Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Coming to grips with life and its realities


This is the blog I was preparing to post Sunday night when the computer went kerflooey.

What can I say? Colin worked so hard the whole 24 hours he was here—and I find I maligned him in last night’s blog when I complained about him running errands—the errands were all about things he needed to fix stuff at the cottage.

He scrubbed the bathroom grout and mopped the floor, replaced the outdoor light, helped me with some nasty chores, worked like a dog today to start my car. The battery was too far gone—jumping it didn’t get enough power to start it. Tonight my car is in my driveway, with a brand new battery. And Colin even took time to go on a bike ride with Jacob and Morgan. One of the good guys and a terrific father/uncle. Plus he brought his files up to date on my banking and other business, so now we are in sync.

When Colin went to jump-start my car, he visited with longtime family friends. He was gone so long I feared trouble and called—no, they were just talking. (My ears were burning). He came back to report the useless battery and said, “I’m going to go get a new one real quick.” I did it again—laughed and said, “You haven’t done anything real quick since you got here.” Of course he hadn’t, but he’d done a mighty work slowly and thoroughly.

I sometimes say Colin is my rock. I’m sure my other kids understand, but Jordan is my caretaker who devotes hours to my needs, hours she could easily devote to her family. And she makes me feel secure. But Colin is my rock who reassures me that my world is in order.

Decisions from the weekend: I am going to work on my strength and walking with the walker more. I am going to ask the PT to work with me on the exercises he wants me to do—I apparently don’t have the will power at this point to do them alone, and that’s okay. My goal is strength, not walking unassisted. I am beginning to realize that I may never walk unassisted—the danger of falling is too great, and another fall could be catastrophic.

I will smile sweetly at friends who urge me to walk more, work out more, go out to eat more. The workout plan is above/ as for going out more, not until I get a clean bill of health from the gastroenterologist. I am still too subject to unexplained sudden accidents. If others don’t understand, they aren’t wearing my shoes—quote my darling son.

He and Morgan left much later than usual—three-thirty at least. So I hope they got home at a decent hour so Morgan could get ready for school tomorrow.

The view from the cottage tonight is grim—graves. Christian got the Halloween spirit this afternoon, and built a graveyard in the back, just outside my window. Oh, happy day!


1 comment:

Randy Eickhoff said...

Good morning, Judy! And it is a GREAT morning! Overcast and my thermometer (posted out of the wind and sun on the big back patio) reads 67. I love it! Now, if it will only rain so I don't have to drag the hose a hundred feet around and around . . . In regard to your falling, yes, I have that problem as well and, being obstinate and grouchy, I really need to use my cane everywhere including around the house. But, I keep thinking that if I deny the cane as much as possible, eventually everything will correct itself. Symptomatic of an old man trying to deny age? Probably. I, too, fall quite frequently. Once while I was inserting a DVD, suddenly found myself falling, my head bouncing off he stone hearth then the floor. (That's actually happened more than once.) My daughter firmly commanded me NOT to climb up on anything---a chair, stepstool, you name it---even to not replacing light bulbs. Which, of course, means I have to wait until my caregiver comes. Yesterday, for example, Linda Kosier (a very, very good friend who always pleases me and makes me happy when we meet somewhere for lunch, a movie, or just to visit) and I met at the Museum of Modern Art for lunch---one of my very favorite places---very expensive, but I do so enjoy indulging myself at times. Sometimes, when I'm feeling very depressed, I drive up there by myself for lunch. When one lives alone as long as I have---and most of the time quite happy doing so---the silence bears down hard upon them. Of course, I do talk with Miss Bella and play some quiet blues or jazz, Vivaldi (Four Seasons), or Chopin's Nocturnes but there are times when even that doesn't relieve the, well, perhaps "nostalgia" would be a good way to describe it. After a two-and-a-half hour lunch, we went up to the Kimble to see the Monet exhibit. While walking around up there, I started to tire drastically and had to repeatedly sit down. I became dizzy, and Linda graciously took my arm and said we should call it a day. (Fortunately, she is six foot tall and handled it all with ease.) I, being a curmudgeon, refused saying that I had been waiting to see the exhibit for six months before it was brought to the Kimble. I had actually wanted to go to the Members Only night, but couldn't. (I'm one of the founders and charter member.) One of the guards recognized me and offered to get a wheelchair to help, but, again, being stubborn, I refused. (He kept an eye on me for the rest of the time we were there---a wonderful thing to happen.) Finally, though, I had to concede that I had to give up. Linda went to get her car to drive me up to mine which was parked in a handicap slot in front of the MOMA. It wasn't that bad as she had driven us from the MOMA to Kimball. (That's only one block, as you know.) But, it was a great day. In addition, one of the people came to me and said that later next fall, the Kimball was going to have another Monet exhibit---the later years---and wondered if they could borrow mine if they would fit in with the exhibit they were planning. All in all, a great day.