Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Another upbeat day


Another really good day. Due to an unforeseen accident, I was alone all day—which allowed me to prove I can do all kinds of things, including pulling up my pants without bending over, fixing lunch, get myself in and out of bed. This heady independence may go to my head.

A new caregiver arrived at 7 a.m., but at 9:15 she got a call that her mom had been in an accident. The poor thing was hysterical. I urged her to go, told her I’d be fine, but she said she had to call the office. I didn’t want that because I didn’t want to take a chance on who they might send at the last minute for a partial shift, so I repeated my assurances. Finally she said she’d go, but she had to calm down first. And she went into the bedroom, had hysterics, talked on the phone, and then said she was going. I pray for that family tonight.

I called Jordan at work, and she called to check a couple of times, but I was fine. The physical therapist came at eleven and stayed about 45 minutes. And therein lies another triumph: when I got myself into bed, she grinned and said, “Nice.” One exercise is always difficult—I have to lift the bad leg straight off the bed, maybe knee high, 20 times. I’ve been getting it a few inches up and Jordan’s been helping it the rest of the way. Today I had done about five leg lifts when I noticed Ellen’s hands were at her side. Without knowing it, I’d been lifting the leg myself.

Lunch, nap, and off to dinner with pal Betty. We went to Winslow’s and sat outside because the evening was so pleasant—scallops, risotto and spinach. So good.

I am disturbed—okay, that’s too mild a word—highly upset at the rate that the administration is taking away protections. So far, in addition to immigrant sweeps and immigration freezes, they have taken away the protection of clean water and the protection of wildlife, introduced a bill to end the all-important Environmental Protection Agency, and introduced a bill to cut nutritional funding for food for poor children in schools, whittle away at public school funding, and open the door for federal funding of charter schools—a move which my state, Texas, heartily supports.

When I said this at supper, Betty, who had initially expressed dismay, said she didn’t know all that. She, her husband, and some friends concluded the other night that all they could do is pray. And at that, I let her have it, both barrels (it’s okay—we’re still friends). But I lectured about the importance of making your voice heard, the negative example of Germany in the 1930s, the news that can be found, selectively on Facebook, the importance of writing your Congressman. She nodded, but I’m not at all sure she’ll do it. I’m afraid the country is too full of people like that—they are distressed, but they do nothing about it.

Come on, people, be activists. Make your voice heard. There are a thousand opportunities around you.

2 comments:

Becky Michael said...

In addition to making my voice heard, I've found that some well-placed activism also helps me feel less hopeless and helpless during these challenging times!

Judy Alter said...

Good for you. Go, girl!