On Aging - Episode 3

 THE HEAD

Eyes

After a procedure which shocked me (I wasn’t allowed anaesthesia) I lost much of the sight in my right eye. Several consultations resulted in none of the experts recommending any kind of surgery or laser, as the bit that had migrated to behind my eye was microscopic.I am awaiting cataract surgery, which may – just may – remove this bit. But my sight in my left eye will improve, which has the worst cataract. I am coming up on 8 months waiting for this cataract surgery. And I am sure all the pre-op measurements are now out of date.

Sigh.

Ears

I had a bad infection many years ago, which resulted in being slightly deaf in one of my ears after I was immune to the antibiotic I was prescribed. I was surprised at the effect it had on my singing. Prior to then, I was a semi-trained singer but I found that I couldn’t determine my tonal register anymore. It was a shock at the time as I was conducting a group of singers in a musical I was directing. There is a slight loss now in old age, and I find I switch on closed captioning on films and series and am seriously annoyed when CC is not available.

Brain

Having witnessed several dear friends come down with dementia, it’s a concern for all of us oldies. But if we have it, we will not be aware of it, which is what I have observed. It’s when other family members take over your personal management. One I have witnessed closely and am upset that her family couldn’t care less about her. Or so it appears. She has fallen several times, set fire to her kitchen, forgets her keys, glasses, phone, etc. And her short-term memory is now completely gone except for the recollection of olden days. My own observation on these unfortunates has been that none of them were readers.

Research – I just checked - shows:

Research indicates that people who regularly read, write, and engage in lifelong learning have nearly a 40% lower risk of developing Alzheimer's disease and dementia compared to those who do not. [1]

40% is quite massive. So note to you oldies out there: read. At least for pleasure.

Interestingly, when I asked my friends in early dementia if they read, the answer was “I can’t concentrate”. So that lack of concentration could also be linked.

Crafting, painting, photography, also slows the progress of this awful disease.

The Nun’s Study has been groundbreaking into what was discovered about Alzheimer’s. I recommend it.

As I maintain, adapting is the key to accepting the limitations of old age. I recently had a bad fall, saw the stars, did not have my cell phone on me, panicked. But I did some breathing exercises and told myself to relax. I knew where the phone was and it was going to be painful and slow but I could reach it and with a large utensil could hook it and call the building manager. It took a while, with many breaks, but all is well. He and his wife came and got me on my feet and checked my eyes, etc., for concussion or broken limbs but all was well. It took me days to recover as I was sore and bruised but it was a great lesson on not panicking but thinking slowly and carefully about a solution to my dilemma.

Now my family are talking about a Garmin watch to replace my Fitbit as it will detect a fall and call my emergency contacts automatically.

Adapt. And feel free to share your experiences.

Sunday Selections

Joining with many others in this feast of forgotten, overlooked and meaningful photos. Here are some participants: River is one, Andrew is one.  Messymimi is one. Kylie  is another. Drop in to their blogs and have a look.

I've hit a bit of a slump as I await the complete evaluation of those concerning bits on my lungs. I stopped smoking about 38 years ago. And never picked up again. Of the four of my brothers who were/are affected with lung cancer (two different types) two went back to smoking after multiple years abstaining and both quit again. One has now died. One just survived a very serious operation to remove a tumour in the lung which was attached to the spine.

So naturally, the mind goes there. I wish I could know more. My doctor has pleaded with the technicians to evaluate my X-rays. Crickets. Though brilliantly, she calls me every day to ask how I'm doing. My appointment with the internist was deferred to the 22nd.

Anyway, these are a few delights from my indoor garden.

Their colours lift my spirits so much. I find myself talking to them. Encouraging them, praising them. 

 

Lunacy can be a good thing in this troubled world. As a wise old shaman once said to me over a wonderful outdoor fire on a starlit night in the middle of nowhere:

"Always stay where your hands are."

I'm trying.

Gratitude

I titled this post appropriately. Because honestly? Even through the worst of times we can seek out the little things that make life a journey of gratitude if we seek out the slivers like slashes of sunshine seeping into a cloudy day. Always look for them. They are there. 

I remember hosting a dear friend who was older than me, who stayed with me at my lovely home around the bay. She brought her daughter with her. Her only child who was approximately fifty to her seventy-five. What blew me away was the tenderness exhibited by her daughter towards her mother. Daughter treated her like a precious jewel without being nauseatingly solicitous or patronizing in any way. I thought to myself - oh to have such a relationship with my own daughter.

Moving on approximately fifteen years. And here I am facing many health challenges and my daughter has quietly stepped up to the plate and she is exactly the same as Shirley, the daughter of my dear friend, Laura, who passed away a few years ago in her eighties. Daughter is with me through all the tests, the lab work, the X-rays, the consults. Asking questions, reporting symptoms I have forgotten or thought inconsequential. Officially, there is no real prognosis apart from an enlarged heart and some shadowy bits on lungs, which could be congestion, but no one, has as yet,identified, as my internist is unexpectedly away and moved my appointment to May 22nd.

Meanwhile, true friends have stepped up to the plate and check-in and remind me to reach out for help any time of day or night. Support by digital means from afar is never, ever taken for granted, either. 

All in all, it remains up to me to reach out to others (always a challenge for me - eldest of 6 and the one in charge, so asking for help is an alien concept.

After a day fraught with challenges, Daughter drove us up in the wind and sun to Signal Hill and this sky just captivated me. 

Gorgeous, isn't it?

You can also see the whitecaps which were far and wide on the windy sea and I couldn't capture a wandering iceberg on the far left of this photo.

What are your slivers?

Whatcha been up to b'y?

 Well, not much, as a matter of fact.

Some of you may know my overall health was deteriorating slowly but surely. I didn't know what was going on. Now I have the diagnosis. I've had all these symptoms for what seems like months.

From the Mayo Clinic.

Hyponatremia signs and symptoms may include:

• Nausea and vomiting.
• Headache.
• Confusion.
• Loss of energy, drowsiness and fatigue.
• Restlessness and irritability.
• Muscle weakness, spasms or cramps.
• Seizures.
• Coma.

The condition is extremely low sodium for those interested. A very dangerous condition. I've had lab work today and yesterday. And more on Monday. A slight betterment today. I'll be seeing doctor on Tuesday for moving forward (it could be my drugs needing adjustment, it could be the tons of water I drink because of my kidney disease). She will consult with my other specialists.

Needless to mention, she warned me to call an ambulance if another bad bout of any symptom is evident.

None of us ever want the ambulance and emergency rooms. I wrote about my last experience here.

Still, it could be worse. 

I thought all of the above was curtains for me.

I'm truly grateful and amazed that I'm still this side of the daisies.

On a lighter note, this is close to where I live here in St. John's.

The village of Quidi Vidi *  is within the city of St. John's. Breathtaking, beautiful and still an active fishing village.

Photo at sunset by Ray Mackey. A friend and superb photographer.

*Pronounced Kiddy Viddy but some old timers call it Kida Vida, which I love.

Small Things and Twisty Backs

 As you know I've got a bad back (stenosis) my age and surgery are not a good match for any kind of "cure" which is a 50/50 proposition at best. It all started with a bad (very stupid) fall on thick ice. Right on the cocyx and skull and another ambulance trip as, bingo, concussion. Evidently I was hilarious in my nonsense spouting but no record exists, unfortunately.

Today I twisted my already unhappy back so that I am now walking around in a U-shape. I attended a meeting I couldn't miss today looking enfeebled (great word) which was interesting in the others' treatment of me - as if I was a half-wit. Which brings home what most disabled feel when they are ALWAYS treated like imbeciles, as if deafness, blindness or a wheelchair can make your IQ drop 100 points. Most disturbing. And humbling what we take for granted being upright.

I took a few photos around my apartment to make me feel a little better. The small things in life, I tell ya, are all that really matter.

First this was a bud yesterday:

And then today it was this:

And a surprise second blooming from this:

The joys these wee babies give me know no bounds.

What are your "small things?"

That was the week that was.

Often, I feel I have nothing to write about. Ever feel that way? So this week I got notice that my driver's licence was renewed. This after an intense medical as I turn 80 in August. My doc submitted all the forms with a few reservations (my congestive heart failure, my barely there kidney performance). My right eye after one procedure is just about blind but when she did the eye-test I was able to look sideways with it and read the chart.

I admit I cried when I saw the approval. I was prepared for the worst, I always do, adapting and adjusting mentally to losing the old licence after 62 years of driving - accident free I should add, which has now jinxed that because I wrote it here. I've always loved driving and for many years drove across country when I lived part time in Newfoundland and worked in Ontario.

Grandgirl sent me this when I shared the news of my driver's licence renewal

I'm struggling along on a 1000 calorie a day diet (try it, it's hard) as I would like to lose poundage to ease the load on my heart and kidneys. 1000 calories a day forces me to eat healthy and avoid any kind of snacks. At my age, the metabolism slows and it's hard to lose and so much easier to gain with a sliver here or there of something delectable.

I managed to get out for a bit of a hike with a very supportive friend. I hike along in fits and starts with George, my trusty cane. Glad to be out there when so many seem to be confined lately.

This is the lake in the city not far from where I live and I never knew it was there as it's hidden away. It's beautifully laid out with many benches along the way for a quick little rest up.

It's home to rare birds that get blown off course here by the winds, one of which is the mandarin duck. Isn't he just gorgeous?

 

My friend Lana is deteriorating more with Alzheimer's. A call during the week broke my heart as she was in a panic as she didn't recognize where she lived or what she was doing there and wanted to get out. I calmed her down after a while.

All of the above makes me so very grateful for what I have and what I'm doing. And, well, just being. A mighty "just". Being.

Good News

I'm finally walking. I have a marvelous physiotherapist who's one of the few making home visits. Not walking far but walking. Getting the odd night, very odd, in my bed as I still wake up with pain and have to move to the recliner for any ease.

I had to really talk myself into going outside my apartment and walking. Agoraphobia had set in - a fear of falling, a fear of being outside without help, a fear of catching Covid as my building is not safe. 

I drove my car after months of not. I met a friend for coffee. We are super safe and joke we're the only two eejits wearing masks on the whole island. But elders are falling like flies here and very, very sick. And mortality rates in my age group are very high. 

I had a treatment today and he noticed I was very tense. A type A personality does not drift easily into old age and serenity. I am pain free for now after the treatment.

I'm working away on a memoir of a year in my life way, way back in prehistoric times. Creative non-fiction. I am startled as to how much comes back to me. It's really all coming to life and I relive the intensity of that long buried time.

As for the rest of me, still taking my - what feels like - 200 pills a day and marveling at the fact that I have outlived most of my friends. I will be 79 in a few days and at some point later in that day I will enter into my 80th year, my 80th turn around the sun. I am astonished. I lived hard and fast for many years and had terrible depressions and considered ending it all many times.

Looking back, in spite of everything (life is far from perfect) I am so very grateful to still be part of the human race, still full of curiosity and occasional joy, capable of sadness and delight, still full of wonder and awe at how beautiful this planet is, especially my little corner of it.

We have a fishing village, Quidi Vidi (pronounced Kyda Vyda by many old timers!), right in the middle of our city of St. John's. This village is right around the corner from where I live and has fabulous restaurants, a brewery and a whole building full of incredible artisans while fishing life goes on around them.

So on and so forth

 

I get these messages.

I get it. I really do. As I might have, in my past, being equally guilty of these kind of projectional questions to friends who were ill.

Following are the questions, followed by the real questions friends/acquaintances might be covering up.

"You must be better by now". i.e. for gawd's sake if you're not, stop malingering.

"Still your legs?" i.e. that's a hell of a long time to have your legs betraying you.

I've stopped explaining it's my entire body and its innards and I must have a world record for lack of sleep because, you know, disbelief reigns if I even mention it.

Because I've been so long on the medical treadmill and all the tests, some are giving up on me. I hear that. I don't dare ask for more that 1 item on my grocery list to be picked up. This week it was bread. I wanted to get two loaves but didn't dare ask as my friend who volunteers for me has massive handicaps of her own and is in constant pain.  I am feeling like my own nuisance that I wrote about.

I am so grateful to Daughter who comes in faithfully every couple of weeks - she's living way off, 2 hours away from here. That's 4 hours of driving plus picking up items for me, bank (cash) groceries, library, drug store at times and driving my car to make sure it's running. Other essential errands. And she has her own medical challenges (MS).

Grandgirl can hardly wait to get here in a few weeks so she can help me negotiate my life.

• There is so much wrong with me that for the first time I'll list everything here:
• Weekly lab work due to high potassium levels and monitoring of 50% under-performing kidneys. My doc calls me "the pin cushion." Funny not funny.
• Extreme pain due to arthritis in my back exacerbated by a bad fall about 6 years when I was concussed after a spine shattering fall on the ice. 
• Pulmonary vascular disease in my legs.
• Far too frequent high blood pressure bouts and breathlessness  due to elevated something (forget what). Creatin? Not sure.
• Occasional white light blindness when my chronic anaemia kicks in for a go at me and my iron plummets.
• Far too many hospital procedures, I've had it up to here with tests which basically show nothing can be done. 
• Blindness in my right eye brought on by one terrible procedure where because of my kidneys I couldn't get an anaesthetic. Ophthalmologist baffled.
• I can't lie down due to terrible pain. I have morphine but am reluctant to take it due to developing an immunity and also I don't want to feel half-corked.
• At night I try to lie on my bed with 3 pillows for a couple of hours but give in and go to recliner where in a pretzel-like position I attempt sleep, usually failing. This has been going on for three months.
• Due to unseasonable and awful record breaking heat here I had to suspend physiotherapy as it would have been dangerous. Old women are at mortal risk in this heat as their hormones have reduced sweating ability. And no, our province is not equipped for heat like this, thus no air-conditioning. Thanks once again climate change.
• Every expenditure of energy is an effort due to the afore mentioned challenges. The Spoon Theory holds fast for me.
• Doc has been ill and my meds  have been screwed up. This takes a huge stress toll on me, explaining it all to the pharmacist who is now God. When one is exhausted, stress is like the final straw. I am sure I whimper now and again.

So one long whingey whine here. I'm truly having a terrible day and this might cheer you up, thanking your stars that things looks a bit sunnier for you. Far too many of my blog friends stopped writing when they were ill. I understand that. I miss them. But I also miss the absence of how they were dealing with it. Or not.

And no, "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life," by Monty Python is terribly unhelpful unless you're a saint.

Querulous

 

The hardest NOT to do is give up. I've had several years now of health challenges, one variation after another.

And seriously, who wants to listen to it.

How does one respond to "how are you feeling?" Truthfully or dishonestly. Serious question.

The brave world of "everyone has a cross to bear, so get on with it." RC liturgy says it right there in the bible. Some bible version anyway.

And of course I hesitate to write honestly. I try to "get on with it."

But old age is baffling - I basically have no role models apart from the "getting on with it" brigade.

I haven't slept in my bed for well over a week now. For the simple reason I can't lie down. So I nap in my recliner. I can't call it sleep.

Hence the title of this blog post:

quer·u·lous

/ˈkwer(y)ələs/

Learn to pronounce

adjective

1. complaining in a petulant or whining manner.

   "she became querulous and demanding"

I may sound on the dark side of sanity at the moment. With good reason though, we can all agree.

Lack of sleep does weird things to the brain.

I've arrived at the Querulous Station.

Full steam ahead.

Meandering through the words

I plan on posting some excerpts of writing here this month, just to peak your curiosity as to what is going on with this memoir of six months of my life. I have workshopped some parts of it and got excellent feedback.

On other news, Daughter is coming in to town today and we will have brunch at our local. I had brunch there yesterday with a friend but I never tire of brunches. It always feel so civilized, as if all the time in the world is available to chat and have fill-ups on coffee and tea. So yesterday was three hours. I anticipate a lengthy one today too, though we may wander up the road and sit by the ocean for a while as it's so gorgeous a day out here.

I don't want to jinx my health status but right now this minute - though not perfect - I am feeling way better. I had to deal with an excess of potassium in my blood in the past couple of months which entailed a harsh treatment and the symptoms were frightening. Internal organs misbehaving. I honestly feel I have dodged many bullets including The Plague which is still raging through here as it is in most parts of the world. Though there is no longer statistical reportage and our Minister for Health tells us to toss the masks. I'm not. So I'm still practicing the utmost caution and only seeing those of like mind. The seniors out here are dying every week which is a caution in itself. The Culling, I call it. It enrages me.

So we were the first province in Canada to welcome Ukrainian refugees and it's so heartening to read of the kindness shown them and so many have been employed already. Their pets were included on the flight from Poland, cats and dogs. I leaked many tears.

Cam and Chuck arrived here to bless their peasants and steal some gifts and flowers. All the kowing and towing and bowing to this pair of welfare recipients frosts my you know what.

So there's your update from this outpost colony of the once "the sun never sets on us" British Empire. 

Nothing for Granted

 The stuff we take for granted when we are in good health never fails to astound me now. I am so conscious that it can all be taken away in a heartbeat.

I had around two years of debilitating health deterioration, to the point where I had to buy those eggy frozen pre-mades for breakfast as I couldn't stand long enough at the stove to make my favourite porridge and cook my egg. Also because of the chronic anemia, I could only eat tiny amounts or I would go briefly blind as my blood was so bad. Literally. Frightening. I really never thought any kind of health and mobility could be restored. I'm still not too steady on the old pins but I can stand and do stuff now, hang pictures, wash the dishes, haul in groceries. Cook.

But enough of all that, I've written much about it here in the fervent hope that others don't need to carry their health challenges alone as the mental and emotional toll of that can be enormous.

So tonight I baked a spinach quiche. All by my little old self. And it tasted so good. Very simple old recipe - bits of bacon or ham, (4 eggs, 1/4 cup of real cream or less - mix these thoroughly), carmelized onions, mushrooms, chopped if you have them, 1 cup of finely chopped spinach or kale. Pour into a smallish pastry pie shell Top with a good cheese, grated or small lumps. Serves 4. Salad or coleslaw on the side. Omit meat if vegetarian. 

Setbacks

(I thought you'd like to see the beautiful city where I live)

Some setbacks health wise which have upset me.

So there.

I was too complacent perhaps with how my abysmal health for the past two years had turned around and allowed me to walk without George my stick, and Wally my wheelchair used for longer stretches. Does the Catholic guilt ever leave me, I ask myself, all those instructions from the Holy Nuns about not being proud, which covered a multitude of missteps, never taking pleasure in anything or God would turn around and smite you before snatching it away. Vanity. Victory. Holy God is in charge and will always knock you down a peg or two.

So last week was one of those weeks where every single doctor (three) visit had gloom and doom written all over it.

Finally, on Thursday, I sat in my car and hauled out the pity pot and sat on it for about 30 minutes in the backside of a parking lot which seemed appropriate rather than an ocean visit. What else can one do (unless you're lying to yourself).

Daughter and Niece cheered me up. I am so grateful for them both in my life. I haven't shared with friends, I feel quite on the verge of tears, and only with one dear blog friend directly. I am, as they say, processing. 

I will write more of this when I can.

Meanwhile the Writing Workshop keeps me busy and engaged and quite out of myself which is excellent. Niece has planned a mango curry dinner for me tomorrow night and Daughter is taking the day off next Friday and coming in to have lunch and a bit of Solstice shopping (we do books only).

Life is as life is. Acceptance and a carrying on spirit is needed.

We all have unexpected downers, don't we? 

(Another shot of St. John's - we are right on the Atlantic ocean)

Etc.

I was encouraged today by a friend, a best selling author, who wrote of the mundane in his Facebook post.

There is always something to say.

I spent two days both prepping and undergoing some pretty brutal hospital testing procedures, under partial sedation and with minor surgery, Grandgirl never left my side and I am still in awe at her courage, competence, determination and organizational skills, down to sitting in on the post-op consultation with my specialist and handing me my bagged post event safe snack. There are two cat scans yet to come, as some diagnostics were inconclusive and need further analysis. I could never in a million years have foreseen her in such a role and frankly, it moves me to tears.

I offer you a glimpse into a budget journal former husband and I maintained to track every single income and expenditure in 1969, no matter how small. We emigrated from Ireland in January 1967 and bought our 1st house near the Beaches in Toronto exactly 3 years later.

Hair bow and pack of gum        $1.07

Lunch                                         $0.70

Groceries                                    $0.39

Present for Marion (?)                $1.00

Cigarettes                                    $1.45

K-Mart book & record                $1.76

Booze for party                            $3.00

Outfit for Daughter                       $1.29

Bell Telephone                            $10.00

2 Theatre tickets                          $8.00

Baby sitter                                    $3.00 

Seems almost prehistoric, doesn't it?

Daughter is exploring her inner artist and I am the beneficiary of some of her work.

This is an exquisite rendition of a whale. She lives where the whales roll in every year much to the delight of so many tourists who come in from around the world to see the spectacle. The whales ride in very close to the shore as the sea drops dramatically there, affording an up close and personal look at the breeching and spouting.

Day 5

All is well....

The girls are doing well. All 5 of them. Miraculous little creatures.

I read an inspiring essay this morning about writing down every little bit of our days - had coffee, phoned friend, cut toenails type of thing - just to marvel at how much is in our days. For in the small we see the beauty. There shouldn't be a word like mundane in our vocabularies. Nothing is mundane.

I'm enjoying the discipline of blogging once a day, much to my surprise. It keeps me honest. I climbed the Everest of laundry today (massive hike to laundry room) and felt good, though exhausted, afterwards.

My internet speed is so bad I was having massive trouble with Zoom meetings. Bell boosted the service but now it's worse. I find stuff like this exhausting. A rinse repeat cycle calling Bell. I believe they are completely oversubscribed here and the system is stretched to capacity. Reports I hear about competing providers don't impress me and Fibre Optic is not available for my building (seniors? dimwits, what would they want with fibre optic?)

I bring you a picture I acquired in a small artisan gallery in Nova Scotia a couple of years ago. It reminds me so much of the colourful houses here in St.John's and the houses in one of my favourite places, Kinsale, Co. Cork. I love the whimsical cow. In case your're curious, underneath is a hanging bowl for plant cuttings.

Houses in St. John's

Houses in Kinsale

Day 4

....And all going well.


Thoughts:

I find this fascinating in a family:

Brothers talk to brothers differently than they do to their sisters, (less emotionally).

Sisters talk to sisters differently than they do to brothers (more emotionally).

And brothers when engaging with sisters and vice versa talk differently (tap into their own emotions).

Why is that I wonder? I do think men miss out on so much of their inner lives.

I'm not talking all men as I have both men friends and male cousins who are very open with their emotions and our conversations are rich as a result of this.

Old Chestnuts:
(1)If one grows one's hair long it saps all the strength from one's body. Is there any truth to this?

(2)My father would say "Cop yourself on" if you were heading in a downward direction. I like it. I put it on my mini-blackboard as a monthly message but I added FFS for good measure. It keeps me mindful of staying on track.

So my iris turned out to be crocus and she had another two sisters this morning.

I just love these cheeky tiny things. I'm like a mother hen.

Life Management

It's tricky this business of life management once old age, pain, lack of energy, unpredictable moods plus this pandemic come into the picture.

I sometimes scream inwardly: take me now.

I did this at the car dealership yesterday, waiting for an emergency job on my car to be over with. Nothing to do with the staff who were incredibly helpful in a terribly busy day. But walking back and forth between the distant waiting room and the technician to review and approve the work with no seating where he was, was a crisis of endurance for me even though George, my cane, was there to lean on. I literally felt ill. It was a nerve wracking day with a short spurt at the beach to calm my nerves when Daughter picked me up between dental appointments (crown work). I hate being seen like this. Needy. In pain. Breathing all out of alignment.

I was exhausted. I am exhausted a lot. Everything seems like another hill to climb if I don't manage me and my energies well. Sometimes there is nothing left over.

Daughter organized this quiet day for my birthday last weekend, she sees and senses, as no one else, the limits of my endurance. I can pretend at times when with others (oh the effort!) that life is hunky dory, but the strain of this catches up with me and flings me to the metaphorical ground and I have to isolate. I hate being seen when I feel defeated by everything and everyone.

And it's not just the physical stuff that drains me. It's the mental and emotional as well. Emails, texting, visiting, phone-calls, social expectations. Very few understand this and I am grateful to those who do. Sometimes I have nothing left for a few days and need to recuperate.

All these feelings are exacerbated by the pandemic of course. And I am very aware of that.

Meanwhile, I sat among some en-plein-air artists on the beach yesterday and did nothing, said nothing, just watched the artists and the baby ducks and the water. And emptied my mind for an hour shoving the enormous burden of all that ailed and troubled me aside.

A Huge Worry

Sometimes, I come right up against myself and realize some hard facts.

My best friends, there were only a few, are gone from my life. The ones I could share anything with without judgement or fear, the whole guts of me. And were supportive and loving and unconditionally there in times fraught with danger and minefields and, well, terror.

A massive worry has stalked into my life in the past few days. Involving a person near and dear to me. And in morning meditation today, as this leaped in and out of my head and tended to consume me, this fact of having no one close to share this with on a one to one basis stood starkly in front of me.

My birth family doesn't deal with any kind of serious issues. Everything is a joke. They never even ask about Missing Daughter or my broken heart. They never ask about Daughter's MS which has had a huge impact on her musical talent and crafting and over all ambitions. Health issues are swept under the nearest rug. If there are any family crises, you wouldn't know. I ask about theirs but usually a stinging silence is the answer. And shunning for no reason are an MO. Dysfunction Junction rooted in abuse. Understandable when one goes through the therapy to dig it out but most have not. They are the last people on earth I would run to for comfort in a storm. As trust and unconditional love are absent. Jokes would ensue and honestly? I couldn't bear them.

My good friend R, who is a harbour in any kind of emotional turmoil has had a recurrence of liver cancer and had another operation these past few days and is still in the hospital. Doing remarkably well considering he's down to a small piece of an operating organ now.

My BFF Helen who died in 2014 would have been a solid wall with great advice and most of all love and concern.

My friend D, who died in 2016 would have gently guided me in the right direction.

Lana would have been wonderful, but she's in the throes of dementia, as is another good friend, P, who worries me.

I have many acquaintances here but even reviewing a list in my head which one I could trust and lean on comes up with zero.

Niece comes to mind but I truly don't want to burden her. She has a hugely heavy plate with young children.

I can't be more specific, I'm sorry. I wrote a journal entry just now and am so full of fear I am throwing it out here too in the hopes of alleviating some of it.

And you know? Just writing it all down, one firm harbour light comes to mind just now.

She's at a distance, but I will call her today.

Sunday Smatterings

Thank you France!

It was a shock finding this package of Brioches Au Lait. Actually baked in France. Probably shipped (literally) to our island frozen and then tossed on the bakery shelf. Delicious. I make cheese and tomato rolls with them. I remember trying this particular delicacy on the Channels Islands way back in the mist of time when "Hey Mister Tambourine Man" was a big hit and what happened in Jersey stayed in Jersey.

Web hunting looking for an attractive device to hold my hair (none found anywhere here) I found this. Made in France yet again. And in true La Belle France elegance it came in its own organza bag with a wee satin ribbon. And my dears everyone likes it on my head with my hair piled happily beneath it. I look organized and librarian like. My look. Deceptive.

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I've had two excellent days in a row. Where walking has been less painful and I got all my mountain of laundry done. That sense of overwhelm was absent. I treasure these days more than I can say.
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As the Lodge Lurches
In the "what we don't know about people" department.
Grace's son, all 70 years of him, supervised his "muscles" (his word) - his two grandsons - today as they removed the big furniture from her apartment. A huge amount of it. Eight bookcases. Full of classics and great women writers like Margaret Atwood. This made me sad. If only I had known I would have enjoyed a cuppa with her and a good discussion on our reading habits. She was never one for newsbagging (marvellous Newfoundland word) around the halls. Like myself.

And how has your week been?

Acceptance

I must have written about this before. Acceptance.

One thing I know for sure. It is not a constant. It waffles and wavers and falls down and gets up in a different form. It can leave the room slowly or gallop off like a horse.

I'm still not 100% of where I was even a few weeks ago. I have Grandgirl staying with me and it really puts my health into a floodlit situation being around her. The energy my dears, the energy is just not there. And I have had many a private cry and an appalling one in front of her this morning after a miserable night of it.

Don't get me wrong. She is amazing and kind and lovely. Just this pity pot seems very handy for me to stick my head in now and again when I am alone.

I feel the Black Dog lurking patiently, panting in eagerness. And I know I am struggling one more time with the acceptance of my failing body.

I had to get another chest X-ray this week and I hauled myself off but I couldn't get parking and so I circled the hospital for about an hour, just about whimpering. Acceptance I kept saying to myself. Ask for help. Stop feeling like such a burden. One friend could use any money I offer her to assist me as she is impoverished at the moment. Rise up. Count the blessings. Accept where you are and carry on.

As I type Grandgirl is making supper. Kale and tortellini and goat cheese, etc. There is an odd shifting of balance between us. Inevitable. I am so grateful I live long enough to see her grow into this lovely, brilliant young woman who has a wonderful future ahead of her. She's a happy person. Content with her life and her partner and her large circle of friends.

I am reminded of my own beloved granny who didn't do so well in her latter years. One of her daughters insisted on her leaving her home and moving in with her and her rambunctious household that also included her mother-in-law and that was not a good move. Granny missed her village and her friends and her chickens and dog. Independence is truly all important in our senior years as long we it is even remotely manageable. Closing our own doors on the world when we need to. I imagine as I fall into some decrepitude Granny is haunting me a little. But she also had the huge burden of a dead daughter (my mother) which was devastating for her.

I need to accept life as it is today and move away from the "not any mores" and the "neverness" of things I won't be able for again.

Just writing all this turbulence down has really helped me today.

Acceptance.

I need to work on it some more.

Shrunken World

Like a shrunken head. Mine.

Now that I am free from all "outside" activities I enjoyed my first day of mobility and breathing yesterday. I proceeded to reorganize my office, which some of you may recall is a part of my bedroom. I moved a very high wooden yarn shelf in from my locker room and began sorting all my writing binders - oh those novels, oh those short stories, oh those plays! - into some semblance of order. it also serves as a kind of room divider. I think I will throw a spider plant on the top shelf. I have quite a bit to go yet but I am so very pleased with how this is all coming together. I'm one for keeping note scraps on story ideas and scenarios, I'd love to have a system for these. Any ideas? They would need sorting into headings or some such, not sure. Some are barely legible but meaningful to me.

After enduring abuse from an anonymous commenter on this blog, I will no longer allow such creepy trolls with their own sick agendas to comment. They will be deleted unread. I recommend if you suffer similarly.

I believe I needed this health wake-up call to pay attention to my own inner creative spirit. I see my doctor tomorrow for followup.

My 80yo cleaning woman couldn't make it as scheduled today as she was worn out from cleaning another client yesterday. I told her to take time off any time she needs. She can't survive on her tiny pension and OAS. It is heart-breaking. Our MHA shows up today to party with the residents. He's the one who read our petition in the HoA. He's going to present a copy of the petition to my SOS founding partner. She's game ball. I'm not. I might want to physically assault him and scream "We want action, not words!" She's far more intimidated than I am but we make a good team. I do the yelling and plotting. So to avoid prison I stay away from him right now. And strategise some more.

I love this picture of a place very dear to me taken in 2014.