Finding meaning in life

Time to plant flowers

Yes, even though it seems early for these flowers to appear at the grocery store, it's not at all early: we have already passed the first day of spring here in the Northern Hemisphere, and the first day of autumn in the South. Yes, the seasons keep on coming, never stopping here on Planet Earth as we move from the cold and rainy winter to a hopefully bright and sunny summer. 

Lately, I've been working to keep my spirits up, since it's becoming clear to me that the hard fall I experienced back in February has meant that I can no longer hike long distances, as I work towards being able to walk just a few miles to some longer and more challenging hikes. It will be awhile, if at all. The good part is that I am definitely learning to be patient with myself and taking each day as it comes.

With all of the bad things that are happening in the world right now, I think we need a message of togetherness and true unity. I believe that starts with personal reflection and then we can find kindness toward each other. —Marielle Heller

When I first sat down with my laptop to think about today's post, it was actually yesterday, and I began to ponder what's on my mind. I looked at my favorite websites first, one of which is The Guardian, a really thoughtful UK website that has articles that always expand my horizons. There is an article about What is the Meaning of Life, with excerpts from 15 different people and what they think it is. I find it fascinating, since it's something that speaks to my own desire to find what I think it is. After having lived a fairly long life already, being well into my eighties, it seems that what excites me the most these days is communicating with my peers and finding out how they are coping with all the really awful things happening globally. It's sometimes hard for me to keep my optimistic worldview, but I find it imperative that I at least try to stay positive.

Yesterday, I asked Steve to walk with me to the Fairhaven green, something I haven't been able to do quite yet after the fall. I did make it a bit further along I have managed so far, but I still didn't make it there before I began to feel my lower back and right leg develop some stiffness and a little bit of pain. So we turned around just before the Turner Dock uphill, and went back to our usual town environs. It was a little bit more than two weeks ago, but I am not able to make it all the way to Fairhaven yet. I could have pushed it, but fortunately I have my dear friend Steve to make me feel fine about turning around. We stopped at the Farmers' Market, which was having a non-produce display of vendors selling jewelry, CBD items, and various different items for sale. We bought three delicious homemade cookies and enjoyed them as we walked back to our cars. It was mostly sunny and got quite warm as we walked on the crowded streets. It seemed like everybody was out and about.

I was pretty happy with my progress, and once I got home and settled into my favorite chair, I worked the NYT puzzles that have become a daily tradition for me. I went to bed early, as usual, and woke up feeling almost like my old self. It's raining hard outside, and John mentioned yesterday that he might not want to go to breakfast this morning and just skip it for a change. So I don't know whether we will go or not; he said he would call me. Since it's 5:30am already, I will hear from him in the next hour or so if he decides to keep our regular schedule.

SG had some good news last week, when he got his monthly blood draw and saw his oncologist. He's been on this chemo treatment for over a month now, and the doctor was very pleased with how well he's tolerating the drug, and said his numbers had improved significantly. That was very good news to both of us. I wish there was something I could take for my eyes that would give me such a happy outcome, but of course there isn't. The every-other-month eye jab is coming up soon: the first week in April. I dread it but won't stop until my central vision is gone in both eyes. 

As I sit here writing on my laptop, I can see well enough to read and find the keys I need to use to get this post written and published. I can hear the rain outside, and as I ponder my life, I realize how lucky I am. Although I have lived through plenty of hard times, I have also been fortunate to have a loving partner, good friends whom I care about and who care for me, enough good food to eat and keep me healthy, and the ability to be ambulatory, even if I cannot run and jump and play like I once did.

One of the more interesting stories told in that article about life's meaning is a woman who is a Holocaust survivor, 94 years old, who still travels around to give speeches to those who only know about that awful time through people like her. She has a Wikipedia page, and I read with interest about Susan Pollack. Although she was almost dead on that long ago day when she was saved by the kindness of a soldier who gently placed her in an ambulance. During the next few years, she was able to become a person once again and eventually went to college and got a degree. She married and had children. It's a wonderful story and gives me hope for our world to survive, since goodness and kindness are everywhere if we just look for them.

Everyone is capable of adding something wonderful to our environment, just by allowing kindness to become a guiding principle in our lives. I will spend today, and every day, looking for ways to increase the best parts of life: kindness, goodness, and love. I will smile and watch how that simple gesture can increase the happiness of those around me. Why not?

And until I return here again next week, dear friends, I hope you will have a kindness-filled time ahead. I will be doing my best right here, as I feel the spring in the air, in my step, and stroll into joyful activities. I wish you all good things, dear ones, and hopefully we will meet here again next week. Be well.

Sister memories

L-R: PJ, Fia, Norma Jean, me, Markee in 2011

A picture of me with my sisters in March 2011. I really had nothing I wanted to write about that is currently in the news, since it's all bleak and discouraging. So maybe it will be more fun to look back a decade and a half ago and think about my lovely sisters. This picture was taken by our lone brother in his home, when we got together to celebrate the life of my brother-in-law Pete. He died earlier in the year, the long-time husband of Norma Jean (in the middle of the photo). My sister PJ, standing next to me, died in 2014 of heart disease. It has claimed the lives of so many in my family. Now that I am probably no longer going to be able to hike vigorously to stave it off, who knows whether it will eventually come for me, too.

Frankly, these days it seems like it would be a blessing to succumb to a disease that would allow me to concentrate on something other than the current news. It seems unremittingly bad, no matter what part of the world I am reading about, and much of it originates right here in the good ol' USA. I am well aware that all things change with time, such as all of us in that picture; we are fifteen years older but still very much the same in many ways. In our country, many of us are the same as we were before the last election, but I truly didn't realize how deep the chasm is between us, those who voted for the winning party, and those who voted for the losing side. I now see it perfectly, and it doesn't make me feel hopeful.

At first, I felt that since I was well into my retirement years, with a fairly secure Social Security monthly allotment, and a (now somewhat diminished) annuity from my investments, I should be in better shape that someone who is just now getting ready to move into retirement. But it seems that no one and nobody is safe from these draconian cuts to our social infrastructure. If we lose enough, my husband and I will be unable to pay our rent and will join the huge unhoused population that already exists. We know we could be next.

Other than PJ, who has gone to the Other Side, the four of us sill around are doing pretty well. At least for now, we all have relatively stable home situations. I will start with the youngest of us, Fia, who is now a matron in her sixties, but happily married with two grown children who are both producing plenty of offspring, and to Fia these are her precious grandchildren. She posts often on Facebook, and although I am no longer posting there, I still get a notification when someone I follow posts a picture. I always go look to see the newest addition to her delightful brood.

Markee married a Canadian many years ago and they are now the proud grandparents of a beautiful granddaughter. Bob and Markee ended up with three children, two twin boys and a girl (Sarah) who produced Evelyn and are thinking about a sibling for her. They live in Alberta for most of the year, but bought a home in Apollo Beach near Norma Jean where they come during the cold winter months to enjoy the Florida sunshine.

Norma Jean has had two children, a boy and a girl, and Allison, her daughter, has two girls who are now teenagers (can you believe it?). Her son Peter lives with her and is a good carpenter who helps to keep her mobile home in good repair.

And then there's me, with my dear partner, who have no living children, but then again, there's this wonderful thought from an earlier post:

I suppose it's inevitable that as I age and look back on the decades of life I've lived, that there are several versions of each of us. I was once a young mother with two beautiful children, and now the ghosts of my nonexistent grandchildren shine through each one of my relatives' progeny. Life is like that, I guess. I'll take it, happily.

 Many of my current acquaintances will show pictures and share stories of their grandchildren during our classes or volunteer work. When they do, I am always happy to see those sweet faces and hear stories of their exploits. When I was a young mother, I felt it was inevitable that I would have lots of children like my mom did, and that one day I would have lots of grandchildren, too. We never really know what the future holds for any of us. Now that I am an octogenarian, my days of adventure and discovery are behind me, and it's time to reminisce and look back, as well as enjoy the world of today. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever expect the world to look like it does right now. But as I contemplate the future, I am hopeful. And I have so many wonderful sister memories to remember with pleasure.

From that same gathering

My life is a good one, with plenty of happy memories, and I will continue to enjoy whatever the future brings my way. There is so much that I can focus on that is positive: my dear sweet partner, my family, and my dear friends whom I have made over the years. And I enjoy the routine that my life brings me every week. Since it's once again Sunday morning, I will hopefully be meeting John for breakfast, and then coming back home to settle into my recliner and spend some time talking with my guy about whatever is on his mind. And spring is just right around the corner, with early spring flowers already sprouting out of the ground. 

I will also spend some time today reading about the lives of my current virtual family. That would include you, dear reader. I enjoy hearing about how you are coping with the peaks and valleys of your own life. And hopefully giving those of us who are on this solitary planet among the billions of constellations some perspective on life and love. I am hopeful and filled with anticipation for another day filled with happy thoughts. Why not? Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.

Hanging in there

Crocus showing their beauty

One of the best parts about living in this neck of the world, the Pacific Northwest of the US, is that it takes very little time after winter's onslaught before we begin to see signs of spring. There are crocus blooming everywhere, and shoots of daffodils are emerging out of the ground, too. New growth, new beginnings after so much darkness and grey skies.

Today, in that relentless annual ceremony that attempts to take sunlight from the morning hours and tack it onto the evening hours so we have more time to play in the sun, happened overnight. I lost an hour of sleep, just so it will be lighter later in the day. I am not a fan of this ridiculous occurrence, but what can I do about it? I will just go ahead and try to get everything done that needs to happen before I head out for my usual Sunday breakfast with my friend John. I go through this every March, and then I forget about it until the next time it comes around. One of these days I suspect we will stop this charade, but probably not within my lifetime.

We finally got our toilet installed last week, and it's really quite lovely. I didn't realize that we had one of the original toilets from the early 1960s. I notice that the new one uses a lot less water when you flush, and everything is whisked away efficiently. It's a much nicer toilet, so that's a plus. I'm glad we got it installed before the next big problem hit the apartment complex: some kind of underwater leak that managed to flood the entire front lawn, with rivulets of water running down the driveway. When I returned home last Friday, I saw lots of impressive looking trucks and diggers had arrived. Since we are just renters, we were not told what was going on, but I do think the poor owners are going to have quite a big water bill. I hope it doesn't get back to the apartment dwellers, to which we belong. There are twenty-six separate apartments in our complex, and the owners have worked hard to keep the place well maintained.

I have come to a watershed moment within my own life since the fall: I am no longer able to hike long distances, even fairly flat ones. Something has caused my already-damaged right leg to give up on me after a couple of miles. I know it might get better over some time, but I am beginning to consider that it might be an excuse to find other ways to get exercise. I wasn't always a hiker, and I've had almost two decades of weekly hikes with the Senior Trailblazers. We go to the same places and I've had countless visits to every location over the years, and now it's time to move on. I am in my eighties, after all, and hard hikes are long behind me. I think I'll be hiking solo or with maybe one other person, rather than with a group. I've already signed on for more volunteer hours at the Senior Center, and I have enjoyed so much meeting new people as I learn the ropes of other ways to volunteer. Right now I am learning how to collate and wrap silverware separately for the hundreds of people we serve every day. It is not as easy as I thought it would be, but I'm part of a team as we work, and that makes it fun.

And the weather has been just wonderful: not too cold, a bit on the breezy side, but very mild and enjoyable. I was only a little distressed to find I could not walk my usual harbor excursion before my back and leg began to go. My friend Steve helped me get back to my car, and I drove home without incident. Today I might try the usual Sunday walk I've developed and see how far I get before my leg goes bad. The hard part for me is that until it starts hurting, there are no signs to warn me of what's coming. I will adapt, as we all do, as our world changes. Life is a dynamic process, not static, and I tend to forget and want things to return to the way they were earlier. Nope, that's not possible, or even something to wish for. I will ride the waves of change and find ways to enjoy what's possible today and in the days and months ahead. I can feel my usual optimism beginning to emerge from the depths of my recent sadness. And I can also be happy to find that once again I can get out of bed like a normal person, no longer needing to roll onto the floor and then stand up. 

I just checked the clocks in the apartment, and they have all made the change without a hitch. The only clock that needs to be manually set is the microwave, and my guy did it before he went to bed last night. 

My mother and father had to change every clock in the house manually and they had three small children. Yet I never remember them complaining about something so inconsequential as Daylight Saving Time. —Mary Katharine Ham

Yes, in the scheme of things, it's pretty inconsequential. And frankly, if I forget about my lost hour, it's true for me, too. As I age, I notice that change of any flavor seems a little harder to deal with, but I also know I'm not alone in this, and that within a short number of days, I won't even remember having had a problem with it. I know that my gratitude will surface for all the magical transformations happening in the world today. It depends on where I look, and what I focus on. Emerging from the ground are beautiful flowers, and we are less than a month away from the Tulip Festival in Skagit Valley. Here's a reminder of what is to come; this one taken a few years ago.

Coming soon!

And so, dear friends, I will finish up this post and get ready to greet John as he picks me up to head to Fairhaven for our usual Sunday breakfast. Before that happens, I will have done my morning exercises, had a short meditation and shared my morning prayers with the Universe, jumped out of my jammies and into some fresh clothes to start the new week. I'll have two yoga classes and two volunteer sessions to intersperse with my other daily routines this week. There is so much to be grateful for, as I busy myself with life's roller coaster of ups and downs. 

And I know that the love and happiness of the week ahead will engulf me if I let it, and if I will put aside any and all distractions, moving away from that which brings me down. With the help of my loved ones, especially my sweet partner who still sleeps quietly next to me, I look forward to a wonderful week ahead. Be well, dear friends, until we meet again next week.

Our chaotic world

Wishing for inspiration

We were doing pretty well around these parts, as I have been slowly healing from the bad fall from a few weeks back, and just a few hours ago, we got another big setback: our toilet simply broke right down the middle where the water reservoir is, and water was gushing out everywhere. My guy managed to get the water shut off, and we called the Maintenance man for our complex. He said these are old toilets but need to be specially ordered. Sigh. Tomorrow he will do that, and maybe by Tuesday we will have a working toilet again. Until then, we will be using water from the bathtub to flush down our waste. It could be worse, but it's hard for me to think right now how that might be. The water is pretty much up off the floor, with lots of soaked rugs needing to dry. I imagine that if nobody had been home when it happened, we would have returned to a flooded apartment and that one under us would also have been flooded. So that's the good luck

So. That is the main reason I was still up at what for me was a very late bedtime. I was lying in bed waiting for sleep when this all happened. I am so grateful to have a partner who can handle these things so well. 

And I have almost regained my strength after having experienced the fiasco of my hike last Tuesday. (I don't want to think about any of it at the moment.) With everything that is going on with our political situation, everything piling up and I am feeling very stressed. I haven't been able to get ahold of John to find out whether he is planning on picking me up for breakfast, but I suspect he will, since he is also slowly regaining strength after a bad bout of the flu. It's a tough time for so many of us, but at least I am retired and don't have to worry about being laid off, like so many people are right now.

I watched what happened in the Oval Office and the sad display of bullying that Volodymyr Zelenskyy endured from the President and Vice President. At least when he got to Europe, he was given a hero's welcome. I am saddened by what is happening, but there is really nothing I can do about it, other than to support my elected representatives here in Washington State. I suspect that I will be joining some marches one of these days, once people get motivated to make our voices heard. It's a terrible time in so many ways, and I for one never imagined I would be so devastated by what my country is doing to another one that is at war with Russia. None of this bodes well for the world at large. I hope I will continue to receive my Social Security and annuities so that money will not become an issue for us. I never thought that it would be possible for so many people to be thrown into chaos all at once. And although it's bad here in the US, there are so many worse places to be. At least I don't have missiles flying overhead and needing to worry about my imminent survival.

Another wrinkle in our daily life is that SG has begun a regimen of cancer treatment for his lymphoma. He's been treated for a few years now by his excellent cancer specialist, and mostly it has been diagnosis (like a spinal tap), lots of blood draws, and presently he's taking a drug that he will need to continue indefinitely. He started it a few weeks ago, and now he's beginning to feel the effects of it. Fortunately none of the most awful side effects seem to have come about, but he's more tired now than before he started it, and I worry that he's not getting enough rest. But every day he seems to be hanging in there, and yesterday he handled the toilet break quite well. Better than I did. I just tried to stay out of his way as he went about getting our temporary flushing situation in hand. He's a wonderful partner, and we are both grateful that we have each other, to support and encourage one another through these trying times.

My current task is trying to find some really uplifting to write about, while the world seems to be coming apart around me. Maybe there isn't anything really that might help both my and your spirits to rise. I think I'll watch the Oscars tonight and hopefully there will be plenty of elegant (and not so elegant) outfits to admire. I haven't seen all the nominations, but I did see Anora and am hoping that Mikey Madison gets best actress and the film gets best picture. I'm glad it was decided to have the awards, even after the devastating wildfires that recently tore through Southern California. See, there I go again: trying to find something positive while everywhere I turn there is sadness and loss. I think I'll just give up for now and look forward to better days ahead. If you, dear reader, can find some light in the darkness, please feel free to share it in the comments.

Be well, dear friends.

Getting there

Last March in the Chuckanuts

Yes, another scene from last year's hiking, since I'm still not able to be out there myself at the moment. I especially liked seeing this picture, since I'm in it, looking happy and uninjured, and directly behind me is Karen, who led last Thursday's hike. She recounted her experience on the eleven-mile hike and how she was able to deal with leg cramps. I've had some minor experiences with them, but nothing like she felt. Fortunately for her, Chris, a strong and capable hiker, had some pickle juice in her stash. Yes, pickle juice! Have you ever heard of this? I hadn't, but then again, if given the chance I will always enjoy a dill pickle spear if one comes with a sandwich. I am fond of sour stuff anyway.

I looked online and found that there are plenty of different brands of pickle juice to choose from, but I am drawn to one that looks like a, well, pickle. The individual packets aren't very expensive, and it seems it would be a good idea to carry a couple for emergencies. It sure helped Karen: in just seconds, her cramps disappeared. Reading about the use of pickle juice for cramps, I learned that it seems it's truly magic: the juice helps almost instantaneously before it could actually get into your system. Hmpf. Color me skeptical.

I am getting better, but I am certainly not back to normal. I did walk to the bus and take it to town twice last week, going to the coffee shop and then over to the Senior Center before returning home the same way, by bus. But after two days doing this, my legs were sore and my back wasn't happy. I guess I should be pleased that I am doing as well as I am, but again, I never expected to be this old and slow. And I never expected to become a grumpy old complainer, either. That I can do something about: let's focus on the good around us, shall we?

Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word happy would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. It is far better take things as they come along with patience and equanimity. —Carl Jung

It's true that I have been blessed with a truly happy existence. Just as most of us, I have experienced plenty of sadness and even misery, but mostly I have seen the brighter side of life. I've had a good career, from which I have retired; I have a wonderful partner who shares the ups and downs of the world with me;  sitting in my lap is a delightful instrument that connects me with the wider world; I have a lovely place to live (even if it's rented); I can ponder, think about things, and write blog posts like this one. That's just for starters: if I dig a little deeper, I can find many other reasons to be happy with the life I have today. So much better to look on the bright side. Why not? 

There is plenty to feel doom and gloom about, but there are also myriad ways to enjoy life, even when things are really dire. I remember years ago reading about people who found joy and compassion even when thrown into concentration camps with death all around them. They even had weddings and celebrated birthdays, glad to still be breathing. No matter how glorious our life, or how humble, we all one day reach our final days and take our last breath. To have had the incredible experience of life is to have already reached the summit. Standing on the edge of the precipice, looking out at the infinite landscape below us, we can be filled with joy and gratitude. Why not?

We get to choose whether we concentrate on the good stuff or the bad stuff. If I spent my entire day sitting with the laptop and reading the news of the day, I would be in despair and wallowing in the awfulness of life. But, conversely, if I spend my entire day reading inspiring stories and enjoying the company of family and friends, the world looks brighter and happier, and nothing changed except my attitude. Surrounding myself with what I want to experience is a tactic that works, even when I am still unable to run and jump and play. Yet.

My Sunday morning will look very different, too. John will not be coming to take me to breakfast, as he got a bad case of the flu last week. He had gotten his annual flu shot, but he was exposed to it, caught it and ended up very sick. He's 85, after all, and not in the best shape. He went to his doctor's and was given the antiviral tamiflu, which he says makes him feel worse when he takes it. But today is the last of the seven-day regimen, and then he will start to feel better. He got really walloped by it this time. I read that our area is having a real strong outbreak and that one should stay away from others as much as possible. I started wearing a mask when riding the bus (which I had stopped doing a while ago) and in crowded places. I sure don't want it; I got a flu shot in October and hope that it's still effective.

So there you have it. I am going to take a hot shower and then decide on what I will do with the rest of my day. It's strange not starting with my exercises, but each day I am closer to being able to resume my normal life. Perhaps this has been somewhat of a wake-up call, making me realize that things change, life moves on, and to stop and smell the proverbial flowers now and then. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.

Making progress slowly

Teddy Bear Cove January 21, 2025

I didn't realize when I took this shot at Teddy Bear Cove last month that it would be the last hike I would be sharing with so many good Senior friends for awhile, but it was. 

I took a very bad fall on the ice and wrote about it in detail here last Sunday, if you want the whole story. For now, I'm being grateful that I am much better than this time last week. But I am still not there. The other part of getting older is forgetting how much longer it takes to get back to normal after an injury. The good part is that I can now make it out of bed by myself and can crawl back in without help. Of course, that doesn't mean I am not truly enjoying being tucked into bed like a baby. I have stopped taking all drugs, even though I have a few set aside in case I really need something. Twice so far I have attempted to do my morning Five Tibetan Rites, which I have done every single day for decades. Until now. 

The first time I tried them, I couldn't even get from a sitting position on the floor to standing without extreme discomfort. I managed to spend maybe an hour going from one sitting position to the next. And then I needed to take a muscle relaxer and 2 Advil, and decided it was too soon to try them. Then yesterday, just over a week since the injury, I tried again. I was able to do some modifications but managed a few poses without too much pain. It was only the last Rite that I still cannot do at all. I'm thinking that if I am not well enough to do them next week, I'll order a back brace from Amazon and continue trying. It seems like a long way from where I am today to being able to hike, do my volunteer work, and attend yoga classes once again.

But what else can I do? Just keep on trying and noticing how much better I am with each passing day. I've learned that the SI joint (the right one was shattered back in 2000) is responsible for transferring the weight from my torso to my legs.

Red area shows where the pain is

The x-ray tech was nice enough to show me the x-rays, so I could see the two pins that reside in the joint, and I could plainly see the device that the doctor placed in my back, after he needed to just plug the artery, rather than try to sew it back together. I've managed quite well, all these years later, until I went and re-injured it. Fortunately I am resilient and used to pain, so I am hoping I will once again be back to a semblance of normal. The good thing is that I am able to get up and dress myself, careful to pay attention to my movements. I stop when I feel pain. A week later, I am off the meds, able to get out of bed by myself, and even able to do a bit of grocery shopping, with help from SG. So, life is good, if I will acknowledge my good fortune.

Our awful and unusual cold snap has broken, finally. We had more than two weeks of cold where the high temperature for the day didn't even reach the freezing point. But now the rain has returned, along with much warmer temps. I received a bill for last month's electric usage (we have electric heat) and was shocked at the number, more than $100 higher than I've ever gotten before. Another reminder that we are all in  the same boat of trying to find our bearings in a changed world. If I compare my situation with many others, I am still blessed with a wonderful partner, relative health, and a place to live that I can mostly afford. Not to mention good food, an internet connection, and lots of virtual family to converse with.

I'm doing my best to navigate the news these days, keeping the most distressing parts on a short leash, as they say. When it gets really bad, I stream a comedy show or something else that will make me smile and gain some perspective.

Keep your face always toward the sunshine, and shadows will fall behind you. —Walt Whitman

This morning, John will not be coming to take me to breakfast. He went out dancing last night and knew he would be staying up later than usual, so he wants to get enough sleep. I am fine with it, although I'll miss seeing him. And it's still too soon for me to attempt my exercises, so I'll snuggle into my recliner with my feet up, and enjoy the world as it is today, not as I wish it to be. I hope that you, dear friends, will find joy and peace in your life. You deserve it, as do I. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things. Be well.

Happier times

Coming down from Hannegan Pass

I have always loved this picture, me gazing back down from the pass, on my way back from the summit. Well, maybe not the actual summit of Hannegan Peak, although I've climbed it three times over the years, but maybe just to the pass, where we usually stopped, had lunch and turned around, heading back the way we came.

I think the days of climbing that peak are behind me, but I might one day, maybe this summer, make the nine-mile hike to the pass and back. When I think of the peak, I can only remember lots of climbing, rocks, loose shale, and heat from the blazing sun. Obviously in this picture, we were not in full sun and probably didn't make the full eleven miles to the summit. 

It was last Wednesday, the day after I was warned to be careful on the slippery and icy walk to the bus. Well, I shouldn't have been out there, because I slipped and fell backwards onto the hard driveway. But it was the metal water bottle, strapped to my right side, that caused some major damage to my pelvis. Yes, the same one that I broke in six places, shattering the right sacrum and losing an internal artery in the process. That was a quarter-century ago, but I have now been reminded of the pain I endured, since I am suffering once again. This time, however, I think the pain will diminish faster, and I am no longer needing that external fixator I wore for seven weeks.

When I went down this time, I landed right on my back, a little to the side, right on top of the metal bottle, and the pain was excruciating. A red-hot fire of pain. I lay there in shock, waiting for the pain to subside, so I could get up from the ground. Finally I stood and then carefully made my way back to the apartment, where SG slept, knowing little of what his next few days would look like. Once I made it to the bathroom and pulled up my shirt, I looked at my back in the mirror and saw no sign of the fall, but I could sure feel it. Thinking that I would be back to walking in a short time, I didn't panic, and I knew that if I had done any real damage that I could get to the Emergency Room within a few minutes if necessary.

That night, Wednesday, I attempted an uncomfortable sleep, but it wasn't to be: I was unable to get up by myself and needed help just to get out of bed and get to the bathroom. I was still feeling reassured, although I was stiffening up as time passed. I took a few Advil but otherwise just allowed myself to believe it would get better quickly. But Thursday night, once I went to bed, I was unable to get up by myself at all. And the pain was unremitting. My partner became my caregiver and had to help me as I would scream in pain if I moved a certain way. Once I made it to the bathroom successfully, I decided to spend the rest of the night in my recliner in the living room. Not much sleep, but I knew it was time to make a visit to the ER.

We are still in a cold snap, with the temperature, even with full sun, not reaching to freezing during the day. So Friday morning,  I asked SG to drive me to the ER, once the sun had melted the ice and snow. We got there around 10:00am, and I went through the intake procedure and then waited for an X-ray. The triage nurse had given me some drugs for the pain, and I felt much better once they took effect. The anti-spasm medication helped a great deal. The X-ray showed no permanent damage. We filled the prescriptions, one for hydrocodone, an opiod, and one for a muscle relaxer. Also we got some lidocaine patches.

I was glad to learn that all my hip hardware is still in place, and realized that the soft tissue took the brunt of the fall, and that it will get better, but I need to remember that it takes awhile to heal when you're old. I cannot do my morning exercises yet, and I need to be careful hobbling to the bathroom or climbing into bed, but I was able to sleep for eight hours last night (not uninterrupted), thanks to the meds and the helpful ministrations of my sweet partner. I have had to wake him to help me get out of bed, but each night is a little better. It's only been three days, but they are long ones when you're in pain.

My friends Steve and John have been in the loop, both willing to help if necessary, but SG has been the best caregiver I could have hoped for. At first he slept as I rolled out of bed, got my feet on the ground, and then stood up to hobble to the  bathroom. I managed to keep from waking him, but in the morning he woke before me, made me a cup of tea and settled me in the recliner before going back to bed. He is sleeping right now, and I feel bad that I've kept him up once again. But I am marginally better and hope that by this time next week I'll be functional. Other than the trip to the ER, I've been either in the recliner or the bed. He's taking such good care of me, but I am tired of being injured and unable to accomplish my normal routine.

Every four hours, I can take another muscle relaxer and Advil. I'm staying away from the opioid as much as possible, since I well remember how hard it was to get off the oxycontin that I took during the initial trauma. I made it, and I refuse to consider this drug as something I need. Frankly, the muscle relaxer and Advil are sufficient if I allow myself to be in some pain.

So here's my lesson for the future: listen to the voice of reason and stay home when you're unable to keep from falling on the ice. I pray that I will be back to some semblance of normality by this time next week. Until then, I'll be sitting in my recliner or tucked into bed by SG, warm and cozy and hopefully getting better. Until next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Take care of yourself and stay healthy!