The beginning of the end

Today I am seven days away from the one year anniversary that changed my life. 

On August 21, 2015 before the alarm clock went off I got out of bed and headed for the shower with my antibiotic soap in hand. I got dressed and rechecked my bag while waiting for my friend Betty to scoop me up for our trip to Presbyterian Hospital and my date with my surgeon, Dr. Carothers

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Our seventy six mile trip to Albuquerque before the light of day was a little freaky. It was odd that I wasn’t really nervous. I just wanted to get the job done, having suffered pain for three to four years. Not one person I went to even suggested that I needed a hip replacement. Today thinking about all the time and money I wasted on chiropractors and therapists of all kinds makes me angry.

In July, following my intuition, I had checked out the best orthopedic surgeons in New Mexico and picked one to call for an appointment. After viewing my x-ray it took about five minutes for the surgeon to check his calendar and offer the date of August 21, 2015 for my needed surgery.  He said the surgery was not an option it was just a matter of how long I intended to deal with the pain of bones rubbing on bones. Let’s just get this over with I thought.

The date arrived and we were off. Dr. Carothers did his thing and I did mine and all went well. I was released from the hospital the next afternoon. I wanted to stay a bit longer because the food they offered was very good. Instead when my son picked me up I said I had been craving Arby’s all afternoon. It turned out to be my first experience of getting in and out of a car and manipulating a walker. Today I’m thinking- how in the world did I manage that so soon after surgery?  

During the next few weeks I got used to my limited movements and am very grateful for the help of my son, who lives with me. The thing I hated the most was the putting on and the taking off of those damn compression socks meant to prevent blood clots. It was one of the few things I really needed help with because I wasn’t allowed to bend past the waist. I was so happy when I reached six weeks and I could toss them. I wanted to celebrate! 

I endured a few weeks with a home physical therapist. I say endured because I didn’t like her approach. She treated me like a child and kept me from doing things I knew I was ready for. I finally ended our relationship and chose to go to Cibola Sports for the remainder of my recovery time. Mike Rohde is my idea of an excellent therapist. He encourages instead of discourages and his approach is team work.

So here I am seven days from the one year anniversary of my surgery. I expect when I go for my checkup everything will be fine. I am grateful that I had the courage to listen to my intuition and take responsibility for my own well-being. Of course I had help along the way, but it all began with a simple phone call and my desire to end my pain.  

What's done is done

Driving by the Los Alamitos Middle School, where two of my three children and my youngest grandson spent two years of their lives, came as a shock yesterday. This is what I saw.

I was aware that for the last year there was a new mid school being built right next door to the old one, but I wasn't prepared for the demolition of the old one two days before the new school year. What a mess! This is a view of the front of the new school.

I can imagine the noise and the dust that will be raised as the remains of the old will be carted away. My grandson said he is very happy to be moving on to Grants High School this year as a Freshman. His time spent at the old school will not go down as the best two years of his life. I can imagine him cheering when he saw the remains spread out for the whole town to see.

I wish all the students and teachers in the area a great 2016-2017 school year. As my friend Lois would say onward and upward!

With a little push in the right direction

Sometimes my guide/angel gets a little anxious when I don't follow through with the plans he/she has in mind for my current growth. Give me some credit! I didn't take a class called angel messages in school. I am playing this by ear.

This morning I dropped off the lap robe for my ex, interrupting his viewing of the summer Olympics. Actually I interrupted his nap while the program was airing on his TV so I didn't stay long.

As I was walking down the hall someone quietly whispered in my ear, "go find the activity director and talk to her". The walk jogged my memory of a communication group I tried to start with the residents a couple of years ago. It didn't last too long, but I realized I hadn't completely given up on the idea. I believe it is healthy for the residents (at least some of them) to get what is in their minds out of their minds. Sometimes they just need a little direction.

After chatting with the nurse at the activity room desk I found the person I was looking for. I told her I was interested in trying again to start a communication group. She was all for the idea and said she would check her schedule to see what she could do to help.

I am thinking maybe last time just wasn't the right time, Maybe the group didn't include the right mix of residents or perhaps I didn't approach my job as its director with the right attitude. Sometimes I myself get a little too pushy. Seriously! I hope I have learned from my past experience to give the residents more space and time to think.

Feeling really good about what I had just initiated I strolled into the Administrator's office. He was happy to see me and I shared my willingness to try again. His reaction was, great go for it, and he added that there is now a new group of residents to work with.

Making things even better, on my way out of the building I  met a nurse who had worked at the facility in 2000 when I was the Resource Development Coordinator. She had quit 12 years ago and only recently started back. She said things were now different with new managers etc. Suddenly everything seemed to be really good timing.

I felt I was right where I was supposed to be with the help of a little push in the right direction.

Second thoughts

Our Walmart store has a depleted yarn section. It used to contain a nice fabric and craft section until the powers in charge decided that our little town had no use for such things. Where they got their information I have no idea. It was the only place in town to make these purchases and we have tons of craft people who live here. The closest towns are almost 100 miles away.

I did find enough yarn to make the wheelchair lap robe I shared in my previous post. In the meantime I ordered a couple of skeins online that I thought would be masculine colors. Perhaps I could donate the one I liked the least to the nursing home. Surely there is someone who could use the gift. Online the colors looked nice and it was called Painted Desert, perfect for a Native American who is a resident of the nursing home.

While I waited for USPS to deliver my order I went ahead and finished the original robe. It turned out nice and the colors seemed suitable for my ex- husband. While I was waiting I also completed three more baby caps for the hospital. What is that saying about idle hands being the devil's work? Not these hands!

In case you've lost count, that's one lap robe and three baby caps this week. I was tending to really like the robe I  had finished, but was reserving judgement for the yarn I was waiting for, which I thought was my first choice.

It came today and my opinion is yuck! It looks nothing like what I ordered. It does look like something an older resident might like though. I started another lap robe and this one for sure will be donated to the facility.

When things don't work out as originally planned second thoughts are sometimes helpful.

Where did THAT come from?

For almost a year I have been making and donating baby caps for the newborns at our local hospital. I've lost count of how many dozens that is. It's fun and the thought that every baby born in Cibola County will wear one of my creations makes me happy. The OB director told me when I dropped off the last batch that they have a little backlog. So I decided now is a good time to take a break and use my talent for something else.

My mind went back to a yellow shawl I made for my grandmother in the last year of her life, for no other reason than I thought it would make her happy. I remember hearing that when my mother visited her and saw it her reaction was, "Where did THAT come from?" My grandfather told her that I had made it.

That memory guided me to locate a crochet pattern for a wheelchair lap robe to make and give to my ex-husband. It seems like a perfect gift for his upcoming birthday or possibly sooner. Before too long the weather will turn colder and he goes for dialysis three times a week. The pattern I found is an easy one. I can't help picturing our daughter's reaction when she sees it. It makes me smile because it will probably be exactly like my mothers was, Where did THAT come from?

Drop it and see what happens

My son and I stopped by to visit my ex who is now a resident of our local nursing home. In examining my feelings about the situation I am happy that there are no negative emotions left. What has happened was supposed to happen and is the direct result of how we have chosen to live our lives.

As I looked around his small living space I felt bad that it looked like an empty closet, except for his TV set. I have in the past visited several other residents and I know that they are allowed to bring in cherished possessions. I mentioned this fact to him and he said, "it's hard to decide what to keep".

Later in the day I thought about when his parents were residents of nursing homes and wondered if there was anything I could take him that would make his life a little happier and not take up too much room. In making this decision I asked myself what was most important to him. My answer was our daughter and our youngest grandson.

I couldn't move them in, but I could take pictures. I selected two that I thought he would appreciate and  framed them. I will be dropping them off today. It's not a big deal, but maybe it will make him a little happier.

Lately I have been thinking about my escape from earth (we are all going to experience that sometime). I have decided to purchase a pre-paid cremation policy so that when the time comes it will be a clean transition and will not be a burden to anyone else. I have checked out several facilities and settled on Cremation Society of New Mexico. I don't feel comfortable taking care of it online so I have an appointment to finalize the purchase in person. I have questions that require answers.

Sometimes things happen that just make me laugh. One of those things happened during my visit with my ex yesterday.

Out of the blue he shared, "When I was working I bought stock that I now want to sell. The policy is in both of our names and I need you to sign the paperwork". I jokingly replied, "If I sign it how much do I get?" He said, "Half." I said, "Are you serious?"

The part that really made me laugh is that my half will pay for the cremation policy I am going to purchase. Is someone looking over my shoulder? For the last several years I have had money put aside for burial purposes and now, well it looks like I can do something else with that money.

The first picture I choose was taken in 2010 of our daughter, son-in-law and grandson.

The second was one I swiped from our grandson's FB wall last fall. He is the one in white.



Both pictures made the recipient very happy, which made me happy too!

More than you need

I'm thinking this morning of people I know who have so many material things they actually rent a storage unit to house the overflow. My opinion is if you have more than you need give it away or at least sell the stuff. I am also thinking of the young who are given every electronic thingamabob that exists. It makes me wonder just what are the parents trying to buy. It's good for kids, especially these days, to experience want.

Having an overflow of stuff reminds me of when we cleaned out my mother's apartment after her death. I have never seen so much stuff crammed into such a small space.When I returned home the first thing I did was clean out my closets and drawers. My thought was, when I die I don't want people to have to go through what I have left behind. I still periodically repeat this chore.

For a writer this isn't always an easy task. The question, what might I need sometime in the future, is always present. I have to be in the right mood to make any progress. Like yesterday my guidance was screaming- dump it! So I did! I lost a lot of weight by tossing out things I had already lived through.

I am intrigued by people who live in those tiny houses. There is very little storage space in them and I am not sure that I could do that, although it could be an option some day. How much stuff does one need to be happy anyway? I have a friend, who for several years, lived in a small trailer pulled by her car. Could I do that? I'm not sure.

All these thoughts about overflow reminded me of another poem I wrote in 2001. Here it is

Greed
When you ask for more than you really need
You are asking to be taught a lesson in greed.
You might be given exactly what you ask
To teach you aren't ready to handle the task.

If what you want is only for you
And not about helping others too
God could consider your request too vain
And insist it's rephrased to include His name.

When power and wealth and material things
Become more important than human beings
Perhaps it is time to take a break from greed
Taking time to reflect on what you really need.