Sources of Strength


Warm gel is a good thing when having an echo-cardiogram and a carotid sonogram.  Yesterday was Mary Ann’s every six month check of the lesion in one of her carotid arteries (the ones in the neck that supply the brain with blood), and her every six month check of her heart, the valves and general condition.

The tests happen so regularly since at some time, should the lesion in her carotid artery grow past a certain point, the question of surgery will come up.  She has already had one stroke, probably caused by bits of plaque sloughed off from that lesion.  The most we can hope for is very little change in how much of that artery is blocked.  I will admit that neither Mary Ann nor I am much interested in a major surgery.  We would certainly discuss the option.  I would not presume to know for sure what Mary Ann might want to do if surgery is suggested.  Her Mom had it when she was in her 80’s, and she did very well.

What the echocardiogram shows could have some impact on medications.  It was interesting to watch the med tech do the test.  She had a student with her.  She described what she was looking at to the student as she pulled up each view of Mary Ann’s heart.  I had a great view of the screen during the entire test.  It was helpful to me to hear her point out and name the parts of the heart on the screen.  Having watched the screen for the last few echo-cardiograms, I am getting fairly familiar with the images on the screen.  It helped this time to have a running commentary on what I was seeing.

What was especially interesting was a little mini-drama, as the med tech was describing what she was seeing to the student.  At one point there is color added to the screen.  The red indicates blood coming toward the probe, the blue indicates blood moving away from the probe.  When the med tech was checking the valves using the color mode, her voice lowered as she spoke to the student.  I inferred that the movement of the colors was indicating leaking valves and she did not want to break protocol by revealing that within Mary Ann’s and my hearing.  I had been quiet (unusual for me) until then.  I decided to relieve her distress by mentioning Mary Ann’s problem with leaking heart valves. The med tech’s response indicated my assessment of her reaction had been correct.  Up to this point, the leaking is not severe enough to warrant raising the surgery option.

Both Mary Ann and I had blood tests a week ago.  Her orders came from our GP (thyroid and cholesterol check), mine came from our Cardiologist (cholesterol).  Mary Ann is the one with problems, right?  Her numbers were great!  Mine produced a message from the Cardiologist to double the dosage on my cholesterol lowering med.  Mary Ann’s annoying ability to stop eating when she is full, as well as her distaste for leftovers and much of what I cook, seems to be serving her well in the blood chemistry department.  My inability to stop eating until everything is gone on my plate and all the containers on the table, does not serve me so well in the blood chemistry department.  I suspect a program of improved diet, exercise and weight reduction is in my future — perhaps I should have a snack and lie down until that thought passes.

We got a copy of the written results of our blood work yesterday after the tests were done.  Mary Ann’s results revealed the continuing reduction in her kidney function.  The surface of her kidneys has hardened due to decades of high blood pressure.  If you have read earlier posts about her struggle with Orthostatic Hypotension (low blood pressure when standing, producing fainting spells) you will catch the irony.  She is now taking medicine to raise her base blood pressure to reduce the problem of her BP lowering too much when she is standing and walking.  If I am reading the lab report correctly, she has just moved into stage three of five in her Chronic Kidney Disease. The good news is that we all have so much kidney capacity that it could lower to 30% of full functioning without becoming dangerous. When I include that sort of information, remember that I am not a doctor.  Don’t take my word for it. A few years ago a very candid Nephrologist told us that Mary Ann would likely die with Chronic Kidney Disease, not of it.  At that time we all agreed not to treat the kidney disease since the treatment would make the fainting worse by lowering her blood pressure.

As the tests were going on, I thought about how scary all the test results can be.  When we first were told about each of the problems, there was that feeling in the pit of the stomach that the end might be nearing.  After years of monitoring the results of the tests, it is just more information confirming what we already know.  Even if there is something new, Mary Ann has faced down so many medical problems for so many years, we just take it in stride.  Mary Ann could die in ten minutes, ten months, ten years, or more.  So could I.  Death lives just on the other side of life.  Coming to terms with that provides a sense of peace, and affirms the sweetness of the life we have at any given moment.  Our spiritual foundation steals from death its ultimate power to destroy.  Neither of us longs for it.  We both recognize the pain that is left to those we leave behind.  At the same time, we recognize our mortality and have learned to live with it.

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Maybe that is a little dramatic — three exclamation points — but we do now have a number of new items of food in the freezer.  While our Daughter, Lisa, stayed with Mary Ann for the three days I retreated to Oklahoma, she made lots of things that are within my cooking comfort zone and put them in the freezer.  She wrote the preparation directions on pieces of paper and put them with each item.  Gratefully, they are mostly the kind of directions that say, thaw, cook in oven for an hour at 350 degrees.  I can handle that!

Pete and Carla stopped by with a meal this noon.  They are very thoughtful folks.  I was sorry to miss seeing them since I was at the lake while Volunteer Jan spent time with Mary Ann. Jan and Mary Ann seem to enjoy each other’s company.  This afternoon Elaine came by, picked up Mary Ann and took her to the Quilt Show.  Mary Ann loved making quilts for a number of years.  She especially liked piecing the tops together.  She spent two years hand stitching the quilting on her first quilt, a queen sized sampler quilt.  After that, she took them to be machine quilted once she got the tops pieced. It has been hard for Mary Ann to accept the loss of the ability to make quilts.  After such a busy day, Mary Ann crashed late this afternoon, so the evening service at church was not an option for us.

This morning’s time at the lake provided a couple of interesting treats in observing wildlife.  The first is a repeat of an encounter I had a few weeks ago.  Again today there were two Ospreys sailing overhead.  One came right over the car, so I got a very good look at him through the binoculars.

I made my usual visit to the Delaware Marsh, which now has very little visible water in it.  The area that I walk has one large puddle left.  As I approached it from a distance, walking a on tall ridge alongside the marsh, the water in the puddle seemed to be almost boiling with activity.  When I focused the binoculars on the mud sided puddle, it was boiling, not from heat but from the movement of snakes, maybe a dozen of them. They were twisting and turning rapidly, in constant motion.

After watching a while, it became apparent what was going on.  The water had dried up in most of the area, leaving that large puddle as the last, very confined, place where the frogs and fish were trapped.  While I am not absolutely sure about the fish, I could see the frogs jumping out of the water, flying into the air, with snakes in speedy pursuit.

Some of the snakes were pretty large, at least two or three feet long — some probably longer.  The snakes began slithering off in the mud and marsh grass as I approached.  One large snake and one medium sized snake remained in the mud at the edge of the water even though I was not far away.  As far as I can tell, looking online, they were white bellied or yellow bellied water snakes.  They did not have the telltale triangular head of a venomous snake.  While I am not particularly fearful of snakes, I kept my distance.  The binoculars provided as good a look as I would get even if I tried moving closer.  I am sure they would have moved away quickly if I had climbed down the ridge into the marsh.  My visit to that puddle probably provided a stay of execution for some frogs and fish.  I doubt that the stay will be for long.

Uh-oh.  There seem to be signs of restlessness being revealed by the video monitor.  I hope Mary Ann sleeps well tonight since tomorrow includes two different Sonograms, heart and carotid artery.  We always hope for no change in the condition of both.  Blocked heart arteries, some weakened heart muscle and a dented and rough surface on a large lesion on one side of her carotid artery keep us aware of the harsh realities of her condition.

Each day is a gift!

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Remind me how much I loved weeds and bugs as a child.  I seem to remember writing something about that in an earlier post.  I just about had my fill of weeds and bugs on this trip to St. Francis of the Woods.

I have always loved the outdoors, but I have also always loved being comfortable.  Trudging through waste high, sometimes head high, weeds for a couple of hours, bugs surrounding me, checking me out at close range, stretched my idyllic view of the outdoors to the limit.

I remember walking the woods at my parents’ place in Northern Illinois, loving everything but the deer flies.  They kept me from idealizing the outdoors beyond reality.  Then there was the Poison Ivy.  The world of nature can be a hostile place.

This trip to St. Francis of the Woods was different from the last few times I have gone.  When possible, I usually go after the first frost and before the bugs have come out in the spring.  Cool and crisp air, dried weeds and clear skies have welcomed me the last few years.  This time it was warm, muggy and cloudy.

With that introduction, you might suspect that this trip was not a good experience.  It was.  First of all, while I am concerned for the environment and the well-being of all creatures, insects included, it seems to me that the person who invented the insect repellent Deet should be awarded the Medal of Honor.  I was not bitten by one mosquito, nor did I find one tick on my body, and while the bugs were everywhere, when they landed on me, they didn’t stay for long.

One benefit of coming at this time of the year was that there were flowers everywhere.  The sights were beautiful.  The flowers drew butterflies.  There were all sorts of butterflies of different sizes and colors.  Every once in a while one or two would land on me as I walked through the weeds.  There was one particular species that caught my eye.  It was probably a Fritillary, but I am way outside of my comfort zone in naming a butterfly other than a very few.  It was fairly large, and the brightest, almost, iridescent orange.  There might be as many as three flying around one another in a cluster.

There are now a couple of bee hives at the corner of one of the fields that I walk through.  I gave them a fairly wide berth.  Through the binoculars, I could see hundreds of bees flying in and out and all around the hives.  I am not particularly fearful of bees, but I didn’t want to have any unnecessary encounters by moving into their home territory.  I noticed as I walked through a nearby field, that the flowers were covered with bees.  St. Francis should have a great harvest of honey when the time comes.

The first evening’s trip through the woods provided no bird sightings at all.  The next day, there was more activity.  I was snorted at by some deer hiding in the woods as I walked by.  At one point a couple of does ran through the weeds in front of me from the woods on one side to the woods on the other.  There were a couple of groups of White Pelicans flying overhead, appearing to be headed the wrong direction for a fall migration.

It was hard to find a spot to put my three legged stool so that I could read a bit.  I didn’t want to be completely buried among the weeds.  I managed to find a spot with short enough weeds that I could sit, eat an apple and then read a very few pages.  The muggy, warm air and flying bugs around my sweaty brow made it uncomfortable enough to discourage me from staying long. I did catch sight of a flock of Common Nighthawks going by.  They are not often seen in the daytime except when passing through in the spring and fall.  Nighthawks are in a family of birds called Goatsuckers.  I just get a kick out of knowing that and saying the word “Goatsuckers.”  I need to check online some time to find out how that name was chosen for them.  I wonder if it had anything at all to do with goats?

I walked down to a newly discovered pond very close to the cottage I was staying in.  The pond was sort of ugly and messy looking, very small.  I saw a large turtle sunning itself when I came closer to the pond.  It slid into the water since I was too close for comfort.  I looked at the water through the binoculars to see if I could locate more turtles under the water.  Then I saw him.  I can’ t really know for sure how big he was, since he was just under the water at the edge of the pond nearest me.  The light refracting through the water can make something look bigger than it is.  It was a Snapping Turtle that appeared to be close to two feet long and a foot and a half wide.  He looked far too big to be living in such a small pond.  I watched him for a long time, and when he moved, I was glad he turned away and moved down farther into the pond.  I would not have been interested in him coming my way.

The most meaningful and valuable time on this retreat was the four and a half hours of catching up with a friend from the Oklahoma City area that I hadn’t seen in over thirteen years.  I have to say that John is as close a friend as I have ever had in my six and a half decades.  During the nine years in Oklahoma City, John and I spent many hours early in the morning at Ingrid’s German Deli talking about our faith and journey we were on living it out, John caring for Sherrie, dying of Cancer, and me dealing with the impact of Mary Ann’s Parkinson’s on our household.

When I went on ahead of the family to start serving the congregation in Bethany, Oklahoma, I lived for five months with John and Sherrie, and their children, Hope and Joel.  I cannot imagine more gracious hosts.  Their spirituality was a marvel to behold.  I have been around lots of folks who are committed to their faith, and sharing it with others.  John and Sherrie did it with such genuineness and humility that those around them never were made to feel inferior.

I had the privilege of ministering to and being ministered to by Sherrie as the Cancer entered her life and became the means through which she touched the lives of so many on her way to her death — and life with the Lord on the other side of death.  I had the additional privilege of conducting her funeral, attended by so many that the Sanctuary couldn’t hold them.

If that was not enough, I had the joy of performing the marriage of John and Peggy, as each was led to the other at precisely the right time to begin building a new life together.  It was refreshing to hear how their spirituality has grown and how their life together has unfolded in the years between then and now.

Not only did the retreat provide the refreshment that comes from engaging the natural world at close range, being fed by a meaningful friendship, but I probably accumulated almost twenty-four hours of uninterrupted sleep in those two nights.  This morning there was a gentle rain with soft rumbles of thunder on occasion in the background, providing the perfect setting for lying in bed, sort of semi-conscious, just savoring the moment.

All went well with Mary Ann while I was gone.  Daughter Lisa had some good quality time with her Mom, and Son Micah, Becky and Chloe were able to come over so that we could eat Pizza together tonight.

The time away provided the opportunity to think through how things are going for Mary Ann and me.  As always, there has come a renewed resolve to be more effective as a Caregiver.  Whether that resolve will result in any changes in what I do and how I do it remains to be seen.

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This one is a veritable Life Boat, not just a Life Preserver.  Thursday morning (day after tomorrow) I will get in the car and drive a little over five hours on the Interstate through the Flint Hills and on into Oklahoma to St. Francis of the Woods Spiritual Renewal Center.  I will stay over two nights and return Saturday afternoon.

What about Mary Ann???  Mary Ann will have a great time while I am gone.  She will have our Daughter, Lisa, all to herself for that entire time.  Hopefully. our Son, Micah, and family will be able to join the party at some point.  Lisa is flying in from Kentucky as a gift to both Mary Ann and me, so that we can have a break from one another.  Admittedly, 24/7 does wear on both of us. Our Son-in-Law, Denis, will be serving as both Dad and Mom to the girls for the time Lisa is gone.

I have described St. Francis of the Woods in earlier posts.  Lisa provided the opportunity to go some months ago.  While I am at St. Francis, I will walk for hours, read, meditate, all among beautiful wooded paths and open fields.  The Renewal Center includes a 500 acre working farm.  There are only three cottages in the part of the property on which I will be staying.  The cottages are not in sight of one another, so it is not unusual to see no one for hours.

Maybe my love of solitude is the result of being the youngest of five children by so many years that I was raised almost as an only child.  I spent much of my childhood outdoors by myself.  I loved it.  I don’t really remember ever feeling lonely when I was outdoors in a natural setting.

I will take with me a very small three-legged stool strapped to my backpack so that I can stop to sit and read.  I will read some Scripture, a book on Spiritual Formation, and a book titled Quantum Physics and Theology, written by a Theoretical Physicist who later in life became an Anglican Priest.  I will carry my binoculars and look for birds and other wildlife.  I will watch the sunset from a wonderful spot on a hill that provides a panorama to the west stretching for miles.

I will probably sleep for many hours.  At this point, it is quite an unusual experience to have uninterrupted sleep.  I have checked the weather forecast for Coyle, Oklahoma (the nearest town — very small).  The weather is predicted to be partly cloudy, in the low to mid 70’s during the day and the upper 50’s at night.  That would be hard to beat.

One treat that may or may not materialize is a visit with a very good friend who was a member of the congregation I served in the Oklahama City area.  As a physician attached to a University Hospital, his schedule might not allow us time to talk.  I ministered to him and his family as his wife battled terminal Cancer.  Actually, we ministered to one another as we dealt with the Parkinson’s at the same time.  We spent hours at Ingrid’s Deli early in the morning a couple of times a week processing our experiences.  We haven’t seen each other in over thirteen years.

Since there will be no computer access at St. Francis, there will be a few days break in the postings here.  The only electronics at the cottage will be the portable CD player I am taking along.  By the way, there is a fully equipped kitchen including a microwave and, gratefully, a coffee pot.  I will bring some of those frozen leftovers from the freezer.  Cereal, fruit and granola bars will fill out the meals.

As I have continued this series on a Caregiver’s Life Preservers, I am wondering what Mary Ann would consider to be her Life Preservers.  I am not sure our current capacity for communication will provide the answer to that wondering, but I may just ask anyway.

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

When Mary Ann got up from her chair once this afternoon, as usual, I got up from my chair to ask where she was going so that I could help her if needed.  She came the few steps toward me, placed her hands appropriately and began to dance.  This will be no surprise to those who know me well, but even after 22 years of Parkinson’s Disease, several heart attacks and blocked arteries, a stroke, a life-threatening bout with pneumonia, and now a couple of years into Parkinson’s Disease Dementia, she can still dance better than I can.  I stood and swayed a little, while she actually danced.  This is certainly a confusing little world in which the two of us are living.

The last couple of days have been better than the one I recounted in my last post.  Yesterday, Volunteer Edie came in the morning while I headed up to the lake to read, listen to music and watch the wildlife.  As always, Edie made a full and tasty meal for us, so Mary Ann actually ate well.

The meal I had prepared the night before did not thrill Mary Ann (pork chops, stir fried fresh veggies from parishioners’ gardens, and Uncle Ben’s butter and herb rice cooked in chicken broth).  That Saturday was pretty much a bust from beginning to end.

Sunday not only included the good meal that Edie had prepared, but there were football games.  Mary Ann is the more enthusiastic football fan in the house.  Both the Chiefs and the Bears lost, so she was not as pleased as she would have been had either or both won.

Today was a pretty normal day.  Zandra came to give her a shower.  That happens Mondays and Wednesdays.  We got out to the library, which she loves.  The library happens to be near G’s frozen yogurt, so there was the obligatory stop there.

A Volunteer, Jolene, came to spend time with Mary Ann after supper while I headed up to the spot with the view about ten minutes from our house.  I took with me a number of CD’s that I had picked up at the library.   After listening to one of the Celtic CD’s, I put in a CD of Taizé music.  Taizé is a community in France to which young people in particular come to be spiritually renewed.  I haven’t been there, so I can’t really describe what it is like other than what I have heard and read.  The Taizé community is known worldwide for their worship life and liturgical music.  The music is simple, with refrains that are repeated many times, often sung in harmony by whoever has gathered for worship.  Taizé music is in many languages.  It seems to be a place at which national boundaries cease to divide.

The music felt like a life preserver to me this evening.  It is my hope that I will find accessible Taizé resources to add some more disciplined regular times of spiritual refreshment in my days.  I suspect it might help raise the quality of care for Mary Ann and the quality of life for both of us.

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

How could it be anything but great when the destination was Braum’s Ice Cream and Dairy Store, and the reward was one Hot Fudge Sundae with pecans for me and one Pecan Caramel Fudge Sundae for Mary Ann?

We spent three or four hours mostly on the road, country roads, traveling nearly 150 miles by the time we returned home.  Madness, you say?  Not really.  While the destination was great, the trip was at least as great.

I am not much of a reader and, as a result, not a writer.  I envy those who have the vocabulary to write descriptively in a way that gives the reader the feeling of being there, experiencing the sights and smells, the layered depths of panoramas that could never be captured in a two dimensional medium.

I am at a loss to describe just how beautiful the day was, the fields and flowers and farms, the colors and textures of this Eastern Kansas landscape.  Between our fifteen years in Kansas City and the almost fourteen years here, this is just about the strangest summer we have ever experienced.  Throughout the summer there have been only a half dozen or so days that were the usual impossibly hot days.  Other than those few days, there have been comfortably warm days and cool nights punctuated every few days with a rain and thunder showers.

The plant life now looks a little like what we saw on our trip to Alaska a number of years ago.  Things are giant.  The Kansas Sunflowers tower over the fields.  The Soybeans look like a different crop entirely they are so tall and deep green.  The corn is tall and only now transitioning into its dry phase, readying for harvest.  Some of the corn fields are still green.

There are huge round bales of hay everywhere.  The fields that have been cut and the bales removed are now that bright green again as in Ireland.  It is as if time has just folded over and spring has become intertwined with fall.  The Sumac is beginning to change color.  The Milo is that rich dark copper color, while that bright fresh green of spring is everywhere in between.

Then there are the flowers — fields of them.  Everywhere that isn’t tilled ground, cut pasture, someone’s lawn, buildings or roads there are masses of Kansas Sunflowers, yellow blossoms of all shapes and sizes and kinds, blue wildflowers, purple thistles in blossom, white Snow on the Mountain and other white flowers, all mixed together with the dark tones of mature weeds and grasses fully in seed.  It has always intrigued me that in nature, colors that would never be put together by anyone aware of what colors should go together, look just right when mixed together in the patches between the road and the fence or stretching out in an uncut field of weeds.

The Flint Hills can take a person’s breath away.  They extend as far as the eye can see.  Today there was enough moisture in the air that the mist differentiated clearly layer after layer after layer of hills as they rolled off into the horizon.  The closer hills on the fringe of the Flint Hills were separated from one another by ribbons of trees, wherever water settled after rains or there was a creek flowing (maybe trickling — this is Kansas) between and around them.

The moisture in the air at the moment also provided wonderful cloud formations to see.  Our trip began in mid-afternoon and extended into the very early evening.  The sun began to provide shadows that had an interesting effect on the Sunflowers.  Not only do the sunflowers tend to face the sun and follow it during the day, when they were out of the direct sunlight, the color seemed to change from the bright yellow to a deep rich golden buttery color.

There were few birds to be seen, a hawk lifting up and passing just in front of the car, a few Scissortail Flycatchers, the ubiquitous doves and starlings, and a cluster of Turkey Vultures circling in one area.  By the way, I discovered that a group of Turkey Vultures when perched together is called a “wake” of Vultures. That may come from their sadly hanging heads when they perch.  Then there is a Parliament of Owls — but I digress. I saw no owls.

While Mary Ann doesn’t enjoy the rides in the country as much as I do, she did read some in a book she has on the trip to Braum’s.  She seems to be able to read with the outside light in the car far better than she can with the lights in the house.  She put the book away for the trip back and seemed to enjoy the sights.  All in all, it was a good day.

Just an update on the smoke alarm excitement last Sunday morning:  The security system Tech came today.  He concluded that at some point one of the techs had entered a code incorrectly, resulting in no signal from the smoke alarm reaching the dispatcher’s console.  He also suspected that dust in the sensor had made it hypersensitive, resulting it going off with less smoke than should have activated it.  By the way, he was interested in seeing the manual that came with our system around twenty years ago.  He had never actually seen that original book.  He assured me that the book was still accurate and that our system was fully functional even though old.  He did not have with him or try to sell me an extended contract — for which I was grateful. There was no charge for his services.  Now there is a reversal of the good news/bad news of Sunday morning.  The good news Sunday was that there were no fire trucks roaring into the neighborhood as the horn went off.  The bad news was that no fire trucks came when the sensor went off — what if it had actually been a fire?  Now comes the reversal.  The new good news, the fire trucks will come if there is a fire, the bac new, they will come if there is no fire and I don’t get the alarm turned off soon enough.

Well, unfortunately, the evidence on the monitor seems to be pointing to another restless night.  We will see. I keep forgetting to tell the bath aid, who comes twice a week and changes the bedding on Wednesdays, to use only the white or checked sheets and not the print with the flowers.  Mary Ann always has problems seeing the images on the print sheets as something moving or spots or threads needing to be removed.

For any who are concerned that the time stamp on these posts seems to indicate that they are written in the wee hours of the morning, the time stamp is Greenwich Mean Time, five hours ahead of Central Daylight Time.  It is now a little after Midnight, not 5am.

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

The power of music to calm, to stir, to break through defenses is a wonder to behold.  An hour each of the last two evenings sitting in front of the audio system listening to music after Mary Ann has gone to bed has been time very well spent. 

For me, almost immediately when the music begins, it is as if all the frustrations and harsh realities of the day no longer exist.  Mind you, it has to be what is in my estimation, good music.  If it is trite, or shallow, or poorly performed, I simply have to turn it off and put in another CD.  Of course music is a matter of taste.  What grabs one person might repel another. 

I generally cannot use music as a background to doing other things.  Maybe it is the structure of my brain in particular, but I pretty much need to do one thing at a time.  I either read or listen to music, very seldom do I try to do both at the same time.  When I used to walk neighborhood streets for exercise, I could listen to a CD as I walked.  If I am out in the woods walking, I listen to what is around me.  I am not interested in blocking that out with music. 

Since we are homebound so much of the time and the television is going almost constantly, having an hour just for music is a luxury.   While I usually become engaged in what is going on in the music and immerse myself in it, there is often a journey on which it takes me.  That journey takes me through my defenses, on past the frustrations of the day, into layers of being that are closer to the core of who I am.  Not always, but often, I begin reflecting on very basic issues. 

The place to which the music often takes me is a place where I can wander around in my mind and heart, looking pretty directly into my failures and weaknesses, feeling the pain.  It is not scary or depressing, just real.  There in that core of who I am lives the Grace of God.  It is surrounded in that Grace that I am able to peal away the layers behind which I hide, even from myself.  When finally the journey has taken me through the last layer, there I find a sense of security and safety. 

Don’t misunderstand.  This is not always pleasant.  The place to which I go is not always a happy place.   Often the worst of what lives in me is exposed.  I certainly don’t always like what I see.  It is just that whatever it is does not have the last word on who and what I am.  The spark of life given to me with every breath comes from a Someone who wants me to be — whoever or whatever I am.   I have to say that more often than not, no matter what I have seen on the journey, I find it exhilirating and refreshing.  Maybe in a sense it is a way to reboot my mind and heart. 

All of us are coded differently and find renewal in different ways.  Our life preservers vary.  What is common to all who are full time Caregivers is the need for life preservers to hang on to regularly so that we don’t drown in our challenges and frustrations. 

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There are just a handful of us, usually four, who gather on the back deck or in the downstairs when the weather is uninviting (this is Kansas).  We begin at 7:30am each Wednesday morning.  With the disjointed and erratic sleep patterns in our household, caffeine is a great gift from God! Hot coffee is the delivery system of choice — yes, even in Kansas on hot summer days (not many this year).

Our central purpose for that two hours is to grow in our ability to engage the presence of God midstream in our days, no matter what we are doing.  We are a little slow.  We have been at this for probably seven years now and haven’t yet gotten it worked out.

That Spritual Formation Group time is one of my life preservers.  It is not a therapy group.  We have a book with readings and reflections to spark our thinking.  We do not understand life to be divided into compartments, one sacred and the other secular, or one physical and one spiritual.  We understand life to be one thing, and God to be its source and sustenance.

For whatever reason or reasons, this is a particularly unsettling time for me.  I am grateful for the lifesavers that are available to me.

One of the lifesavers is the sanctuary that is emerging behind our house.  The deck has always been an inviting place.  While it is probably no more than thirty feet from the back of the deck to the wooden privacy fence separating us from the next subdivision, there are now many good sized trees filling that space, some that we planted.  The trees and the view to either side extend pretty much without obstruction for the equivalent of at least a couple of blocks.  The fence behind us is up a fairly steep incline.  The combination of that hill, the fence, and the trees create the feeling of seclusion.

The multiple bird feeders and those who dine at them add to the sensation of an outdoor sanctuary in the woods.  Then there is the waterfall.  Four levels cascade over well placed rocks, each level adding to the volume of that wonderful sound of falling water.  That sound covers some of the people and vehicle sounds, feeding the sense of seclusion.

Some friends, Doug and Marikay, brought over additional plants for the wetland area created around the waterfall.  They also brought an old branch and placed it on the gravel base among the plants and rocks.  I am intrigued by that old branch.  It is certainly old — old enough to have patches of lichen covering it. The color of the lichen matches the lichen on the rocks and the color of the needles on the cypress tree that hangs over that part of the waterfall.

One of the things that intrigues me about the branch is the metaphor it provides for life, certainly the life we are living.  The branch is weathered and gnarled and without symmetry.  Any old farmer would have long since cut it up for firewood or burned it in a brushpile.  By the way, I like old farmers.  There is an old farmer living inside me — along with a young rebel.

With eyes to see it, there is an elegance and beauty that transcends symmetry and smooth surfaces and orderly shapes.  I wonder what that branch has seen, who has stepped over it, or climbed on it, or made its nest in it, what has marked its territory on it.  I wonder what stories it could tell.  Life as it is really lived is weathered, gnarled and without symmetry.  Trying to make life pretty and pleasing to the eye, wastes precious time needed to live it.

Our life is not pretty.  It is often smelly and ugly and messy, and certainly without a shred of orderliness.  It is also beautiful, deeply fulfilling, bursting with meaning and purpose, often emerging from the very ugliness itself.  I would not trade our cracks and crevasses and patches of lichen.

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I got up at 5:30am on Saturday, showered, dressed and was ready by five minutes to 6:00am to start the process of getting ready to go to Kansas City for the Parkinson’s Symposium.  We would have to be on the road by 7:30am to make it on time.  I had already complained to the Dr. about the early start time for the target audience who have mobility and sleep problems.  He said the issue was finishing before lunch.  Registration was at 8am and the program started at 9am.  Living an hour and a quarter away added to the time issue.

Since I thought maybe Mary Ann could get ready in an hour (normally including morning chores, the minimum prep time is two hours), I let her sleep another half hour.   At about 6:30am, as I helped her to the commode, she said, let’s stay home.   I knew it would not work to try to force her to go. 

I had initiated plans for a luncheon with friends in Kansas City to celebrate two birthdays members of the group were having.  I told her that at least we ought to go to KC in time for that meal.  After all, I had started the process of arranging the meal out.  She agreed.  We both went back to bed for a couple more hours. 

It was good to visit with friends of thirty-five years.  Even though we are only an hour or so from that crew, we end up getting together only four or five times a year, if that. 

For a variety of reasons, the weekend seemed to provide a number of reality checks that reinforced the level of limits on our lives and the concomitant sense of isolation. 

Sunday morning a Volunteer came.  Edie always brings whatever is needed to leave behind a full meal, very tasty, with lots of variety.  During the Volunteer time I headed up to the Lake for a while and then to the marsh below the dam.   It was a helpful time.  Feeling out of sorts and searching for some sense of renewal, the combination of devotional reading and sensory refreshment was especially meaningful. 

The book (about spiritual formation) is speaking to my need, providing the sort of intellectual framework that fertilizes my roots and generates hope for growth.

What flooded my senses provided the grounding in the natural world that helps me reframe my situation.  As I stood at the edge of the lake, the gulls spread over the water were screaming.  I have no idea why, but they were screaming.  I guess that is just the way gulls vocalize.  Nearby, one gull flew over another that was sitting on the water.  The flying gull made what sounded like some belligerent remarks, and the one on the water started screaming at the one flying.  In other places on the lake, occasionally one gull would crash land into another and a skirmish would ensue.  I don’t think this is mating season.  I will have to ask a birder what was going on. 

There were Cormorants diving for food.  A raucous Great Blue Heron flew by joining the conversation as he flew.   I watched a butterfly go by and come very close to becoming a snack for a Barn Swallow that just grazed it.   

The highlight was what I had seen last week and thought to be a juvenile American Bald Eagle.  My birding expert, whom I call Bob, after I reported the sighting, suggested that due to a flying pattern I descibed it might have been an Osprey.  This week the bird came close enough to confirm that is was an Osprey.  It had the telltale black mask on its face.  In fact it dove into the water right in front of me to get a fish — an unsuccesful fishing trip.  As I continued to watch, another bird appeared in the distance.  It also flew toward me, and I was able to determine that it was a second Osprey. 

I spent some time walking by the marsh, providing a little exercise, much needed.  The lifting and moving and turning of Mary Ann provides some strength training, but my life is pretty much void of any cardiovascular conditioning.  A combination of creativity and discipline seems to be the path toward better physical and spiritual health.  I am better at the creativity than the discipline.  I am way better at talking and thinking than I am at doing. 

We are in another restless night.  It has been no more than fifteen minutes between needs for the last two or three hours.  It is hard to muster the energy for moving from thinking to doing when very tired and tethered to another person whose needs are constant. 

Yesterday there was what felt like the start of the flu during the evening after church and into the night.  Chills came for a time.  Instead of writing a post on this blog, I went to bed in hopes of getting whatever it was to let go.  Since I simply can’t be sick due to Mary Ann’s circumstances, I got better today.  We will see what comes. 

This is a very thoughtful time for me, with lots of feelings converging.  My hope is that there will be enough time for processing, and that a healthier pattern of living will emerge.  At the moment, I am shutting down.  It is time to get to bed!

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Mary Ann is in bed.  Tonight’s was a much later bedtime than usual.  We had a very enjoyable evening with new friends, Jim and Sally.  Since Jim and I are in the same profession, even though they are much younger than we are, we have lots in common.  One especially meaningful dimension to the evening was that Sally brought out Mary Ann by engaging her very directly in conversation.  Mary Ann was more thoughtful and responsive than I have observed in a very long time.  In the course of responding, she said that she expected to die soon.  She revealed her faith to be secure. She spoke in a way that suggested that she was not fearful and distressed, but accepting of her circumstances.  (I am inferring much of that from the limited responses and their tone.)  The evening was meaningful as well as enjoyable.  There was ice cream, guaranteeing a good evening.

The night of the day we visited the Neurologist (see last post) turned out to be a difficult one.  We had increased slightly the medication that seeks to diminish the hallucinations, but it certainly had no effect on then yet that night.  The hallucinations were as strong as ever.

Even though that next day we had a number of Volunteers, it was a tough day, as it always is after a sleepless night  Both of us get pretty grumpy.  Mary Ann got up very early again, even though she had not settled down until after 2am.  Since there was a Volunteer for that time, I was still able to get to the Spiritual Formation Group that meets at our house.

Later in the day, a friend and I had coffee and spent a couple of hours talking.  He had been a confidant and care partner during the last half of my ministry at the parish from which I retired.  It was probably good that we had as much time as we did away from each other, since we were both so tired.

We both slept very well last night.  As a result the day today was better.  The fainting and the hallucinations continue, but they still allow us a certain quality of life that allows us not to feel deprived or resentful or bitter.

The day is catching up with me.  I had best head for bed and hope for sleep.

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