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.