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“Reflections on Life: A Journey of Healing and Wisdom”
Well, the holiday has come and gone. Since every day feels like a holiday to me now, it went mostly unnoticed. I still have two family members who go to work, and I can tell what day it is by their groans of agony when the work week begins.
I’ve been noticing an improvement in my writing lately, which is a relief. Writing is my last refuge, and if I were to lose the ability to communicate, I’d truly feel lost.
Supposedly, today marks the end of the heat wave, and temperatures are expected to drop tomorrow. It might not be a significant drop, but at least the days of sweltering 100-degree weather are over, and we can look forward to autumn. I’m eager to get back to spending some time in the yard.
My wife, whom I affectionately call “Snookums,” gave us a scare this week when she wasn’t feeling well. She went to bed and stayed there, which is unusual for her. We worried it might be a stroke or arrhythmia, so we kept a close eye on her. Even though she may have felt alone, 14 pairs of eyes passed by her doorway and paused, watching her breathe. Fortunately, the following day, she seemed to have recovered, and all our concerns were forgotten.
Tomorrow, I have a meeting scheduled with the palliative care team. It seems I may have passed the worst of my crisis, or at least I hope so. I’m unsure whether to continue with their care or not. I think I’d like to keep them involved in my treatment plan because I don’t anticipate significant improvement. However, my kidney numbers have been gradually improving, even if only slightly.
I hope my ambition returns one day. I dislike feeling aimless for extended periods. Maybe God intends for me to embrace this phase of life as a time of reflection. I’ve read that God imparts a different wisdom to the elderly, and I can now attest to its truth. It may not necessarily be better, but it is different. Complexities in scripture become clearer, and I’m delighted by the revelations.
When I was a young man, I had different priorities, all given by God as well. A laborer needs encouragement, an idler requires motivation, a father must endure, a husband needs to express love outwardly, and an old man needs visions just to know that his labor was not in vain.
So, the day has led to noon. A nap is on the horizon.
“An Elder’s Gaze Beyond the River’s Edge”
In the window’s frame, an old man sits,
Gazing out with pensive wits.
Once, his house stood neat and bright,
Now, it’s in disarray’s twilight.
Drapes hang loose, tables cluttered, astray,
But today, no tidying, come what may.
And not tomorrow, he’s quite certain,
His thoughts on a distant, obscure curtain.
His eyes don’t dwell on the present’s charm,
But a far-off shore, across a river’s calm.
No sorrow fills his heart’s core,
Rather, curiosity, he can’t ignore.
He’s prepared, though unsure of the quest,
Ready for whatever comes, at best.
Across that mystic, unknown shore,
An old man ponders, forevermore.
Embracing the Rhythms of Life: Moments with Snookums
Date: Wednesday August 30
As I sit down with my morning cup of coffee and a slice of cake, I’m reminded of the subtle beauty that fills our everyday lives. It’s these small moments, like sharing a simple breakfast with my beloved Snookums, that remind me to cherish the present.
Snookums and Her Journey:
My wife, Snookums, is a remarkable woman. Her strength and resilience have been tested in ways most of us can’t even imagine. After a stroke, she’s embarked on a journey of relearning and rediscovery. Every day, she faces the challenges that come with rebuilding her life, and she does it with grace and determination.
Morning Coffee and Cake:
Our morning routine has taken on a special significance. It’s not just about the caffeine jolt; it’s a moment to connect, to share our dreams and aspirations, and to simply be together. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the room, and the sweetness of cake complements the bitterness of the coffee perfectly. It’s a reminder that life is all about balance, just like our journey.
The Monotony of Insulin Shots and Pilling:
Life after a stroke comes with its share of monotony. The routine of insulin shots and medication pills can sometimes seem never-ending. But in the midst of this routine, we find a deeper appreciation for each other’s support. These moments, seemingly mundane, are a testament to our commitment to Snookums’ health and well-being.
The Rotation of Days:
Life has a rhythm, a rotation of days, that we often take for granted. But when you face a significant life event like a stroke, you learn to appreciate the ebb and flow of time. Each day is a new opportunity to grow, to love, and to cherish.
As I look at Snookums, I’m reminded that life is a journey, and every step counts. Her journey is one of bravery, love, and hope. We’re in this together, navigating the waves of life’s challenges and relishing in the moments of joy.
In closing, I want to encourage all of you to find beauty in the seemingly ordinary moments of your lives. Whether it’s a morning cup of coffee, a shared meal, or a routine that may seem monotonous, these are the threads that make up the tapestry of our existence. Embrace them, for they are the true essence of life.
Good morning.
BardAI: Google’s AI That Sings Like Shakespeare and Rocks Like Elvis
I am out of things to write in a journal. So I go to bard®, googles AI bot and asked it for suggestions. I didn’t get any surprises, but he did suggest that I set a timer for eight minutes, and just write what comes to mind.
So … I’m bored and antsy at the same time. Chores I used to do handily are now feats of strength. Even putting on a pair of shoes requires a rest before continuing. I sit here at four in the afternoon, still in bedclothes.
The only thing I did was run a train simulation where I picked up a train at Edwards, a siding near Edwards AFB in California, and took the train to Barstow receiving, unhooked the engines and took them to the shop, did my paperwork and signed off.
That was it. My whole day was rise, drink some coffee and eat some coffeecake with Snookums, take a whole plate of pills, shoot some long-term insulin and short-term insulin into the belly, galumph down to the studio to play the game, finished the game and asked bard for journal suggestions.
And the eight-minute timer just went off.
But my lazy spell continues, and I really don’t want to edit this bland, self-serving pap, so’s I puts ‘er back in bard® and ask him to clean it up a little. Here is bards version:
I found myself running low on journaling inspiration, so I turned to Bard, Google’s AI assistant, for some creative prompts. While Bard didn’t provide any groundbreaking ideas, it did suggest setting an eight-minute timer and simply jotting down whatever thoughts flowed through my mind.
So here I am, simultaneously battling boredom and restlessness. Tasks that used to be effortless now feel like monumental feats of strength. Even the simple act of donning a pair of shoes demands a momentary pause for recuperation. It’s currently four in the afternoon, and I’m still clad in my bedclothes, having accomplished very little today.
My sole achievement thus far has been running a train simulation. I embarked on a journey from Edwards, a siding near Edwards Air Force Base in California, to Barstow receiving. Afterward, I disconnected the engines and transported them to the workshop, diligently completed my paperwork, and officially signed off for the day.
That’s the extent of it. My day has consisted of a routine that involves rising from bed, sharing some coffee and coffeecake with my beloved Snookums, ingesting a multitude of pills, administering both long-term and short-term insulin injections into my belly, then lumbering down to my studio to engage in some gaming. Subsequently, I wrapped up the game and reached out to Bard for journaling suggestions.
And wouldn’t you know it, just as I finish recounting my day, the eight-minute timer chimes to signal the end of my spontaneous writing session.
…
I then went over to ChatGPT and asked it to make a title for this post:
Perhaps I could just have the two write my daily blogs … 🤔
Abide With Me
Writing is easy. You just stare at a blank page until blood drops appear on your forehead.
~Gene Fowler (no relation)
Good morning!
I woke up at dawn today to find that Snookums was already awake. My niece had warned me that she was feeling unstable and forgetful, so I took her blood pressure and gave her her insulin shot. We had coffeecake and coffee, and then I checked our mail.
I tried to play some online games, but the connections were bad. I would do almost anything to avoid writing, but I know I need to do it.
On Monday morning, we’re taking Snookums in for a follow-up cognitive test. I’m hoping that she’s holding her own, but I’m afraid that her condition may have deteriorated. The appointment is early in the morning, because the clinician doesn’t make afternoon appointments.
The heat wave continues, and now we’re in a severe drought and high fire danger. I was hoping for a wet year, but that doesn’t seem to be in the cards. Our air conditioner is broken, and I thought that by now it would be cooler and I could put off fixing it for another year. That was a bad decision, but we’re stuck with it.
I proudly missed the Republican debates. I’m not ready for the political silly season, and I won’t be paying attention to politics until the conventions. Even then, I’ll be watching closely for any evidence of system gaming. That will have more impact on whether I vote or stay home than anything the candidates say. But I can’t stay away from the political dialogue altogether. It seems to creep in at every turn.
I’m feeling marginally stronger, and some of my plans to get my life on track are showing small but measurable gains. However, the front yard needs to be cleared of brush and cleaned up. A half-repaired mower sits in the driveway, and a disassembled planter is choked with weeds. The front porch is a wreck, and I’m humiliated every time a visitor sees it. The place I took so much pride in is an embarrassment. My own studio is neglected, and my morning roost is a cluttered mess.
I don’t think things are going to improve. Time is marching on, and the time to do has come and gone. Now we just abide.
The Whimsical Symphony of Dawn
This morning, I am trying to revive the art of whimsical prose. As I edit this, it becomes apparent that I am going to need some practice. But one cannot practice without practicing. I hope it isn’t too cloying and saccharine.
As the curtains let in the morning sun, it tiptoes across the bedroom wall with a gentle embrace of warmth. Nestled under the covers, I’m serenaded by the hushed whispers of morning beyond my door. Outside, Snookums orchestrates a delicate ballet in the kitchen, tending to the feral cats with a touch of magic. Meanwhile, the air conditioner hums its own soft tune, signaling its victory over the rising outdoor temperatures.
With eyes closed, I sip on the tranquility of this moment. In a world that races forward, it’s a fleeting indulgence to relish. Yet, for now, I’m content to lie here, a silent audience to the symphony of dawn.
Gradually, I coax myself upright, unhooking from the bedside tubes and donning my portable companions. My journey leads me to the kitchen, where Snookums and I rendezvous over cups of coffee. Words remain in slumber until that first sip awakens them, and only the second cup finds room for our laughter and musings.
With caffeine-fueled courage, I embark on a wobbly pilgrimage to my creative sanctuary, penning down these whimsical reflections. As the morning unfurls, Snookums readies herself for a follow-up to her ER visit, then I follow with my own tango with my curmudgeonly cardiologist. His terse candor is refreshing when I think of the usual dispassionate meeting I normally have with doctors.
The day wears no crown of chaos, but it’s adorned with engagements. Yet, I find solace in this rhythm. To rise from my cocooned haven and greet the day is a gift I’ll never tire of unwrapping.
Slowly but surely, the days rekindle their routine, knitting comfort into their fabric. Life, like an old friend, edges closer to its familiar dance.
I hope my whimsical morning recital painted a smile across your face. Thank you for joining me on this lyrical journey!
Preparation day We clean, cook, and rest our souls Then the Sabbath comes
Friday is my favorite day of the week. It is like getting my house ready for visitors that I really am anxious to see. Before my wife (Snookums) became disabled, it was really her day. She baked challah for the Shabbat table that is set every Friday evening, and cleaned the kitchen and dining room as part of the ritual for this day. Then she set the Shabbat table early and turned on the lights in the dining room to remind us what day this is.
Now that age and disability have come, my niece, great-nephew, and brother do most of the Shabbat preparations, and Snookums lights the candles and recites the ancient blessing. Some days she is still up for setting the table.
It is odd how some Shabbats Snook rips through the blessings without error, usually when she doesn’t think about it too hard. But once she starts struggling with it, the blessing gets a bit incoherent. We know what she is trying to say and patiently wait for her to finish.
My niece now reads the woman’s prayer that is on a typewritten sheet, then it is my show to do the benediction, recitation of Proverbs 10’s blessings for the wife, the introduction to the Shabbat, the blessings for food and wine, and the washing of the hands.
This morning was an entertaining one. Snooks’ second order of the day is that after starting the coffee, she feeds the feral cats. We don’t feed them as much as we would a domestic cat because we want them to be good mousers. And they are.
Occasionally, though, one of the kittens forgets that we have dogs in the house that don’t think cats should live. And this morning it happened when Snooks opened the door. One kitten darted in, and my brother Bruce saw that and grabbed Jenna.
Jenna is an efficient killer and rats don’t stand a chance when she is around. She doesn’t get excited, but works the prey like a master carpenter, not wasting moves or spending time in excitement. Once the rat is dispatched, she loses interest in it.
Unfortunately, she is just as efficient with cats and so the kitten probably doesn’t know how close it came this morning. Amber put Jenna into my studio and closed the door, and they all went cat hunting.
Snookums was the one that got the kitten by the scruff of the neck, and the kitten sensed that was a mommy kind of grab and just went limp as Linda carried it outside to safety.
I just sat and watched the scurrying around of excited women and the other dogs from my royal perch at the kitchen table. The kitchen table has become my dispensary. All my medical stuff is there in reach, and I have a morning ritual, a before dinner ritual, and a get up around midnight ritual. It is a royal PITA, but that is my lot in life these days, so I quit complaining (usually) and just do what is necessary.
So that is it. Another exciting day with the family. I hope this finds you as peaceful and happy as I am.
Good morning!
I’m Taking Life by the Horns
Since I started living much of my life outside the home in a wheelchair, I have looked at ways of handling normal events. The biggest trial was shopping. Grocery stores are good about helping carry out groceries, but other retail stores aren’t.
My solution was a folding basket from Amazon. It is a little large for the chair, but I can manage. It lets me put items into the basket, then hand the basket to the cashier or put it on the conveyer, and then the cashier can ‘bag’ the basket and I only have one thing to carry out.
I must time my purchases, there is no getting everything in one whack.
Today I decided to take life by the horns. I was tired of sitting around waiting to die. So this morning I told my new invisible friend, Bard, the AI with google, that I was procrastinating. Bard told me to take it all in small bites, then reward myself. It sort of works with my mutts, and so I thought it might work with me.
It too about ten minutes to load my compression socks into the adaptive device and step into it, but viola! The socks went on like magic, only needing a tug here and there to get the wrinkles out.
Then a glass of Kool-Aid and some more internet time wasting. That was my reward for getting the socks on. But I quickly used up my reward time and it was on to clean shirt and trousers. That went quickly so I skipped the reward. On with my vest that hold all my worldly belongings. Rescue inhaler, eyeglasses and sunshades, glucose tablets, wallet. Check
Then I loaded the recharged wheelchair battery into that basket and went out to the car. There sat the chair, waiting for me, and it chirped happily as I pushed the battery into its slot. I don’t know where it came from, but a strong smell of urine hit me.
I closed the hatch back, hobbled to the front door and checked the urinary bag. Yeah, I wear one of those, but I don’t want to talk much about ‘em. The bag and hoses were dry. So I fired up Blue Bucephalus, put the phone on GPS, adjusted the seats, made the short prayer (Lord, don’t let me drive like hell was on my tail) and sat out to be a normal human being.
Ever so often I caught the whiff of urine, but it was fleeting. Maybe I had had an ‘accident’ in the car, I though. But I went on.
Arriving at Texas’ beloved H.E.B. Grocery, way off in the corner of the lot was a shady spot under a huge oak. People didn’t park there because it was a long long way to the entrance of the store. But I have a powered chair, and I sneered at them sissies that needed to leave their cars out in the broiling lot while they shopped.
It is a super light weight chair, about 38lbs with the battery in. It folds, but since I have a mommy van, it sits unfolded in the back. I have unloading it down to a science, set the new shopping basket on my knees and tootled off to the entrance at a pleasant 5.6 mph.
The only thing that broke my serenity was once again the strong stench of urine. But I wasn’t going to let that mar my attempt at being a normal person. Or close to one, anyway. Zipping inside and making a hard left, I went down the aisle of nostrums to pick a few nostrums for the medicine cabinet. Then to the paper section to pick up some paper products for another item near the medicine cabinet, then zipped along the lunchmeat section for some sliced chicken, got some chewy bread and peanut butter, and rolled on to the cashier.
I threw the bag on the conveyer just like a normie, albeit one that stank of stale urine, pretended I couldn’t smell it. The cashier was delighted with my shopping solution. It was like I brought my own cart and bags.
I could barely reach the credit card machine, but finally after some prompting by the cashier figured out the mysteries of it. Push the wrong button, and you lose. The card machines can smell fear, but I bluffed my way through the process and out the door I went.
Then it hit me. A certain male dog in my household had been using my bag as his peeing post!
OK … I am going to have to work with that one.
Picked up my narcotics at the drive-through, showed them my ID and drove off like an outlaw, and then to the carwash. Bucephalus was bird poop stained and really needed a good scrubbing. And home.
It was a triumph. I got the groceries into the house unaided. I was set free!
Mixed salutations for the 4th
I’m feeling a bit sad today. The Fourth of July is a day for celebration and joy, but for my dog, it’s a day of fear and anxiety. The loud noises of fireworks are very overwhelming for him, and he gets so scared that he starts barking, whining, and shaking.
I know that I’m not alone in this. Many dogs are afraid of fireworks, and it can be heartbreaking to see them so scared. I wish there was something I could do to make it easier for my dog, but I don’t know what.
I’m taking him to a quiet place where he can’t hear the fireworks, and I’m playing calming music for him. I’m also staying with him and offering him comfort and reassurance.
I hope that he’ll eventually get used to the fireworks, but for now, I’m just going to focus on making him as comfortable as possible.
If you have a dog that is afraid of fireworks, I encourage you to do the same. It’s important to remember that they are not alone, and there are things you can do to help them cope with their fear.
And if you see a pet running in fright, take them home and try to calm them, then try to find the owner. Many pets are lost this day.
Happy Fourth of July to all, and to all a good night.
The sun peeks through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room. Snookums and I stir in our bed, slowly waking up to the new day. We get up and make our way to the kitchen, where we brew a pot of coffee and slice a piece of cake. We sit down at the table and savor the moment, enjoying the peace and quiet of the morning. The air is still and cool, and the only sound is the birds chirping outside. We take our time, sipping our coffee and nibbling on our cake. We talk about our plans for the day, and we laugh and joke together. This is our time, our special time, and we cherish it.
The soft sleepiness of morning is all around us. The sun is not yet high in the sky, and the light is still gentle. The air is still and warm, and there is a sense of peace and tranquility. We are relaxed and content, and we are grateful for this moment together.
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