ellenspictures

Tag: life stream

Pandemic Version 20.22? Entering Year Three…
Favorite old phrase from a Neil Young song title… “Here we are in the years…”

2022 kicked us off with one of us having a moderate case of COVID-19, Omicron Variant presumably. The rest of us were either mildly affected briefly, then asymptomatic. Some of us got tested and that is how we determined that we actually had the virus – else, our symptoms would not have driven us to be tested. That was the vaccination effect – according to our doctors, that is what the vaccinations do for us. Our moderate case likely would have been more severe, and could have become a hospital case, without the help of the vaccination immunity boosts.

We didn’t lose our taste or smell, thank goodness, and our lungs were not impacted. The rest of it was headache, cough, sore throat, fevers and chills, and brain fog – then the residual tiredness that you hear about, that comes on suddenly and says “whoa, stop and rest…”

The asymptomatic of us never lost energy, had fevers or chills, or were impacted any more than having a sinus headache and itchy eyes for one day, then a bit of stuffiness – but at the same time we had a high pollen count alert, due to the warm weather – so, who knows? We had both.

It’s difficult now to say how to approach this. We continue to mask-up, avoid large crowds, don’t eat out unless it’s outside… We go outdoors and that is our haven. I find going into stores extremely stressful. I come out and am relieved to be out of there. People are weird and rude and it’s just a strange experience. Some without masks look defiantly at those of us that wear them. But, it’s hard to tell.

We have the attitude that we will still do what we can, because we believe that we could get infected again. It’s like I feel about the flu – even if you had your shots, you may still get some variant that wasn’t in the shot. Vaccines for COVID-19 are different, but the main thing is to keep your immunity up as much as possible.

If you think about it, it’s grim – but, there are those of us who try not to lose hope…

We haven’t seen some our family for going on three years. One of us has parents, still living, that are advancing into their eighties. We have missed birthdays and will miss a wedding. My mother-in-law is very sad and breaks out tearily, but tries not to upset us, but this actually does bring on the emotions that are being kept inside.

All sorts of prickly emotions happen these days. Adapting since early 2020 has meant more isolation, and less socialization, which really plays with how you interact with people. It’s very tough on some of us.

We hear news that gives us glimmers of hope for what may be opening in six months – but that, we know, is really too far away to make plans – we now know that something could emerge in a short period of time that could change everything.

Coping is Hoping

What we now do is try to anticipate hopeful times. There are countries where this virus variant is just now arriving and spreading. Let’s say that we were third, maybe fourth in line… that leaves many countries at risk, and the virus will ravage their unvaccinated, and leave behind the vaccinated and those who would never get the virus or not know that they have had it – even though science says that most everyone will.

We have to cope and anticipate what we have to do differently with every wave that comes along. We believe that this will be versioned and each version will require a slightly different surfboard to ride the waves – hopefully, we can still do that without falling off.

Hope for 2022?
- That our coping mechanisms will be refined.
- That we will have better structures and rules to deal with this that can lend us the ability to travel confidently again.
- That we will be able to travel to see family and friends more.
- That we will be able to understand how better to bring fun into our lives, rather than the doldrums of work and everyday routines.
- Anticipation of every visit from our grandchild, or friends who are brave enough to venture out and socialize with us.
By this writing, we are still here. We hope to be here. I have health on my agenda. I swim every day that the weather permits. I try to eat healthy and do other things with my time towards health – because it’s up to me to do that.

-Hope Never Vanishes

January 24, 2022
January 24, 2022
Every time I have that memory…

It was a long time ago, now. Sixteen years. It was the grimmest of grim. We held on to hope when there was very little to hold onto. Every single day, and the days between those, every visit from each of the doctors pushed us up and down the emotional roller coasters.

Now I understand that people who are relatively balanced don’t freak out. Well, some do. The actual mechanics of surviving tough times involves breaking the experience down into edible chunks – the brain can only process so much at once – that’s how we roll. Here in 2021, we have to do this to try to adapt and keep adapting to the uncertainty that we have going on at this moment. If we think about the macro, it’s just too much.

That was what it was like in 2005, in Rob’s final days with us. We couldn’t think about the macro too much – the micro was changing every day with unexpected tribulations popping up at every turn. In the nearly six weeks in the hospital we had changing prognoses, surgeries to face, prayers for recovery, when recovery wasn’t coming, listening to theories and hearing the words, “we’re in uncharted territory…”

What were we supposed to say? Give up? I’m not a “give-up” kind of girl – wasn’t then, and am not now. I wanted them to give everything to helping Rob survive the situation that can only be described as a huge medical debacle. But, we don’t give up on 17 year-old kids – not mine, at least. I was in that mindset the whole time.

Maybe the doctors went around the corner and shrugged their shoulders, but at least they didn’t do that in front of me. You see a lot when you’re practically living in the hospital with someone. You begin to adapt to the milieu. I was trying to make the best of things for Rob – get him what he wanted – what he needed – and be his mama-tiger advocate – always.

We had endured having to move all our stuff out of his room when he went off to surgery – because they needed his bed – my response was “where are we going to put his things? all the things that have been keeping him sustained for the last month?” The answer came back, “We’re sorry, we don’t have an answer for you… You will have to move them out…” I said, “He’s going into surgery! Our house is an hour away! You expect me to do this NOW? What can you be thinking?” The people were acting like I was becoming violent or something because I didn’t just say, “OK, thanks…” It was maddening to think that they had so little empathy for a patient – even financially, they had made lots of bucks off of his stay – that was my cynical thinking at the time… He was an “insured” patient…

Finally, the charge nurse and the nurse manager came in and said we could store his things in their store room – possibly they could get me a bed at the Ronald McDonald House, if there was room… So, that is what I did… I was so shattered by then, I could hardly tell what time of day it was. That’s what happens when your child has surgery that takes hours long – and you come out and it’s the middle of the night. You don’t know where they will take him or where you will find him next… It’s very unsettling for families.

I tried to be nice – and mostly was – but I also got very frustrated at the chaos at times. I mean, how could they possibly keep making screwed-up mistakes? Grrrrrrrr.

Maybe they weren’t but, my baby just wasn’t getting any better… C’mon…

He survived that surgery, and eventually was put back into a regular room. Little did we know this would be temporary. Time sequences become confusing in memory.

In trying to balance the days and nights, sharing the only bed in his room, by trading off, it was each time, when leaving – agonizing. Returning, each time, there was the re-entry and orientation to what the latest situation was – trying to get information was sometimes like pulling teeth. If only, the iPhone had been invented then… Handy recording could have helped.

Rob was moved to a “step-down” which was actually a “step-down” from the ICU. More like a critical care unit. For the last days of his life, he was there. It was a large room, and visitors were permitted. His friends came to visit a couple of days before he died, but we didn’t know that he was close to his final day – he was just sleepy and non-responsive. That should have told us something.

One night, as I was leaving to hand off to his dad, Rob said to me while I was hugging him to say good-bye, “Mom, I want you to be with me when I die.” It took my breath away. My reaction was saying, “You’re not dying… sweetie… you’re going to be okay once we get through this…”

He was less in the present, and visiting the path to the future, as we did not understand, but I now know. I remember washing his hair – helping him shower – and he was barely awake – so weak at that point. He had not really eaten much food in days. They had begun to give him TPN (which is nutrition via IV). In fact in retrospect, the sequence of events that happened over the next few days led to his event horizon.

That was a term he described once to me while he was looking at the string of pulmonary function test results graphed together… This was ahead of his being approved for the transplant. He said back then, “I’m getting close to zero – that’s when I end.” That one got me. He was a very analytical guy – but insightful and emotional – just like me.

This time of year I cannot help but revisit the memories of the past – those days leading up to his final day and the end of his earthly journey. I try not to feel badly. That’s hard because, I’m human, and I’m his mom, and we are selfish as humans – we miss our loved ones when they go – and if it is our babies or our big kids – that especially hurts…

So that wish was his command. I was with him when he passed on, holding his hand, lying across him in his final hospital bed in the ICU. It broke my heart. The drive home was the longest drive – I was alone – I drove the route the last time from his hospital room back to the last place he lived. Sometimes, I wonder how I did that – how did I muster the strength in the wee hours to make that last journey, when just a few hours before, I was driving like the wind to get down to the hospital where he had been taken to the ICU and placed on life support…

I didn’t get to see him that day, conscious, or where he would be able to respond and say goodbye. I found him ready to leave. Systems on idle. Ready to shut down for the big sleep for the journey to his next place in the universe.

Dragonflies

I often think when I see the dragonflies that visit me, “why dragonflies?” Because of their beautiful furious short lives, maybe? Because they are ferocious, yet gorgeous? Because they are friendly to me? Who knows? But dragonflies tell me that he is okay – he is still okay – and will always be okay.

September 2, 2021
waiting for the second that something will change or maybe not.

Blade Runner. Great movie. Classic. We saw it again recently. A reminder of the perceptions of life that we hold onto as we cruise through it. Maybe not in a futuristic vehicle, but maybe it is – if you time slice automobiles from the time you were born, to now – hey, by the time you are my age, they do look futuristic. They still don’t fly through the air, except in bad circumstances.

That’s another story. Chaotic. Strange. Wake me up when this movie is over.

But sometimes things happen and you can’t wake up from it, and you can’t get away from it. It just is how it is. I have experienced that. More than once. Yeah, life sucks sometimes.

Disease, divorce, death – the three “D’s” that you get told by counselors that say these are major deals in your life. Of course your own death isn’t likely to affect you in a big way, just other people who are left behind. And that is yet another story. Been there, done that. No amount of experience prepares you.

Things get put on your radar that weren’t there just a minute or two before. Stuff like that. That is when we don’t want change to happen. It is a “please, just let me BE” kind of appeal. I’m not ready for the great up yonder yet. We don’t get to decide that, Silly. Haven’t you figured that out yet? So, nobody wants to face that, but yet we face it every day. We just send it under the gray matter. Fear of “it” in any representation.

Clowns. Monsters. Deep space. Any abyss – beings and places you cannot know simply because you cannot see or touch what is within. Let’s take clowns. Underneath all of that make up, wigs, baggy clothes, big shoes and those big red noses is something you cannot understand. Oh, and yeah. There’s the teeth part. Big teeth. “The clowns are waiting, I cannot sleep.”

Thanks Stephen King. Master of bringing you your worst nightmares in print. You are compelled to NOT put the book down until you get through to the end.

I think that if a dark future is defined for you, and you are told this, it makes you realize that you are not in control here. You are definitely NOT in control. Sometimes you go down the river in Egypt – de Nile. Or your mind chops it up into itty-bitty pieces. At some point, the removal of the perceived control makes you angry. It makes you lose it. Yeah. Lose control. Oh yeah… never actually had it, did you? So, get pissed off, get over it and call me in the morning.

Living in the past lately, for some strange reason I call it studying the past. Suddenly, the 1960’s are fascinating. Maybe clinging is a better word. Maybe not.

Day to day, for comfort, we delude ourselves into thinking that everything is fine. It’s a self-protection, this calm of the moment. A womb. We sit in it and watch the world go by. Then the tap on the shoulder.

Imagine riding along on I-10 one minute, and crunched between vehicles the next. Split second. Bastante.

Don’t forget. Joy happens, too. Learning that you will be a parent, then waiting the appointed time before that actually happens.

The split second you see the new little person, made of 50% you, emerging into the world – now that’s joy! Let’s not think of other possibilities. Be in the moment. It’s important. Let’s just think that things will be fine and the miracle of life will be right in front of our very eyes.

Experience teaches us lessons of dubiousness and as we have more of those experiences, we get more dubious. It’s as simple as that.

I have been accused of being “negative”. Maybe when I am speaking with people who are close to me, it is the fact that I feel that I can speak freely. Well, maybe I can’t as much as I thought. Live and learn. There was innocence before the fall.

My life experience unfolds every day.   Everyone on this planet experiences this as long as they are still breathing.

Revisiting what I did once, thinking back about it, I felt like I was wandering in the forest, to be honest. I look at these old photos and wonder what happened to these girls who were friends back in 7th grade.

Mostly, I was afraid of my mother. I was always trying to escape her grip of control. She didn’t want me to wear shoes with no socks. She did not want me to wear make-up. She did not want me to shave my legs or arm pits. For God’s sake, I was looking like a baby gorilla! What a dork – wearing socks and clunky shoes (oh yeah, she didn’t want me to wear cool shoes – only those that were “supportive”). No make up, no eye liner, no lipstick – Frosted Malt or Sugar and Ice – the two popular ones at the time so you could look like “Twiggy”. Right. See me in that dress. I absolutely did NOT look like Twiggy. I had curly hair, when styles were straight. My mom kept cutting my hair, when I wanted it long. What did we agree on? Not much.

We finally had it out when I was in seventh grade. Yeah. She took a slap at me and I caught her hand in mid-air. I said, “Don’t do that to me ever again.” Line in the sand. That was the day she realized that I was bigger and stronger than she was. And she didn’t physically do that again. She used her mind instead… oh yeah, and her voice. Boy could she scream and yell.

She was kind of a “Dr. Jekyl – Mrs. Hyde”. But eventually, we knew the relationship boundaries and we got as okay as we could — and she did rise to help and support at grim times, when she was most needed. She could behave like a normal human being if she put her mind to it. A real normal one. That was what perplexed everyone about her. But underneath, she was a normal person, trying to stay that way. It was probably clowns that drove her into her spells.

So I digress.

Childhood. Adolescence. Adulthood. I guess all I wanted was some credibility.  Well, here I am.

I’ve been so trying not to repeat history, that it hurts. Maybe I have gone a bit too far, but then, you are never sure.

We have those moments in our lives that we will look back on, embarrassed, but knowing that it was the best that we could do at the time with what capabilities we had and being what people we were, we can take comfort. We were children.   It’s okay. We can’t go back and change this. Only in the movies, but then it gets complicated when this happens, as we have seen.

But we had fun and we did crazy stuff. We snuck out and rode around, and met boys at the movies, and made out in the dark. We probably did a lot of things that millions of other kids did around the world. That’s why I love that movie, “The Boat that Rocked” AKA “Pirate Radio”.   It captured how we were – on the brink of something revolutionary. It was great! The British Rock invasion… The Soul Train… Girl groups – yeah, Lezley Gore – It’s My Party and I will Cry if I Want! Love it!

One thing, though – we can’t go back. Would we want to go back? No, not really. Some of those days weren’t so much fun. But what I think is that we should appreciate every day. I know it’s hard for people facing tough times.

We can’t magic away the tough times. But if you are just needing to change your attitude, then you really should think about it.

I am. Every day. Every day.

June 4, 2015