Aurals

Spring           Full Seed Moon

The audiologist works in a 17th floor suite in the Medical Arts Building.  Downtown Minneapolis spreads out toward the west and the smaller buildings look faraway.  Todd has very white teeth, a bright blue and white striped shirt, black  pants and shoes.  There is no one else in this oddly empty space.

After clucking a bit about my deaf ear and gathering some pertinent information, Todd took back to a small room within a room.  It has acoustical tile on the walls and ceiling, a small window through which I can see Todd and a chair for me.  Todd puts a red earphone on my right ear and a taupe earphone on my right ear with a careful, practiced movement.

“Click this if you hear a sound,” he says, handing me a small plastic device with a button.  Then he closes the thick door.  Oops.  A bit of claustrophobia.  I close my eyes.

Warbling sounds, the aural equivalent of sine curves ping out of the headset.  Then, spaces of time when I wonder if he’s not sending me anything or if I’ve lost whole chunks of hearing. Ah.  A sound.  Another.   Now a sonar like ping.  Then a washing noise with the warbling sounds fainter under it.  In giving myself over to the test I’ve forgotten my claustrophobia.

That was my right ear.  He then puts a static noise, like cellophane crumpling over and over, in my right ear so it won’t help out and give a false reading.  In my left ear, nothing.  Then, mild pain that I feel, but do not hear.  One or two low warbling sounds, faint and far away, but heard in my right ear in spite of the static.

“Let’s look at the results.”

As I thought, I’ve lost hearing in the high ranges in my good ear.  The sibilants are harder to distinguish in challenging environments, s, f, th.  Yes, I’ve noticed that.  In my left ear, “You have no functional hearing.”  Oddly, this pleases me.  I guess it confirms my reality, again.

There are options for me, but not really bang on good ones, at least not at the level of difficult I have now.  Maybe later.

Feelin’ Glum

Spring              Full Seed Moon

Today was the second organ day in a row.  Yesterday, eyes.  Today, skin.  Tomorrow, ears.  Doing fine on all counts so far.  Even so, I find visits to the doctor a bit stressful.  The waiting room.  The waiting for the doctor.  Their evaluation/assessment.  I have a good relationship with all of my doctors and intend to keep it that way.  Bill Schmidt and I had lunch today and I told him I view doctors as health consultants.  I’m responsible for my health, but they help me stay healthy and intervene if something gets out of whack.

After seeing Dr. Pakzad I came home and had a sit down with Kate.  I’ve been feeling glum, an unusual state for this time of year and unusual in intensity for me over the last couple of years.  It’s a little difficult to sort things out.  In part the Sierra Club work may be more of a challenge than I anticipated.  In part I found myself counting up all the little insults that make me realize my age, no, not really my age, but my sense of competence.  Do I have it anymore?  A tough question to answer from the inside and one always colored by mood.

Kate thinks that may be the wrong question.  I’ve prodded her several times over the last year about retirement and whether she’s ready for it.  She turned the question around on me, “I wonder you’re ready for retirement?  To let go of the need to have to have it?”

Hmmm.  Projection isn’t just a machine in a movie theater.  She may well be right.  Pondering this pushed me to wonder about the last regression I had where I got credentialed for the UU ministry.  I did that during a time when I was down about the writing.  But, John Desteian said, in a regression, you always go back to pick up something left behind, or unresolved.  Stuff to bounce around.  Enough for a coup contrecoup injury.

Good lunch with Bill Schmidt.  We covered a lot of ground from genetic modification of seeds and nuclear energy to motorcycles and dealing with difficult personalities.  I came away still opposed to nuclear energy, but willing to hear arguments about how to handle the waste.

A Good Lesson In Humility

Spring           Waxing Seed Moon

I’ve been working with the Sierra Club for a while now and I’m constantly amazed at how much more these folks know about politics than I do.  I’ve begun to realize that I never shepherded legislation though the legislative process or worked on the ground in a modern political campaign.  I’m a rabble rouser, an agitator, a motivator and an organizer, but political process has never been my strength.  And all along I thought it was.

So the uphill curve has found me panting along behind, running hard to keep up.  At times, like tonight, I’ve felt out of my depth, just not up to the task.  In fact I’ve taken the risk, jumped in and tried to stay afloat.  I’ve not got the total package going on as yet, but I can get there.  A good lesson in humility.

Tonight will be the last night of meds, the penicillin will run out Friday at noon and I believe the infection will be on its last legs, even if they could take awhile to go down.  Yeah.

Lunch tomorrow with Bill Schmidt, talking nuclear power.

Stars In My Eyes

Spring                 Full Seed Moon

I have stars in my eyes.  Literally.  The opthamologist dilated them and I forgot to ask for the reversal drops.  I see little extra rays of light if I look at something bright.

My suspicious nerve has not changed, looks good.  Yeah.

Kate and I plan to try a new Vietnamese restaurant for lunch.  Sounds fun to me.  I always like dates with Kate.

The Dow continues to hop around, uncertain of this or that.  Investor psychology is the whole deal on Wall Street in spite of the fancy numbers and elaborate formulas, even those generated by theoretical physicists.  The  gyrations and chaos of the market make it more appealing to me than it would be otherwise.  I like its tendency to defy expectations.

If something as straightforward, relatively speaking, as the market confounds us, why do we expect life to come in a easy to understand form?  We have many more transmutations than the market.

80%

Spring        Waxing Seed Moon

Whoa.  I’m 80% back to normal, which feels like double speed ahead compared to the slowed down, body working hard lethargy of the last four days.  To think I did that to myself intentionally.

When an illness or disease process begins to lift, the world becomes clearer and more hospitable, as if a dark mist you didn’t even notice has finally disappeared.

Tomorrow I get my glaucoma survelliance.  At least I’ll be able to stay awake.

They’ll Need a Resurrection. But, They Won’t Get One.

Spring         Waxing Seed Moon

For the first time since last Thursday, I feel like working out.  When I tried before, each step on the treadmill transmitted up to and resonated in my jaw.  I no longer look like a chipmunk although I can tell the infection is still there, though now it is like a folded section of cloth about 8 inches long as opposed to the walnuts in the cheek look of before.

The pain has throttled way back, too.  I hadn’t popped any Alleve today at all until about a half an hour ago, but I decided that before I went back on the treadmill I wanted a little cushion.

All this is because we went after the infection in the first place so this was the hard part of getting to a healthier state.  I look forward to that moment, though I’ve appreciated the intimacy with my bodies defenses that I’ve had over the last four days.   When my body and the penicillin worked hard on the infected bone, it took my attention away from the outer world.  I got sleepy and in fact slept a lot.  My energy level was low so I laid around, not exerting myself much.  It’s good to know my bodies still enough punch to fight back hard.  Even if it means some discomfort.

My thinking has been a little fuzzy too so if there’s anything strange in the last few posts chalk up to distraction by infection.

The legislature will go away on Easter break and will come back needing a resurrection.  They won’t get one.  The budget deficit will not go away and all the federal stimulus dollars don’t patch the holes in our revenue stream versus our expenses.  Something has to be done and the legislature and the governor are the ones we elected to do it.

The outlook for significant environmental legislation has gotten mushed up in all this fiscal dithering, but I think we’ll still see some important bills:  green jobs, sensible communities, maybe something on clean cars and atv’s.  It ain’t over till its over and that date is in May, not April.

Grandma Told Me So

Spring            Waxing Seed Moon

Kate is home.  As is our habit, I met her at the Loon Cafe after she took the LRT into downtown.  To park I went in a ramp, promptly scored the first parking spot, which allowed me later to just pull around a concrete pylon, turn left and give my money to the cashier.  Very cool.

The other amazing part was the rat in the maze experience.  Getting out of the ramp I exited onto a skyway, walked until I found Butler Square, went into Butler Square, wound through a few hallways, found the entrance, exited, then turned left and went one block to the Loon Cafe.  The truly amazing part was that after Kate and I had supper I reversed field and followed the path back to the truck without a misstep.

I’m glad to have her back.  This tooth business has been a hassle and I wanted to complain to somebody about it, but she wasn’t here and who else would listen?  I complained for about a minute over supper and that was enough.

Ruth is a prodigy, capable of astounding feats of linguistic and muscular agility.  I know this because Grandma told me so.

Gabe is the cutest, friendliest baby ever.  I know this because Grandma told me so.

Grandma loves being a grandma.  ditto.

More on Newspapers

“Gardening is an active participation in the deepest mysteries of the universe.”  Thomas Berry

I knew there was some reason I liked gardening.

My father edited a small-town daily for a long time.  It, like many of its kind, disappeared after the Canadian newsprint crisis in the early 1970’s.  I know what it means to lose a newspaper, for the jobs associated with it to leave town.

Citizens have much less information about government and business, the particular governments and businesses that affect their daily lives.  This lack of information makes democracy much more difficult.  It allows those who would abuse and misuse the public trust less likely to get caught.

I’m for any form of organization that meets the challenge, though I have reservations about L3C status, not for the Strib, but for the probability of its misuse.

I’d jettison the presses and the rolls of newsprint, phase out the circulation staff and go strictly online.  I’d charge for this service in a way that reflected those saved costs.

Disintermediation is only a problem if you’re not taking advantage of it yourself.