Category Archives: Family

Aging, Cooking, Dogs, Family, Friends, Health

Shadow Mountain Clinic notes

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Lughnasa and the Full Labor Day Moon over Black Mountain

Friday gratefuls: Rigel, who went with me to Evergreen and came back with a big smile. Kep, healing. Kate, enduring and endearing. Alan, who will take me to my cataract surgery both days. That snow coming. Fish fry tonight. Pizza from Beau Jeaus. The new mailbox, standing behind it to get the mail out of its second door. Safer.

Some mornings. Out of bed at 6:45. Geez. Still groggy. Slept fine last night, maybe a bit too fine.

Rigel needs her meds every 12 hours. She’s taking clavamox and eroflaxcin, antiobiotics, and prednisone to lower her fever. Recheck on Tuesday with the cardiologist and a neurologist?

She has some foot drop in her rear legs and some weakness. She can no longer climb the loft stairs, nor can she bring her leg back when it begins to slide out while eating. Slick tiles. I put a rug down by her bowl to solve that. Otherwise she gets around fine.

Her appetite has returned to normal and her mood is infectious. So far, so great. I feel so good. Take action without imagining the result.

Kate can manage her discomfort by staying in bed with the fan cooling her. Also, NCIS. The telemedicine visit with Dr. Gidday yesterday resulted in a physical appointment next week. We’re in serious pursuit now of the increased shortness of breath and the leakage at her stoma site. I feel confident with absolutely no data to back that up.

I know. This blog has turned into an organ recital. My life, our life, right now. And, that’s what this blog is, more than anything, my journal on the web, a weblog, a blog.

Aging, Cooking, Dogs, Family, Health, Jefferson County, Memories, Minnesota, Shadow Mountain, The Move, Third Phase, Weather +Climate

No Need to Push Into the Future

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Lughnasa and the Labor Day Moon

Thursday gratefuls: The lovely Labor Day Moon hanging over Black Mountain. Orion’s return. 44 degrees this morning. Snow in the forecast for Tuesday. Kate, dealing. Rigel, eating. Kep, smiling and jumping. Brother Mark at work in the Sands of Arabi. Retired Mary waiting out Malaysia’s quarantine policy. Murdoch and Brenton’s new chocolate puppy, a real cutie. Alan. My cataracts.

So. Tuesday. According to Open Snow, a website for ski enthusiasts and those who live in the Mountains, Snow. Could range from showers to 6 inches, depending on the forecast model. The full winter after our move, 2015-2016, Shadow Mountain got 220 inches of Snow. Surprised these Minnesotans used to deep cold, but nowhere near that much Snow. More like 45 inches on average.

Another tough day for Kate yesterday. She canceled her appointment with Amber, the wound care therapist. Nausea. General discomfort. Enough problems with breathing that she wants a wheelchair for her out of the house times. Shifting from the rollator, a sort of moving walker with four wheels and a seat. Whatever she needs.

The arc of her symptoms is not a good one, It bends not toward health, but toward increasing infirmity. A telehealth time with Dr. Gidday, our primary care doc, today. If we could get a good grip on the shortness of breath and on the leakage from her feeding tube site, she could improve quickly.

These days are just difficult, not knowing what to expect from her body. What can I get you? A new body. If not that, new lungs. We laugh. We’ve cried enough.

Rigel. On the mend. Eating more like her old self, now dry food as well as canned. Smiling more. Looking brighter. What a joy. I’m taking her illness in, yes, I know it’s there, but I rejoice with her improvements. A gamble, a good one as of this morning.

Kep has stopped nipping at his skin. The last two times we’ve had him furminated he’s developed itchy skin, which he nips, sometimes bites. Licks. He ends up looking like a dog with mange. He’s healing, but what we’ll do the next time his double coat starts releasing fur for his comfort, I don’t know.

We’re as much medical clinic as we are home. Nurse Charlie tends to his various charges. Changing bandages. Preparing and serving food. Giving medications. Paying attention to changes. Scheduling appointments.

An oddly fulfilling role. Satisfying, I think, because I can do something for each of them, help them. Not my role to cure them, fix them. Though stressed, I remain calm, unworried about tomorrow. Today has plenty, no need to push into the future.

Aging, Cinema and Television, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Friends, GeekWorld, Health, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase, Weather +Climate

Zoombies

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Lughnasa and the Labor Day Moon

Monday gratefuls: Rigel’s appetite. Kep’s centeredness. Our home. Kate feeling better last night. Chicken and blueberries and asparagus and beets. Our front, cleaner, more natural after the stump grinding. The night sky, visible now at 5 a.m. 36 degrees this morning.

Cold here overnight. Down to 36. Refreshing, invigorating. Up early, 4:30 a.m. with enough sleep. I go to bed early, around 8 p.m. The night Sky. Don’t see it much when I get up later, around 5:30 or 6:00 a.m. though that’s changing as the Great Wheel turns toward the vernal equinox.

Kate had a hard day yesterday with shortness of breath and not feeling well. I moved a TV into the bedroom. She can watch NCIS and Blue Bloods while resting. She feels better lying down. Our agreement is that the TV goes off when I come to bed. This is a change from her last year and a half when she read through books in a day or two, filling shelves of books she had read.

Rigel’s appetite, boosted by the prednisone she’s on for fever control, is good. She’s gradually returning to her old habits, a couple of cups of dry food with some wet food mixed in. Since her time in the hospital, she’s eaten a lot of canned food. It all has to be single protein, rabbit. That makes it expensive, three to four dollars a can. And she’s a big dog.

Zoombies. Don’t know why I haven’t seen this word yet, but it’s my neologism now. This is the zoombie apocalypse, characterized by so many seen but not felt. I don’t find that zoom eats my brain, but I do know it can cause a deadening if done too much. Many working at home have overloaded.

Yesterday the old zoombies met for what Paul calls our church. The topic was staying healthy as we age. A table with four legs: diet & exercise, relationships, sleep, and regular medical care. Couldn’t remember medical care as the fourth leg so I added curiosity. That works, too. So, five legs.

What we’re trying to do is lengthen healthspan, that period of life where you can do what you want to do with minimal interference from frailty or disease. As we age, so many of us experience dire insults that don’t kill us, but do render us weaker, less able to engage in our lives as we used to know them.

Ideas from the zoombie session: exercise bands, going to the club, cleanses of various sorts, walking, physical labor, interval training, workouts from a trainer, staying in touch with loved ones, with friends, with dogs.

I mentioned curiosity because it acknowledges mystery, wonder, and an openness to the future without trying to control it.

Here’s to your health, your loved ones health. May you live long and prosper.

Colorado, Denver, Family, Great Wheel, Great Work, Jefferson County, Minnesota, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Park County, Plants, Shadow Mountain, The Move, US History, Weather +Climate

Bloody Sun

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Lughnasa and the Labor Day Moon

Tuesday and Wednesday gratefuls: Kate’s DEXA scan for bone density. Ruby’s a.c. for the drive. Euphoria on HBO. Ruth’s new favorite show. Rigel’s improving appetite. Amber. Mountain Waste. The blood red morning Sun. Teenagers. The complexity of their lives, made even more complex by Covid. The orange excrescence and what he’s showing us about our country.

The dawn Sun here bleeds for the Fires burning through the West. The clouds show their concern with reflected color. Northern California and the Western Slope of Colorado are aflame. Their smoke and ash foul the Air we breath even up here on Shadow Mountain.

We live in the Arapaho National Forest, filled with Lodgepole Pine and Aspen stressed by drought, valley meadows with a summer’s growth of Grasses, also dry. The National Forest Service warning signs have pegged their highest mark, Extreme, for weeks now.

Western life. Punctuated by drought. Rejuvenated by Fire. Relieved by heavy Mountain Snows. For thousands of years. “Go, West, young man.” We did. But we white folk are not nomadic. We do not know where a village can be safe. We just build. Glass and steel. Hardie board and shingles. Permanent. As if there were no fire. No drought. These are strategies of the humid East, dangerous in the arid West.

As Greeley’s famous invitation flooded the West with people from the East, pushing out, slaughtering the people who knew how to move with the seasons, we made the same mistakes over and over. I’m living in one right now. It’s beautiful here on Shadow Mountain, but this house will burn. And that’s what Lodgepole Pine Forests do. They burn. All the Trees. Leaving fertile ground for a new Ecosystem.

Humans make mistakes. Often. And the consequences are sometimes horrific. Sometimes wonderful. Human life is one long unintentional adventure in empiricism. Oh, if we do that, this happens. Some of our mistakes lead us to lives otherwise impossible. Like our life here on Shadow Mountain.

Kate and I understand that we might be living here when the Forests catch Fire. That our home may be temporary. We choose to stay for the same reasons populations of us Eastern folk spotted all over the Mountains and Intramontane regions out here do. It’s beautiful and close to the Wild Life, a reminder of a world not controlled by humans.

Oh, yes, there’s a paradox. Live where it’s not safe. Why would we do that? We’re mistake makers, non-linear decision makers. We’re human.

Colorado, Cooking, Denver, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Health, Jefferson County, Memories, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Plants, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase, US History, Weather +Climate

Water

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Lughnasa and the Labor Day Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Jon, Ruth, Gabe. All here to celebrate Grandma’s birthday. The specific Animals that gave their lives for our meal: scallops and a tri-tip steak. The heat. When it leaves. Jon and Ruth’s happiness with the gift of Ivory. (our 2011 Rav4). Gabe’s “Air hug. I love you Grandpop.” Rigel at home. The chance to cook for a crowd. Kate. Always Kate.

Didn’t do much for Kate’s birthday on Tuesday. Lots of stuff going on before, that day, and after. But we hit it yesterday. Grandkids. Scallops. The gift of empanadas from Jon and the kids. Rigel up and about. When they left we both collapsed, as usual. A good exhaustion. Happy to see them come. Happy to see them go.

Record heat in Denver. Hot up here, too. Not by other spots standards, I know, but we’ve become acclimated to a cooler day.

You can’t see the Mountains from Denver. Jon. All this smoke and haze, heavy particulates has obscured us. We’re still here. The haze is here and the smell of smoke hangs in the Air like a harbinger. It’s bad further west, but the Wildfire threat is extreme here, too. Humidity at 16. The Ground Water evaporates. The stress on Trees and Grasses grows with the lack of precipitation. A grim reminder that we’re all part of this Ecosystem.

Ruth said that Animals from the Foothills are fleeing into metro Denver. People have been asked to leave water out for them. Can’t do it here. Habituation. Which kills Animals rather than helps them.

The arid West is not the humid East. The Mountains are not the Plains. Whether we realize it all the time or not, our lives have Water as a disruptive actor. The lack of it. Water from the Western Slope, for example, goes to Denver through huge tunnels and pipes. The southern burbs of Denver have depleted much of the Aquifer that sits beneath them. Long periods of dryness lead to extreme conditions for agriculture, Wildlife, and our Forests. The Colorado River Compact promises more Water to its downstream users like Las Vegas, Arizona, and Los Angeles than actually flows through it.

Diane, my San Francisco based cousin, told me about the book, Cadillac Desert, long ago. That piqued my interest in Water. I’ve been fascinated ever since. The way the Plains states like Kansas, Nebraska, South Dakota, and even parts of Oklahoma and Texas have based their economies on the Ogallala Aquifer, an enormous reservoir of mostly ancient Water that underlies them. No Aquifer, no amber waves of Grain, no fruited Plains. The Great Lakes. Now, the Colorado River.

Consider the Water where you are. It is Life itself. Worthy of your attention.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Health, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase

Home again, home again

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Lughnasa and the Labor Day Moon

Friday gratefuls: Rigel asleep on the floor, my side of the bed. Her bag of meds and the schedule laid out by Kate. Palisade Peaches and center cut pork chops. Easy Entree. Amber, again. Rain yesterday, good rain, during a red flag day. All the firefighters deployed to the Western Slope. The Pine Gulch Fire, now the 2nd largest in state history.

Rigel went outside yesterday when the neighbor dogs barked. She came up and down the short stairs between the first level and the second. She ate some canned food and took her first meds at home. As VRCC predicted, she was tired and spent most the time splayed out on the rug.

As was her occasional habit anyhow, she didn’t get up for breakfast. It’s five o’clock, Dad. I’ll feed her a bit later.

As we were going to sleep last night, Kate said, “It feels good to have the whole family back together.” It did. My mind didn’t have to wander all the way to Edgewood to Rigel’s kennel. I could reach down and pat her head. Which I did.

I sent Ruth a text with a short video of Rigel walking out of the VRCC. She is strong, Ruth said. Yes, I replied. Like you and your Grandma.

No matter what happens after this, yesterday was a good day.

Cooking, Dogs, Dreams, Family, Feelings, Friends, Health, Judaism, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase

When in need

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Lughnasa and the Labor Day Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Rigel’s strength. The docs at VRCC. Tara. Kate. Amber, two gratefuls for Amber. Wildfires. Extreme Fire Danger. Kep. Ruth. Kate’s sisters. Shadow Mountain. Black Mountain. The Arapaho National Forest. All the wild critters that live within it.

Rigel. Steroids bringing her fever down. Down into normal range. Seeing now if that can last. If so, she may come home today. If not today, tomorrow. She’s strong, otherwise healthy. Dr. Baylis, who diagnosed her allergy to chicken protein, said yesterday that a six week course of oral anti-biotics could find her back to normal. The stroke risk remains though I don’t know how to evaluate it. Guardedly optimistic.

Had a dream last night. A big brown dog bounded through the house. I turned to Kate and said, “Oh, you went in and picked up Rigel!” She’s in my heart. Forever.

Kate seems to have found her advocate about her feeding tube. Amber. Amber is physical therapist with a specialty in wound care. Since the feeding tube goes through the skin, it is a permanent wound. Healing it requires preventing fluids from leaking out onto Kate’s skin.

We’re now thinking that the tube, which was placed in a small part of her stomach left after bariatric surgery, may need to go where we originally thought it was going, into her jejunum. A J-tube. Would require surgery again. Grrr. But if that’s what it takes, we’ll go there.

Amber got the operative report yesterday and found a denser nutrient supplement for Kate’s feedings. That might help, too. It would supply more calories per unit and allow her to slow down the rate of feeding without making it take a really long time. That could help with the leakage.

We’re going back to see Amber today. Might have some news on this later.

Meanwhile my friend Tara has talked me through the recent disturbance in my psyche. She asked me how things were going on, I think, the same day that I told Kate I couldn’t clean the house and cook as much. I told Tara how things were right then. She offered to do many things, but the one I needed was to talk.

So we’ve met for an hour each week since. Three weeks. I calmed down after the first conversation. Over the course of our three talks I’ve come to realize that stuff here: Kate’s, Rigel’s, the house’s, The Denver Olson’s: Jon, Ruth, Gabe, occupy most of my free mental territory. That’s what I meant when I said I could no longer clean and cook as much. Or, rather, at that point stuff occupied more mental territory than I had free. My hard drive had crashed.

With Tara and the Ancient Friends and the Clan I’ve opened up some space and feel better now. Thanks to you all.

Cooking, Dogs, Family, Friends, Health, Judaism, Mussar, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase

Whole lotta billin’ goin’ on

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Lughnasa and the Labor Day Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Mussar MVP. Silence. Guarding speech. Ron. Susan. Jamie. Marilyn. Rich. Kate. Tara. Judy. Rigel’s temperature down to 102.1. Our emergency fund. Vanguard. Peak Windows. We can see clearly now. Kep keeping his humans safe. Clean gutters. Getting my password back for solar panel monitoring. Our mailbox with the door in the back. No more standing on the road to collect mail. Ruth and Gabe. Steven, the snail.

Rigel remains in the hospital with a guarded diagnosis. The iv antibiotics and steroids seem to be bringing her fever down, but the chances of a stroke remain, and will remain even if she survives this episode. This is due to what doctors charmingly call vegetation on her mitral valve. If this vegetation breaks loose, it could cause a pulmonary embolism or a stroke. Nothing to be done about that risk, either.

I go to sleep imagining myself with Rigel, testing a connection that is as strong as I’ve had with a dog. Rigel lies in her crate, feeling miserable, and I try to comfort her. Probably hooey, but it makes me feel better.

You never realize how dirty your windows are until you’ve had them professionally cleaned. They’re transparent! Peak Windows came yesterday to celebrate Kate’s birthday. Did a great job. Clean gutters, too, heading into ice dam season. Also recommended for fire mitigation. Pine needles in the gutter can catch fire.

The last week showed how bills can stack up all of a sudden. Rigel in the vet hospital. Kate’s dentures. And, yesterday, my long-term care insurance. Yike. Not to mention quarterly taxes due next month. We’ve got it, but not without some pain.

Kate turned 76 yesterday. A quiet birthday though we’re going to celebrate on Saturday with Jon and the grandkids. With phone calls, Peak Windows, and Rigel in the hospital, then MVP which goes late for us, her birthday wore her out.

Here’s an interesting note. I wrote a post on Nextdoor Shadow Mountain extolling Easy Entrees. Got lots of hits. And, this morning I found a private message from Laura, who apparently owns Easy Entrees. My post brought tears to her eyes, she said. And, she deposited one hundred dollars in my Easy Entree account. Wow. Thanks, Laura.

Dogs, Family, Friends, Health, Memories, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase

Yesterday’s Gone

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Lughnasa and the crescent Lughnasa Moon

Monday gratefuls: Rigel. Kep. Kate. Tom. Mark. Paul. Bill. VRCC. Thermometers. AC in Ruby. Defurmination. Vets. Vet techs. Blood tests. Kindness at VRCC.

Got up yesterday at 8 a.m. Very late for me. Breakfast, then zoom with the ancient friends. No time to write. After the zoom call ended, I took off for Petsmart, where Kep got groomed. I drove back home after dropping him off even though it’s an hour round trip. Nowhere I could imagine hanging out for the three hours.

Nap. Then. Rigel’s not looking right. She wasn’t. She looked like she was sick. We worried about bloat. I felt her stomach. Not tense. Her expression made me sad. I felt her head. Hot. Got out the thermometer and, in the undignified way we do it, took her temperature. 105. A Dog’s normal temp is around 102.5.

Kate called the emergency vet where we’ve taken Rigel before, VRCC. They’re sort of a cross between emergency vet and the U.’s vet hospital. Yes, that temperature meant she needed to be seen.

Rigel loves to go for rides, but this time I had to place her front paws on the floor of Ruby’s back, then put my hands under her rear and boost her in. At one hundred pounds she’s still in my range to help. One reason we know longer have Irish Wolfhounds. When they’re sick, I can no longer move them. IW’s weight between one hundred and fifty and two hundred pounds.

Left home around four fifteen, got into Englewood at five p.m. Due to Covid the VRCC building allows no entry for anyone except employees and patients. Understand. But. It’s a bare parking lot and four p.m. meant the day’s heat had hit maximum. Ninety five.

Rigel disappeared inside the nice air conditioned building. I went back out to Ruby to wait. Four hours would pass before I left for home. Life threatening illness and trauma kept showing up ahead of Rigel being seen. Triage.

On the internet I looked up running a car with the air conditioning on while parked. Modern cars, the experts said, could be run with the a.c. on until you ran out of gas or the battery drained. Didn’t do that right away, but sitting in Ruby with the windows down, the sun above and the asphalt below…

I drove to Steak and Shake for a burger. Got back. Had that sort of supper. Realized I could download a book from the Jefferson County Library and listen while I waited. Forgot my books while getting Rigel in the car. Found a book by David Baldacci and the wait became less onerous.

Finally, around eight forty-five p.m. a doctor called on my cell. Rigel’s temperature was at 104.3 and hadn’t changed since she arrived. Not gotten worse, but not better either. She recommended an overnight hospital stay where they would try to get her fever down, give her IV fluids, and start hunting for a cause. The bloodwork and physical exam showed nothing except normal values. Urine, too. Chest x-ray. Nada.

Still true this morning. The tab is going to be high. In the thousands. She is, however, our last big dog and she’s been so healthy, we’re going to try and figure it out. At eleven and a half it could be cancer. If so, we won’t treat that. Just about anything else we’ll probably try to correct. Depending on the estimate.

These are heart-wrenching decisions where weighing the pocketbook against Rigel’s life makes our heart spin.

That was yesterday and yesterday’s gone.

Dogs, Family, Health, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase

The Good News

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Lughnasa and the Lughnasa Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Tara. Taryle. Kelly, the gutter cleaner. Ruth and Gabe, the snail wranglers. Claretin. Jackie, our hair stylist. The fan in our bedroom. Kate’s capacity to adapt to new realities. Her microwave bowls. Kamala Harris. The excitement over the Democratic ticket. The chance to dethrone the naked emperor in November.

And so. The pulmonologist. Dr. Taryle is a gnome, an old gnome, older than either one of us, I’m sure. He works as a pulmonologist for National Jewish Hospital, the premiere respiratory hospital in the U.S. He’s been clear, focused, and attentive to data and detail. He knows his specialty and cares about Kate.

He also said her lung condition is stable. That’s good, right? Well. Yes. Sorta. He looked at her CT, listened to her lungs, heard her story about recent shortness of breath. Among the other things going on, I can say the lungs are stable. Well, can you give me something, anything to help? I don’t think it’s called for. Those meds cause nausea, diarrhea, fatigue. Oh, well.

Which leaves us in a weird place. Her cardiologist, after an echocardiogram, says her heart is not the issue. No pulmonary hypertension. Her pulmonologist says her interstitial lung disease is stable. Yet she’s still out of breath after coming up four stairs or going out to her sewing room to water her plants. Not sure what to do next.

A positive is Kate’s new, more regular use of Zofran, an anti-nausea drug. It seems to help with her eating. She lost weight over the last couple of weeks, down to 90 pounds. If she can add some calories by mouth, we should be able to get her up to her target range between 95 and 105.

Rigel’s foot, now wrapped in a neon pink bandage, has gotten better. Her gate is normal. The bandage comes off this evening. Kep goes in for another grooming session on Sunday. As a double-coated breed, Akita’s shed a lot. And, by a lot, I mean, a lot. The only antidote is regular grooming.

Kelly, the gutter guy, came by yesterday. He put a ladder up on the roof, then climbed up and walked around cleaning the gutters. He did this on the garage, too. A much taller roof. Would have scared me. An ice dam and fire mitigation service. The same company sends us window cleaners next week.

Debating right now whether resurfacing our driveway and extending the asphalt to the garage makes sense. About seven grand. Or, should we stain the house? Probably about the same. Or, should we do neither? Like a new roof these are big ticket maintenance items that have to be done on occasion. Is this the time?