally they checked my ears. Nice and clean and showing no evidence of injury. I was now free to go, with advice to apply ice to my head when I got home, a list of symptoms to watch out for which might indicate neurological damage, and instructions for my son to wake me half way through the night to check I was okay.
This was our night out. Makes staying in feel infinitely more desirable. And cheaper, too.
Jane
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