Friday, August 16, 2019

A Battered Ship


A ship battered 
By the winds, the waves.
The sails tattered,
The leaking holes plugged,
Limping into the harbor.
Slow!
The captain steers the ship from the rocks,
Finds the port: a path to peace.
And repairs, restores, revives.

Will a new sail make it sea-worthy
When it still may be leaking?
Fresh paint may just mask the damage.

The ship wants to sail again, but the waves, the wind:
Prays that it can again be seaworthy,
Strong enough to withstand new storms.

Or should it just safely wait in the harbor
Until the time to be scrapped—
Recycled into a new life.
Go! 
Head for another adventure!
Quietly rotting is not an option.
Check for leaks along the way——
Be mindful of the storms,
But sailing!


Tuesday, August 13, 2019

A Selfish-Caregiver



A friend of mine recently told me she admires my ability to be a “selfish caregiver”  or one who practices “self care”.  She asked for me to write it up thinking it might help others.  My main goal was and always has been for my husband to maintain as much of his independence as possible while remaining safe.  This also gives me a certain amount of freedom.

Dave has been handicapped with a traumatic brain injury for 18 years.  Early on, we decided not to move from our 2 story house thinking we could make it work.  When he first came home from the hospital, we converted the dining room into a “bedroom” with a hospital bed.  Later that year, we converted our first floor half bath into a full bath and added grab bars in that bathroom and our shower upstairs.  We also put handrails in the front, back and garage exits. Giving him independence, gives me freedom.

Between then and now, we purchased a transport chair (always in the back seat of our van) and a large wheel chair which normally is in the back of the van.  Also, I’ve purchased aluminum walkers and roller walkers from thrift stores.  We have one walker on each floor and one in the garage so his hands are always free to go up and down steps.

Until recently, he does the dishes, puts the dishes away,  pays the bills and does most of the driving when we take trips.  He folds laundry and when feeling well, he does the laundry.  With a rolling chair in the kitchen, he can also put his dishes on the island when we are done eating.  A basket in the middle of the table holds medicine, salt, pepper, sugar and napkins.  A pitcher of water is always in front of him to pour himself a drink.

Recently, he was diagnosed with cancer.   After chemo #4, he could barely move. Getting him from the 2nd floor to the first was a bit challenging—he has not been on the 2nd floor since then.  At first he slept in the recliner, but eventually my daughter, son-in-law and I created a bedroom in the old dining room again.  There’s a small shelf that holds his clothes, a floor lamp which he can reach and a kitchen chair which holds a tub of toiletry items:  tooth brush, tooth paste, cup, deodorant, medicine, mouth wash and a bowl. This room had one swinging door to the kitchen but was open to the entry way where we have set up a screen. 

He became so weak that I had to push him in a wheel chair while managing the walker for him to go to the bathroom.  My shoulders and back ached—I was frazzled.  We bought a light-weight motorized wheel chair which has worked out great.  With me assisting him into the chair, he can go to the kitchen, bedroom  or bathroom while I take the walker when it is needed or continue fixing dinner.

To make our first floor more accessible, we have added a new tub chair.  Although we put in a full bath on the first floor, it has a tub which has worked out great over the years with young grandchildren.  But, we needed a tub chair for Dave.  With a little research, I found a tub chair which slid and swiveled.  His skin is so thin from the swelling, I was afraid a traditional chair would cause skin tears.  But with this sliding and swiveling, and having a hand-held shower, he can shower himself with minimum difficulty.

Last year, we put in a Nest doorbell so we could see when someone was at the door and could tell when packages were being delivered.  We now have nurses and therapists coming at all times.  To give me a little more flexibility, If I’ve stepped out to go to the store, I’m teaching Dave how to use the Nest to tell them to come in through the speaker on the Nest. 

Friends have often asked us if they can bring a meal over or help out in some way.  Last week, I took a friend up on the offer and asked him and his wife to bring lunch for all of us to share.  That way, they helped, and we had a chance to catch up with them. I had forgotten, Dave hadn’t socialized much with friends since November.

 I continue to take exercise classes to keep my body strong and healthy.  I know that if I get hurt or sick at this time, we are in trouble.  It’s important for the caregiver to stay strong.  If that means getting out and taking a walk, then I do it.  I carry my phone, don’t go far if he needs me.  On wintery days, I use my Wii Fit to exercise.

In addition to maintaining a strong body, I need a strong mind.  Social media helps me stay connected with friends and family around the world.  Writing helps me sort out my feelings, organize my thoughts and is very therapeutic for me.  Church work has always been important to me and I continue working on the church blog, selling items on Ebay for the church and using social media to stay in touch with church friends.

Blue Apron—eating healthy—has been a priority for several years.  By having 3 dinners a week delivered, I only need to go to the grocery store for breakfast items, snacks and a few dinners. 

When Dave started feeling better, friends came in to sit with him while I went to the doctor or dentist or got a hair cut.   Often the caregivers neglect their own health.  But like they tell us on the airplanes—first put the oxygen on yourself before helping a child or a person needing assistance.  If I don’t maintain my health, then how can I care for my husband?

Although we have had lawn care and a cleaning person for many years, I’ve needed other kinds of help——getting my husband safely in and out of the house for doctor’s appointments and chemo.  Friends and neighbors have stepped in.  Since his chemo lasts 5 hours, I arranged for one person to come over when we left and I’d text another person to meet us when we got home.

Ways people have helped us:

  • lending us ramps and equipment
  • bringing flowers to cheer us up
  • bringing us dessert when we missed small group
  • helping me get Dave in and out of the house safely
  • following me to the doctor’s office to help me get him out of the  van and into a wheel chair
  • sending cards
  • prayers
  • calling on the phone to chat or to see if we need something
  • bringing and sharing lunch
  • bringing dinner
  • sitting with Dave while I go to appointments
  • re-arranging our house to get a bed on the first floor
  • picking up a few items for us at the grocery store

Tuesday, July 30, 2019

Super Grandma

Hair crinkling in my ears,
Clothes rustling when I move,
Floor squeaks with every step.
Heightened reality from drugs? 

Refrigerator door creaking open,
Microwave barking that it’s ready,
Furniture squeaking when I sit and
My computer clickety-clacking while I type.
Poltergeists?

No. . .hearing aids. . . . 

Able to understand a cell phone call 
without putting it on speaker.
Able to understand Libby telling me about her friend
without having to read her lips.
Able to understand British mysteries
without having closed captions.

New super powers!

See if you need super powers, too!
Click here if video doesn't appear. 


Monday, July 22, 2019

How We Met: Narrative


 I was about 14 or 15, and I remember meeting my friend Tom’s older brothers Dave and Harry  at church.  I was with my friend Hilda who was infatuated with Dave.  They went to high school together and she undoubtedly knew that he was Senior Class President, but all I saw was a very good looking young man who looked right through us as if we were beneath him.  The oldest brother, Harry, made eye contact and didn’t seem as unapproachable.

Going to the same church, our paths crossed many times.  I even picked Tom up at his home several times to go to MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship).  But, Dave only remembers my car—a Studebaker that my dad had bought from a neighbor who had totaled it. In retrospect, it was a car that would grab a car-lover’s attention and Dave (like a couple of grandsons) is a car-lover.  

It was about a 1956 Studebaker President that my dad made drivable by wiring  the hood down.  Back in the 1960’s, a trip to the gas station, meant the attendant also opened the hood to check your water and oil.  I was always a little embarrassed but also a little amused when the attendant would try to open it, realize it was held down with a wire and had to try to unwind the wire to get to the engine.  (as another aside, the wire on the hood snapped while I was driving it from my grandparent’s house with the hood folding  over the windshield, making driving hazardous—so I had to move on to another used car, but back to the story. . . .)

Dave went away to college; I went away to college.  Our paths didn’t cross again until we had graduated,  were working and living in the same apartment complex, Whisper Lake.  My sister’s husband was in Viet Nam, so she and I decided to rent an apartment together at Whisper Lake. We lived across the hall from my high school and college friends Margie and Kathy.   I was teaching at McCluer High School with Mary,  Mary along with Arlene were also living at Whisper Lake. Arlene and Mary started having parties inviting many of the single people living there. 

Dave was also living at Whisper Lake apartments and knew Mary and Arlene from high school .  Our paths crossed again at Whisper Lake parties.   I knew who he was, but he never remembered having met before even when, Mary and Dave doubled with me and a date!   In addition to the Whisper Lake group, I belonged to the University Club—a social club of college graduates who partied together at various locations around St. Louis.  Several of us were going to University Club one Friday night.  I had  asked Mary if she wanted to go, but she said she thought she and Dave were going to do something.

I was shocked later that evening to see Dave at the University Club with a friend—I was very angry that he was standing Mary up. His arrogance was more than I could tolerate.  It was one thing to never recognize me, but quite another to have so little regard for Mary.  His friend Elliott must have noticed me looking in their direction because before I knew it, Dave was asking me to dance.  

Stunned, I agreed to dance with him.  I could tell by the conversation he was trying to have with me that he did not remember ever meeting me before: not when we were teenagers, not when we went to the same apartment parties, not when we doubled together.  After the dance was over, he escorted me back to my table and I angrily confronted him with his having stood Mary up that night.  His eyes looked at me, possibly in recognition but more likely stunned that I knew him. “Do me a favor and don’t tell Mary you saw me.”  I responded with, “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” He never forgot me after that night.

That Whisper Lake group evolved into a wonderful group of friends who travelled together, went to the theater and concerts together, partied on the houseboat belonging to Arlene’s parents, skied, camped and went on canoe trips together.  Gradually i warmed up to Dave, realizing he wasn’t being “stuck up”, but was just an introvert who didn’t recall people’s faces or names as well as I do.

I was late arriving at one of our canoe trips in September.  They had already been out canoeing and one group was drying off by the fire on that crisp evening. Apparently Dave’s canoe with several of the females had tipped over getting them all wet.  For some reason, the ladies all seemed to be shunning him—my heart cracked open seeing him so forlorn.  So, the next day, when all of the others refused to get in a canoe with him, I volunteered.  That canoe float was the beginning. . . . 

Monday, July 8, 2019

How We Met: Poem





Giddy 14 year old 
Meeting  friend’s older brother—Dave,
Easter Sunday at church—
     Looks right over my head
     So handsome, so stuck-up
Invisible

Silly 16 year old
Picking up Dave’s brother for youth group
In my Studebaker rattletrap.
     Never looks up from his chair
     So handsome, so beyond me
Invisible

 “Mature” 22 year old
Living in Whisper Lake Apartments
Dave, Senior Class President, 17
Introduced at a party there.
    Sipping his scotch, no recognition
    So handsome, so arrogant
Invisible

Disinterested 22.5 year old
Double dating with my friend Mary . . .and Dave
      Four of us:  movies and drinks 
      So handsome, so indifferent
Invisible

Confident 23 year old
Asked Mary to join me at a party
She “has a date”—Dave.
He walks into the party without her,
       Sees me glaring at him,
       Asks me to dance.
       So handsome, so clueless
Invisible

When the music stops. . . .
 Eyes flashing, voice trembling in anger,
“Aren’t you supposed to be with Mary?”
Me, Goofball,14
His friend is amused, I am not.
     Shifting from foot to foot,
     He looks at me. His eyes widen in disbelief
     “Don’t tell her you saw me here”.
     “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t”.
He sees me.

Our children ask,
      “How did you and Dad meet?”
“At church”




Thanks to Bill Tucker for "Invisible" when I told the story.

Between Two Worlds

Most of my life, I've considered it fortunate that I was just ahead of the Baby-boom. Generally, the Baby-boomers were born between 1946 and 1964 after the fathers returned from World War II. It was a huge population explosion that has reverberated through American society.

This blog will be part history, part memories, part reflections of a retired teacher, but active "Senior". I have always felt like I straddled two generations forming a bridge. Sometimes I think like a baby-boomer, but sometimes I'm locked into my parents' Depression era thinking. I'm a dichotomy of two eras. But, I'm always ready to try something new---so here I am dipping my toes in the water of Blogworld.