Tired of it all

Lily captured this yesterday

In some ways, I feel like I've been wandering around in an endless cycle of distress and stress, with no way to get off and start finding happier times in my future. I know I am not alone in my desire to return to a better, more stable world. We are all, it seems, coping the best we can with whatever tools we have at our disposal.

I am eternally grateful for my family, both physical and virtual, because I know when I hear  from them, that I am not an outlier, that many of us are all having similar thoughts and trying to find some safe space where we can relax and enjoy life. And many of us are also dealing with the problems that come with growing old. The hard part for me is knowing that these little vicissitudes of life only travel in one direction. When I think of who I was a decade ago, I still remember what it felt like, and I know that in another decade (if I am still here), I will have lost more of my faculties; it's how the system works. We old people need to make room for the young to take over the planet, right? This tiny little place we call Earth is almost full to the brim, as we enter into the millennium with more than eight billion of us, living and breathing and hopefully leaving the place better than when we got here.

It's Sunday again, and I am finding it harder and harder to maintain my usual equanimity in this uncertain world. Trying to find ways to be happy becomes a task that I fail at more and more of the time. But I am still trying, and sometimes I even succeed in looking into the future with a hopeful smile. If I could choose my day's focus, it would be to find and share the love, not ugly anger and hopelessness. What good would that do? One dear friend reminded me that Martin Luther King once said that hate cannot be conquered with more hate; only love can do that. And it feels so much better to walk with love by my side than to allow hate to take over my heart.

Advice is like snow: the softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon, and the deeper it sinks into the mind. --Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Hoping to find inspiration, I went over to one of my favorite spots on the Internet, the Brainyquote website. This is the Quote of the Day, which seemed quite appropriate and even hopeful. And here I am, hopeful that the snow falling in the southern parts of our country is soft and clean, just like I want to see the beauty surrounding me, if I just look for it. During the day today, I will open my heart to each person I greet and give each one a dollop of kindness. And miraculously, I'll feel better, too. Funny how that works.

And, just because many of my loved ones are no longer here, I can still look at a picture of my son, smiling at the camera and looking like he's got a secret. Maybe I'll find out one day what it is. Until then, I'll keep on looking for ways to spread love and happiness in my little corner of the vast universe. I hope you will help me with that, since we all need to do our own small part to make the world a better place.

I wish you all good things and also much health and happiness, until we meet again, dear friends.

 

Flowers of ice

Lovely, but not my favorite flowers

I looked in my large collection of pictures for something to start out this late January post with. This was taken almost a decade ago, when I went on a hike up to the lookout where we could see Samish Bay on a very cold, wintry day a few years ago. I am still capable to hiking to this area, but since I am no longer going out with the Trailblazers, I think there would be little reason for me to see this scene again: instead, I'll wait for warmer weather and head on up there at least a few more times before I no longer can.

Every year brings another reminder that there is no way to stop the passage of time, even if I wanted to. So much has happened to me, and to the world, since I snapped this frosty scene seveb years ago. Right now, today, most of the United States is enduring a very cold, frosty winter storm, complete with freezing ice and plenty of snow. We are spared from that scenario here in the Pacific Northwest, but we are still having below-normal temperatures every night. I still go out onto the front porch to do my exercises in the dark, and it still is "warm" enough (relatively speaking) for me to take off my socks and attempt the five exercises with freezing toes. Since I know I will be spending only ten minutes or so out there, and soon will be able to warm up properly again, it has to be well below freezing before I do them indoors. It might not be the equivalent of a polar bear plunge, but I think it makes me a little stronger. And I am still able to brave the cold and allow myself to feel a little virtuous.

This morning I awake to another day of below normal temps, but I feel very fortunate to be here, as I read about all the terrible awful conditions elsewhere, and my heart is breaking for the latest shooting incident in Minneapolis. The videos are clear that the young man was not trying to kill anyone, but he did have a concealed weapon, even if he had a license to carry it, I believe it might have contributed to his killing. But, that said, I have very little understanding of why it happened.

I spent last night trying to keep those awful images out of my mind so I could get some sleep, but I wasn't very successful. I know it doesn't help anything, but I don't seem to be able to train myself to look away. I am just glad we don't have masked vigilantes roaming our cities here in Washington State, and I hope it stays that way, but I have very little hope that we will again be a nation of law and order any time soon. I am so sad and despairing as I read and watch the news. I know, I know: it doesn't help anything and only hurts me to keep on staying current with these terrible events. So, here goes an attempt to change the subject as it roils around in my head.

Today I am hopeful that John will start up his magic carpet known as his truck and transport me to Fairhaven for a wonderful breakfast. It is very cold out there, but it's nothing compared to what the entire Midwest and East Coast have in store for the next few days. I do hope that we get through this without any lives lost. I sometimes wonder how the wildlife copes when it's so cold, but they seem to know what to do better than those of us who live indoors. I remember years ago in Colorado helping to make an igloo, and we managed to spend an uncomfortable night inside it. I didn't realize that, as we tried to sleep, the walls would gradually collapse from the heat of our bodies and warm breath. I woke to the feeling of an icy wall no longer protecting me but falling into the interior. It was not the best night of sleep, but I did realize how I could improve it if I had to do it again. I didn't try to spend another night in such circumstances, though. Now all I have left of that experience are memories of discomfort and a desire to leave such adventures to the younger set.

And it won't be long now before I can leave my headlamp behind, as we are gaining plenty of light every single day as we move towards the vernal equinox on March 20 this year. That is less than a month away, and from that day our nights will be shorter than our days, and the leaves will bud out and the flowers spring out of the ground. The entire Northern Hemisphere of our planet will wake up to another cycle of green and mild temperatures. And here in the Pacific Northwest we will be greeted once again by our old friend, the rain. We won't have to worry about freezing rain by then, not for another year at least. 

Well, I wasn't able to find much to be happy about, but I know that will change as the days pass. I am always happy to wake up feeling moderately content, as I stick my head out from under the covers and start my day in earnest. And I've got my constellation of blogs to read that you all wrote recently. I love finding out how others are coping as well. I hope that you will share some of your tricks with me, letting me know that I am not alone. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.

Another tumultuous week

Teeny little buds taken yesterday

Yesterday I walked with Steve, not for long since he had an early breakfast to attend, so we walked on the Boulevard Park trail until he had to turn around the head back. We didn't even make it all the way to Woods Coffee (which would have given us a five-mile round trip), but it was such wonderful sunshine and nice weather that it didn't matter that much. We've had days and days of sunshine and little wind, but very cold temperatures, right around freezing overnight.

I took this picture as I walked up my driveway to the apartment complex, after taking the bus back home after Steve left for his breakfast. I saw that there are actually a few little buds on the branches of the lilac bush and captured them for a nice picture to brighten the mood. I am always happy to spend some time with Steve before he goes off to his various activities. 

John called me early in the afternoon to cancel our Sunday breakfast, as he decided to watch the Seahawks game, which started in the evening, and he won't be getting to bed Saturday until late and we old folks don't do early mornings very well if we are up "late" the night before. The Seahawks trounced the 49ers. Now they will play the winner of today's game between the Rams and the Bears. Listen to me, sounding like a real fan. I really don't care, but everyone around here is riled up to have the Seahawks in the Super Bowl and maybe even win it.

Sports are a good distraction from all the other news of the world. I have been struggling with my ability to cope for several weeks now. I once upon a time had a strong sense of optimism about how everything would play out, but that is gone now. After the Minneapolis shooting, I have begun to find myself in sadness and fear much more often than usual, even during the dreary winter months. I also think turning 83 has reminded me that anything happening at all positive is beginning to become less and less likely. Is that partly because it's normal to feel all these aches and pains and have so little to look forward to? Or is this just a phase? It doesn't help that slowly but surely I am losing what's left of my central vision. Peripheral vision is not only intact, but I tend to think it's even better than it was before this started happening to my sight. I can still drive, carefully and cautiously, in short trips to familiar places. I realize lately that the most difficult part of my low vision is not having any depth perception. Did I tell you about me waiting for a robot to cross the street, only to realize it was a parking meter on the sidewalk and as I walked, it moved with me? I smiled at the misperception, but often I realize that is the most difficult part of being out walking. When the sun isn't up there, showing me the truth of my surroundings, I am at a loss.

Probably the hardest part of aging is realizing that you are not going to suddenly spring up out of bed and feel like things are getting better. That's not the way it works, but frankly when I look at my life, it's not all that bad or difficult. But there is a "yet" lurking in the background, because that's the way it works as the days, weeks and months fly by.

I have become more reliant on my headlamps to help me get around in the dark, even here at home. Now I sort my vitamins into their cubbyholes using it, and having several of them around to use makes a huge difference. Bright light is essential to me these days.

Strange. As I sit here in the dark, with the light from my laptop making it somewhat easier to read, I think I should be happy that my sight seems to have ecome more stable. I attribute that to the awful shots I received for almost a year, every six weeks without fail. I realize with these new treatments, there are no long-term effects to study and decide whether or when to stop. I stopped them when I could no longer afford the hundreds of dollars they were costing me, once the help I received from the insurance company stopped paying. And now I know that my sight had stabilized and the shots are no longer necessary, at least in the short term. I know that at some point I might begin to notice more degradation, but for now I am happy to say that I can still see well enough for most tasks I take on. 

The new operating system for the Mac also has lots of vocal stuff to supplement the visual stuff. I haven't installed it yet, but I will, and I am definitely already using some of the vocal cues to help. So, things are not that bad, and I am looking forward to much more help from my laptop and phone in the coming days. SG got the new system installed yesterday on his Mac, and he is anxious for me to get it installed and learn about it.

One of my most favorite things to do these days is walk to the bus and ride it to town, to the coffee shop, for exercise and social interaction. I am very happy that my hips and knees are mostly functional, still, in my early eighties and beyond (who knows for how long?). Life continues on, with many happy moments if I don't expect things to stay the same forever. One thing I have to acknowledge and be grateful for are my loved ones, my friends and family, and that also includes you, my dear virtual friends.

Until we meet agian, I wish you all good things. Be well.

It's been... a week

The Paratransit bus

Last Tuesday, I spent most of the day trying to get this picture onto the website for my usual Tuesday post. I finally ended up posting it without any pictures, which was a first for me. There are many firsts happening these days, as SG and I make our way through the latest iteration of our daily lives. SG applied for and receives permission to use this transit system to get around, sincd with a shattered left elbow and his ongoing blood cancer causing all kinds of difficulties, he can now use this system to get around town.

I've seen this  Paratransit bus in front of the Senior Center often, and he has now used it three times: once to get to the ortohpedic surgeon's office, and twice to get to the Cancer Center. There are no restrictions on use, that we know of anyway, and it's free and available to SG for the next three years.

He had great news at the ortho surgeon's office. They x-rayed the break from several angles and told him that surgery won't be necessary. It's healint nicely on its own, and he is to do some exercises, carefully at first, to regain some range of motion. But, unfortunately that was the only really good news he received this week.

Then, on Thursday, he went to see his oncologist to schedule his first injection of Aranesp, which has recently been found to be effective in increasing red blood cells (RBCs) in the treatment of MDS (Myelodysplastic Syndrome), which his oncologist says he most likely has. It can turn into leukemia, but not always, and now hopefully he is being successfully treated for MDS. Time will tell, but we are definitely hopeful.

He received his first injection of Aranesp on Thursday, a subcutaneous shot, which he said was not painful, just cold. But after he received the shot, his doctor said his red blood cell count was so low that he needed an infusion at the earliest possible time, which ended up being Friday, early in the morning. I left for my volunteer work just before, while he was waiting for the Paratransit bus to arrive. He tolerated the infusion well, but it took over three hours, and he was not there when I returned home around 1:00pm. I was understandably worried about him, but he texted me a couple of times from the Cancer Center to let me know he was still doing OK. Once I arrived home, I asked him how he was feeling, and he told me that already he was feeling stronger and more alert than he had experienced in quite awhile.

Last night, he learned that he will be receiving more infusions, weekly I suppose, until some later time. If he had not had such good response from the first one, I would be worried about all this flurry of activity. He is in good spirits, however, and I think part of that is caused by the infusion of whatever it is they are putting into his body. I wish I knew more, but he seems to be better, and whatever happens next, he is at least in the good hands of his oncologist and we have health coverage, which is more than many people have.

Mushrooms and moss

I wish they could do something like an infusion for my eyes, but I suppose I should be grateful that I still have a little central vision in my left eye. It hasn't gotten worse, and with everything happening, I am grateful. I accidentally smashed my desk lamp to smithereens last week, and I realized that I was unable to clean it up myself, since I couldn't see the shards of glass covering the floor. It was another reminder that I am disabled with low vision, and I can't pretend it's not affecting my life in profound ways. If that Canadian procedure would help, I would find a way to do it, but all the research I have done shows that perhaps it might slow the progression. But that seems to have been accomplished with the dreaded shots. Nothing has changed in the longer term, but I am still able to see well enough to get around and to do my volunteer work, which means I still feel useful. But being old is getting harder. It's almost impossible to plan anything because our day-to-day life is so full of sudden changes.

However, life is puttering along as we learn to navigate our current situation. We have each other, we have the internet and our virtual family and many other positive things going on. I am grateful for what we are able to accomplish, even in the face of illness and low vision. There is always something to appreciate in my daily life, and one of them will be arriving at the front door to take me to breakfast (John). 

With that, I wish you all good things, dear friends, and keep yourself and your loved ones close, safe in your heart. Be well.

Warm and wet, kinda nice

Threesome and beer

Yesterday was a very interesting day, weatherwise, with lots of warm rain and some wind, but also beyond the weather, some delightful visiting with my friend Lily and her son Stuardo, who is visiting her from Guatemala. I hope his visa will help him get back to his country, since it seems like the entire region is now in flux.

I did look at a map and see that Guatemala and Venezuela are almost 2,000 miles apart, so maybe the conflict will not affect his return. More than 300 flights from Puerto Rico have been canceled, I notice. It's a scary time for so many right now, but I think it will be straightened up soon. I hope.

Like I said in my opening paragraph, our weather has changed from super cod to a normal wet regime, and it feels much more normal than the frigid temperatures. It feels almost balmy in comparison.

Stuardo is such a fine looking young man, and he seems awfully old to me, since Lily is only is her mid-fifties. He is 37, but it reminds me that my son Chris was born when I was only 18, three weeks away from my ninetenth birthday. How long ago that was; now I am offically an old person. I have a lifetime of memories to help me remember those early years. I don't like to dwell on them, since there was so much sadness and trauma, nof much joy. Stephen was only 13 months old when he died, and I was 22. Today I am childless and feel a bit of envy when my friends talk about their grandchildren and how happy they are to be a part of their lives.

I only vaguely remember my own grandparents. My maternal grandfather was very ill with diabetes and all I remember about him is being in bed. His wife, my grandmother, lived with us for awhile after he died. She was not a happy person and spent most of her time away from us, Norma Jean and me. And my grandmother was the only person who called my mother "Bitsy," her nickname as a child, I guess. Sparse memories, but partly that might be the case as I was a self-absorbed teenager who only paid attention to things like clothes, boys, and gossip. My paternal grandmother lived in another city, so we seldom saw her. My grandfather had abandoned his family long before I was born, so I never knew him. Even Daddy only saw his father a few times before he died, a hermit living in the California mountains.

So, I never had the usual grandparent attention that many others have had.  It meant, however, that I never felt the need for something many grandchildren experience in their early life. Today, my life revolves around my partner and our quiet life together. He is dealing with a blood cancer that makes him tired most of the time, and I spend my time away from him either at the Senior Center or the coffee shop. I have a few close friends who fill my need for company. Lily is now a friend I have known for decades, and I love her very much. My friend Steve plays Connections with me almost every day I see him at the coffee shop. I see my friend John there, too, but he doesn't play games with me, instead he and I talk together, mostly about politics.

And we have our Sunday trip to Fairhaven to have breakfast together. I am very fortunate to have a good circle of friends, and I cherish the monthly FaceTime talks I have with my sister Norma Jean. She is dealing with the recent loss of her canine companion. In retrospect, my life is quite full and happy. I struggle sometimes with low energy and depression, but it's rare. I also have a virtual family, those I follow who have blogs like me. Some of them I have known for decades, too, and I look forward to finding out how their lives are faring. 

With that last statement, I think I will wind this post up for the week, and start to get ready for my trip to Fairhaven with John. I do hope you will have a wonderful week ahead, and I look forward to seeing you here next week. Until then, dear friends, be well.

It turned c-c-COLD after the rain fell

Along the waterfront selfie

I asked Steve if we would take a picture of us while we walked along Squalicum Harbor on Saturday morning. Our first walk since he returned from Hawaii to visit his mother for Christmas. His daughter Sara was also there, so they had a very nice time in warm tropical climes. Then they had to return to a very frigid, albeit sunny, Washington State.

We walked somewhere around five miles, my first good workout in at least a week, maybe more. It feels good to sit here in my favorite chair, having had such a good time in the cold, but feeling bad that I had forgotten my sunglasses and couldn't find my hat with a visor. Those were all serious drawbacks as I dealt with the incredible sunshine and frosty weather. It sure felt like winter, and I was glad that the rain has left us for awhile, but there could have been an in-between period. But no. In that picture taken in yesterday's weather, it isn't possible for you to see the wind, too, which obviously makes it seem colder. It was barely at the freezing mark, and the strong winds made it feel even colder. Brrr!

We have been relatively warm, considering that it is now winter. Our air temperature a couple of days ago was at least twenty degrees warmer than today's. We have turned a corner and will probably even get some snow here eventually. I was so glad we didn't have freezing sidewalks and roads in our neighborhood. I am still recovering from that icy fall last February. I sincerely hope I don't make that mistake again. I found my strap-on spikes and will not fail to use them if I decide to go out when it's slippery. The weather is always a good way to begin a post that I need to write, without any idea what to write about. It's my self-induced "job" to get something up here, even when nothing immediatcly comes to mind. I could remember previous moments when I was in this same mindset, or I could reminisce about days gone by. Or... I am in a quandary of my own making. Let's start with the good news.

SG has successfully been added to those available to use the Para-Transit bus. His situation has changed, now that he can arrange for the bus system to pick him up at home and take him to his doctor appointments. He starts the new treatment for his blood disorder on January 7th, with a monthly injection instead of daily pills. I read all about it and think it will probably be less difficult to deal with, but who knows with these strong and fairly new drugs? At least our insurance plan covers it.

His broken arm is not hurting him all the time, and he even did his own laundry yesterday, by making the basket into two loads and carefully navigating the stairs to the laundry room. He now has the ability to get to the orthopedic surgeon's office to get his elbow fixed. He's very resourceful and careful not to take another fall.

I am beginning to think that those eye injections helped slow down the progression of the geographic atrophy, since the last few months without them doesn't seem to have made a difference in my ability to see with my left eye's central vision. I thought by now I'd be unable to see well enough to write these posts, but I am still the same, or about the same, as when I stopped taking them. I simply couldn't afford the cost, not to mention the discomfort of getting them. So that's another bit of good news.

I'll talk to my sister Norma Jean on FaceTime on Wednesday and will find out how she's been since losing her fifteen-year-old dog last month. These furry companions just don't live long enough to keep from having to cope with such a loss every decade or so. On aggregate, though, our situation is on the upswing, both physically and mentally. At least we all still have our ability to think and use our brains. There are many people in their eighties who don't have that ability any longer. I might be reaching here to find things to be happy about, but hey, you do what you can to keep going when life gets hard, right?

I am also glad that we are almost through the holiday season. When you don't have family around, you rely on friends to make things interesting. My time with John, my time with Steve and other dear friends makes my world much brighter than it would otherwise be. And having my guy getting stronger every day, well, it makes every moment feel like a blessing. Today John will take me to our usual Sunday breakfast (I'm looking forward to it) and then come home to a warm, safe place during the cold and wind. I am content and filled with gladness that I am still here, still writing, still enjoying life. I hope you will be in the same situation, dear friends. Be well until we meet again next week.

Christmas Eve at Lake Padden

Lake Padden a few years ago

I think I have used this favorite picture to show what a beautiful place I live in, all year round. This was taken on Christmas Eve, and I have always enjoying see the soft clouds, a bit of snow, and the lake all together.

There are so many people in the area who will have experienced an especially difficult season, with many nearby communities needing time to get back to normal, after the floods and washed-out roads. We were spared, but it doesn't mean that those we love and know well are not suffering. And now it's gotten cold, with projections of days of sleet and unpleasantness ahead. It's the first official day of winter.

Winter's official start is today, December 21, at 7:03am Pacific Standard Time. It marks the longest night of the year and the shortest day. From here on out, we will gain more daylight (a little at first) and it will continue until we reach the Spring Equinox in March (wherreis year, for some reason, because we are no stranger to these wet periods. Can it be because I am getting so much less vigorous, and realizing that my sweet partner is having to learn to deal with working without one arm (actually one elbow joint) for the foreseeable future?

Yesterday, I finally made the move to my next project: learning to "read" whole books on the Audible app on my phone, which I downloaded to be able to read a book suggested by SG: Ram Dass' amazing book, Still Here: Embracing Aging, Changing, and Dying, written in 2000 after he survived a debilitation stroke.

It was just before his 70th birthday, and he went on to live a productive life until he died at 88. I remember reading his "Be Here Now" book many times during my thirties. And then I lost track of him for many years. He lost the ability to walk and his speech was impaired, but he took up other activities and remained very active in spite of his debilitating stroke. I recommend the book enthusiastically. I am about halfway through it, listening to it through my hearing aids as I sit in my favorite chair in our living room.

I had been putting off getting the app, believing my failing vision would help me continue living my life in a way that I could cope without major changes. I do think that the dreaded eye injections slowed the progression of the disease somewhat, but when I started them a few months ago, there has been no discernible change in my central vision in my left eye. I have, though, lost color and notice how difficult it has become for me to look at pictures and tell what I'm looking at. Given enough time, I can figure it out, but now when I write these posts, for instance, I use my bright headlamp to find the right keys, and it takes me a long time to finish them. Much longer than I would have believed possible. Once I find the right keys, I plow through the words, hoping I am making sense and rechecking the letters (with my trusty headlamp). I now have three, along with magnifying glasses.

The stroke has given me another way to serve people. It lets me feel more deeply the pain of others; to help them know by example that ultimately, whatever happens, no harm can come. 'Death is perfectly safe,' I like to say. --Ram Dass

I hope that some day I will see my encroaching blindness as a gift, maybe one for others, as he says here. But for now I am just trying to cope, trying to remember that when one part of our lives is diminished, others transform to help us find new ways to be. I am still very much alive and kicking, as they say, and I know how much it helps to serve others. I found that out in becoming a volunteer at the Senior Center, helping others to enjoy a good lunch. Although it's not been all that long since I began doing this, I have made so many new friends, those whom I look forward to seeing as they come in the doors and make their way to a seat. This past Friday we had a Christmas lunch, roast beef, mashed potatoes, rolls, buttered carrots, and pecan pie. I had the veggie version, which was also delicious. I was able to take home some of it for SG as well. We had a piano player bringing us happy tunes, then a violin playing all sorts of delightful music. The atmosphere was festive and everybody seemed to be having a good time. I was tired by the time it was all over, and my friend Michelle gave me a ride home, so I didn't need to stand in the sleet waiting for the bus to show up.

I got a call from John yesterday to tell me that our mutual friend Gene is in the hospital. He had a stroke, not a bad one, but they found he has had many of them lately, so he will have his carotid artery scrubbed today, Sunday, before they let him check out of the hospital tomorrow. He recently lost his longtime partner Paula, but her daughter will be taking care of Gene as they leave the hospital and he recovers.

Life is uncertain, but it sure helps to have loved ones to be on the journey with us, doesn't it? As I look over to the other side of my bed, where SG sleeps quietly, I feel incredibly blessed to have him. I watch him as he copes with the life we have today, and I am both impressed and grateful. He is actively working to find alternative ways to get around. Tuesday he has an intake conversation with the transit bus people: it the bus that comes to your home and takes you to your destination. It's part of our local bus service; you need to qualify (I'm sure he will) and then you get to use it.

The next week will bring the holidays to so many of us, and soon we will enter a new year, a new beginning, with spring not that far away. I hope you will enjoy a wonderful holiday, and that we will meet here again next week to ring in the New Year together. Until then, I wish you all good things. Be well, dear friends.