After the bomb cyclone

by Gary Lindsay (Seeing Bellingham group)

Here in the Pacific Northwest, last week we experienced a "bomb cyclone" event that caused lots of rain, wind, downed trees and caused lost power for many, which does happen often during the late fall and winter months. Bomb cyclones are a little more rare; however, they do happen around here. But after this one, we had many rainbows appear in the sky, like a benediction from the heavens. I just finished spending some time on Facebook's "Seeing Bellingham" group, and I snagged the picture above from Gary Lindsay, who publishes his photos often to share them with fellow Bellingham denizens.

What is a bomb cyclone, you ask? So did I, and this is what I found on the internet:

Bombogenesis can happen when a cold air mass collides with a warm air mass, such as air over warm ocean waters. It is popularly referred to as a bomb cyclone.

 Many residents in the area are still without power, almost a week later. We didn't lose ours, but when I went to the coffee shop last Friday, I overheard some people say they still didn't have theirs restored. And one of my usual hiking groups, which did a big loop of more than 11 miles last Thursday, posted pictures of the damage to many trees they encountered, so much so that they lost the trail at times. Everyone made it back safely, but I suspect that it qualified as a real adventure! I was busy at my volunteer job of serving around a hundred seniors lunch, after setting up the tables and, afterwards, wiping everything down and putting it all back, to be taken out the next day when it all starts over again. I have decided to make Thursday my regularly scheduled work, with the caveat that if I need to take a day off to join a hike, it would be fine. With the weather turning rather bleak, I am not looking to do that anytime soon.

I have my annual wellness check scheduled for Monday, and a week later I will get my next eye jab. I can't believe how much I obsess over that ten-second episode, but I do. There are two hours of preparation beforehand (eye exams, dilation, numbing, etc.) and a few minutes afterwards before I am taken home by my husband. My eye is uncomfortably sore for about an hour, before it all settles down again. Plus I discovered that next year, when I start a new Medicare Advantage plan, I'll be paying $325 for the privilege of having the procedure. My old plan has bitten the dust, and I did check for something that covers the majority of it. They charge the insurance company almost 5K for each shot. I pondered having it all stop, but frankly, whatever it takes for the possibility of keeping my central vision in my left eye around for awhile longer, I'll do it. Losing my eyesight has been very challenging, but I can still see well enough for most of my daily routines.

That said, I am also very glad to have the opportunity to cherish each day of relative health and happiness that I still enjoy. It's either that, or spend my days wishing things were different, and that does nothing but cause sadness and emotional pain. It's not always easy to grow older and more infirm as the days, weeks and months pass by, but the alternative is unacceptable: denial, or worse, hopelessness. When I look back at my life, the peaks and valleys, they sort of morph into a gentle wave, a tide if you will, that we all ride.

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages. —William Shakespeare

This comes from a longer monologue by Shakespeare in his play, "As You Like It," and is interesting to think about. I knew it from earlier times when I could read more easily, but I remember thinking about it and pondering its meaning even back then. Wikipedia has a page that contains the entire poem, if you are interested, here. In reading it again this morning, I was struck by the last lines:  

Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

Little by little, we move through life's stages and inevitably die, which is the fate of all living things. But reading about Shakespeare this morning, I realize that some of us continue to have effects on others long after we have left the stage ourselves. Shakespeare is one of those people. His lifetime (1564-1616) shows he lived to be into his fifties, which was a full life in those days. I imagine he didn't actually end up "sans" everything, but who knows? Did people who lived into their fifties in those days also end up in a second childhood? I imagine if I didn't have dental care that I would probably not having all the teeth I have today, and people centuries ago did not live to be in their eighties very often, I suspect.

So, looking at my life, I realize that it's been a wonderful adventure, filled with lots of peaks and valleys, and now I sit here in my bed, in the dark, with my dear partner sleeping quietly next to me as I write on my laptop. The room is illuminated by its white screen. I have been doing this now for more than 760 Sundays, and I have not missed any, I don't think.  I remember writing one from my bed in Istanbul when I was there, and many times from Florida visiting my sister. I don't do that every year any more. Travel has become really difficult without being able to see all that well, and it's unnecessary anyway. FaceTime once a months suffices.

Norma Jean and I have been in each other's lives for the entire time we've been alive. I had a short two years between my birth and hers when she wasn't around, but otherwise we grew up together and share many memories of our family members who are long gone. And of course there are those vivid dreams when family members who have died will come to visit me. They are sometimes as realistic as if it were happening right then. The brain is a curious organ, isn't it? I am happy mine still seems to be functioning well enough these days. Tomorrow it might not be, but today is really all we have. That, and our memories, and our hopes and aspirations for the future. But they are just possibilities, not guarantees in any way.

Whatever the future holds for all of us, or any one of us, will be known one day, when the future is no longer the future but becomes the past. In any event, I will try to take advantage of every single day of this unique life of mine, and I will enjoy reading all the blog posts of my virtual friends and family, learning how to navigate our days as they come. And go.

And that is the cue for my exit from this post: it's almost time for me to get up and start the rest of my Sunday. John will be here to take me to breakfast, and then I'll come back home and spend some time with my guy, who will be up by then. And then it will be midday and hopefully not raining, so I can get in a nice walk. I do hope your days are good ones, and that you will be well and safe between now and when we meet again. I also hope you will find yourselves surrounded with love and happiness. Be well, my dear friends.