Time Off (to Be Identified as a Unicorn)

So much for being dedicated to whatever half-year resolution I made some weeks ago. I keep planning to write, and never make it happen. Every day, on the Book of Faces, I read a post from a retired police officer in Maine, Tim Cotton, author of four books I cherish. He manages to write about the mundane pretty much every single morning. Of course, he is usually only in the company of his faithful canine companion Ellie that early in the morning. Maybe I should try to re-orient my varying amounts of early morning alone time to trying to write rather than trying to solve a few New York Times games (I'm looking at you, 356-day streak in Strands).

Truth be told, the last month has been hard. For the first year after my medical mishap--the one that led to my current almost full year of physical therapy learning to walk again not to mention now having only one kidney--everyone complimented me on how well I was handling things, how I always seemed to manage to find humor, to laugh instead of cry. I would tell them that laughing beat crying though I had cried more in the previous months than ever before. This second year is proving much harder to handle. More than once I have commented to the husband about the surgeon's having ruined my life. My physical therapist assures me I can someday walk unaided but may always be wearing an AFO (ankle-foot orthosis) on my left leg if I want to walk securely. I haven't yet donated various skirts and dresses that I expect I may never wear again, but it's getting harder to justify keeping them. The same with a couple of pairs of shoes, one of which I have never worn but bought because they were on sale and the identical pair I had was wearing out. Because of something called heel-toe drop, they will likely never work with the AFO. I do at least have some moderately dressy shoes that work with it, though I pretty much live in ASICS running shoes.

All that aside, my strange medical journey continues. I visited Dermatology Friday to have what several medical professionals had told me was a Pilar cyst removed from the center front of my head. "It will be easy to remove," they all said, "any time you're ready." After cutting the protrusion open, they discovered that there what they all said was a cyst was actually something called a calvarial mass. It's a bony growth attached to my skull. The doctors noted that removal would require sawing and recommended a CT scan to check for anything untoward in the underlying skull. Older Son pointed out that the location of the bony growth in fact makes me a unicorn. As for laughing versus crying, I'm still laughing about this latest medical wrinkle. 

Yes, unicorns can laugh.

The Mental Enema Theory of Vacations

The number of unfinished journals I have is depressing. The best I ever did was a daily blog of the first (?) 1,000 days of the COVID-19 pandemic. The journals I try to keep in ink tend to dwindle after a week or two. Part of that is not wanting Spouse to inquire as to what I am writing. He tends not to ask about anything I'm typing, likely figuring it to be an email to someone or, just maybe, a blog post that he likely won't read (I'm not sure he even knows how to get to my blog let alone that I've started it up again). Just as I never wanted Older Brother to read my youthful diaries, I'd rather not share personal journals with Spouse. Anything I type here I recognize will be public.

Lengthy explanation aside, I recently came across a page dated May 14, 2014. If there were subsequent pages, they ended up filed elsewhere. This post was from the day on which Spouse and I set out for a gathering of what I call my Internet Quilt Guild. At that time, we tried to gather every two years, and the 2014 gathering was in Perth, Western Australia. In the post in question, I noted that I had obtained a copy of People magazine "to provide the mental enema I need to empty my mind of everyday routine and (get) ready to enjoy vacation." This is a reference to the Mental Enema Theory of Vacations I developed over several trips to scuba diving vacations in the Bahamas. On those trips, I took books such as Rock Hudson: His Story by Rock Hudson and Sara Davidson, Larry Hagman: A Biography by Leon Adams, Nancy Reagan: The Unauthorized Biography by Kitty Kelley, Vanna Speaks by Vanna White and Patricia Romanowski, and Mr. T: The Man with the Gold: An Autobiography by (who else?) Mr. T. (To this day, I admire Mr. T for working two colons into one title.)

I limited such books to one per trip, and had to start them on the outbound trip. I seem to remember finishing each of them before we arrived in the Bahamas, though the Nancy Reagan one may have taken longer. When asked by colleagues and friends why I read such books, I explained my Mental Enema Theory of Vacations. To enjoy a vacation fully, it should be entered with a mind bereft of work or home concerns, things one should have done before leaving, or things one should do on returning. Reading a book such as those listed above empties the mind of anything remotely serious, preparing it to be filled with vacation joy. 

After 2014, I evidently forgot about all this, though I don't think it had too detrimental an impact on any of the trips we took. That suggests further research into this theory is needed. Stay tuned for a more complete report. 

Jinxing Myself?

"Researching" this post will undoubtedly contaminate my social media (principally Facebook) feed for too long, but I did resolve to write more this year or at least the six months until a new year dawns. Now having only one kidney, I innocently clicked "See more" after a post about something kidney-related. My feed is now one kidney disease "cure" after another interspersed with diet and lifestyle information related to keeping one's kidney(s) healthy. After reading several of those posts today to get some subject matter for this post, I expect not to see the end for some time. 

I have now been offered four different "cures" for the chronic kidney disease to which my solitary kidney makes me susceptible. All offer slightly different (at least to my reading as a medical know-not-a-lot) reasons for why they work. I could spend time researching those reasons in greater detail than shown here but can't justify that in terms of other things I want or need to do. The presenter of each cure (and there are several for each) notes that there are multiple products of that substance but after many words narrows things down to one particular brand. Said brand is usually noted as being more expensive than the other brands but that's okay because this one works. It's also often produced in finite quantities by a small, typically family-owned business, so ordering now is advised. The first order is usually offered at a discounted price, and there is usually a guarantee of some sort that money will be refunded if the product does not work within a certain time period. 

Where to begin? Well, one suggested cause of chronic kidney disease, kidney failure, or whatever is something called "oxidative stress" in renal tissue. So just what is "oxidative stress"? According to the AI accompanying Google on my phone (I usually skip over the AI, but in this case it's simpler to use it), oxidative stress is "an imbalance between unstable molecules called free radicals and the antioxidants that neutralize them." Kidney disease is not mentioned here as one of the conditions to which this imbalance contributes. Remember antioxidants, though; they come up quite regularly. The produce touted as reducing oxidative stress in renal tissue is a specific brand of pumpkin seed oil. I won't say which brand because that would really jinx me. Said oil comes in capsules; since I did not click through to the order form, I cannot say just how much a bag of these will set you back.

If swallowing capsules is not your thing, how does drinking tea sound? Specifically, whole-flower hibiscus tea. The brand in question is said to contain anthocyanins, said by AI to be " water-soluble vacuolar plant pigments that belong to the flavonoid category of polyphenols, rendering intense red, purple, blue, or black colors to fruits, vegetables, and flowers." Beyond the dye effect, these are said to be powerful antioxidants, ones that the ads say reduce inflammation and support nephrons naturally. From the photos accompanying the posts, I can say that hibiscus tea is definitely bright red, but I cannot tell you much of its taste other than that some people do add a sweetener such as honey. As with the pumpkin seed oil, there is only one brand that works, and it is apparently not any of the ones sold by Amazon. 

Continuing with colors in the red family is pomegranate juice. Pomegranates contain punicalagins, "antioxidants and the most abundant polyphenols found in pomegranates." They are primarily concentrated in the peel and husk rather than the seeds and are said in the ads to be "one of the most powerful" antioxidants. That they are in the peel and husk is likely why the product in question is juice and provides a benefit not attained by simply eating pomegranate seeds. AI tells me that punicalagins have many health benefits though beyond general anti-inflammatory powers nothing kidney-related is mentioned. 

Finally, while I have Vietnamese cinnamon on my spice rack, true Ceylon cinnamon is the final "cure" I've seen suggested. It supposedly helps activate something called GLUT4 (Glucose Transporter Type 4), "the primary insulin-regulated glucose transporter in the human body, encoded by the ALC2A4 Gene." As with punicalagins, GLUT4's positive effects are not stated in specific kidney-related terms. Insulin is, of course, related to diabetes, and that is a condition often mentioned in conjunction with kidney issues, so this product may have a more concrete kidney connection. As with all the others, there is only one formulation that provides the stated benefits, and now is the time to obtain that brand.

I of course have to wonder if combining all four products would have four times the positive benefits. One could take pumpkin seed oil capsules with pomegranate juice before enjoying Ceylon cinnamon toast while sipping hibiscus tea. Or would that be too much of a good thing? It would certainly set one back financially, though I admit to not having looked at the actual prices of the above things. 

I have also been a bit bombarded with "sponsored" posts for various renal diet cookbooks. While I have been advised to consume at least two liters of water (liquid?) daily and limit my sodium to under 2,000 mg, the only other dietary guidance I have been given is to eat a healthy diet. I have been given no specific guidance on potassium, something else I have seen in relation to kidney health, or protein, though I have seen a low-protein diet mentioned as being more kidney-friendly. While I might actually look into procuring such a cookbook as opposed to the supplements mentioned above, I'm right now following the more general advice the nephrologist gave me: keep myself healthy, and my kidney will stay healthy. I'm not at all sure that pumpkin seed oil, hibiscus tea, pomegranates, and Ceylon cinnamon are critical for that, though I'm sure Facebook will keep telling me that for quite a while now that I've looked into them for this post.

Happy Birthday to Us!

"Us" would be Canada and me. Canada is older and will be around a lot longer than I will. When Spouse and I went for an ice cream lunch, we encountered a young girl wearing a Happy Birthday crown. I asked if today were her birthday, and she said it was. I pointed to my tiara (I wear a tiara on my birthday) and told her it was also mine. We exchanged birthday greetings. She turns four today while I edit the digit in the 10's place and turn 70. I hope that, like Canada, she will be around a lot longer than I will.

So what did the horoscope in The Washington Post foretell for my coming year? It may be more fitting than last year's was.

You are deeply sensitive and introspective. You're also empathetic and compassionate. This year is the completion of a nine-year cycle for you. Take inventory of your life. Let go of people, places and things that have held you back. Do some internal and external housecleaning. Clear the decks.

Moon Alert: Caution! Avoid shopping (except for food and gas) and important decisions from 7:30 a.m. to 4 p.m. today. After that, the Moon moves from Capricorn into Aquarius.

So I have no idea what the Moon Alert is all about. The most important decision I have made today was where to go for ice cream for lunch. Since Spouse paid for it, it probably doesn't even count as a purchase I made, though ice cream is food. 

As for taking inventory of my life right now, I should probably try to accentuate the positive. I can walk on my own if I have to, though unsteadily. I no longer have a nephrostomy tube coming out of my back and a nephrostomy bag of urine on one hip. I also no longer have two kidneys. Does that count as positive given that it's connected to losing the nephrostomy items? Am I better off now than I was on my last birthday? Hell, no. Am I better off now than I was on July 23, 2025? Yes. I have learned a lot about myself this past year, most of it good. Do I want to elaborate on that? Not right now.

I have struggled a bit thinking of resolutions for my upcoming trip around the sun. I would like to write more. All the writing I have managed to do this past year is the two 2026 entries here plus daily entries in a 5-Minute Journal given to me for Christmas. I'd like to do better this coming year not that much of what I write is earthshaking or even notable. Back when we traveled or planned to travel to Vietnam, I made two attempts to learn a bit of Vietnamese. As it happened, the only thing I could say turned out to be "thank you," but just that scored oh so many points. (I was also complimented on my accent by a seven-year-old.) Given that we have no plans to go back there for any sustained period of time, I can't really see the use of giving it a third try. Some--now 60--years ago, I spoke fluent Spanish. I can still read it a bit, but speaking it escapes me. Perhaps I should work on that again. It would certainly be more useful than Vietnamese. Whether to go about that through some sort of formal program (you would not believe how many I have seen marketed) or try on my own, I don't really know. I'm still thinking on that.

As for birthday doings, I did this morning open a card and two gifts a friend delivered yesterday. She nailed the card: "Congrats! You've made it another year of tolerating people." Perfection from one introvert to another. I'm looking forward to reading the book she gave me: Lawbreaking Ladies: 50 Tales of Daring and Dangerous Women from History. I have only heard of several of the women, and those all seem to be in the chapter "Outlaws, Gunslingers & Bandits." I also watched a delightful video birthday card sent by another dear friend and have tried to express appreciation for every birthday greeting I have received on the book of Faces. We'll do the traditional birthday celebration this weekend with Spouse and Older Son, I hope with the addition of Younger Son, Daughter-in-Love, and Spud (our grandson's name in utero). It won't be a true birthday, but I may wear my tiara anyway.

Finally, I continue to toy with the idea of marking my 70th birthday by getting my first tattoo, a small potato (yes, a spud) on my upper left arm. It has been suggested that should I do that, I can follow his progression by adding a tater tot, a small fry, and so on. The plan certainly has merit.

  

And the Birthday Looms

I still haven't come up with any kind of resolutions for the rest of 2026. Whenever I think of my July 1 birthday I find myself reminded of the July 22 surgery that started what has been politely called (not by me; I'd likely be more impolite) a year from hell. I've said all along that the ureter--now kidney--damage bothered me immensely more than the nerve damage. The nerve damage has required physical therapy, something I've done for multiple other injuries or surgeries. I'm used to it. I know how to make it work--do what my therapist tells me to do and not do what they tell me not to do. I have control. I had anything but control over the ureter-kidney deal. Well, I did have control over the decision to try for an autotransplant that turned out not to be feasible. I can't fault the surgeons there; if the kidney wasn't fit to be put back in, I'm glad they didn't try. 

So, I now work at keeping the one kidney I have left as healthy as possible. The nephrologist I saw told me that a big part of that is simply keeping myself as healthy as possible. That, along with no longer using NSAIDs, drinking at least two liters of liquid daily, and keeping my daily sodium intake under 2,000 mg (that's less than is in one teaspoon table salt). While I had no definite plans to take up kendo again, the thought had crossed my mind from time to time. While I could certainly still do sword forms, partner work and definitely sparring would be very bad ideas. I'm not sure how much fun that would be, though it's definitely something I'll keeping mind.

This weekend, I look forward to getting into a swimming pool for the first time in over a year. Spouse and I will be in Newport News for his pre-hip-replacement lab work, and I persuaded him that what could have been a one-day trip should involve an overnight at a hotel with a pool. Even if it's full of screaming children, I plan to get in, possibly swim, at least float, and, at the suggestion of my wonderful physical therapist, just walk a bit. The little things I look forward to now.

And now, noting that they can indeed be little things, I'll get back to thinking about those resolutions. 

Where Has the Time Gone?

My last post was almost a year ago, noting the birthday I share with Canada and offering an update on the something resembling a resolution I'd made six months earlier. Since then? Well, it's been a hell of a year. I have lost count of the number of times people have told me how well they think I've handled that year, but now, as an actual one-year mark approaches, I find it harder to find the humor that's helped me laugh instead of cry, though I admit to having cried more in the last eleven months than in any previous eleven months, babyhood excepted. 

I went in for spinal surgery last July expecting to be in the hospital, maybe, around five nights. I left five weeks later ... with COVID even. I have a vague memory of the night of the surgery being told that due to a problem with a robotic camera, surgery had taken seven hours rather than the expected three-and-a-half. I have vague memories of total delirium including one of watching my world split apart and wondering if that was what a psychotic break was like. (It's not.) When I actually became aware of life around me, I was in a hospital bed with a tube coming out of my back, a bag of urine at my side, and unable to move my left leg. The spinal fusion  itself had worked--what walking I can do now is without the pain I used to have with every step--but in the process, three spinal nerves were damaged, and my left ureter was severed. Fast forward almost 11 months, and I can walk on my own very unsteadily though I typically use a walker or rollator, or occasionally trekking poles. I also just started wearing an AFO (ankle-foot orthosis) on  my left leg. That progress is thanks to 81 (yes, 81 so far) appointments with a stellar physical therapist. I also now only have one kidney and will this coming week find out just what the ramifications of that may be. No, this has not been a good year.

So why write something now? Because I'm supposedly handling this so well even if I'm not, and talking to a keyboard is easier than talking to most people. And I do typically write something for my birthday and have been thinking just what I might say then and whether to offer any resolution(s) to make up for the one(s) I did not make when the calendar year began almost six months ago. 

The year has not been totally a loss, though. One year ago tomorrow, our first grandchild was born. We have reveled in watching him grow not to mention watching his parents deal with the many challenges he presents. To date he has opened child-proof medicine bottles, cabinet locks, supposedly-secured toy boxes, and refrigerators. He learned to pull off outlet covers but was stopped before sticking something in. He knows how to prop a cabinet door open with something while working to empty it of its contents to create a cave. He also loves books and dogs, two things dear to my own heart. This year would have been a lot harder without him. (We agree with his parents that there will be no social media photos of him.) 

I'll continue to ponder any resolutions I might be willing to make and possibly even post again before the upcoming birthday. For what it's worth, I'll be joining my husband and older brother in the 70s. 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CANADA! (and Jean)

Here's my coming year according to the horoscope in The Washington Post:

You're sensitive and intuitive. You have empathy for others. You are also fair-minded and just. This year you reap the benefits of your hard work. Expect power and leadership, along with a promotion, kudos or an award. Seize business opportunities and act on them. 

I'd like to think at least some of that might be true. I'm retired, so I doubt a promotion is in the picture. As for business opportunities, I'd only act on one that could be considered a slam dunk. I don't have the energy right now for anything else. 

As happens every year, my birthday compels me to ponder whatever resolutions I made six months ago as the new year dawned. The sole resolution for 2025 was to try to follow the wisdom in a quote a dear friend sent me; she told me it came from a blog or source noted as Sweatpants and Coffee. That wisdom?

When life is hectic and you are overwhelmed, and your brain is like a squirrel darting across a busy street, remember that all you ever have to do at any given moment is the next thing. You can manage that. Also, you should drink some water.

This seemed like a good resolution at the time because of how overwhelmed I felt. Honestly, I don't think I succeeded at all in putting its advice to good use. I tried, and on a good day I might have succeeded. I'll keep at it for another six months and see where I am then. Right now, today, I do not feel overwhelmed and am checking off the things I'd like to accomplish today. One at a time. If I don't finish the list, there's always tomorrow. 

When I turned 49 and faced the 50th year of my life, I noted that a business would make a big deal of a 50th year. My younger son suggested I write down 50 things to do in my 50th year. I did, and I got through many of them, though not all in the year in question. I very, very briefly thought about doing something similar in this, my 70th year, but decided that pursuing the resolution above was enough. It is, however, tempting to think of seven, and I might still do that before the day is done.

Finally, Happy Canada Day! I like being in such good company when it comes to birthdays. To celebrate, I am wearing my "CANADA looking good by comparison since 1867" t-shirt. Spouse and I still consider running away to the Great White North to escape where this country appears to be headed. I don't really like running away, though, so for now we'll see where things go, just as I will continue to see where things will go in my coming year.

The Universe Is Kind of a Dick ...

 

... or so says the sock that went back on my left foot after I took this photo. It's been a rough year so far and an even rougher week. Spouse had a double bypass on January 2 and has learned that he is looking at a future hip replacement and repair of a torn rotator cuff. My back pain just keeps on keeping on, but more on that later.

This week we said good-bye to a family member for the past seven years, our rescue dog Lassa. She was at the local SPCA as a stray, but it's more likely that she was dumped by someone I hope I never meet. The SPCA estimated her age as six, so we knew she was getting on in years. She'd been having breathing

issues and tiring easily for a while, and the breathing issues Wednesday were particularly bad. Older Son and I took her to an emergency vet appointment. They sedated and intubated her to get an x-ray. We knew that she had a growth on her spleen, and it appeared that it had grown significantly and was likely to be pressing on both her lungs and stomach. In addition, some tubes in her throat had stiffened, making it hard for her to breathe even if there had been no pressure on her lungs. Spouse joined us, and we made the decision to let her go. We gathered around her and wished her well as the vet administered to final drug. I was so glad that she had already been sedated. I don't think I could have looked into her eyes as the sedative was administered. Instead, she appeared just to be sleeping. Needless to say, I was bawling.

I have taken her death particularly hard. During the last few months, as medical issues have added up, she's been my go-to friend. Petting her and looking into her brown eyes helped me relax. Our other dogs were pretty much family dogs. They treated all of us pretty much the same. Lassa, though, preferred me. She liked Older Son, who would run with her, but he pointed out that her yips of greeting were louder for me than for him or anyone else. Especially during the pandemic, I was always at home with her. I still go up to bed each night expecting to see her on the bed. She would put herself to bed an hour or so before Spouse and I would come up. So many other times I turn, expecting her to be there, and she isn't. I commented about her death in regard to one of Gene Weingarten's Substack posts, and another person replied with what I think is how I view Lassa even though we only had her for a bit more than half of her life: "I loved you for your whole life and I'll miss you for the rest of mine."

This morning I had a pulmonary function test in consideration of whether I will merit a referral to the long COVID clinic. On those results alone, I probably would not be referred; I expect I came through as very normal. I'll see the formal results in a day or two. Wednesday holds the big appointment and may determine the course of our summer. My back pain has been growing worse. Over-the-counter drugs don't seem to be doing very much any more. Last week I had a second episode of urinary incontinence and suffered a fall pretty much caused by my back. When I emailed the doctor who has been coordinating my back care about those, he told me to send a copy to the spine surgeon I've seen and was supposed to see again in June, and, should there be a third episode of incontinence to go to the Emergency Room. I did as the doctor ordered and send the surgeon a message. I was worked into Wednesday's schedule with a note that the Pain Management procedure scheduled for Thursday may or may not take place. The admonition to go to the ER should incontinence strike was repeated. 

The pain in my back has worsened to the point at which I wonder if heading off to Europe for 18 days is a good idea. What if the pesky third bout of incontinence strikes somewhere in between Amsterdam and Budapest, while we are stopping in different towns throughout the 15-day cruise? About that ER visit? The surgeon previously described my back as "unstable." Does the stronger pain mean that it's unstabled itself into a worse position? We do have trip insurance, so if he tells me that medically, I should not go, we're covered cost-wise. Spouse says he doesn't really care when we go, though the original idea was for it to happen soon after his retirement as a celebration. I can't help but think we postpone the trip for my back surgery, then again for Spouse's shoulder surgery, followed one time more by his hip replacement. The universe might turn out to be a big kind of dick. 

And so, we wait. News at 11:00. 

Marching On

So it's been two months since I last posted. I knew it had been a while, but didn't think it had been that long. I've had better two-month periods, but I guess I've also had worse. One thing I've found that usually helps me put things in perspective is my collection of meaningful (to me, at least) posts from the Thoughts of Dog calendar I get every year for Christmas. I guarantee that these are more profound and meaningful than anything I could come up with today.

the small neighbor human came over today. with an early gift for me. it was a little box. and inside was a little pebble. they said the picked it up. the first time they ever went on a walk with me. i'm not sure if i've mentioned this before. but i would do anything for the small neighbor human.

gooooob morning. I have a feeling today will be a good day. and if it's not. well that's alright too. because there's always tomorrow. and there's always peanut butter.

there is a pattern. amongst humans. to think too much about yesterday. or tomorrow. and not enough about today. today is happening now. it would be foolish to miss it.

sometimes. when i can't fall asleep. i'll pull my stuffed fren sebastian closer. and think about all the wondrous landscapes. i've yet to zoom across.

my stuffed fren sebastian. wanted me to remind you. you are doing great. and you have to trust him. he knows everything. 

 I encourage you. to find the positive in a situation. as well as i can find. a lone beam of sunlight. passing through the household.

the human is jealous of me. they believe i am simple. with simple thoughts. and little to worry about. but if they would take a deep breath. and let the sunlight hit them. without critique. or question. they too would find. little to worry about. 

The last one in the list was the page for yesterday and today. Timing is everything, I guess. When even my watch (a Garmin Forerunner) is telling me I'm stressing too much, I probably am. Re-reading these was a good thing.

As for stress, tomorrow's medical appointment is with the Pain Management clinic. The spinal epidural steroid injection I had six or seven weeks ago worked great. Until it didn't, which was about three weeks after. I reveled in walking without pain. It. Felt. Great. I guess I'll hear tomorrow what other options, if any, I might have. On Friday, I have my every-six-months appointment in Dermatology. On my fall appointment, they found a basal cell carcinoma on the top of my head, resulting in a shaved spot about two inches by three inches. With the hair there having grown about an inch long, I'm heading back to my stylist next week to get at least the rest of my mop trimmed. I really hope they don't come across another on my head this time. Fingers crossed.

 

 

 

Are We There Yet?

In my last post of 2024, I expressed hope that 2025 would, on the whole, be better than 2024 had been. So far, so good at least on the personal level. Spouse had a double cardiac bypass on January 2, and his recovery is proceeding as it should. He is more of a Type A person than he would like to admit, so I occasionally have to remind him that there are things he should not do yet or that it's okay to want to take a nap. The literature he was given about the bypass says that the need for napping or extra rest may last for six to eight weeks. I tell Spouse that he's livin' the dream, napping with impunity.  

My medical travails continue. I will spare you the photo of the top of my head nine days out from removal of a basal cell carcinoma. It looks a lot better now than it did last weekend. In fact, I'm out in public right now without a head or incision covering for the first time. It's not really that noticeable unless someone is taller than I am or standing behind me while I'm sitting.The past week belonged to the dentist, while the coming week belongs to the orthopedic surgeon. I still struggle with the idea of surgery, but am willing to hear what it might entail. 

I'm sitting in the lobby of one of the local libraries. One of Spouse's retired colleagues died recently, and the memorial service is this afternoon. Since Spouse won't be cleared to drive for at least two more weeks, I'm his designated driver. The physicist who passed was 83. One of my friends who will turn 89 in March just transferred from a hospital to a rehab center. She texted the usual "growing old is not for sissies" when she let friends know that she was in the hospital. When do you decide you are old or growing in that direction? While aging was part of the cause of Spouse's cardiac difficulties, it's not really behind any of my medical maladies. I feel the passage of time when for example, I think of something in the past and realize how many years ago it happened.  Do I need a medical condition that resulted from my age to make me feel as if I were growing old? I am certainly in worse physical shape and more fatigued than I was even ten years ago, much of that can be attributed to the long COVID.

I end now before my fingers start typing something about our current political situation here in the US. It's not good, and it will take years, or even decades, to recover if in fact we ever do. And on that cheery note, 2025 probably will be worse than 2024 after all.

Here's Hoping...

...that 2025 can be better all around than 2024 was. I feel as if I survived 2024 rather than lived it. The last month has been particularly hard. I lose it almost daily, resorting to angry tears and feelings of being totally incompetent and/or useless. That's gotta change starting tomorrow (that's what she said). Yes, I already had a short cry today, over one not-so-big thing that happened as I tried to make sourdough bread for the first time. Younger son has a way of gifting me things that push me a bit out of my comfort zone. That can be a good thing; other times, not. One year, he gifted me a marijuana plant, a gift followed soon thereafter by seeds and fertilizers to start my own plants. This year, he gave me a sourdough starter. The bread made from it is on a second rise atop the range. The Dutch oven in which it will be baked is preheating with the oven. If it all comes together or totally falls apart before I finish this post, I'll provide an update.

I have been pondering New Year's resolutions. I make them yearly and sometimes manage to fulfill them. This year, I gave myself a small spiral notebook with the title "New Year's resolutions and other short-lived ideas." As with other notebooks and journals, how long it stays functional is a big unknown. So far, I have entered my resolution for 2025 on the first page. It is guidance a very good friend sent me from a blog or source noted as Sweatpants And Coffee. She knew I needed it. I printed the graphic and taped it on the first page of that notebook. I don't want to risk copyright infringement by inserting the graphic as I received it, but I'll share the text here.

When life is hectic and you are overwhelmed, and your brain is like a squirrel darting across a busy street, remember that all you ever have to do at any given moment is the next thing. You can manage that. Also, you should drink some water.

This seems like a good resolution given how overwhelmed I have felt lately. It also highlights something I have wanted to work on for a long time: focus on the thing I am doing and not let worrying about other things distract me. The fact that I have wanted to work on this for some time should speak to how hard it is for me, given Type A personality and, most likely, ADHD. I'm hoping that just trying to get through life one thing at a time will help relieve some of the anxiety I'm trying not to feel right now.

Spouse's bypass surgery remains scheduled for the day after tomorrow. I may very well be more nervous about this than he is. He asked why that might be so, to which I answered that if something goes wrong such as he dies, well, he's dead, while I would have to keep on muddling through the rest of my life without the person with whom I've shared 40 years. The "in sickness and in health" part of the marriage vows? Yeah, this is it. He's also been relying on me to remember surgery details he needs to take care of--special mouthwash, what medications to stop when, special soap--giving me just one more area in which I can feel incompetent and/or useless. 

Here's the whole-wheat sourdough bread. I won't taste it until it cools, but it does look like bread.

Weak Ends?

This past week was not a good one. The spouse's bypass was pushed back a week, to January 2, giving us one more week in which to feel nervous, even scared. I had asked Spouse if he wanted to scale back on Christmas things--fewer cards, for example. He wants this to be as normal a Christmas as possible. He did put the artificial tree together, but I ended doing all the decorating as he snored on the coach. He fell asleep while watching a program on Nazi death camps; I was afraid turning it off or changing the channel might wake him. Needless to say, I had some resentful moments when I wasn't enjoying the memories brought back by the various ornaments. The glitter-covered mink skull from my biologist cousin, for example, or some of the ornaments I made with Older Son, then two, while in the Netherlands and pregnant with Younger Son. Resentment aside, the tree looks great especially with the addition of Christmas Ape. I don't remember how many years ago it was that Older Son wanted a stuffed ape to top the tree. The ape was a two-way toy and could be turned inside out to be a stuffed globe. The zipper broke, giving a perfect slit in the back by which the ape could top the tree. The star that we used to put on top is now the ape's crown. 

The tree decorating is an example of the fine line Spouse and I have been walking. He wants to take care of me given my long COVID and back pain; I want to take things off his plate to keep things as low-key as possible given his upcoming surgery. We have stepped on each other's toes more than once doing this. I did raise the subject for a brief conversation. We're both trying to do better. 

I have made a start at Christmas cards and at wrapping the presents that were already here. Both activities wear me out thanks to the long COVID that is about to celebrate its second birthday. Some of the cards may arrive after Christmas. I just have to have them all sent before Spouse's surgery. I normally give local friends a holiday gift bag with homemade bread, small jams, and single-pot coffee samplers. One year I also included homemade granola. Last year, I also included homemade cookies. I went back and forth on doing them this year. I finally decided on just cookies. I just didn't remember that I have a bad back, and standing up and moving around the kitchen for much of the day only made bad worse. At least I wasn't standing and kneading bread. 

I had a follow-up with the doctor treating my back. He is not happy with how weak my hips are. I've started to add some hip things to the physical therapy exercises I do most mornings. I've also added some balance exercises since I lose mine easily when as tired as I am most days. While my first pain management test did nothing, the doc has referred me for another specific one. It's similar to the epidural I had while delivering Older Son. He also suggested that, despite how much I have spoken out about not wanting surgery, I see a surgeon for an info visit. He recommended someone he said viewed surgery as a last resort and could give me information I might need if the pain management treatments continue to be fruitless. While I can control most of the pain with over-the-counter nsaids, the amount I need to take is well over the "more than this is not good" dosage. Two doctors have told me I am risking going past the stage 2 chronic kidney disease I managed to develop, possibly from the nsaid doses I have taken over the years for shoulder and knee issues. 

While typing the first paragraph, I opened Amazon Music and started to play Josh Groban's Noel album. It's helping me feel the Christmas spirit a bit more. I need to remember that in the days to come. I want to feel Christmas more than the concern bordering on fear over Spouse's health not to mention my own. All will be well....

On Being Memorable

Spouse and I went to a memorial service yesterday. The person being remembered, Bob, was the father of a very good friend. We had met him and played games such as Cards against Humanity and Florida Man with him. We loved seeing him deliver an answer that made his daughter blush. She didn't know he had it in him. He was a memorable man on both the personal and the career levels. Speakers at the service included each of his four children, one of his grandchildren, and various friends from both of those personal and career worlds. Memories of various people who could not attend in personal were read. As people talked, images of him in various years and places played on a screen on the stage.

As the speakers delivered their assorted memories or even goodbyes, I found myself wondering what would happen with my death. I have no idea if Bob wanted a funeral or memorial service. My father did not want any sort of funeral or memorial service. He'd even written his own obituary, in which he lied but that's material for another post some day. His widow, my stepmother, held a memorial service anyway, as a way for his friends and neighbors to say goodbye. My mother wanted no acknowledgement of her passing, but I wrote a (factual) obituary that ran for one day in the local paper. I haven't been haunted by Mom's ghost, so I figure the obit was okay with her. 

Spouse and I have left no guidance for how our sons handle our deaths. What they do is up to them. We have pre-paid cremation plans to make things easier for them. My mother had done this and it made things so much easier for me. We have not reserved space in a columbarium or mausoleum for our cremains. I keep my mother's ashes under a table in my living room. The cremains themselves are in a wooden urn which sits in the fancy white box the funeral and cremation service provided. My brother and I along with our stepmother took Dad's ashes to Montana and anonymously--and possibly illegally now that I think about it--scattered them at one of his favorite duck hunting spots. Spouse and I can decide how to handle each other's cremains or the kids can do it for both of us. 

If the kids were to have a memorial service, would people come or send in memories of each of us or either of us? I expect that more people would come or contribute to Spouse's service than would to mine. He, after all, has had a career, something I never really had. People would acknowledge his passing on both a personal and professional level. And what memories worth sharing would people have of me? I can think of some noteworthy things I have done or have happened to me, but in many cases only a couple of people know what happened. The time I told a police officer that I wanted him to charge me with a driving offense? When I got four stitches in my chin by an animal doctor rather than one who treats humans, stitches removed by someone trained as a vet tech? Maybe I should write my own obituary and mention those. The idea intrigues me. I'll let you know if I really get around to writing my own obituary; I promise I tell the truth, possibly not the whole truth but nothing but the truth.

Matters of the Heart

Spouse and I met with a cardiac surgeon the day before yesterday. We came out of a two-hour meeting with Spouse set for a double, possibly triple, bypass on December 26. We came home with a bag of supplies he can learn to use now along with a notebook of all the relevant info as well as various numbers to call with questions. It made me wonder about a similar appointment in which someone is told they have cancer. I'm assuming that one would not leave that meeting knowing exactly what is coming. While I have no idea how the bypass will go, there is a closure to the "data collection" phase. We assembled the information and suggestions and made a decision. 

I am now trying to convince myself that I can get Spouse, and myself, through all this. I am making lists, some mental and others on paper. I have started freezing meals; I made more spaghetti than usual last night, and now have two meals in the freezer. We typically get take-out on Fridays; tomorrow, I will order an extra entree or two to pop into the freezer. I expressed concern to the kids that Spouse might have a hard time getting into and out of the back seat of my Honda Element. It looks as if we will temporarily trade Spouse's pick-up for a Mazda our younger son does not use that often. Since said son and daughter-in-law are slowly moving things into their new house, the pick-up will be useful. We can evaluate the Element and the Mazda and see which is better for Spouse. He'll be riding in the back seat for a while, to avoid what would happen should an airbag hit him in the chest. 

I went to the pain management clinic yesterday. They did some injections in my lower back and sent me home with a log in which I report my pain level over two days. Sad to say, I haven't really noticed a decrease in pain. I go back in two weeks for another such test. If nothing they try helps, I shall move on to other possibilities. My brother told me I was handling this much more calmly than he expected. I told him that I have pain. I at least know what it's from. I also know some things I can do to help it hurt less or at least not hurt more. I try not to sleep on my back, for example. That makes the pain much more severe to the point that I cannot walk without using some form of help. No help? Hello, floor! Whatever calm there is comes from knowing that there's nothing I can do on my own to make things better. I also know that I did not to whatever caused this. My back did not start hurting because I asked someone to hold my beer. 

We are not putting up the porch Christmas lights this year. I normally give friends what I call "breakfast in a bag," bags with a loaf of homemade bread, small jars of jam, small (single-pot) bags of coffee, and something else made by me. One year, that was granola; last year, cookies. I don't have what it takes to do all that this year. For about 24 hours, I thought I would just do cookies this year. Honestly, I don't think I can handle that either. We will send out fewer Christmas cards, and I doubt there will be the newsy recap of the year. 2024 has been too rough a year here. The letter would likely report that seeing April's total solar eclipse with dear friends was the high point of the year, while the rest of the year in comparison sucked. Not the sort of letter I would enjoy getting from someone.

A New Year Approaches

Not wanting to pay the increased fee for having a website I did not update nearly enough, I let Weebly/Square un-publish it. I'll try to do more here but that, as so many things these days are, may or may not come to pass. 2024 has been that kind of year with surprises all around. Long COVID led to my seeing a sports medicine and rehab doc who started me on a walking program and some related physical therapy out of which it was discovered that I have anterolisthesis (my L4 vertebra is sliding forward relative to my L5 one) and stenosis, a narrowing of the spinal column. For almost six months, I have been battling pain from the stenosis including one ambulance ride to and morning in the emergency room when the pain was so bad I could not stand up. I'm headed to the Pain Management Center Wednesday to see if they can offer some relief. 

At the same time, Spouse admitted to having some minor (he said) chest pains when working out after which the family doctor sent him for a stress test. The results of the stress test sent him for a possible cardiac catheterization and placement of a stent. The result of that procedure was discovering that there multiple blockages around the heart, one of which is in the left anterior descending artery otherwise known as the "Widowmaker." He had two follow-up exams after he came back from the cath, and will have three more tomorrow, after which we meet with a surgeon to discuss further options. I'm imagining that they will suggest a bypass, but we shall see. We have a second meeting with the surgeon on Tuesday, though I'm not totally sure why Spouse is scheduled for visits with the same doctor on two consecutive days.

On the brighter side, we managed to make it to Maine for the total solar eclipse in April. I required a wheel chair to get through airports. I tried walking on my own, but the jetway leaving the first flight bitch-slapped me and I admitted defeat. The eclipse was great; even greater was seeing it with dear friends we hope to see more of after Spouse retires. That is right now planned for May 31, 2025. He is supposed to teach one more class in the spring, but the prospect of cardiac surgery may suggest otherwise. We hope to do more travelling once he's officially retired, starting with a 15-day Viking river cruise from Amsterdam to Budapest followed by three days in Prague. 

The Maine trip also gave us the chance to visit the Duck of Justice in the Bangor Police Department lobby. If you're on Facebook, you can look that up. That's my brother Jon in the background. He lives in Bangor, so the trip also gave us a chance to see him. 

Well, this has been pretty painless, so I hope I get back to writing more regularly. The next couple of days, though, are dedicated to seeing how the rest of the year might come to pass medically.

Another Year Down

I can't believe I went a year and a day without writing anything here. Actually, I can believe it. There are a lot of things I didn't do in the last year that I wish had been possible. I'm not going to start a list, because the list would be too long and it would depress me even more than long COVID alone does. 

I didn't make any resolutions for 2024, so there's no progress for me to check in on. Most days I float through somehow, accomplishing nothing. While I am no longer taking non-trivial morning and afternoon naps, I still need at least one or I am essentially useless the next day. I read the paper on and off. Look at social media. Occasionally write emails. Lately, I've actually been able to read for more than 15 minutes before I can no longer focus, so I've actually finished some books. I did start taking walks again, under the guidance of a physical medicine and rehabilitation doctor. That more than anything else has helped lift the major depressive disorder I was feeling. The doc also had me going to physical therapy. One's balance takes a hit after sitting or lying down for a whole year. 

Between the walking and the physical therapy, the slight lower back ache I had had on and off turned all the way on. Some days I had trouble walking without pain. The physical therapist thought it might be due to the scoliosis she said I had. The doctor thought that if I got my hips stronger, that would take care of the pain. After he had me lie on my back and be unable to lift my left leg due to pain, he sent me for x-rays. The good news is that they showed what the cause of the back pain is. The bad news is that it's not clear what can be done about it, though more information coming out of an MRI on July 19 should shed more light on that. 

It's called anterolisthesis. My L4 vertebra is sliding forward on my L5 vertebra. The sliding is somewhere between 25 and 50 percent, meaning it's Level 2. Level 1 is better; Level 4 is not. This may be something my mother had. At one point, she had a rod put in her back to hold her back straight. That's one of the last-resort treatments for anterolisthesis that I refuse to think about until after then MRI results are in and explained to me. 

So, this has been an enlightening post, hasn't it? Let me finish with the horoscope from The Washington Post that tells of the year ahead for someone born on July 1.

You are adventurous, imaginative and impulsive. You have an excellent memory. This is a year of learning and teaching. You might take time to renew your spiritual or religious beliefs. Explore philosophies that will give you a better self-awareness and understanding of the true meaning of your life.

 I'm not at all sure how to interpret all that. I do not, for example, feel very adventurous, imaginative, or impulsive. I'm too tired for any of that. And what is the true meaning of my life? A friend told me I did not seem upset enough about the anterolisthesis on top of the long COVID. Without really thinking, I told her I had both so other people did not to have either. The fates could have given two people one thing each. By giving me two, at least one other person has stayed healthy. Gotta laugh because the alternative doesn't accomplish anything. 

I'll try to get back here before another year passes, not that anyone has asked where I was this year. And for what it's worth, I'm now 68. Sixty-seven could have been worse, but at least it was a prime number.I don't have another prime age until 71.

Halfway to 2024 Already

I should wait until Saturday to post this because then I could comment on its being six months between posts. Normally, I use my birthday post to report on how I'm doing with the resolutions I made six months ago. That's easy this year since I never made any. The Christmas cards never got mailed either. It's been a rough seven months. I'll still post whatever horoscope has a special forecast for people born on July 1.

Long COVID continues. My condition has improved somewhat from six months ago if only napping once daily rather than twice is a sign of improvement. While it is nice to be able to do something--anything--in the mornings, I have on more than one occasion done enough that I feel it the next day. Today is one of those days. I am trying to get the binding done on what is now a quilt I should have given to the intended recipient 26 years ago. Without the long COVID, it would have been finished and presented in January. Now, I hope to present it in July if I don't overdo it as I did yesterday.

Apart from the last six months, the last two have been compounded by the death of my mother in early May. I thank the deities that I saw her the day before she passed and that it was one of our better get-togethers. As I walked out the door, we were both laughing. Last year, my brother came to visit for Mother's Day; this year, that would have been too late. He went home two weeks before Mom died. I wonder if that helped her release herself from her body in this life. I remain convinced that she knew she was going to pass. At our last meeting, she asked me what I might want of the various things she had hanging on the walls. She said that one thing, something I did not want, really appealed to one of the aides, and she wanted that aide to have it. The aides told me that the day before she passed she'd been in a particularly jovial mood; the next day, they said, she had left that mood behind and asked to be helped into bed at lunchtime. On every other day, she only got into bed when it was time to sleep. I made sure that each got what she wanted.

Mom did not want a memorial service or funeral, nor did she want an obituary. I honored her wishes on the former, but did write a short obituary. I also let faraway friends know of her death. Many days in the past two months, the activity du jour has been dealing with some aspect of her estate. Her estate was larger than anticipated, and I need to go through the probate process. Advice to anyone thinking of their demise: Make your bank accounts "payable upon death" to your beneficiary(ies). If Mom had done that, there would have been no need for probate.

Because Mom's estate was larger than anticipated, we have been able to make some gifts to the kids. I'm also going to upgrade my plus-25-years-old sewing machine. Then I think I'll let things sit for a while while I regroup and try to recover as much as I might be able to. I just started reading The Long COVID Survival Guide: How to Take Care of Yourself and What Comes Next--Stories and Advice from Twenty Long-Haulers and Experts. I don't know that it will make anything better, but it will help remind me that I am not alone in this and that in comparison to many, many other people, my case is a mild one. Even so, writing this after doing some work on the quilt guild's website has left me somewhat drained and thinking of a morning nap.

The Road into 2023

Fortunately, I stopped the daily pandemic blog when I did. Remember the couple of times I said I was afraid of long COVID were I to get COVID? That apparently happened. Fatigue just kept growing. The first thing I noticed was that going up stairs was noticeably harder. I then realized that I was only making it through each day by ingesting over a gram of caffeine between coffee and caffeinated gum. Besides telling me to cut down on caffeine, my doctor ordered several types of blood work. When all the various tests came back normal, the diagnosis by exclusion pointed to long COVID. Doctor's orders were to stop doing all the things I'd been doing even if they had seemed fairly easy. This may be the year of no Christmas cards. This may also be the year of no resolutions, at least for now. I don't think "get my energy back" counts as a resolution, but that would be the big thing I'd be hoping for for 2023. 

Happy New Year to all, and to all however late a night you want. Mine will be an early one. 

The Road goes ever on and on ... Day 500 (1,000)

So here we are at Day 1,000. So much has changed, and so much hasn't. China continues to relax restrictions while still saying that zero-COVID remains in place. That may be true, but then why are there calls for the "full mobilization" of hospitals to ensure "combat effectiveness." Cities are said to be "accelerating the upgrading" of hospitals for "critically ill patients." For those critically ill people, there are fewer than one ICU beds for every 10,000 people. Local officials have been told to keep track of the health of everyone ages 65 and older. A virus testing center in Beijing shut down because all the employees were infected. Social media advised citizens to "please be patient." The official case count of 363,072 is up almost 50 percent from October 1. Zero-COVID, this is not.

Many people around here agree with POTUS's statement that the pandemic is over. The Professor and I treated ourselves to our favorite coffee shop this morning (it is a small local business, not Starbucks). The sign on the door saying that masks were no longer required but they appreciated patrons who wore them was gone. There were not many people there, but we were the only ones with masks. There were one or two other people wearing masks at the grocery store, but none of the staff wore them. As with the coffee shop, there was no signage about masks.

And I sit here on the Thousandth Day just up from the afternoon nap I have never before been able to take as a healthy adult. Naps are for sick people, and it appears I am one. I had a couple episodes of brain fog yesterday. I'm starting to wonder about things I may have done. I remember putting something in one place but it's no longer there. When I do find it, I have no memory of putting it where I found it. I worry about me. The pandemic is not over here.

Actively searching for and reading whatever news I could find each and every day did influence the way I looked at things. For one, it made me paranoid about being exposed and getting sick. I learned to accept that not everyone thought this way. When in-person instruction re-opened at The Local University, I accepted that there would come a time at which masks were no longer required. When The Professor put his mask aside and ended up with COVID, I, too, caught it. I had drawn the line at wearing a mask at home with The Professor and Son #1, who visited daily to run and get a dose of dog. I did not nag The Professor about wearing a mask after they were no longer required at The U; I could but do not regret that now. I am getting used to being the only one in the room wearing a mask.

I learned not to correct comments other people made; because I did not go anywhere, this rarely mattered in person. I learned to click past such comments on social media and remind myself of the First Amendment. Because we usually are drawn to similar people, I really do not personally know any anti-vaxxers, people who deny the pandemic exists or existed at all, or pandemic conspiracy theorists. That I some years ago ended social media friendships with people who openly supported our EX-POTUS probably helped in that regard. 

I at one point mentioned that I would keep this blog going until I was fully vaccinated. That did not happen. I mentally had other breakpoints that passed. Now, as it becomes harder to find new news about SARS CoV-2 coupled with not knowing how long I will be as tired as I am now, it seems to be time. I won't stop reading what comes into my inbox or what notifications appear on my phone. If something I read intrigues me, I will take some notes and post something here. If I write about some other thing that interests me, I'll post that, too. In other words, The View from the Hermitage has not really changed; The Road goes ever on and on and may for some time. I just need to wander elsewhere. I have enjoyed reading your comments, really. When I learn whether what ails me might really be long COVID, I'll post something about that. I hope it isn't, but if it's not, then I hope it can be treated. 

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night ... for now.

The Road goes ever on and on ... Day 499 (999)

If there was new news out there concerning the pandemic in general or SARS-CoV-2 in particular, I did not find it. Nothing in new digest emails, no newspaper delivered, and no headlines on the news websites. I called that a reason to nap, which I did. People who know me well know that I don''t nap, can't nap even. The Professor has napping down to an art, but I don't. The only times I'm able to nap are when I'm sick, which I guess I could be. Tomorrow is the big millennium in days, not years.