August 6, 2024 Tuesday Teeth

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Tuesday is hiking day for my new bunch of friends, the Birkie Girls. Today’s instructions were to meet in the Walmart parking lot at 9:20 am to car pool to the trailhead some 20 miles away.  I was there early, because Walmart is in my backyard. Of course, I walked – still no car.  When no one showed up I started wondering if I had the wrong day, or the wrong time, but no. The email was clear. Apparently no one needed to car pool, and I hadn’t communicated that I needed a ride this time. So, no hike for me. Not to worry though. It’s evening now and I’ve gotten my 10,000 steps in doing gardening, and walking to the dentist.

This was the long awaited day to get the veneers on my top middle teeth. I have nothing good to say about the temporary set that I’ve had for two weeks. It was like my childhood nightmare of my teeth being loose and falling out come true. They were plastic and not very toothlike, hard to clean, and had to be re-glued once. The second time they fell out was yesterday so I put them back in and didn’t chew anything until my appointment this afternoon. The permanent ones are on now, and what a process. It must be very good glue that they use because it took a good hour to clean the residue out, and now my gums are sore. But they will heal.  My teeth look and feel normal again and I am glad to be done with it. I have spent way too much time in the dentist chair in the last month or so.

Now if I could just refurbish the rest of me…

I feel like teeth are important or I wouldn’t have gone through all this repair and refurbishment. I’ve seen too many unhealthy mouths, especially on the elderly, and I just don’t want those problems as I continue to age. 

I’m struggling with a gardening issue. I want to have a better perennial garden in the corner of the yard, but the deer keep eating the lillies. There’s a lot of Sweet William and Oregano there already but grass and weeds are prominent. A lot of the weeds are invasive species and have to go. Invasive weeds are a metaphor for a lot of what goes on in life…

I am serious about fixing these problems because I want it to be a memorial garden. It’s a garden that Mom started and has always loved and I want to keep it going for her. I also want to put the husband’s ashes somewhere in that space.

The corner garden. This will be my “before” picture.

On the other side of the fence from this corner garden is Walmart. And that will be a story for tomorrow. What on earth are they doing over there?

8/4/24

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Today, if I were writing in my poor, disabled planner, I would write that I met a friend for breakfast before church. Of course, I walked to the restaurant, being still without my car.  This friend used to call me regularly, often coming to my house to talk, often praying together, sharing our hobbies and adventures. Then that pattern stopped in a somewhat sudden manner, and that kind of abrupt change always worries me a little, especially when I know a person is going through some tough experience. We did some catching up over coffee and breakfast food and I reassured myself that she was doing okay. Things change, needs change, circumstances change but I still think it is best to risk annoying someone to find out when I have that nagging feeling that something might be wrong. They might just be waiting for someone to care. It was good to see her. We sat together in church, both alone, together. 

People, check on your friends.

I would also record that I’m worried about Shadow the cat, again. She has been markedly less active the last two days, less like herself in other ways as well, and definitely scratching and licking more. I am hoping that I did not create a set back by trying to wean her off the prednisone she was taking. 

I forgot to take my blood pressure medicine this morning. Having a different morning and breaking routine by going out resulted in forgetting. It’s not like it will kill me to skip one day but I’m aware how little it takes to distract me, and that can be scary.  Last week was unusual too and I missed two days. 

A subtle sadness has been hanging over me like a cloud. I wonder if it’s because I’ve been binge watching “Call the Midwife”.  Almost every episode finds me crying with the characters and aware of the hardships that ordinary people have faced, and still face. It is a good series, although it portrays many difficult and troubling social issues.  The television is my dinner companion most evenings.  I don’t even think about being alone if I have something interesting to watch.

I didn’t make the top three in Duolingo this week, and I don’t care. 

I took a walk in the meadow at sunset. It was very beautiful, with a soft purple and white blanket over the field. The flowers are so pretty and plentiful. It’s a shame that they are invasive species poised to take over the world. They get mowed regularly but it’s hard to keep up with them.

I have a lot of phone calls to make in the morning. I have to borrow my nephew’s car to take Mom to an appointment in a nearby town, and there was something else that didn’t get written down that I’m hoping to remember before it’s too late. I got an email saying the new planner had been sent out, and it can’t come too soon, in my opinion. I need my second brain back again. 

8/3/24 Warm Weather

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It is almost a week now that I have been without my car. The positive things about that are:

– I’ve gotten one on one time with several friends as I sit in their car getting a ride from them

– I’ve gotten a lot of exercise walking to and from appointments and to visit Mom in assisted living

– I’ve had lots of room in the garage to analyze my storage methods (not that anything has changed)

– I have a deepened appreciation for motorized travel of all kinds, particularly when it’s accompanied by air conditioning

– I’ve discovered short cuts walking about town and made good use of them

Wednesday I walked over 7 miles, on a very warm day.  At one point I emerged from the woods, one of my short cuts, and stumbled out onto the shoulder of the road. An approaching transit bus saw me and immediately started to pull over to pick me up. I appreciated the alertness of the driver but waved him on instead. I wasn’t ready to be saved yet, although I probably looked like I needed to be. 

I’m willing to say that this might be our hottest week of the summer here in Hayward. We don’t get that many of them. It’s also been a week of being a tourist in my own hometown, since I have visiting family members to hang out with. As I mentioned before, we did the obligatory stop to eat ice cream at West’s Dairy, had a relaxing hour at 3 Fly Sisters, and dinner at Angler’s. It seems like I’ve eaten out a lot lately.  Thanks to my brother Gary and his lady, Lyn, my patio grill has been used three times this week too. She puts the meal together, but Gary stands out in the heat cooking it. (Grilled chicken, corn on the cob, pasta with pesto, salad, peach cobbler – there were no complaints.)

It’s Lumberjack World Championship week, so town has been full of… lumberjacks? Maybe. I didn’t watch any of the contests, since that would have been one more thing to walk to.  

It’s looking like my tomato plants have recovered after being grazed on by our herd of deer.  I’ve picked my first cucumber.  All this proves that something likes this hot weather a lot.

Green is my absolute favorite color, and there is a lot of it out there now.

I’ve prayed this week about all the things that have been bothering me and have gotten answers on a couple of them. I always keep a running list of things I’ve lost on God’s desk. At the top of the list is my mailbox key.  I haven’t found it yet, but I was able to get a master key from my brother and have emptied the box. There was nothing of value to me in there, so, crisis averted.

And I’ve followed up on the phone call to my Julia. Life is too short to leave people wounded and wondering what was meant by a complex conversation. We know we love each other, and somehow God reassures and gives direction in how to communicate that.

So, it’s Saturday. I’m going to walk over to Water’s Edge Assisted Living and spend a couple hours with Mom. We are reading “The Good and Beautiful Life” by James Bryant Smith.  It’s giving us some interesting things to think about. 

August 1, 2024

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On this first day of August, 2024, I am at home feeling some unrest about a phone conversation last night with daughter Julia.  As careful as I try to be with words, sometimes I make the wrong choice. I know what I mean, but the platform of love from which I speak is not always what is heard. That is why I have been praying. I am asking God to be the communicator that I am not. 

I am also remembering the story she told me, over the phone, on Tuesday.  It was such an example of her unpredictable, eventful, and exciting life.  She was still laughing and smiling as she told it, and it gave us a chance to marvel with her. 

She has sheep, and has been learning to shear them herself.  One of her tasks for the day had been to get the woolly coat off the last young ram and then to castrate him. She is a veterinarian and has years of experience with this procedure, on multiple species of animals. However, sheep are surprisingly sensitive creatures. 

After getting his anesthesia, this poor little fellow stopped breathing altogether.  Julia started doing chest compressions and sent husband Kevin, who was watching while holding the baby, for some epinephrine.  I was trying to picture her doing chest compressions and rescue breathing on a sheep, but am not at all sure that I got it right.  I’m thinking it was somewhat of a miracle that Kevin found the right medicine, and that she was able to administer it several times, even right into the sheep heart. Reviving him was not quick or easy.  And then, somehow, Julia and the sheep were in the back of her truck while Kevin drove them to the vet hospital where she works. Fluids and a reversal drug seemed to put things in a better light.  The sheep survived and was recovering. 

Mom and I, my brother Gary and his partner Lyn, listened to her story while eating our ice cream cones on a bench in front of West’s Dairy.  It was kind of like having a treat while watching a good movie. 

This is a different sort of week for me. My car is at the car hospital having body work done and I am attempting to keep my appointments in town by biking or walking. We are having some of our hottest summer days, so I am arriving hot and sweaty to some places. And today it is raining off and on, which is another complication. I am supposed to mow grass at church, but for now I’m going to go help at the Resource Center for a while, and stay dry. 

When 2024 Got Soaked

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It was an unfortunate accident, unless you believe that there are no real accidents, just things we didn’t know would happen. There’s a difference.

I had filled my watering cans at the kitchen sink and set them on the counter. I intended to mix in some plant fertilizer before watering my brood. But for a couple of hours I turned my mind to something else and when I came again to the counter, I noticed that it was wet. Very wet. One of the cans evidently has a small leak. The counter would have been much wetter had it not been for my day planner, which soaked up all it could on every single page. It was dripping, heavy and sodden.

My day planner is not only my reminder of things to come, it is my memory of everything past. Most every day I record happenings and feelings, questions and observations, knowing that I can look back and say “on that day I did something, there it is.” Seven months of memory now is smeared, faded, crinkled and very sad looking.

I have many years of this same planner. I like its style, the amount of space it allows, and its size that fits easily in my purse – not too big, not too small. It goes with me almost everywhere I go. It is one of the first things I look at in the morning, and one of the last things I check at night. It’s a bit precious to me, and I’ve been known to get despondent when I can’t locate it and think it’s lost.

So, I’ve done what any resourceful writer would probably do, I ordered another one. If I can get the pages apart and they are still readable, I will copy every single word into the new one. I don’t care how long it takes.

Until the new one comes, I will have to write somewhere. I guess it will be here. This spot on the internet started out as a journal, a place to think in print. Writing is therapy, you know. It’s my way of checking in on myself to see how I’m handling the mundane, the trivial, the disappointments, frustrations, and mysteries of my own little life. For a while, it will be pretty mild, unimpressive, probably nothing quotable or wise, just life. However it is, it will get written. I have needed to do it in a more consistent, disciplined way, and now I will.

Maybe this soaked planner is just the result of an accident. But, if I decide to respond to it by writing more, making it a catalyst, using it to change a pattern, make a new habit, well then, it seems to me it’s more than just an accident. It could have been planned, only not by me.

That’s today’s story and I’m sticking to it.

It’s never going to close again.

One Year Ago

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This is June 20, 2024. It has been one year since the early morning when I sat by Dennis’s bed, holding his hand, as he took his last breath. Time has separated me from that experience, and so much has happened that I acknowledge it has been many months. And yet, it seems short, as if it were only yesterday. You would think I would be used to the craziness of time by now.

I have gone back to the beginning of the story by reading my blog posts from 2018 and on. The good thing about this reading exercise is that it helps me remember details, some of them tragic, some of them ridiculously funny. I also lit the remembrance candle while doing this – a sort of ceremony. I will probably go to the cemetery later and see if the plants around his marker have taken root. I expect the day to be full of memories of our Lewy Body time, but also of simpler times when we didn’t know what was coming.

I haven’t had trouble continuing with life. It is good, this June, to be able to put bouquets of peonies around the house, to consider going to events during the local festival, to meet new friends in a hiking club. There has been too much to do to even consider sitting around feeling depressed or lonely. I miss Dennis, but there is nothing like a prolonged period of sickness and suffering to make it clear that death was a relief for him, and for me. And there is nothing like faith in God to make it clear that death is not the end, even though there are not a lot of details about what comes next.

As I watch our little granddaughter, whom Dennis did not get to meet, grow and become amazing, I’m aware of how closely together his departure and her arrival were. I view it as providential that he was able to look at the early ultrasound and recognize it as “Julie’s baby”. He would be so proud of her now.

Our little Gwendolyn Ruth

It was providential that he was present at both daughters weddings during the covid years. It was providential that each difficult part of the worst five years of our lives held such precious, significant moments. There were times when relationships were formed, and deepened, times when we didn’t expect help but it was there anyway. Times when we endured things we didn’t think we could endure, and found strength we didn’t know we had.

Thank you God, for being real to me through it all. You were, you are and you will be present with me. That gives me a lot of peace, freedom from worry and a weird sense of confidence. Pretty happy about that, just sayin’…

Being Grandma in 2024

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This year has produced three times with GwennieRu so far. The first was in December – February when she had her heart surgery, the second was when she visited Wisconsin in April, and now I am with her and the family again at the end of May.

I chose this date to come because Daddy Kevin and the boys were traveling to a baseball game in Baltimore for three days. During that time, it was me, Julia, Gwennie, Ryleigh and her girlfriend, and Reagan and her girlfriend holding things together at the farm. We all helped with baby care. I helped with farm chores and some landscaping projects. We women can do some awesome getting along when we set our minds to it.

The boys left Thursday afternoon, earlier than I was expecting. I was out getting my food supplies when the nanny called me and wanted to know who was taking over, as she needed to get home. I did a U-turn and came home to relieve her. Julia was soon home from work and we started our time without the men.

Friday morning – well, first I must explain about the dogs. Back in February I mentioned the mating of Penny the lab, and Hanky Panky the poodle. Eight puppies resulted from this union. The planned kennel area in the basement had not materialized and the puppies had been born and raised in the living room and kitchen, upstairs. Sales of Doodles have dropped off since Covid time and the six remaining puppies are now 10 weeks old. Previously, it had been a challenge living with the three adult dogs who are good at being in the way at every opportunity. Now there are nine dogs. Six of them are still in the process of being trained. Six of them are small enough to slip under the chain link fence when left outside. Need I say more.

We are so cute, and we know it.

Friday morning my first trick was mixing cereal, getting Gwennie in the high chair and feeding her. It didn’t go quite as planned. When Gwennie doesn’t want something, like sitting in the high chair, she makes it impossible to happen. Fighting her and the newfangled baby equipment resulted in a bowl of cereal upside down on the carpet and a distressed child (not to mention a distressed grandma).

Julia left for work, and I took Kevin’s usual job of watching Gwennie until the nanny arrived. I had not quite caught on to the morning routine, and Gwennie could tell. I picked her up to comfort her and walked to the kitchen in time to see several puppies, outside, on the wrong side of the fence. Babe in arms, I rushed out to secure them before they ran away.

Calling “puppies, puppies, puppies” as I had heard Julia doing, I opened the gate expecting them to come back in the yard. Instead, the puppies who had still been in the yard ran out to play with their siblings as I struggled to control the flow. Gwennie was mesmerized, clinging to me as, one handed, I tried to scoop them in the right direction. Once in the yard, they followed me into the house and I shut their doggy door. Thankfully, the nanny arrived and I went out to find the new escape route and block it.

Doing that, the feeding chores, and a good bit of weed whacking took most of my day. Later that evening, as I was telling Julia about my morning, she dejectedly asked me if this visit was turning out to be as bad as the last time. Seeing the situation on the farm through the lens of my writing had been kind of hard on her. That is the tricky thing about writing experiences of the kind where one has to laugh to keep from crying. In reality, Julia has to do this ALL THE TIME, and I know she is doing the best job she can. I am now learning to laugh more while in the midst of the normal chaos. Just so you know Julie, my visits to you and the family are rich with all kinds of experiences that I do not regret or shy away from.

Tomorrow, my week of substitute nanny begins. I am looking forward to being with Gwennie, the family, the dogs and puppies. Just sayin’…

Don’t worry Grandma. You will get the hang of it, eventually.

Helping and Being Helped: the Equation

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I do not know if helpee is a word, but its meaning is pretty clear when I combine it with helper, right? These two positions are inseparable, and sometime in life, most of us will get a chance to experience both of them.

Recently, an elderly neighbor who had lost her husband, and her beloved dog decided that she had to have another dog to keep her company. She found a retriever mix in a shelter and brought it home. The trouble started when she found it was difficult to walk the dog. She was having trouble with her back and it was easy for all of us neighbors to see it when we watched her walk. I love to walk, so I offered to walk the dog for her.

My friend Shasta was always happy to accept a walk.

She accepted help, because she had to, for the dog’s sake. But, because it made her feel like she owed me something, she was always rewarding me with money, gift cards, pie, when a simple “thank you” would have done. She was not going to be beholden. Her independent spirit would not allow it. She had not yet learned to be a gracious helpee.

One day she fell and had to call 911. Even though she spent a couple days in the hospital, the doctors couldn’t identify what was wrong and she was sent home to wait for test results. She fell again. This time she didn’t want to return to the hospital, so she didn’t call 911. She stayed on the floor for quite a long time until she was able to reach a family member. She ended up going to the hospital anyway. She will now have to go through a couple months in a rehab facility to regain the ability to walk.

I admire an independent spirit. I am all for people taking care of themselves and their own business for as long as possible. But I wrestled with my neighbor’s attitude toward receiving help when she really needed it, when it was offered with no strings attached.

I came one morning to walk the dog and she told me she had not slept well at all the previous night. Her bedroom smoke alarm started beeping because of low battery and drove her nearly crazy. I offered to do that quick and easy chore for her. No, she said. She didn’t have any new batteries. I told her I had a lot of batteries and would be right back with one. No, she said. She would have her grandson attend to it that evening. By this point in our relationship I was used to being a little aggressive, so I told her it would drive me crazy if I had to listen to that noise all day – I was going to change it for her. No, she said. She was going to stay in the living room, with the TV on, so she wouldn’t hear it. Her grandson would fix it later. No, no, no. Don’t help me.

Sometimes, the idea that we are bothering someone, or that we will owe them something keeps us from accepting reasonable help. In the end we can cause more trouble and frustration for those who want to help. It caused a lot of trouble for my friend’s family, who had to respond to her second emergency at an unexpected time.

My new theory is that we are all here to learn two things during our lifetime. The first is that we should care about others, learn to serve graciously, and love one another. The second is that we are all going to find ourselves helpless, at the end of our rope, not in charge, and in need. We will need to graciously admit that fact. Do you see it? Helpers and helpees… If helpers have no one to help, they can’t learn the first lesson. If helpees have no one caring for them, they don’t learn the second lesson.

Gracious acceptance of help is a hard lesson, one I am not eager to learn. But, I have given it a lot of thought lately, and because of this experience, my attitude toward being helped is changing. I want to be gracious, when the time comes.

Which of these lessons is hardest for you? Have you had to accept help? How did it make you feel? What roles do pride and humility have in this equation?

What God Does with Some of My Days

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Today I told God to do anything he wanted with my schedule. I have found this is always a good idea.

Today I walked to Walmart and wandered around, looking for seeds, a screw eye, and milk. I found all three. It was entertaining as usual.

A new addition at Walmart – signs of our time.

Today I installed the screw eyes on the sides of my patio. I attached ratchet straps to them and fastened my awning down so it won’t rip off and fly away.

Today, while getting tools for the above project, I found a jar of screws and odd gadgets that came from mom’s garage when she moved. I have my own jar like that so I combined them and got rid of a not needed jar. I straightened my tools while I was there.

Today I found an ugly cup holding pens and pencils, and was going to dispose of it. I thought better of that and scrubbed the ugly pink and black decal off the cup and put the pens in another pen holder. It’s not a bad cup.

The not bad cup.

Today I planted the seeds I bought so that later this summer I will have a pot of cherry tomatoes and some cucumbers. I moved my raised planters to get better sunlight.

Seeds in the sun, bright orange strap holding my awning down.

Today I had trouble closing one of my kitchen drawers and had to clean and re-arrange the things in it. The electric knife was in the drawer and I remember that the blades wouldn’t eject when I wanted to use it. I spent an hour figuring out what was wrong, fixed and cleaned it and back in the drawer it went.

Clean drawer

Today I emailed some friends and cancelled a biking trip that was scheduled for Thursday. It’s most likely going to be raining that day. I don’t like to bike in the rain.

Today, since I’m not going biking this week, I took my twin bikes to the shop to be made clean and safe. They will be used a lot this summer and need some love.

Today I washed last year’s ants out of the hummingbird feeder, made some sugar water to go in it, and hung it out where the hummingbirds can find it.

Today I talked with my auto insurance adjuster and made an appointment at the auto body shop to fix my car’s tailgate. I ran into something last week and I like my car too much to leave it with that rather large dent.

Today I made arrangements for my next visit to Gwennie Ru and contacted my favorite people who let me rest at their homes on the way.

The day is not over yet. Although I haven’t done anything of great importance, there were numerous small things that were satisfying, restful, and worth doing. I won’t question God’s decisions about my day. He knew I needed a day with sunshine and small successes. It was a good day.

Shadow the Cat

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I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with a more original name for a black cat than Shadow, but as it has turned out, my Shadow is aptly named. She follows me around the house like a dog, choosing her spot near where I am working (and sometimes on what I’m working with). She prefers my lap, but if that’s not available, she will sit on the back of my chair, or watch my computer screen with me as I type. She is extremely relational.

Shadow accompanied me on the difficult journey of watching my husband deteriorate and die. She spent hours sitting on his lap too, waiting for him to pet her or tease her with the little laser flashlight. She noticed when he was gone, for sure. Our whole routine changed in many ways.

I started to travel after my first grandchild was born and spent weeks at a time away from home. Shadow was not used to being with other animals, and didn’t like being in the car, so I felt it was best to have her stay at home. One of my neighbors came in almost daily to check her food and water, and sit with her. She would read a book out loud, which Shadow enjoyed.

There came a time when I knew I would be away more than two weeks, and as it turned out, I was gone for two months. I arranged for a young person to stay in my home to care for Shadow. I expected that she would be there most every evening and whenever she wasn’t working. She liked Shadow, and had once had a cat of her own. I felt good about the arrangement.

The reality was much different. Unforseen circumstances kept my house sitter away. Even though she told me she thought everything was okay, everything was NOT okay. Shadow was without food or water for a time, and was quite stressed when it was discovered.

Upon returning home I found Shadow skinny, her fur completely licked off in many places, scabs and open sores where she had scratched herself raw, and exhibiting a completely changed personality. She sat huddled for days in a box that I set up for her with a heating pad in it. She did not want to be touched and would crouch and cringe to get away from my hand. Shadow had separation anxiety and I didn’t know if she was going to pull out of it or not.

Shadow, pre-separation anxiety and trauma
Shadow, two months into recovery and still looking a bit ragged.

She was obviously miserable, and with so little quality of life, I considered putting her down more than once. But with veterinary help, and time she has improved. I have prayed for wisdom, and for her to be healed (yes, I pray for pets because they have meaning in people’s lives).

It has been a little over two months now, and in the last week I have once again seen Shadow gallop through the house at top speed and slide around a corner. She has regained trust of my hand, and wants petting. She enjoys looking out the window at spring as it evolves.

She went outside one day, where she usually sits in the sun on the patio. I left the door open for her since the blackbirds sometimes chase her and give her a scare. While I was not paying attention, she brought in a bird, which I did not notice until it started flying around the dining room. It hit the window, trying to get out, and Shadow and I both scrambled to get it first. I won and released the poor bird outside. It’s not that I like her playing with birds and torturing them, but it made me aware of how much she had recovered. I felt happy that she was a cat again, doing what cats do. The constant scratching and licking has stopped. Her fur is slowly growing back.

Going forward, I know she is prone to be stressed out at my absence again. She is a female cat, she is the only pet, she was orphaned early and she has a high degree of attachment to people. I have read about separation anxiety in cats and have a much better understanding of what happened to her. I intend to make better arrangements for her in the future, when I have to be away.

Why does this story matter? Well, I think animals are amazing and are an important part of a perfectly created earth environment. God had good reasons for them being here. I don’t put animals in the same category as humans because God doesn’t. But they are in a special category of their own.

When we take them to ourselves and make them dependent on us as pets, we have opportunities to grow in compassion, in faithfulness, in awareness of “others”, in skill… so many ways. How many of us got a pet before we had children so we could learn to care for a responsive, innocent life? How many of us enjoy companionship of pets when we don’t have children or a spouse? Animals are like us in so many ways that sometimes it is scary. And so many times they are even better than we are. They matter. How we treat them matters.

I am glad Shadow is doing better. She is my cat, and I love her. We’re not giving up yet.

cat selfie