Monthly Archives: September 2020

Aging, Family, Health, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase, Weather +Climate

A New Chapter?

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Lughnasa and the Labor Day Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Rommertopf. The Chicken that gave its life for our meal. Potatoes. Carrots. Onions. Our quirky bottom oven. 25 degrees this morning. Snow. The Clan meeting this morning. Rigel’s two week follow-up appointment this afternoon. Memories. Photographs.

It was 101 in Denver yesterday., 36 now. 25 degrees here on Shadow Mountain this morning. A Rain Snow mix began to fall last night, some Snow cover, but not much yet. Supposed to Snow all day today and into Wednesday. We’re in an 8-16 inch forecast blue blob on a Weather5280 map. As Seoah says, wait and see.

We’re shopping for wheelchairs. Pushing the rollator has begun to be too much for Kate. Two appointments on Wednesday, so we may have to rent one until we figure out how to handle Medicare. Shortness of breath has become an extreme limiting factor for her.

She’s beginning to talk about her old life. She still folds our clothes and likes doing it because it’s something she could from her “old life.” What? When I did the laundry. No idea whether this is a permanent transition or not.

Whether it is or isn’t, her essence, her keen intellect, her experience as a cook, her knowledge of medicine, her skills as a seamstress, her empathy, her roles as wife, sister, mother, grandmother, remains.

Of course, part of her life has been as the energizer bunny. Doing this. Doing that. Finishing a quilt for a friend or family member. Sewing shirts for me. Grocery shopping. Cooking. Working as a doctor. Gardening, especially weeding, her special skill. Honey extractor. Right now, those are part of her old life.

This is a new chapter for her and for us. We’ll adapt, get the most from it. The third phase continues.

Commentary on the news, Coronavirus, Health, Holidays, Politics, US History

Labor Day

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Lughnasa and the Labor Day Moon

Monday gratefuls: For all those workers who have kept up their jobs, at risk to themselves, so that we might have necessities like food, gas, medical care. Talking with Kate, releasing my angst from below. Letting go of my desire to paint, to write. For now. Spaghetti alfredo last night. Chicken brine. Rommertopf.

Labor day. What a tough and ironic holiday for right now. Labor day. Millions who had jobs in March have none now. Labor day. Millions who kept their jobs fear for their lives and their family’s lives because of their exposure to Covid. Labor day. Unions representing only a small portion of the work force. Labor day, Certain jobs, like policing, have been exposed for their rotten cultures. Labor day when those who work with their hands have few chances.

Labor day. The government at the Federal level has abandoned laid off workers. Governments at the state and city levels, levels of government also hard hit by the pandemic and the economic crisis, do what they can. Too little.

Labor day. Going back to school day. Only for some and those who have gone back have had outbreaks. Back to school for many, most? Boot up the laptop, sign in to the school’s website, go to your class. Learn. Works fine if you have quiet, if you have a laptop, if you have an internet connection, if you’re a self-starter, an already good learner. For others? Not so sure.

Labor day. September 1 ends meteorological summer and starts meteorological fall. Also augurs the imminent Flu season. How will labor do if Covid and the Flu join hands, mutually infecting people?

Labor day. An ironic holiday for current times.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Health, Our Land and Home, Painting, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase, Weather +Climate, Writing

Open to Ideas

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Lughnasa, the Labor Day Moon and Mars

Afternoon note:

In a curious mental place. I’m calm, not spending time worrying about results or outcomes. I’m busy cooking, shopping, feeding, pilling, driving, listening, changing bandages. Organizing crafts people for work here. Dealing with my own health. Working out. Getting sleep. Zooming with friends, family, CBE.

I want to write and paint. I don’t seem able to. That’s not my way. I believe we choose our reality, live into the life we want. Ergo, if I’m not doing something I want to do, I’m not choosing it. An effective and self-motivating belief. Normally. I’m accountable for my life, no one else.

Right now though my mind seems full. That’s the way I experience it anyhow. I’m trying to work on my Groveland presentation for the 27th, It’s Beyond Me. That’s the title, not my problem, btw. I go along, get a little done, find a set of definitions or some great examples, like the Chukchee in 19th century Sibera who would bare their buttocks in the direction of the wind and ask for better weather, then I wander away, no longer interested.

Not procrastination. Sure, I indulge from time to time, but it’s never been a defining feature for me. Not lack of sleep. I’m rested and exercised.

A similar phenomenon when I want to write, paint. When I say write, I mean work on Jennie’s Dead, my current novel about half done. I can’t put myself in the writing mental space. Can’t pick up a brush. Not blocked, Not afraid. My energy seems all used by life.

The other things I’m doing take attention to detail, regular action, compassion, endurance, imagination, follow through. Yes, I know that. But I’ve not had this trouble before that I recall.

When I want to do something other than domestic things, my mind goes fuzzy, unwilling to open, to wonder, to create. No space for it. That’s how it feels.

Might just be the way things are. Or, there may be a solution? Not sure. Open to ideas.

Dogs, Dreams, Family, Health, Weather +Climate

You can check in

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Lughnasa and the Labor Day Moon

Saturday gratefuls: VRCC. Baskin-Robbins. The wonderful drive from Morrison to Kittredge. Expect a sheriff and a posse to come over the rise the whole way. Antibiotics. Those working on new antibiotics. Prednisone. Rigel, Kep, and I all take it. Tempura. Last night. Made by me. Dreams. The Labor Day traffic on 285. The origins of religion and God.

Recurring dreams. Last night I dreamed of being in a hotel room again. This one older, big, about the size of a studio apartment. A large, older rug covering the whole main room, a rectangle. A quality imitation of an oriental rug, mostly in browns. Three mattresses on the floor and a bed, utilitarian. A large table, seating for six, also old, wooden, scarred.

I was there, I think, to work on a book. This hotel housed students renting by the month, usually for one month. One time, when I came back to the room, a group of students were in it, sitting at the table chatting, eating takeout food. Surprise.

They welcomed me. We talked about the hotel. Apparently each room key opened all the rooms in the hotel. They liked this room because it had a big table.

As often happens in these dreams, I went out again and ended up not being able to find my way back up by elevator. At least not easily. I had to take an oddly shaped elevator in the lobby. It went sideways as well as up. I finally got there.

This dream had a different feeling, different elements from my other hotel dreams. Often, I go to the hotel rooms, fill them up with books, research, sometimes furniture and become exasperated with so much stuff. I often stay longer than I intended to and have left without paying the bill, ashamed of not being able to move out all the stuff I accumulated.

This dream is for the Ancient Ones zoom tomorrow morning. I finally had one this week that I remembered.

In other news. A full workout week. Getting a new workout from Deb over zoom. The 15th. My body feels good, exhaustion yesterday, slept late, but that’s fine. No lasting aches or pains. No lower back issues anymore. Maybe the testosterone has begun to rise and the Lupron recede.

Rigel sees her cardiologist on Tuesday. She’s eating well, her spirits are good. She’s on the antibiotics for six weeks. This is week two home, today. As I wrote this, she stood, ruff up, front feet and head pushed forward, on the deck giving her deep warning bark to some threat she saw off toward Jude’s property, to the east of us. I couldn’t see anything.

We’re also looking at a possible 5-10″ snowfall on Tuesday. Whoa. Open Snow thinks it’s gonna happen. Weather5280 is hedging, but they tend to be more Denver metrocentric and we’re on the far western edge of the metro and in the mountains. The cold, below 30 up here, is good news for my allergies. A hard freeze knocks down pollen for good. Till next blooming, buzzing spring of course.

Now where did I put that snow shovel?

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.