Mowing away

I complain a lot -- and I know it's a lot -- about the way my neighbors mow.
No, it's not the way; it is the frequency.

I don't want anyone to think that I don't appreciate, acknowledge, and value the well-kept lawn. I even get ashamed of ours when it isn't mowed, although I also like to watch the teeny-tiny wildflowers that work their way through the grass. Pinkish white, yellow, purple.
Delicate.
Beautiful.

I like to watch the birds, too. They really have a feast once the longer grass has been cut. I suppose that there must be more of it gone to seed and once it's cut the birdies can get at the seeds. They sure do like it for some reason! They make almost as much noise as the neighbor's lawnmowers.

If I had a mower I could use, I'd probably mow every day, too. I'd mow the front on Monday, the side on Tuesday, the other side Wednesday, and I'd split the back on the other two weekdays.

But I wouldn't mow the whole freaking lawn every other day! That does NOT equal a beautiful lawn.
In fact, the lawns in question were turning brown -- in APRIL! In OHIO!
Sounds like overkill to me.

But I have no grudge against the normal people who take satisfaction in a job well done. Or those whose goal is to beautify and brighten, and to create a resting place for the eyes.
To those yard workers and weed warriors, I say "Well done" and "Thank you." Your efforts are noticed and appreciated.
You may make me look bad, but your work is beautiful.

Sui-sides: My side

When I decide to die, it's not your fault. You are in no way responsible for my decision. It's MY decision.

When I choose to die, it won't be about you. I acknowledge that there will be a feeling that I didn't love you enough to live, and there will be a lot of wondering how could I do that to you. I say again, I can't say  often enough -- it's not about you.

I didn't love you enough?

First off, it is my great, great, overwhelming love for each and every one of you that has kept me going this long. Because I have loved you, I got up from my bed and cooked, and advised,  and even drove all over the countryside  because YOU NEEDED ME.
It is my love for you that keeps me trying.

My love for you has kept me going beyond all reason, beyond all sanity.

Sometimes, in the bad times, I resent that. I don't want held. I want free. Free to live my life  -- or NOT!

How could I do what, exactly, to you? End my life? Lay myself down to  a sleep where I won't have to go to the bathroom, or answer  the telephone, or do any of the many, many things that rob me of my rest, that steal peace from me?
How is that doing something to you? What makes you the star of my death?

I'm tired.
I'm sick.
I'm sick and tired.

I am also in pain. Mental, physical, emotional. Doesn't matter. I hurt.
I hurt, and you can't make that better, although  I know you want to.
I hurt, and healing is too hard. Another chore, another job, another effort.

It's not that you aren't worth  the effort -- you ARE.
It's just too hard, and it hurts too badly.

Finally.
I can't.
I just can't.

Not even you can make it worthwhile.

Give me rest.
Let me rest.

Flow of Family Fun

My brother's wedding Saturday made me think of how we, as a family, handle the ebb and flow of these get-togethers. Summer means there will be a few, and maybe a few more.

I opted out of many family events because I wanted to avoid conflict with my dad, who is gone now. He and I were on opposite ends of the ideological spectrum, and he was always outspoken about his beliefs. I don't think he ever meant to start any fuss and bother, he just wanted to convince everyone of how he believed.

Add to his firmness, the fact that he was deaf, and whether one agreed or disagreed, one had to shout and make prolonged eye contact to converse. I don't know how it works for others, but shouting, even over innocuous topics, ends up with me becoming angry. Shouting as a physical function, raises the blood pressure, which causes a flood of other reactions.

Anyway, because of the situation, I avoided. Didn't stop my girls from knowing their grandfather, did prevent them from seeing me act like a shrewish lunatic with him.

Now, I see my own daughter mirroring this behavior. Because of work and also because of some personal issues with family members, she has avoided the family get-togethers. No one wants to be involved in a fight, or to be the person everyone in the family fights with or becomes angry over the fighting.
Anyway, she has chosen to abstain from the possibility of conflict.

But she worries about her child not getting to know this side of her family, and the solution Tam reached was the same one I did. To allow the child to attend in the care of another family member. (In her case. me.)

Maybe it's wrong, but it seems to me the best solution. Not in every situation, not for every event, but in general it's a good thing. It acknowledges the importance of family, it keeps up traditions. even starts a new one -- tradition by proxy.

Like all families, we disagree. Sometimes we take sides against one another, and we'll talk to a third member about how stupid so-and-so is about whatever. We can be vicious or angry, or vicious and angry.
But when we get together as a group, we try to enjoy one another's company without conflict. We aren't perfect, sometimes a forbidden topic slips in and someone feels attacked.

We respect one another. We know we are available to each-and-every in at least some way. Making an effort to keep the young ones connected even when we can't teaches them, by example, that family IS important. The events that Family is Fun. No matter if it's you or they who are the stupid or wrong ones. Family IS.

As the worldly world whirls by, as weather wreaks havoc, as all our institutions are besieged, there can be no stronger message to leave our children.

Shower: A Blessing

One of the many, many things we take for granted these days is the ability to take a shower. Or a daily bath. Try to imagine your life without these amenities.

No big deal, you may think. One can wash in the sink, do a sponge bath, use plenty of deodorant and change clothes several times a day.
Yes, but how long will that be effective for the personal hygienic standards we have for ourselves?  How long before you just feel that these makeshift measures are overwhelmingly inadequate?
Because they are indeed inadequate in the long run.

My bathroom is being remodeled. Actually, the floor is being replaced. Everything had to be taken out, and new floor joists put in, which means the foundation had to be adjusted or braced in a couple of places. Nothing is being done quickly, all is being done thoroughly. In the meantime, the only source of water to eash with is the kitchen sink.

To make it worse, I live in town, with house to the right of me, house to the left of me, houses behind me. There is really little expectation of privacy, even with blankets covering the windows and all the doors locked. One doesn't linger over ablutions in those circumstances.
Can't even put up a camp shower because of too-close neighbors and too many out of school children. They like to inspect and question and look.

I never thought I was a person overly concerned with bathing. All the years I worked in fast food ingrained some things more deeply than I knew. One of those things was bathing regularly.

I'm embarrassed.
I don't want to go out.

My baby-est brother (they are all younger than me) is getting married this weekend. One of the reasons I'm not going is because I don't want to embarrass him (them) by being the most malodorous guest, These days I not only look like an elephant, I feel that I am beginning to smell like one.
I picture myself as Pigpen, with clouds of body-stink emanating from me, instead of good clean dirt.

Now, I know some of this may be exaggerated, but I've had persistent body-odor issues in my life. And I just plain don't, can't,  feel clean.

So, don't take your shower for granted. Hug it, kiss it, thank god for it. Add it to your list of things third world people would like to have, like broccoli. Microwaveable broccoli. Bathe with indulgence, just that you have water and soap, and more water to remove the soap, all the soap.

And, oh yeah, if you encounter someone smelly, spend some time conversing with them. It may not be their fault, and you shouldn't be a snob.

bone crushing

My husband had to go to the doctor Monday. The office called him and made the appointment. You can bet that set off alarm bells. He has so many health concerns we didn't even know which one to worry about. They did say something about his spinal x-rays, but that really didn't narrow it down a whole lot. Because we have had things show up in x-rays that are not what he was being x-rayed for. An enlarged kidney showed up in chest x-rays.

We were referred to a urologist who saw Rex once, sent him for some kind of test at a hospital that had to have cash before doing anything, and we never heard from that specialist again. Don't know to this day what, if anything, the test determined, in spite of calling and both asking and leaving messages. When our family doctor bulldozed us into this appointment, she felt the matter was urgent. Then, she left the group practice she was with and has apparently fallen off the face of the earth. Could it be his kidneys?

He fractured his spine forty years ago, could it be something from that?

Did something in his lungs show up in the background?

He has osteoporosis. Well, he's had that for a while, but this is advancing, which means getting worse. We've been referred to another specialist, this one out of state. His spinal column is collapsing and disintegrating. The T1 through T4 vertabrae are crumbs, with 'significant wedging' on almost all the rest.

Our doctor, who is new to us, says he has never ever seen anyone with such an advanced case of osteoporosis.  Especially not so young. Especially not a male.

We discussed smoking, we discussed heredity, we discussed childhood malnutrition. All factors. But, to figure out what to do, he needs to be seen by an endocrinologist. My guess is that they are considering he'll need the IV type treatments. (He was on Fosamax but began having too much bone pain in his hips and thighs, and we dropped that stuff like it scalded.)

So, we're again hanging in Limbo, and I'm bouncing from wall-to-wall maybes.

I'm also looking for information on what to expect if the deterioration continues. What do I need to be especially watchful for? How can I help? What needs to be reported to the doctors? I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.

And I can't find out. There are a few  million definitions of osteoporosis available on the internet. There are a few million treatments being sold, or advised, or encouraged. So far, there has not been one site that answers my questions. Apparently everywhere on the Internet is the belief that calcium, vitamin D and the magic of medicine cures osteoporosis, or at least halts it in its tracks.

Therefore, no one needs to know what advanced severe osteoporosis will do to a middle-aged severely emphysemic man with one big kidney.

I really hate that all the different websites say the same things over and over and over. Sometimes in different languages, but still the same-old, same-old.

In this great Information Age, can no one answer my questions?

As I lay dying (or so I thought)

Yesterday I thought I was entering my final illness, persistent cramping diarrhea. The pain was worse than childbirth (except for the actual birthing). The effects of dehydration were debilitating, as you can imagine. My sister and my nephew had both commented on bellyaches, so I thought there's probably just something going around, and it was nothing major.

As the day wore on, I changed my mind about that. If there had been gas in our car I would have had my husband take me to the hospital, even though I have no insurance and every test, every procedure, every help would have to be paid for by us. At that point (about 3 in the afternoon) even the IV for dehydration would have been worth the cost. Because I was afraid to drink anything, even warm water.

Instead, I went to bed.
While in the bed, I reviewed my life. It's the first time I ever did that when I wasn't contemplating suicide, so it was a novel experience in its way. The results of the review were more satisfactory this way, I have to admit, but there were some things not so satisfactory.
Of course.

I wished I had played more with my girls when they were young. More walks, more pushing on swings, more silly talk, more books read together, more time. Just more time to enjoy them. But pushing swings is boring after the first couple of shoves to get them going, and neither of my daughters had any great interest in books when they were young. We did walk, from time to time, and the walks nearly always had that 'special' air. I suppose that's a good thing. The regret over not taking enough walks is partly because it indicates a lack of special times, so if the times it happened were special -- well, there's just a balance there, so that one is probably okay.
I hope.

I wish I'd had more patience at some times in some of my jobs, but I have no big regrets over any of those. I gave every job I ever did everything I could, everything I had. Sometimes I didn't have much, and sometimes I hated the work, but I gave it my all. Sometimes my all was more, often less, but it was what I had and I put it into the work.

My writing? I have four completed novel manuscripts on top of the bookcases. I have three of those novels on floppies, which do me  no earthly good these days, but maybe somewhere, someday... someone. I have various writings here and there. It would be nice for my family if I could become posthumously famous, so that I'm not leaving my family nothing but a hole in their hearts.
I hope.

The good-bye letters I wrote a few months ago worried me a bit. I thought about tearing them up before I died, but decided I'd just leave a note with them. Don't remember if I dated them or not. Probably not. I wanted them to be generic, any time. I have letters written to Tracy and to Rex and, I think, to Jean. I haven't been able to bring myself to pout anything in writing for Tammy-and-Hailey. No good excuses for saddling her with my responsibilities, which she would be the one carrying the brunt of the load after the dust settles. No good excuse, no reason.
Anyway, I decided to just write a note, or maybe I'd get a chance to tell Jean before I expire in the hospital. "Hey, never mind those. I wrote them for Christmas last year, or maybe the year before."

It was a different thing to look back at my life this way, from this new angle. I didn't have no instant conversion to wanting to continue living in spite of all its pain, which I have seen happen. I wanted the pain to stop. I wished that I had done some things differently, but feel that I did the best I could at the time.

That's what we should all be doing. The best we can, with what we have. The what we have can be time, or energy, or even interest. Money of the lack thereof is a partial excuse, not a good one.

Be the best you that you can be.

Do the best you can with what you have.

Watch and work and learn and live.

Then,  you can contemplate death with equanimity. Is there any better way to live?

I am my Appliances.

I have to say, there seems to be something to the idea that household appliances last ten years before they need replaced. I've finally owned major appliances, purchased new, that have lasted ten years. And, true to statistics, they have started to break down.

My dryer makes a horrible noise. I don't know if it works at all or not (the drum will turn sometimes), because that very strange, very loud noise makes me afraid to find out. I don't want the thing to explode, after all. Or catch on fire. Or put out power for the whole town. Anyway, that's the dryer.

Then the heating element in my oven went out. This has happened before, and isn't really a big deal, except that it happened. It's frustrating. Last night, one of my burners caught on fire. It's a burner I've used infrequently but regularly, and there was no reason for it to ignite. It was not on high heat. Scorched and burned one of my brand new beautiful red pans, too.

That leaves the refrigerator and the washer. The washer has had problems for a long time. Nothing major, nothing unexplainable, nothing impossible. It cleans my clothes, as long as the necessary adjustments are made.
Haven't had too many problems with the fridge. It wants to freeze everything on the top shelf, or nor quite freeze things in the freezer, and there's a shelf in the freezer that is at the wrong level and it wont come out. But other than that, it cools on. (I hope I'm not jinxing it by talking about it.)

This all reminds me, strongly, of what happened to my body once I turned forty. I started having accidents like stepping in a hole and falling up stairs and smacking the back of my hand into bread racks. After the accidents, the remnants -- the places that I had injured -- just started aching, often for no reason.

But, like my appliances, I'm still here.
I'm still doing my job(s).
There have to be adjustments, there has to be timing, and things may be done differently. But the jobs can be done or got around.

We'll all  work on until completely dead, and even that may not be "The End".

We (me and my appliances) can be harvested for parts when our usefulness as ourselves is over.
That's a nice thought.