Changing Perception

07.31.06 (8:28 am)   [edit]


For whatever reason, Clarence’s driver, the one who takes him to dialysis did not show up on Thursday morning.  So I was called to take him in for his appointment.  The trip is not a long one, it takes about 25 minutes to get him there, so I got the caravan, and off we went.  I called ahead to let the head nurse know that we would be about a half hour late.  Luckily the traffic was light; it was after rush hour, and we made good time.  Clarence was in a talkative mood, and excited, since he was going to see his sister, soon in Orlando.  He is going down for four days, and having his dialysis done there.  At first I was worried that he would not be able to go, since his white blood cell count was elevated.  The results came back ok, so he is cleared to go.  I did mention to the doctor my worry about him getting ill while away, but the doctor assured me that his chances of getting ill are not increased by him making the trip.  Besides, the main reason for him going is his knowing, that this will be the last time he will see his sister in this life.  Both are old, and in poor health, so I am glad that he is able to make this trip, tiring though it may be.

When we arrived, I saw a man, who looked to be in his late 70’s, standing in front of the building, tired looking, and leaning against one of the support beams, on the small porch, that was there just before the main entrance.  Clarence did not know him personally, but knew that he was one of those who start their treatment at 5 AM in the morning.  After we parked and I was helping him into the building, I saw that the man was standing there with his eyes closed, indeed looking extremely tired.  On the way out, I greeted him, and wished him a good morning.  He opened his eyes, smiled, and returned the greeting.  I introduce myself, and he in turn told me that his name was Ralph.  I asked him how long he was receiving treatment, and he answered me that he was in his eighth year.  He said that at first, the treatments were hard on him, but over the years he has gotten used to it, and does not mind coming in at all.  He gave me another smile and said, “I never let anything get me down”, he then tapped his skull, and continued “It is all up here you know, how we either let things bother us or not”.  I nodded, shook his hand and returned to the car.

As I was getting ready to drive away, I again looked at the man, but this time I saw something different. I did not see an old man leaning against a post, but a very wise human being, who through his long life has learned some valuable lessons, one that he shared with me in that moment  As we talked, Ralph’s appearance started to change for me; he seemed more alive, and beautiful, animated.  I no longer saw a tired old man, but a vibrant human being who loved life, and was willing to do what was necessary to keep on going.   He was different because I talked to him, and in that process his deep humanity shown through, he was real, not an archetypal figure of the tired old man, but a unique human being.

 In our getting to know someone, no matter how slight, there is a corresponding change in our perception.  Such is the gift that others give to us, if we but are willing to spend some time, and simply try to see truly, and to listen intently.  To get to the place of  peace that he seemed to have arrived at, is the fruit of a lifetime, of making small, yet important decisions on how he was going to face different situations, as he came upon them.  

I suppose for the majority, growing old gracefully is not an accident, but the harvest of a life lived consciously.  A life were responsibility is taken for ones actions, joined with the ability to know when a wrong was done, and the ability to admit it.  There are a lot of old folks who could teach us a great deal, all we have to do is watch, and listen, when the situation allows us to. 


0 Comments

Changing Perception

07.31.06 (8:27 am)   [edit]


For whatever reason, Clarence’s driver, the one who takes him to dialysis did not show up on Thursday morning.  So I was called to take him in for his appointment.  The trip is not a long one, it takes about 25 minutes to get him there, so I got the caravan, and off we went.  I called ahead to let the head nurse know that we would be about a half hour late.  Luckily the traffic was light; it was after rush hour, and we made good time.  Clarence was in a talkative mood, and excited, since he was going to see his sister, soon in Orlando.  He is going down for four days, and having his dialysis done there.  At first I was worried that he would not be able to go, since his white blood cell count was elevated.  The results came back ok, so he is cleared to go.  I did mention to the doctor my worry about him getting ill while away, but the doctor assured me that his chances of getting ill are not increased by him making the trip.  Besides, the main reason for him going is his knowing, that this will be the last time he will see his sister in this life.  Both are old, and in poor health, so I am glad that he is able to make this trip, tiring though it may be.

When we arrived, I saw a man, who looked to be in his late 70’s, standing in front of the building, tired looking, and leaning against one of the support beams, on the small porch, that was there just before the main entrance.  Clarence did not know him personally, but knew that he was one of those who start their treatment at 5 AM in the morning.  After we parked and I was helping him into the building, I saw that the man was standing there with his eyes closed, indeed looking extremely tired.  On the way out, I greeted him, and wished him a good morning.  He opened his eyes, smiled, and returned the greeting.  I introduce myself, and he in turn told me that his name was Ralph.  I asked him how long he was receiving treatment, and he answered me that he was in his eighth year.  He said that at first, the treatments were hard on him, but over the years he has gotten used to it, and does not mind coming in at all.  He gave me another smile and said, “I never let anything get me down”, he then tapped his skull, and continued “It is all up here you know, how we either let things bother us or not”.  I nodded, shook his hand and returned to the car.

As I was getting ready to drive away, I again looked at the man, but this time I saw something different. I did not see an old man leaning against a post, but a very wise human being, who through his long life has learned some valuable lessons, one that he shared with me in that moment  As we talked, Ralph’s appearance started to change for me; he seemed more alive, and beautiful, animated.  I no longer saw a tired old man, but a vibrant human being who loved life, and was willing to do what was necessary to keep on going.   He was different because I talked to him, and in that process his deep humanity shown through, he was real, not an archetypal figure of the tired old man, but a unique human being.

 In our getting to know someone, no matter how slight, there is a corresponding change in our perception.  Such is the gift that others give to us, if we but are willing to spend some time, and simply try to see truly, and to listen intently.  To get to the place of  peace that he seemed to have arrived at, is the fruit of a lifetime, of making small, yet important decisions on how he was going to face different situations, as he came upon them.  

I suppose for the majority, growing old gracefully is not an accident, but the harvest of a life lived consciously.  A life were responsibility is taken for ones actions, joined with the ability to know when a wrong was done, and the ability to admit it.  There are a lot of old folks who could teach us a great deal, all we have to do is watch, and listen, when the situation allows us to. 


2 Comments

Dialysis waiting room

07.30.06 (9:32 am)   [edit]

 

I came in and sat down in the small waiting room,
The people there were waiting their turn to be called in.
Quiet, low key, perhaps tired,
Some are better at dialysis than others,
Many give it up since it is so hard on their bodies

I sat down with my book and started to read,
Then ever so softly I heard a soft humming,
Gentle it is sound,
Haunting in its unknown melody
That touched me deeply.

She was a small woman with a round face,
Beautiful, with her skin black as coal,
Eyes shut making her song,
Hymn-like in its quality,
Not knowing how, or why  it was touching me

I turned and  said hello,
She replied with a soft smile,
Saying hi,
My name is Vivian,
I am waiting for my ride

I asked her what she was humming.
She said she did not know,
Sadness is with me she said,
I know not why
When I hum it seems to help.

To me the gentle melody was a prayer,
Calling out to God,
A psalm, said childlike in its potency,
For all who care to listen,
Coming from this beautiful child of God.

 

0 Comments

In the depths

07.29.06 (8:16 am)   [edit]
In the depths of all souls,
Hidden often by life's rough paths,
Even forgotten by some, |
Or perhaps unfelt by many,
Is a deep reservoir,
Fathomless in its depth,
Unlimited by time or space,
Coolness for a soul afire with rage,
Or numb from pain,
Rest for the weary,
Hope for the downtrodden, |
Or for those who simply have given up. |
This hidden-ness waits to be called
For it to be able to surface in many lives.

It can be called by many names,
But joy is its gift,
Deeper than happiness,
Unbounded by any tradition,
Unknowable,
Yet truly one with all,
Closer than our skin and bone,
It its intimate embrace.Sustaining in life’s rough passage,
That we as pilgrims must walk.

 

0 Comments

Bittersweet

07.28.06 (7:30 am)   [edit]

Sometimes when I awake in the middle of night, and can’t go back to sleep, memories often rise to the surface, that I usually don’t revert to in my normal waking life.  I guess when just awakening, and lying there doing nothing, allows thoughts from the unconscious to present themselves to my waking mind, and perhaps are asking to be dealt with, or to just simply be remembered.  They are often very powerful, surprisingly so, since like I said I do not often revert to them.


I started to think about a friendship I developed when I was 16 with two young adults, who were I guess about 25 at the time.  The young man’s name was Carlos, and the young lady’s Elena, whom I first met on my delivery route in Gulick Heights, which was part of an army base in Panama, Canal Zone.  The year was either late 64 or early 65.  They were staying in the apartment of a Mr. Olsen, who was an electrician working for the army.  He lived in one of the apartment buildings that were set aside for unmarried personnel.  The building had 4 units, each with one bedroom. 


I remember the first day I met them.  Of course to me they were adults, and ten years difference is a big gap for someone who is just 16, but I always like hanging with adults. They were so much more interesting at times, at least they were when listening to what some of them had to say.  For some reason Carlos and Elena took to me, and made it clear that I was welcome anytime to come and visit, and just talk.  Elena was very beautiful.  She was short with jet black hair, almond skin, and the most beautiful eyes, they were almost black, that you could get lost in.  Carlos was a lot like her, just not as pretty.  Funny, I never felt the need to ask what their relationship with Mr. Olson entailed, it just never came up.  I just felt so comfortable with them, that just being with them, and enjoying their company was more than enough.    They were both from the interior of Panama, so I thought they may have been his children from a past relationship, in any case they seemed to be very close to Mr. Olson, so that was enough for me.


I guess you can say I loved both of them.  People can be loved in so many ways, but the best kind is that which has no urgent longings behind it, it is just there, a part of life, and it deepens the experience of the other, heightening the beauty of the ones loved.   They were so kind to me, and listened to what I talked about, and I listened to them in return.  We laughed a lot, played cards, and I drank a little with them, wine mostly.  One day when I came by for a visit, they were making a fruit punch with some of the local fruits; mangos, pineapple and I think papaya.  I remember thinking that it looked like blood in the bottles it was so red.  Then we went into the jungle behind the house, found a nice cool spot, and buried the two bottles, marked the spot and left.  They told me that in a couple of months they would dig it up, and that I would like it; which in fact turned out to be true, it produced a very sweet wine, and strong.  After one glass I was a little woozy, which was a source of great entertainment for both of them, if not for me.   Both Elena and Carlos laughed a lot, loved music, and sometimes we would dance to Panamanian melodies, which I liked, thought I did not listen to that kind of music often.


Sometimes we would talk about life in general, and they seemed interested in what I had to say on certain topics.  We talked about religion, philosophy, though at that time I did not know too much on the subject, and once we talked about Dante’s poem “The divine Comedy” that I was reading.  Another thing I liked about them, they did not box me in, but simply let me be.  One of the things I hated about being in High School is all the categories, or slots, that we put each other in.  Since they were older they did not feel the need to do that with me, so there was a certain freedom present that I did not feel with others my own age. I could breathe with them, just be myself. 


Then one day while delivering papers, I came by the apartment. I suppose it was about 4 PM.  The door to the apartment was ajar, and the interior dark.  The silence coming from inside was deafening, it almost screamed out to me in its nothingness, its essential emptiness.    I called out Elena’s name, but received no answer.  Usually, I would just go inside to see if either she, or Carlos, were home.  However, that day I felt a chill go through me, it was like something was in there, but like I said it was a  ‘lacking’, like the feeling you get when looking down a very deep, dark, pitch black well.  I stood frozen before the door, not sure what to do, so I just left, not understanding what I was feeling.


The next day when I came by the house I learned that Elena was dead. The word suicide was thrown around, but I am not sure actually how she died, or perhaps I don’t know how she killed herself.  From the time frame I received, she was dead in the apartment when I knocked on the door, and perhaps on some basic instinctive level I knew already that she was gone, and spared myself the horror of finding her body.  I never saw Carlos again, and was sorry that I could not have seen him at least one more time before he left.


For the next two years, whenever I passed by that house I would feel a chill come out of the lower apartment, and never went near it again.  I remember one night waking home by myself from the movies, and as I walked by the apartment, I stopped, and just stared at the cold dark interior shown me through the windows.  I felt rage, sorrow, loss, and mostly just confusion, over what had happened.   I was sorry that I did not pick up on Elena’s pain, though I doubted there would have been anything I could have done to help her.  The inner world of a 16 year old, is not yet expansive enough to pick up on that kind of thing, at least it was that way for me.  I did not feel guilt about her death, but the hole now present, in the fabric of my life, which was once filled with her presence, was real, even if it was not a major tear.


Elena was loved by me, but it was not the kind of love that ripped my life apart when she died.  It did cause pain, but it was a pain that I could keep to myself, and no one was burdened by it.  I never talked about it with my parents, friends, or with my brother’s and sister’s, simply never thought of it.  Also with Carlos, no goodbyes, he was just gone, so in a way he died also, two young adults who befriended me were simply gone without a trace.  I could not go to Elena’s funeral, since even Mr. Olsen did not really know about our friendship.   


It is hard to have closure for losses that are important but not major, say like the death of a parent, or a brother or sister, spouse etc.  From my own experience, these lesser losses just linger, perhaps become old friends, who sit quietly, causing no fuss, but waiting for the chance to simply come to the surface and be remembered.  So yes I still mourn Elena, and Carlos, in bits and pieces, because the relationship ended without closure of any sort.  I can’t wail, or scream, or carry on in ways that would be understandable, since their leaving me was not that deep, or extreme.  It is like I am in an in-between place, and perhaps it is in the in-between that we get lost.  There are no markers along the way, no rituals that really deal with this.  Or perhaps life just gets too busy, and they can’t be dealt with; no time.


When I remember them, which is not really that often. I sometimes go, when I pray, to the time of Elena’s death, and asked that the Lord be with her as she leaves this life, and even try to be present in spirit to be of help to her; for I did love her in my own way.  I hope she is at peace.   One of the great things about being catholic is that we do pray for the dead, that God’s grace continues to heal after we pass over, and that they being part of the body of Christ, and since there is only one body, our prayers can help them. 


Bitter sweet is what comes to mind.  I suppose that everyone has memories like the one I just shared, or perhaps many of them.  Like joy, these events, that become our memories, are important.  Perhaps they make us more compassionate towards others, deepen our empathy for the sufferings of those we come in contact with. Even if they seem from the outside, not to be that serious, or deep, we learn to look deeper.  Small wounds, large ones, it does not matter, they are all wounds. Some heal faster than others; some don’t heal at all since closure is not possible.  One day I hope to be able to embrace Elena, and tell her that I did love her and Carlos as well.  I am not afraid of this kind of pain, it makes me human, and perhaps more alive and vibrant in my everyday life.  To simply love another is a precious gift, and those loved should be treasured, since we do live in a world of beginnings, and endings.


I would do it all over again if the choice was given to me.  My live was enriched by two adults who accepted me, and allowed me to be a part of their lives, no matter how small.  Bittersweet, you can’t have one without the other. 

So yes I travel to Elena’s side, and pray for her, in her death.  Perhaps that is what Christians are called to.  Perhaps each of us, as we pray, bring mankind with us before the Father, united to the Son, and filled with the light of the Holy Spirit.  All not some, I don’t think any should be outside the scope of our prayers or love.


Prayer for the dying:

Lord of life beyond space and time,
Be with those who are dying in your eternal moment,
Let all be embraced by your infinite love,
All wounds healed,
Sins forgiven,
Lifted up into the light of your majesty,
For we are one in your eyes,
One body united in your Son,
Who carried the wounds of mankind on his body.
For each is of eternal worth,
Loved from eternity,
Called into existence because of love,
To the eternal relationship
Of oneness without end,
Amen.   

0 Comments

The wait

07.26.06 (8:32 am)   [edit]
No matter the place,
Age is of no consequence,
Nor looks, money, or power,
We wait often without knowing,
The knowledge often veiled,
Hidden behind laughter,
Or the drama of our pain,
Yet we know that the meeting draws near,
Time is the transport that carries,
No charge the service free.

 


With no exemptions.
At times this coming event,
Is thought about in peace,
At other a stark terror rises up
Gripping the heart and shaking it
Till one can barely breathe.
Faith does not protect from this horror,
Though hope is retained.
We are all called to our final meeting,
The door of our lives closing forever.

0 Comments

Just stories

07.25.06 (8:59 am)   [edit]

 

Last Friday, I noticed that Jerome’s left leg was starting to develop some blisters, and his right leg had a small wound that looked like he bumped into something.  Since he has diabetes, we keep a close watch to forestall any future trouble.  Wound care is always a priority with someone with that disease, since they can be very difficult to heal, and in some instances can lead to amputation.  Luckily we have been able to keep his problem in check thus far. 

There is a wound clinic that we take him to.  The doctor there is a miracle worker as far as I am concerned.  A few years back, he was referred to me by one of the Emory doctors, because another patient I was helping to take care of was also having some very serious problems with his legs.  His wounds were so bad that the underlying structure of bones, and ligaments, could be seen.  To simply take care of the legs, would take up to an hour every day.  To top it off he also had, and still has, MRSA, a serious staff infection which complicates the problem.   When we took him in for his first visit, the doctor actually got excited with the challenge, and with is staff began to formulate a battle plan.  I was intrigued by this, and was encouraged, since amputation was an option given to us by a couple of doctors.  Well in any case it was a success.  I took him in every week for about a month; then every two weeks, which eventually got down to once a month.  We have not had to go back for the last two years, so yes he is miracle worker as far as I am concerned.

Well his staff is also like him, very dedicated to the well being of their charges.  The nurse on duty that day was one I knew well.  Her name is Jane, and I love to watch her work.  In fact I love to watch anyone work, no matter what their job is, if they take pride in it, and perform it well.  Bank tellers, waitresses, and waiters, cooks, well just about anything that is done with pride, and efficiency, is for me a thing of beauty, and should be admired. Good workers have a rhythm that is a joy to watch.  A couple of times I went on long trips by bus, and when possible, would sit to the right of the driver, just so I could watch him drive, they are so good at it, an seem so relaxed.  Well I guess I am easily entertained, or perhaps distracted, who knows. 

So there I was with Jerome watching Jane work on his legs.  So I asked her how her daughter was doing in Germany.  She responded that she was doing well, and that soon she would be going over to spend a week with her.  Her daughter warned her that it was very hot, and there is little or no air conditioning available, so that part of the trip would be a problem for her.  As we talked, and I was sort of leafing through a magazine, she mentioned that she was taking a gift over for the teenager sons of the family her daughter was staying with.  I said “oh”, and she said “yes I have eighteen boxes of pop tarts in the suitcase ready to go”.  I stop leafing through the magazine, paused, and then looked up and said, “What, pop tarts?”, and she said, “Yes pop tarts”, so I paused again and said “really?” she laughed and responded “I understand your response, I did the same thing”. 

I laughed and told her a story about my mom.  In 1971, when I went home for an extended visit of about a month, my mother, for awhile was in the habit of having pop tarts with tea, every night before she went to bed, and while there also partook of that habit, and did enjoy them.  She was still amused by the request, but that is what they wanted.  After this little story, she told me that she had to look in on another patient and would be back in ten minutes.  So I thought I would run down and get some coffee.  In the elevator I wondered if they had pot tarts and tea available, a fond memory of times I shared with my mother, brought very much alive by a simple humorous story.

When I returned, another nurse was wrapping Jerome’s legs, and when I waked in they were in the middle of a discussion about her pets.  It seemed that she has a pet horse, that is 31 years old, and that she has had for 27 years.  In fact it shares the same birthday with her son.  I listened with interest has she continued her story about her other pets.  She adopts donkeys, and also ponies, that the government offers up for adoption, that were rescued from abusive owners.  She related to me that she adopted a donkey that was severely abused by her owners, and she was able to take care of it for a few months before it finally died.  She was happy that the poor creature had at least a few months of a pleasant life before it expired.  I responded that I never really thought of horses as pets, or donkeys for that matter, since I thought people owned them for riding, or perhaps for work.  Well she just had them, and seemed to really love being around them.  She also related that she read about some women who had 21 cats, who became ill, and her family had to take her upstate to live near them.  So she adopted all 21 cats, put them, male, and female, in very large pens, separated according to sex, with lots of room to move about.  She is having them “fixed” and then hopefully find homes for at least some of them.  She was a very good story teller, so she kept me interested, and I thought what an interesting person, a healer of people and of animals both. 

So all in all it was a good day at the doctors’ office, so many stories, and so many lives.  I suppose being in a room full of people, is like being in a large book store, something interesting behind every book cover.

0 Comments

A difficult situation

07.24.06 (11:33 am)   [edit]

 

Fred, and his son Mike, came over for another visit yesterday.  I could sense that Mike needed some time to himself, so Fred and I decided to take a little walk.  So we started off.   It was early in the day, so the heat was still bearable, in fact there was a slight breeze, and also a hint of rain in the air; something sorely needed here at this time.  I suppose this is one of the hottest summers I have experienced since I have been here in Georgia.  Dog days started in June this year, instead of August. 

We did not speak all that much, but just enjoyed the morning in each others company, and traveled down by a small lake that sometimes had geese  and ducks in it.  This morning there were none, but it was still a nice walk, punctuated a few times by the jumping of large bass in the pond.  As we were going for our stroll, I keep going over experience we had in times past.  When we first met we were both young;  I being 23 and he 33…… Fred is exactly 10 years older than I am. We were each born in December.  I can remember happenings decades old, like they happened yesterday.  I suppose in our souls, the past, and the present, can seem very close indeed, even if the event happened over thirty years ago.  I remember the first time we went and got some pizza on one of our excursions to get gifts for his children. At that time in 1972 he only had three, so it did not take all that much time, though he was very meticulous in what he got for the little ones. The oldest was four at the time.  When we got to the pizza parlor he ordered two large pizza’s, which is a lot, believe me for two men.  I laughed when they brought them over, hardly any room on the table.  We gave it all we had and I guess ate three fourths of the meal.  Well I was very full at the end, and made a note to myself, that best not to try that again.  After we waddled to the car I drove us home, and he made a wise crack about my driving.  I am a fast driver, but defensive, rather than offensive, in my driving habits.  While Fred drives quite a bit below the speed limit; so yes it took forever to get anywhere.  I retorted that at least I don’t drive like an old man.  Well with children I suppose you get into the habit of driving slower; precious cargo on board.

We are both elderly I guess, though I know 57, soon to be 58 is not old, but it is not young either. However I am young at heart and still full of fun, and hopefully will always be that way.   Humor is the best way to face life along with faith, since both can keep things in perspective, in their particular areas of life.  Fred has a dry sense of humor and a deep sense of God at work in his life, though he is not self conscious about it.  It is so much a part of him that I don’t think he considers the strength it takes for him to just get up in the morning, sense I know how difficult everything is for him.  Perhaps most people don’t appreciate their courage in how they often have to face life.  I suppose those who have to live with those who are ill, often don’t understand, or appreciate either what the sufferer is going through, which can be a source deep frustration.   Some do give up, and I can understand that, while others, perhaps the majority stays on course till the end.

I know Fran, who is the main caregiver, struggles a great deal with all of her responsibilities, and I am sure that Fred is not always easy to take care of.    Suffering does cause the sufferer to turn in on themselves, and in their need often forget the needs of the care giver.  A normal situation, but very painful nonetheless, because situations like this are often very difficult to balance out.  Both Fred, and Fran, love one another, and I can see that Fred is starting to understand all that Fran does for him, and hopefully things will get better for both of them. 

I work with others in my line of work, we have staff on duty 24 hours a day, so I am not alone, but I do know what it is like, I have done that in that past.  One on one is much more difficult than taking care of 8, with helpers around the clock.  Families often don’t understand the burden that the main care giver is going through…… and to tell the truth don’t want to be part of the process at all, though they can be very critical.  Many caregivers destroy their health when taking care of loved ones, since they are often elderly themselves.  It is not uncommon for the care giver to actually die before the one cared for does.  So yes, being the lone caregiver can be dangerous to ones heath.   There is often no way to dispel the stress, and often no one to talk to.   Caregivers often find themselves isolated, all their energy taken up with their job.  Getting enough sleep can be a big part of the problem, if incontinence has to be dealt with.  Which is often the case; caregivers can become moody and irritable and often feel trapped with no way to find relief, since it is often difficult to find someone to communicate with. 

Some of the problems can be with the caregivers themselves.  Some want others to help, but simply don’t trust them to do the job as well as they do.   Or perhaps the need to play the central role in this kind of drama is also present.  In any case, the caregiver has to be willing to look inward and to face some of the obstacles created by their own needs, that are also part of the problem.  Not understanding these dynamics can also make communication impossible with family members, who actually want to help but feel pushed out.

In situations like these there is no bad will, it is just something that develops, and lack of understanding is the norm, because caregivers, often don’t say anything until the stress builds up to the point were they explode, which does not help, since this can easily become cyclic leading nowhere.

So yes, Fran and Fred love one another, but the stress of his long drawn out illness has, and will continue to take a toll on his loving wife, as well as on Fred.  Mike helps out, and is a God send for his mom.  This trip not only gives Fred some time out, but also gives Fran some much needed solitude and relaxation. 

 

0 Comments

07.23.06 (9:48 am)   [edit]
An old friend came to visit me last night with his son Mike.  I have known Fred for over 30 years, 33 to be exact.  He was a coach, a very good one from what I have heard, and he also did some writing on the subject.  I have read some of his articles, and he was also good at that as well.  I have always experienced Fred as a man of depth and intelligence, with a dry sense of humor, and who also speaks his mind if something is not to his liking.

 

He used to visit me around Christmas every year, usually the week before, and we would spend some time together.  Then we would spend more time shopping for his large family. He had a bunch of kids, and from all accounts, the family was for the most part happy, and he seemed to love being a father.  I remember on one of his visits during a conversation, he stopped, looked at me, and said: “You know, before I became a father, I did not understand how much a parent can love their children.  I love them so much it hurts”.   So you can see he was a sensitive type, though from looking at him you would not intuit it right away, he was a coach after all.  He was also sensitive to those whom he coached, since he knew the damage done to some boys, and girls, who were constantly overlooked because of their lack of proficiency in sports. He never lost sight of encouraging all of those for whom he coached, and for that he is greatly loved and respected by many. 

 

In the late 80’s he started to develop some trouble in his right leg, and would limp at times, and it would also cause him some pain.  Then he started having some trouble with one of his hands.  This did worry me, and on his trips we would discuss it from time to time.  One of the things that aggravated him was the fact that the doctors could not tell him what the matter was.   On one visit, we were in Penny’s looking for gifts, and he was using a cain to help him keep his balance.  As I was watching him a thought went through my mind, a very unpleasant one.  I was wondering if he had ALS, a truly dreaded disease, and as I was thinking about it, he stopped, looked at me and asked this question:  “do you think I have ALS”.  Well we were on the same page I guess, and I prayed that it was not so.

 

About a year later, he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s.  In one way he was relieved to at last know what it was that he had, but he also dreaded the ravages this disease would do to him, and the affect it would have on his family.  Over the years the family has faced many trails.  His wive taking the brunt of much of it since the children are grown and have families of their own.  From what Mike told me, she is starting to take better care of herself, and knows now when to ask for help, she has learned of the dangers of burn out.

 

When Fred was starting to take some of the meds, for a time it did have a detrimental affect on his personality which did cause a great deal of stress for the family, but over time that was taken care of.   So right along with Fred, Fran also has suffered and adapted to a very difficult situation.  Fran herself is a very special person, and like her husband has great faith deeply rooted in her love of Christ, and drawing strength from that relationship. 

 

Over the years his trips lessened, and stopped all together for a while.  So at this time in his life he is in a wheel chair, and electric one, and seems to do well with it.  Though for now, he is having trouble driving it on his own. His son walks by his side and steers the chair for him.  He also told me that he can’t read anymore, can’t hold on to a book, and from the tone of his voice I could tell that it pained him.  He watches TV, and he said that there are many good things to watch, and old movies which he loves also.  He watches nature stations, BBC, and of course the news.   So at least there is something to feed his mind.  I for one hate day time television on the regular channels, brain rot for the most part.  At least cable and satellite give more choices for their viewers.

 

  It is hard to see a once strapping, strong, yet gentle man, reduced to this state.  He suffers greatly but his faith keeps him strong, and he seems to be doing ok with it.  When I saw him last night, he did look a little better than he did on his last trip, but it will always pain me to see him like that.   He was worried that he was becoming dependent or perhaps addicted to his pain medication.  After a few questions I was able to calm his fears.  His pain meds are not that strong, and he takes them three times a day.   I think the problem is his pain is increasing, and he is afraid to ask for something stronger.  It is hard for him to admit that he will most likely need pain control meds for the rest of his life, and addiction is not an issue, he simply needs them in order to be able to get through the day.  He will think it through like he does everything else, and come up with a rational response, he is like that.

 

His oldest son Mike is great with him, showing a great deal of love and patience with his father. He was inherited his fathers caring nature, and is in fact a teacher and a coach, like his dad was.  While he is taller than his father, there is still a strong resemblance, and he has learned from his father to be a caring and loving human being.  He tries to do things with his father, and knows that it is important to get him out and about from time to time.  I know Fred loves the time he has with Mike who is his oldest son, and perhaps the one he feels closest to.  Love has a price, both for the parents who perhaps love their children so much that it hurts, as well as for the son who willingly sacrifices time to be with his father.  We can tell how much we love by the amount of time we are willing to spend with them, even if something else has to be let go of for a time.

 

Yes Mike does his father proud, and Fran is truly a good and loving wife.

 

 

 

 

0 Comments

Distant thunder

07.22.06 (7:58 am)   [edit]
Distant thunder magnify

 

 

 


The soft distant thunder gently sounded,
As the clouds low became dark,
With the gentle wind gaining force,
Causing the trees to dance wildly,
Movements uninhibited branches waving,
The rain began at first softly
The wind joined the dance sent the rain flying.
Branches crashing unheedful of what lies below
Lightening flashing furious with power
Thunder booming in its crackling
Peaceful to the ears no more

Coolness replaced unrelenting heat,
Dry soil drinking its fill,
Trees free of weak branches,
Though death has come to some

0 Comments

The Navigators

07.21.06 (11:19 am)   [edit]
The year was 1969, and it was a typical lovely evening at Whiting Field, a Naval Air Station situated near the town of Milton, Florida, about an hours drive more or less from Pensacola. I was on my way to the enlisted men’s club to see some friends and have a drink with them. It was a weekday, so it would be a nice quiet place to spend some time just talking about things. I had no idea that on this short walk I was going to take a fork in the road that would both enrich my life, and also teach me some valuable lessons that I needed to learn. As I was passing the combination PX, Movie Theater, and Chapel structure, I noticed four men talking in front of the chapel entrance, each with a bible, and laughing. I guess it was the laughing that made me notice them. I approached them and asked them what group they belonged to, since I was interested in having some Christian fellowship. One of the men that I took to be sort of a leader of the group, introduced himself as John D, and then made the introduction with the other three men. All but one where like me stationed at Whiting, one was a man from the area, Ft Lauderdale I think. I learned that they belonged to a group called the ‘Navigators”, a non-denominational Christian group, who focused much of their attention in taking care of the needs of military men and women. I showed some interest, and they invited me to visit one of their homes that weekend, and since I was not on duty, I accepted. The trip was well worth it. I was taken to the home of Don L that I took at the time as one of the leaders of the Navigators in that area. He had a lovely wife, whose name I have forgotten, but she was a very gracious lady who made us feel welcome. I was not preached at, but the Gospel was gently presented to me, and they were delighted to learn that I was already a Christian. The fellowship was good, and I was impressed by the married couples that I met. Over all they were a very intelligent group who truly showed how their faith brought a great deal of joy to their lives, and truly wanted to share it with others. I suppose the fly in the ointment was that I was Catholic. Some in the Navigators did not have much use for the Catholic Church, but were not aggressive with me about it, though from the outset I knew in my heart that it was a problem for some. John D and I became friends, and in fact are still in touch. I was impressed by him from the beginning. If there are men without guile, then John is one of them. He is a man of deep commitment, transparent in his faith, childlike in the true Gospel since of the word, and he never tried to change me in regards to my Catholic faith. Don L never did either. He never brought it up, and so I never knew what he thought of my Catholic faith, and I did not ask him. I suppose you could call the group, at least at that time, more fundamentalist in their approach in their faith which I found intriguing and really not that much of a problem. I never was, no could I ever be that way in my faith, but it seemed to serve them well and I perceived a great deal of depth in them. Their talks were often well thought out, and I found them helpful in my own journey in deepening my faith in Christ and what that meant in my life. I spent New Year’s of 1970 at a Navigator retreat, and enjoyed it very much. I remember singing the song “Oh for a thousand tongues to sing” at midnight, and thought what a wonderful way to start the New Year. It was there that I started to meet Navigators of a different mindset when dealing with my being Catholic. I remember one of the men, who was actually a leader, say the most ignorant thing to me about my faith. I just froze how could I answer, or respond, to such an ignorant man, so I did not. I just got up and went to another table. I suppose if I was older and more mature I would have been able to say something, but I doubt it would have mattered anyway. I suppose that was when the wedge was first inserted with the group. Sad, since it was only one man, but at the time I did not have the maturity to understand that, so I allowed it to affect me more than I think it should have. I stayed for awhile longer with the group, and I suppose my friendship with John was one of the main reasons. He made such a deep impression on me with his faith that I just liked being around him. He always seemed to accept me and did not let my being Catholic get in the way of that. So I finally left the Navigators after about being a part of the group for about six months or so. I don’t know what would have happened if I did not run into pockets of deep ignorance among the group, since I really did appreciate who they were, and what they were trying to accomplish. I am still friends with John and over the years have seen him. He still impresses me with his deep, mature, childlike faith in Christ, and I am honored to be his friend. Don L also is remembered with fondness…. who did have a very positive influence on my life. One thing I have learned, it is easy to box in those of other faiths, and to be content with a narrow and ignorant understanding of who, and what they are. Knowing what it is like to be the brunt of that kind of thing, I have over the years tried not to make that mistake with others. There is already enough pain and misunderstanding in the world, why add to it? I love to study other faith traditions and have been enriched by it. Jesus is not a tribal deity. Tribal gods are owned by those who worship them. God on the other hand is owned by no one, and I doubt having a structure based on certain scripture quotes, can do justice to the mystery that is Christ, nor his relationship with the world, and the billions who are called by the Father to an eternal relationship of love. The gifts of the Spirit that St Paul talks so much about seem to be widespread among people of all faiths and religions, so this leads me to believe that all men of good will who seek truth are my brothers and sisters on the journey. Those who aren’t on this road, well we are called to love and pray for them, not to brow beat and threatened. That approach does not work, never has, nor ever will. I suppose when Jesus said we are not to judge, he meant it. We judge from narrowness, blindness, and perhaps fear, while the judgments of God are true, based on mercy, compassion and a deep understanding of the depths of the human heart. I think I will go with God’s judgments. So if you ever run into a Navigator and need good Christian fellowship, give them a chance. They may not be your cup of tea; on the other hand they just might be what you need. A loving, committed, close knit community, who care for one another and live a Christian life of real depth and maturity. Though if Catholic it may still be a problem.

2 Comments

Just another early morning walk

07.20.06 (1:40 pm)   [edit]

 

The sound of soft thunder woke me this morning at about 2 AM.  I can tell now when I will not be able to go back to sleep, so I decided to get up and go for one of my early morning walks.  The early morning hours are the best, the mind is calm, the body rested, well relatively speaking it is, a good time for mediation, prayer and reading.  

I am trying to cut back on my coffee and to simply drink more water, since I know from experience I feel better when I do this, however  I still have my ritual for my first cup of joe. I usually drink my coffee black, but on most mornings my first cup has coffee mate and one spoon of sugar with it.  I love the sound of coffee pouring into a cup, watching the coffee mate swirl and sink below the surface, and the sound of the spoon stirring as its scraps the side of the cup.  These simple familiar sounds seem to center me and help to further quiet the mind.  I guess I am easy to please, or my mind is not very active in the first place.

After coffee, I went outside and saw that it did rain a bit, not much, but enough to leave that wonderful smell of rain in the air, that brings back so many memories of the different times of my life when wonderful things happen on days such as these.  As I was slowly walking a gentle breeze came up and caressed me with it gentle coolness, a relief since now even the mornings are sometimes as high as 80 degrees.  There was no dripping of water from the leaves, so I guess the rain was not very much.  I suppose we are going to have a very dry summer, but I hope I am wrong.

I cant say I dread the coming day, but I am not looking forward to it; the very bright sun and the oppressive heat.  Too much sun tends to depress me, or perhaps deplete is the better word, I guess I am a child of the night, with its soft sounds, cool breezes, with the sounds of crickets, coyotes, and deer huffing at me from the darkness, and the occasional bat sweeping bye looking for some juicy insect unlucky enough to be in its path.  I have leaned over the years that there is no need to duck bats, they dont hit people; at least I have not been in my long life.  Besides, I dont have enough hair for them to get entangled in anyway.  I suppose it is just another old wifes tale, or what they call an urban legend.


0 Comments

Possession

07.19.06 (5:50 pm)   [edit]
  
 
  



The pattern takes over or so it seems,
Taking on a life of its own,
Like the tapes or complexes that switch on,
Repeating over and over their inane arguments
Allowing no peace to the one enduring them,
Leading to an inner disquiet that leads some to death


Outer conflicts are reflections of the collective soul,
Once started they become self generated
Possessing in mass those involved,
Leading to atrocities,
Making the blood of innocents flow,
Simply killing because of ones name, race, or religion.


The mind of the one absorbed into the collective trapped,
With no exorcism to expel,
How can you expel the soul?
Violence feeds this collective entity
We call nation, tribe, religion or family,
The weakest called the strong and leader.

We all call for peace
While inwardly at war,
With God, ourselves, others
Often without our consent or will;
That is what being possessed by the irrational,
With its fruit of pain is about.

The weakest called the strong and leader.

0 Comments

The first step

07.18.06 (2:20 pm)   [edit]

Sometimes the first step is the hardest
Shame can hold the journey back
Fear of what others think deadly
Bringing death to the soul
Life only an appearance.

Living for others a maze going nowhere
An illusion based on passing comments
Lightly said
Perhaps in jest
Even in cruelty

People can be petty at times
Things unfair said
The fight is not to give in
Allowing others to control
Even if unasked for

Words have power
So easy to use
Statements said in anger or jest
Leaving wounds deep.
Tread lightly

 

 

 

 

0 Comments

The beckoning

07.16.06 (9:12 am)   [edit]
The Beckoning magnify

Beauty touches the depths
Cradling the heart in it pain
Like the healing sun
Upon the cold ground warming

Simple longing opens the heart
The beloved beckons smiling
Calling out leave fear behind
Beauty is what you are made for

Joy calls out to joy
The dance of the embrace
The calling to oneness
Loneliness left behind

The simplicity of what we seek
Hidden by paths taken
The multiplicity of desires
Hide the one thing needed

The simple yes to the Beauty that beckons
To let go of that which chains us
Imprisons
Keeps us bound in binds secure

0 Comments

The stone wall

07.15.06 (9:12 am)   [edit]
The stone wall  
 



The stone wall wound gracefully near the path,
Old, cracked, deeply weathered its years showing,
Claiming it space,
Marking boundaries easy to see,
Its sleep never disturbed by the tumult surrounding it
Oblivious to its own existence,
Of the struggle that natures lives out,
Lives born,
Others die,
The cycle continues
Amid the restful silence of the stone wall
Untouched by the defeat or victory of the battle eternal.

2 Comments

My family

07.13.06 (5:16 pm)   [edit]

I love being part of a very large family.  So many brothers and sister, each different, yet there is a certain something that binds us, that identifies us, mark us as family.  Growing up in a large family has its ups and downs, no doubt about it, but I doubt I would want it any other way.  I think living with the noise, chaos, fighting, laughing, helping each other, taking care of the family needs etc.; all the things that make up a large family, can give a head start in ones ability to understand others that will cross our paths as we move further along on our journey. 

I am the third of 11 children. All still alive except for one, who died three days after his birth in 1958; he was named Michael, at least that is what mom told me one day when I was sitting on the side of the bed, talking to her after she came home for the hospital.  She seemed subdued and sad, but she smiled for me when letting me know about what happened. 

I have two older brothers, the eldest, Skip, who is six years older than Robert, holds a special place in the family.   Being seven years my senior, a big gap with children, sort of put him in the adult category when I was growing up.   He was always saddled with the job of watching us, and I suppose that he never had much time for himself,  He also helped out a great deal in helping dad with the gas station that was in the family for a few years in the mid to late 50’s.  I suppose I have always admired Skip, the older brother, a second dad of sorts, who perhaps never really had a childhood like the rest of us did.  I have always felt close to him, and when I visit family in Texas I always stay at his house.

In the mid 60’s Skip found himself in a small town called ‘Freeport’. Not a pretty town, but I like it there well enough.  It is near the ocean, and the people for the most part are friendly.  Robert moved down near Skip in the very early seventies, and has been there since. He married a local gal, Trisha, a great lady, very smart and insightful about many things.   David, Victor and Craig, also moved down there for awhile and all of them were in the siding business, except for Robert, who became a policeman for a short time, then worked for Dow. 

Judy, Jane and Georgia also ended up there in the early 70’s, and Georgia the youngest, and Jane the twin of Judy, the younger twin by six minutes, is still there.  So Skip being the oldest is responsible for my side of the family having sort of central meeting place.  Sissy the oldest girl and fifth in line lives in Oklahoma, and has been there for over thirty years.

There is so much to write about when the family is so large, but over the course of time I will try to write about all of them.  Though I doubt I will be able to do justice to any of them, since I really don’t see them that often, but I will try any way.   One thing for sure, as we get older we get more loving with each other, though there are still fights, problems etc.  Got to have those kinds of things, perhaps life would be boring if they did not happen once in awhile.  Misunderstandings are a simple part of life, and in families they can be very painful at times.

I can’t say I like being a child, or a teenage for that matter, but I always loved being part of a large tribe, loud yes, hyper, well we can be when we get together, but I would not trade anyone of them for the world.

Mom and Dad had quite a ride raising us, and they did it without a booklet, which means a lot of mistakes were made, but there were also many successes along the way.  Now that both parents are gone it is just us, and I hope as the years continue to speed by we will  grow closer together, and not let any petty squabbles  hide that deep and abiding love we have for each other, even if it can be hidden sometimes.    Love is deeper than sentiment, emotions, or feelings; it is stable, rock hard and deep.

1 Comments

Something I have trouble dealing with

07.12.06 (12:27 pm)   [edit]

Anger I can deal with. This very strong and powerful emotion has so much been a part of my life, for so long, that a certain peace has come with it. It is like having a good friend who has tantrums from time to time, and over the long haul have learned to live with it. No matter what I am doing there is always an awareness of it. Sometimes it sleeps like a lion waiting to wake up, and see if anything needs to be taken care of. Almost hungry for the challenge that life throws at it. In fact my life would loose a great deal of color if anger was not somehow a part of it. At times it gives me the energy to deal with issues that have to be dealt with, and as long as this inner lion is held in check, it can be a constructive force in my life. At other times, I know if let loose can lead to great chaos, and pain, both for me, and the one on the other end of the attack, that anger out of control does so well. Its fangs can be very sharp and I need vigilance in dealing with it. So yes anger is not really a bad companion to have with me as I journey through life, but it must never be caged.


Fear also is something I can deal with. Either fight or flight is the answer to any dilemma that causes fear. Something in front of me that needs to be dealt with, or backed off from, and avoided. I remember in 1958 having to go into town for shots, a lot of shots, which would prepare us for our trip to Panama. I think we did it two (perhaps three) times; each time we got three or four shots, four needles in one day. Now that is an experience for a 9 year old. At that time there were only 9 siblings, the 10th was born in Panama, about a year after we arrived. I remember being in the waiting room, and being very unhappy with what was coming, and yes fear was very present. So I decided I was third in line, but wanted to be first, get it over with, and then I could laugh at the others. I was a mean little thing. So each time I went, I demanded to be first, to just get it over with, and I guess I am still that way. Just do it already! In this dealing with fear, anger can sometimes be helpful, but not always, since fear can be so consuming that anger is left limp without any energy to get angry. The lion does not sleep but is in a coma.


What throws me for a loop and leaves me in a lurch is anxiety, I simply hate that feeling or emotion, not sure really in which category to place it in. There is nothing really concrete to confront or flee from, just a feeling that the something is going to drop on me and I don’t know what it is. I found this in the Dictionary:


“an abnormal and overwhelming sense of apprehension and fear often marked by physiological signs (as sweating, tension, and increased pulse), by doubt concerning the reality and nature of the threat, and by self-doubt about one's capacity to cope with it “


It is like being nowhere, helpless, with the ego in danger of simply disintegrating, which is an illusion. Perhaps that is what causes the trouble. Things I sometimes get anxious over almost never come to pass. Or just dealing with it, thought I still do it very poorly, helps to dissipate anxieties power over me. I even have trouble writing about this issue, since I really don’t know what to do when this emotion, or feeling, comes over me from time to time. Luckily it does not happen often, a least on the level of everyday awareness. I know however it is swimming like a shark in my deep unconscious waiting to come up and feed, again grabbing me by the neck and shaking me around like a rag doll.

0 Comments

This moment

07.11.06 (3:59 pm)   [edit]

 

This moment magnify
Oh light infinite,
Love unfathomable,
Let this moment this brief instant,
Be for me a time of total abandonment,
Bringing my all,
My body,
Mind,
And Sprit,
United in its desire to be  truly present
Bringing all that I am,
All that is in my life.
Creation with all its forms,
All sentient beings,
Their joys and sufferings
Into your loving embrace,
Encompassing all time and places,
Where all is truly united as one,
In the simplicity of your true nature
Of which we are made in the image of.

0 Comments

Nightmare

07.10.06 (9:47 am)   [edit]

 

Nightmare magnify

Dreams speak of deepest fears,
Spoken in images bringing terror
In living color at time stalking
Thru forest foggy hidden in mist
Clammy sliming the skin

Something lurks hidden moving slowly
Inexorably patiently 
Seeking the dreamer unhurried
Eyes gleaming red
Wanting what the runner knows not

Heart racing pounding
Fear exploding upward
Seeking escape from terror unrelenting
Legs numb moving slowly
From that which hungrily pursues

Surrounded by those laughing
Mocking in contempt
Help refused alone
Waiting in fear beyond recall
That which approaches

Hands reaching out
Claw like aching to grasp
White gleaming it seems from death
Grabbed pulled under
By the walking dead

Terror rising
Beyond all telling
The mind gone
Until the falling
Among twisted sheets awakened

 

0 Comments

Awards

07.09.06 (9:20 am)   [edit]

 

Awards magnify

Awards

I suppose, that if awards could be given out on being the ‘worst’ of anything, I guess the one I would get, is on how I supervise.  I am really bad at it, awful, something that I find extremely hard to do with any kind of consistency. 

I hate to use the old saying “there are two kinds of people”, yet in this case there may actually be a great deal of truth to it.   For instance, some people micro-manage, they have to keep an eye everything.  Looking over the shoulders of those who work under them, always thinking, or perhaps if not actually thinking it, giving the impression that they are the only ones who can do things right.  The fruit of such an attitude is that self-reliance is lost, and I guess in the long run productivity suffers, since no one is trusted enough, to either work on their own, or even to think things thru properly. 

In the past I would get frustrated with this approach, and would often fight to be looked upon as someone who can work well on my own, and did not need to be constantly monitored.  Now that I am older I don’t think I could work again under those kinds of conditions, I would simply work somewhere else.  I did not have any understanding how difficult it is to change one’s managerial approach to things, it being so deeply ingrained in the personality.  Now I am beginning to understand.

I suppose finding balance in any area of life is very difficult and perhaps even impossible at times, since some people have certain strengths, which if not held in check, can actually lead to chaos and dysfunction.

As a manager I tend to go the opposite direction, I delegate a lot, I give someone a job and then trust that they can do it, or will do it, and if a mistake is made owe up to it.  That way they can learn, and do better the next time.  I am finding that this does not always work, and this type of managing can also lead to a great deal of dysfunction, and chaos, if not held in check.  I hate supervision, not only for myself, but also doing it to others.  When I do supervise it is spotty at best; it is almost impossible for me to be consistent in this matter, and in the end, it is probably unfair to those who work under me, since I may put too much responsibility on them. 

I am also not very good at teaching, or showing others how to do any one specific task.  Perhaps I could get another ‘worst’ award; that of being a teacher.  My mind goes too fast, and I jump around when trying to explain something, to someone else, making it hard for others to connect the dots so to speak.  So I am beginning to understand why micro mangers can’t just stop managing in their particular style, it is something deeply ingrained in the psyche.   Not that I am not trying to change, but it is very difficult.  I am getting a better at detail work, but that is still spotty, and while I am doing better than in the past,  I may be still well below average in ability for someone who is good at it.  I am not very impatient with detail, and while my job has a lot of detail to it, I find it very tiring doing it day after day, and supervising is one of those details.

Perhaps I have been in this too long, and it is time for a change, perhaps I am beginning to feel burnout, or it has really been creeping up for a long time.  I just miss doing patient care work that is what I am best at, not office or administration.  I will continue to try, but it is humbling to see my limitations, but it is best to owe up to them.

We will soon be getting a new RN for this site, and I am beginning to tell those who work under me, that when she gets here things will change.  She is a strong supervisor, unlike me, and that I want them to adapt to her style of managing, which I am sure will be better than mine.  I interviewed her, and during the interview led her to understand what my weak points are, and wanted to know if she was strong on what I lacked; she assured me that she could do well with detailed work, and also do supervision on a consistent basis.   Her resume looks good, and she was praised by all of her past employees, so I am looking forward to having her come on board.

Limitations are a part of life, and the older I get the more I have to accept what mine are, and not pretend that they do not exist.  The last nurse we had here was excellent, and she had all the gifts that I lacked, so we worked well together.  She also did not need me to supervise her, she did everything well, and the few times she did make a mistake she admitted it immediately, which bolstered my confidence in her.  Hopefully the new nurse will also be a good fit, I think she will be. 

 

0 Comments

First trip

07.08.06 (11:21 am)   [edit]
First Visit
I was on my way to my first appointment with the VA yesterday, had my directions that they sent me, and started off to South East Atlanta for my appointment.  I do not know that area very well, but the map was simple enough, so I did not think I would have any trouble.  Boy am I naïve! 

After getting thru the first traffic jam, something that seems to part of any every trip to Atlanta, if going in the PM, I got to my exit with ten minutes to spare, and since the directions told me that the East Point VA was only 4 miles down on S Cleveland, I figured I would make it just in time.

After I went a mile and a half I saw a land mark, Fulton Hospital, and thought that I needed to go past two lights at Fulton Medical, so I was surprised to see it so soon. So I told myself that there must be another hospital further up, since this did not have Medical in its name.  When I got to the four mile marker, I noticed that I was on Washington St, and that was when I think my blood pressure began to rise.  Atlanta is famous for streets changing without any warning, and this was one of those times it seems.  So I turned around and started back.  As I was nearing Fulton Hospital, I noticed a small Fulton medical center sign on the lawn, so then I knew the directions were incorrect.  So I turned and went two lights past the hospital, but did not see any thing that would lead me to think I was near the VA clinic.  I pulled into a shop and asked direction to the East Point clinic, knowing it had to be very close.  Well it was, it seemed that Cleveland Ave, which is a main drag, suddenly stopped, and became a small side street, which I am sure most new comers would miss when looking for the clinic.   I tend to be compulsive about being on time, so I was somewhat anxious about the mess up, thinking that if I miss my appointment slot, I will have to reschedule, and with the VA that could be another long wait.

I finally got there, only a minute late, entered, got my VA card swiped, and then let the person checking me in, that the directions given to me were wrong.  She smiled and offered me an apology, it seemed that the person making up the direction made a typo and they were getting a lot of flake about it. All in all I think I did well in not letting my anger be directed towards the clerk, besides I made it in time, so no harm done.

 The visit was good, fast, and the doctor easy to deal with.  They have to switch some meds that I am on for generic, and after trying them, if they do not work, then the brand name will be used.  I can also see my own doctor, in fact they encourage it.  All I need do is to fax in any prescriptions needed, and they will be filled by the VA.  I have to pay Six dollars per prescription, not bad.  I also have to go in every 9 months for a check up, and for them to make sure everything is all right.  Any major medical procedures will be done by the VA hospital, and if I have an emergency, go to the VA emergency room.  Or asked to be transferred from any ER that I might need to go to if my life is in jeopardy to the VA hospital after I am stabilized.

All in all it was a good trip, and I was in and out very quickily. 

0 Comments

A ramble

07.07.06 (9:41 am)   [edit]

 

A ramble magnify

I remember visiting some of the family in Texas, it was in 1976 and I guess I spent about 4 months there.  I was 26, questioning on which direction that I wanted my life to go in.  I was not in any kind of crisis, but just realized that I needed to think about some things, figured out why I made certain choices, and come to some kind of decision if I wanted to continue in the direction I was going. Since I was only going to be there a short time, I got a job on a construction site as a laborer; you know cleaning up things, stacking discarded building materials etc……really interesting things like that; I so loved my job!

I had to laugh at one of my co-workers.  He spent most days hiding, being bored.  I decided better to just do the work, get it done, and time moved faster.  I did try one day to slack off, and it was one of the longest days of my life, and actually found out it is harder work, doing nothing.

I was able to meet some interesting people during this brief period of time.  I remember meeting one carpenter, who was a follower of Ayn Rand, an objectivist philosopher, who still has quite a following.  Being in my 20’s I read most of her stuff, liked some of it, learned quite a lot from her on the importance of rational thought, but also learned of its limitations if taken to extremes, which I felt she had.  Well I had a lot of interesting conversations with this man, who was very intelligent and insightful in many ways.   He was intrigued that I was a reader of Ayn, yet also a Christian, since most of her admirers seem to be atheist.  Well I let him know that I thought she was a little too left brain for me, even if I did like quite a bit of what she had to say…… but he seemed to accept me anyway. 

The carpenter was a great lover of her novels, I was not, I liked her other works better, for instance “The Virtue of Selfishness”  is probably my favorite, though her handling of belief in God, which was written by Nathaniel Brandon, was very hard to read, since it seemed very childish it how it portrayed believers. 

Her novels were really nothing but philosophical tracts on her world view.  Novels are great, a whole universe can be created by the author, be it a Godless one, or one like the left behind series, easy to do, even if it has nothing really to do with reality.   We went back and forth on the place the novel has in forming people beliefs, and how harmful, or helpful, they can be for those who read them.  For instance the carpenter believed that our culture was dying, that the irrational collectivist mind set was taking over, and in few years we would be savages fighting each other in the streets, because we were not becoming the objectivist ideal that Ayn Rand seemed to be writing about.  Just like in “Atlas Shrugged”.    I thought this funny, and related to him that he sounded like one of those people who carry signs around that has “the end is near” written on them.  He did give me a time line, he thought by the mid 90’s everything would fall apart; I wonder if he was disappointed when it did not happen; he probably was.  We all hate to be wrong.

During that time, on my days off I would often go to the beach and walk.  During the winter it is really nice, very few people around, and I would walk for miles I guess along the beach, enjoying the cold air coming in from the ocean, relishing in the sound of the ocean, not really thinking about any thing.  The ocean does that, sort of quiets the mind letting it rest, a very refreshing experience, one of the reasons I guess that I love the ocean so much.  Time seem to disappear when I would walk by myself, hours seemed to condense into minutes, and when I got back, I was always amazed that so much time had passed without me noticing it.  It was almost like I became something else when participating in this kind of endeavor.  Either my mind shut down or expanded, don’t know, but I did enjoy it.  Perhaps it is the same experience that happens when reading a book or watching a long movie; just being focused in the moment, changes our experience of time. 

Funny, no matter how much I love the ocean, I hate swimming in it.  I suppose the reason being , I love to swim under water so much. Something difficult to do in salt water; also can’t open your eyes without goggles, salt water too painful….. and is there anyone in the whole world who likes swallowing it?  I think it can be compared with the unique experience taking a heaping dose of Castro oil.  One of my favorite childhood memories; lining up, holding my nose, and quickly taking my medicine, just because of having a few harmless worms in my system, or at least that is what my mom thought.

 So I am an observer of the ocean, one who loves it from afar, not wanting to just jump in.  It takes an inland lake to draw that out of me.  I just love it underwater, the silent floating and sinking, and then the rush to the surface is a true delight for me.  I love to go to the bottom, crouch down, wait, and then push up with all my might and explode from the depths…….almost like a birth, gasping for the life giving air. Perhaps it is a birth memory, my love of being under water, and just floating, a cellular memory of some kind.  I have done some reading on “Holotropic breath work” which seems to point to that possibility. 

I like living near the ocean, the air is so invigorating, and something I miss living in a land locked area, with only small ponds to walk by.  No pounding waves or the wonderful smell of salt air, which I can never seem to get enough of, when near the ocean.  It is like my soul is thirsty for the experience of just being there, doing nothing at all, nothing needing to done.

One day I am going to rent a motel room right on the beach and spend a week of doing nothing but walk the water line, drink wine, eat hotdogs, read, and watch movies.  Now that is a thought.  I really like the eating of hotdogs part, probably one of my favorite foods accompanied by a side order of mashed potatoes. 

3 Comments

A day out

07.06.06 (8:53 am)   [edit]

 

A day out magnify

Sometimes, when driving in town, I am almost overwhelmed by all the traffic, the noise, and also by witnessing the rapidity in which Atlanta and its surrounding area is growing.  Yesterday I drove Richard to a 4 PM appointment in a part of Metropolitan Atlanta that I was not familiar with, at a time when rush hour traffic is just beginning.  The appointment was in Lawrenceville, a town about 30 miles from were we began our journey.  Got me a yahoo map off the computer, and the shortest route was going up State Road 124, a road that I was familiar with.  Usually I do not go beyond Hwy 78, but today was different and so I continued up 124 looking for “Sugar Loaf Parkway”; a road I remember seeing in years past.  Of course the area had grown, some of the growth I remember from the late 90’s, when the building in that area started to pick up. A time that I used HWY 124 a lot, to go to a psychiatric  hospital to visit one of the people that I was helping to take care of. 

On this trip I noticed that growth seemed to be going thru another spurt; it looked like a large strip mall, miles long, was being constructed at the same time.  Sort of like a mushroom garden, things were going up so fast.  Of course the traffic was fun, driving in the city is such a joy, but moving at a good speed.  Luckily we were moving in the direction that was not affected too much by rush hour.  Got to the office and the wait was not too bad, considering that Richard had to be fitted into their already full schedule. 

On the way back, since it was after five, we decided to get some supper.  There was a fast food restaurant near the doctors’ office that specializes in chicken sandwiches and salads; so we went there.  The first thing I felt when entering the restaurant was a sense of high energy, explosive, ragged, fun loving, and yes, very loud.  Sort of like one of my family reunions with my brothers and sisters.  The place full of teenagers, I guess about 20 or so, most seemed to be about 15 years old, and the manager not being much older, perhaps twenty, running the show.  We got our meal; me with a chicken salad, and Richard with a sandwich and fries, found a seat sat down. 

As we ate, I had to laugh at myself, sitting there watching all the young life, part of me enjoying it, another being disapproving at all the ruckus and noise, sort of the last thing I needed; I am my father I chuckled to myself.  However it was mostly enjoyable being around such a sea of life, knowing that these kids having a good time were also going thru a period of their life that for many might be the most difficult period of their lives.  Not yet an adult, no longer children, many probably struggling with the desire of getting away from their parents, and at the same time being fearful of life as an adult.  Grades, girls, belonging, all the things that teenagers seem to be concerned with, and to top it off, a body that is changing at a very fast rate; well no wonder they are so lively.  They have the energy because they need it. 

One of the ‘kids’, a boy came over to a table behind Richard and jumped up on it, and balancing himself on the balls of his feet while squatting, and talked to a group of teenagers across a partition.  I thought, man if I tried that I would end up in the ER.  He did it with such little effort, well no effort at all.  I tried to remember when I could do that.  I could not, the reason being when young I was not conscious at how easily my body obeyed me in doing things, that today would take just a little more effort, or a lot.

As I continued to think about the young, it hit me that these kids could easily not be my own children, but my grandchildren; now that was a thought.  I am not my father, but my grandfather.  Well it was only a small blip on the screen; young inside but on the outside a balding, somewhat overweight man, with a grey bread, moving into white; why should it be a surprise to me?  Also the fact that children are now thinking I am Santa should have alerted me long ago……&helli p;yes denial a protection soon stripped away just by observing life, something I can live with. 

  

I am content with being my age, being a teenager once is enough for me, and I am more than happy to continue the path that I am on now.   People often wish that they were younger and I understand that, but being pilgrims we cannot go back, we can only go forward, and I think the aging process is an important part of the journey; bad knees, sagging body and all.  They are at the beginning and I am, I suppose, in the autumn of my life. Not yet ready to move on, still loving life, hoping for at least a couple more decades before I move on to wherever we move on to.  Knowing that soon, these teenagers will be sitting where I am, looking at a room full of young people, and perhaps like me, being a little annoyed, but also loving and appreciating what it means to be a teenager, just beginning their journey thru life.

0 Comments

The searing Sun

07.05.06 (10:46 am)   [edit]
  
 



The sun merciless in its pounding heat,
Seared the skin exposed,
No protection to be found
Walking the long lonely road.
Thirst also a constant companion,
Silent in its urgent longing,
Inwardly screaming for the cool liquid
Its only hope to survive

Then

On the horizon something was seen
Causing hope to arise that was lost,
The smell of moisture
Torture delightful,
A slight cool breeze
Mixed with the hot dry sun bleached air,
Like a moth to a flame drew thirst, 
And relief for burning skin forward.

The shade embraced gently
Healing the searing pain for a while,
The sudden coolness and breeze
Pleasure beyond description
Enfolded the one suffering the pains of hell.

The water lay before the eyes
Feasting on beauty never understood before,
Tongue swollen,
Lips creaked,
Skin peeling falling like snow,
Forgotten in the vision of life before its eyes

With a joy never felt before
It dove beneath the cool water,
A child once again,
Born into a new world,
Drinking slowly but long
Exulting in its liquid heaven
Swearing never to take life for granted again.

0 Comments

The child

07.03.06 (3:37 pm)   [edit]

 

The child magnify

The child looked up at god
Angry it seems
Stumbling and falling
Smelling of Rum
Weeping one moment
Laughing insanely the next
Eyes wild and hair eschew
Covered in his own vomit

While the goddess for the child
Cringes
Weeping also
Cowering with no time for the one watching
Fearing the strikes that will fall on both
Life beat out of her
Her spirit broke waiting only for death
Release into oblivion

The child hid
Watched and learned
The ways of a god and goddess
Understanding power and it uses
Seeing it fruit
The chaos and pain
Of a life wasted hurting others
Then in a moment
The child rejected what it was taught

2 Comments

Oblivious

07.02.06 (9:28 am)   [edit]
oblivious  
 



 

The walls go up slowly,
creeping like a vine overtaking a house
unnoticed over the years by the one inside.
for others saddened by the retreat
chained by their helplessness to break thru,
knowing that they must move forward
seeking what they desire elsewhere,
leaving the imprisoned behind......
oblivious to what is lost,
believing the inner cold and sloltude freedom,
when in reality it is a death,
becoming apparent when life flees,
the body cold,
and the wall is no longer needed.

0 Comments

Memories

07.01.06 (9:38 am)   [edit]

 

Memories magnify

He sits calmly with his smile,
Peacefully listening to Billy’s soft smooth voice,
Liquid gold,
Its flow so pure
Calming the mind
Allowing memories of past days remembrance,
Of youth taken for granted but now just a dream

Jazz is number one
He often tells me so,
Summertime his favorite song,
Looking inward as he listens
Perhaps reliving his younger days
A time when the song was popular.
He was young
Playing his violin during the day,
Jazz clubs at night,
Sipping with friends
Perhaps smoking,
Laughing,
Sharing ideas and arguing in jest,
The time flying by
Until the last song was played
The lights came on evening done.

His inner light is still bright,
Strong,
Virile,
Though his body betrays him
As will happen to all lucky to live so long.
Still in no hurry
The love of life strong
Holding on as long as he can
For as he says
We are hear for such a short time.

0 Comments