On Being Mortal

There is nothing like waking up in the middle of the night with a piecing pain in your chest, a dull aching feeling pain in your arm, nausea and the unsettling feeling that you may be having a heart attack to get your attention.  Such was my experience three weeks ago in a city away from home while on “vacation”.  I put the vacation in quotes because what I had planned to be a time away from phones, obligations,  and the like turned out to be disappointing in many aspects because of rain for a solid week and my overblown expectations.  I had also planned a much too much road trip for one week requiring eight to nine hours in the car each day on the interstate.  Need I say more? What was I thinking? 

I did see some beautiful country in retrospect and if I could have just let go of  the tight grip on my agenda and accept the rain as the gift from God for the people of Kentucky and Tennessee that had been in a drought for the past year, perhaps I would have enjoyed it more.  Perhaps.   My husband is much more phlegmatic than I am and just seemed to let it roll off of him like a duck, literally.  We purchased rain ponchos and hiked in the rain until even I could not slog through the mud anymore.  He was happy to be home in the state of his birth and be able to look up at real mountains.  All I saw were mountains enshrouded in rain.  Bah! 

As we began our trip home we encountered the nightmarish traffic on I-40 and about two million 18 wheelers determined to kill us.  Between that and having to dodge cars going 80 miles an hour, I was a wreck by the time we got to our destination that night.  That’s when I woke up with back and chest pains and nausea that had started earlier in the evening.  I woke my husband who was more that willing to take me to the hospital, but I declined, took an aspirin and eventually went back to sleep. I felt extremely tired the next day and my husband drove the rest of the way home (another 8 hours).  I had another incident a few days later after spending time in the garden, again, chest pain, nausea and tingling in my left arm.  This time, we call the local EMS.  They came, ruled out anything serious but advised I see my local doctor.  He referred me to a cardiologist who set me up for a stress test and nuclear stress test. 

Just the idea of a stress test and the nuclear stress test, sent me into orbit;  so much so that I had a full blown migraine the day before!  My massage therapist jokingly said “it’s a good thing you didn’t have to study for it!”

I am so ridiculously intense that I just knew I would fail!  One the day the I  took the test I kept asking the technicians as they injected me with the nuclear material and watching  my heart on a screen, ” That’s good, right?”  To which they would answer to my frustration impassively, “oh, yeah”.

Two weeks passed while I waited for the results with instructions to not exercise until I heard for the doctor.  I am a goer and doer.  I don’t like being told not to do.  I really don’t like being told that I am MORTAL.  But during this two weeks, I have received a rare gift.  I have piddled.  I have read.  I have dallied in my garden, not toiled.  I have baked bread, but it has not been work, but a joy.  I have sat on my back deck and listened to the birds.  I have made love more.  I have prayed more and been still.  I have done things I wanted to do  because I wanted to do them.   I have hurried less. 

I have thought about blogs I could rant about.  About how it grieves me what it happening to our country, President Obama, the health care system, taxes and so on. But in the end, I thought, why?  I will save my energy and my life for positive thoughts and people. 

Yesterday, I went to receive my report from the cardiologist.  All tests came back normal.  I have a good heart.  I can return to exercising.  I have no need to return to the cardiologist.  I hope the lessons I have learned in the last  three weeks stay with me for a lifetime.  I want to savor the life I have been given.  I want to shed the old life of being the tightly wound clock of a human like a snake sheds it’s old skin  and move to the rhythms of a new life. 

 I have been given a gift of being reminded I am mortal, and it’s okay.

Dinner and a Show

Yesterday evening I had the pleasure of having dinner with my daughter and her new husband.  This is nothing new.  What was new, was the evening’s entertainment.  Before and after dinner we sat out in the backyard and watched her chickens.  Now before you take a big yawn, and leave this post, hear me out.  I don’t know if I have crossed over into what is officially a “redneck” or just joined what two thirds of rest of the world already is doing, but I found it interesting, amusing, scary at times, peaceful, insightful and refreshing.

My daughter in her quest to eat more healthily has acquired some chickens for eggs.  They have quickly become pets and could never in a million years be considered for anything else but egg producing friends.  She recently lost two of her hens to a predator and she describes that day as “one of the worst five days of her life”.  We love what she loves and recently took care of them while she was out of town.  Now one of them has a hurt leg and we were speculating what was wrong and how to treat it while dinner cooked.

To watch these fowl scratch for bugs, run at full speed because they got spooked and then have the whole flock join in, jump in my lap and hear me scream like a ninny was a hoot.  Chickens are funny.  They bully each other, don’t seem to have a lick of sense and try to keep all the goods to themselves.  Kind of like humans.  Hmmmmm….

There were times when we would just watch the chickens peck and scratch, working as natural pesticides, eating bugs, fertilizing the soil and there were quiet comfortable silences.  Just the wind in the trees and the sound of the birds.  No need for music or to fill it up with ” so what do you think about…?” 

It was a good evening of good food, good wine, good company and a good show.

Stop the Madness!

Way too much!

On a recent venture to the store to buy toothpaste for my husband, I was staggered by the choices at my disposal.  I counted sixteen different kinds of toothpaste in the brand he had requested.  Everything from Cinnamon, Mint, Tarter control, sensitive protection, whitening pro-health, enamel strengthening, and so on.  Now I am glad that I have all my teeth at the age of 55, but I seriously doubt that it is because of cinnamon being added to toothpaste.  Besides, my husband just wanted plain Crest.  Not mint Crest, not cinnamon Crest, not tarter control Crest, just plain Crest.  It took me ten minutes to find what I wanted.

While in the “toothpaste aisle, I became trapped by a man and his partner and their super sized cart looking for “just the right deodorant”.  I counted no less than twenty two times the man open the cap of a deodorant, sniffed and replaced the cap until he found the “right” fragrance.  “Mmmmmm, I just love this Ocean Breeze Mist”, he said to his wife/girlfriend.  “Mmmmmm, your’e right, it is nice, she cooed”.  At that point Iwas ready to scream, “It’s freaking deodorant! It’s not French perfume!”  I cound’t get by and I coundn’t stop listening and watching; sort of like not wanting to be involved in watching a food eating contest- you’re grossed out, but can’t turn away at the same time.  All I could think of was 1: all the empty plastic containers from deodorants in land fills, 2: that Ocean Breeze Mist probably doesn’t smell anything like what I think of when I think of Ocean breeze mist and 3: if the man wanted to smell Ocean Breeze mist, he should MOVE!

How did we get to this point?  We have more choices for soap, shampoo, makeup, pet food, than we can count.  We are a nation of consumers.  I admit it.  I love my nail polish.  I love to wash my hair.  But do I need wheat protein or peppermint in my shampoo?  I think not.  Just something to get my hair clean, thank you.  Same thing with soap.  Wash your pits everyday and you won’t need deodant. 

I was reminded of the scene from an old Robin Williams movie, “Moscow on the Hudson”  of an Russian musician that defects to America and in one scene faints in a grocery store when overwhelmed by the choices he presented with.  I was just about to do the same. 

There is a movement to simplify, to use less.  I hope that more will people will catch on.  I don’t want the makers of toothpaste and other products  to lose work, but perhaps with their ingenuity, they can  work on things we really need,  like less expensive solar panels, reclaiming water and more.  Please don’t take me as a high and mighty sack cloth wheat grass drinking chick.  I’m not.  But the madness has to stop.  When we have 16 kinds of toothpaste in one brand alone, that’s too much.  When we have disposable “heads” on toilet brushes that “flush away”, because it’s too icky to keep a toilet brush in your bathroom, that’s too much.  Although for years, disposable diapers have been touted as easier on the environment, ie, less water used, phosphates , etc, recent research has come to light that it is estimated that roughly 5 million tons of untreated waste and a total of 2 billion tons of urine, feces, plastic and paper are added to landfills annually. It takes around 80,000 pounds of plastic and over 200,000 trees a year to manufacture the disposable diapers for American babies alone.  Although some disposables are said to be biodegradable; in order for these diapers to decompose, they must be exposed to air (oxygen) and sun.  Since this is highly unlikely, it can take several hundred years for the decomposition of disposables to take place, with some of the plastic material never decomposing. 

Americans needs to get a grip!  We have lost touch with what it is to be human.  We eat, we breath, we have bad breath, we poop and we can deal with it.  We can use soap and water and survive.  Other countries have been doing it for centuries and seem to be okay.  Let’s give it a try.

Step Away and try a bath!

Ah… Spring!

It is refreshing to know that in spite of the overwhelming bad news that we are barraged with by the media regarding the state of the world’s economy, global warming, the heightened threat of terrorists in Afghanistan and now even on the high seas,  Spring will have it’s way.  If you were to take a “fast” from the media, and I highly encourage you to if you never have, you would find you have not missed much.  Nations still threaten nations, the stock market goes up and down.  Large companies lay off workers and executives continue to get million dollar bonuses. 

But step outside and you will see what you have been missing.  This morning I awoke to a sunrise that can only be described as breathtaking.  The sky was painted the color of smashed raspberries, yellow chiffon and blue topaz.  I thought to myself, wow, only a cutting edge designer would  use such bold colors in that way!  Hmmm…Cutting edge designer indeed! 

I was tickled to know that I would have to dress in layers, because Spring in Texas means having a forty degree swing in temperatures in one day.  I must cover my veggies in the garden to protect against frost and wear leggings and a sweater to work, and in the afternoon uncover the veggies and myself by wearing  flip flops and shorts. 

Driving out my  driveway my favorite Elm trees, newly dressed in their green lace dresses bowed and waved in  the wind as if to wave me goodbye.  Later as I drove to work,  I was tickled to see a straw hat nailed to a fence post.  It just made me laugh; but not nearly as much as the two dogs that were playing in a field.  One was chasing his tail and you could  just imagine him trying to get the other to do the same.  It was if he was saying “come on, this is the greatest thing, you just go round and round and round”.  The other dog was just grinning at him like “what a goober!”

I have recently planted a garden and in spite of everything I do, I can not keep the seeds from coming up out of the soil.  They insist on breaking free, and growing into beans, radishes, cantaloupes, okra and pumpkins.  They yearn for sunlight, rain, the sky.  Straining forward they reach upward to the heavens pulled by something greater than themselves.  Small things, but great wonders.   Whether it is wildflowers growing by the side of the road or a dandelion pushing itself up through a crack in the sidewalk, I urge you to look up and see life around you!  There is more to this ol’ world than what the talking heads would tell you.

Beauty and the Beast

It has long been said that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”.  When I first heard that expression I asked my mother what it meant and she told me that what was beautiful to one person, might not be to another.  Everyone defined their own beauty.  I always thought my mother one of the most beautiful women in the world.   As a young girl I would watch  the ritual of her brushing her thick dark hair, or applying her ruby red lipstick  and believe it was truly like watching an art form blossom.  I would tell her how pretty she was, and she would  shake her head and tsk, tsk me as if I was being so silly while  at the same time she slyly stole glances in the mirror as if to say, “yes, it’s true”.

I grew up and discovered the joys of makeup, the art of hairdressing and  the power women can have over men when we choose to dress alluringly.  I enjoyed the compliments I received from both men and women  and knew that I was pretty.  I loved having my picture taken and didn’t mind being the life of the party.  I still love fashion and love a good shopping trip with my daughter topped off with a trip to our favorite Mexican restaurant.

But something happened  a few years ago that was unexpected.  I began to feel ugly.  Not just an off day, mind you, but deep down, hideous ,  who would ever want to speak to her ugly!!

Don’t Pay Your Taxes!!!

I will be the first to admit that I was not happy about Barak Obama being elected as our new President.  While others spoke of change and hope, all I could see was more government regulation, bigger government and intrusiuon into our lives.  As I watched bits and parts of the Inauguration, or as I disdainfully referred to it, a love fest,  I bemoaned what was going to become of our great country for the next four to eight years.  While others celebrated President Obama’s victory and their deliverance from the oppression of all the tyrannies of capitalism, war, social injustice, and work, another social injustice that so many have been subjected to  raised it’s head about the same time….paying your taxes.

While many of my friends and associates are running around gathering receipts and wondering if they should cough up $60 or $70 for a tax program or tough it out and stand in line at the library for all the bewildering forms from good ‘ol Uncle Sam, I am not worrying.  While ads are bombarding me with TURBO TAX promotions or H&R BLOCK, I simply ignore them and pour another glass of pinot grigio. 

 You see, my friends, I have embraced the change that President Obama espoused in all the speeches that he gave as he ran for office.  And he is now backing up that rhetoric by endorsing Timothy Giethner as the Secretary of Treasury.  Timothy Giethner who owed over $48K in back taxes to the very agency he now oversees.  President Obama continued to stand by Tom Daschle even while evidence continued to come in that Daschle owed over $140,000 in back taxes.  That’s a lot of money folks.  Some how I find it hard to believe you just don’t forget to pay that much money.  Although Daschle has withdrawn from being considered for Health and Human Services director, the excuse that “nobody’s perfect” seems a little lame for owing that much in back taxes.  I hardly think I or you would get such a pass….but then maybe we will. 

Barack Obama is far closer to Daschle than he is to Geithner.  Obama knew that Daschle had failed to pay taxes on Monday, and he knew that Daschle had failed to pay taxes on Tuesday. If Obama doesn’t want to send the message that there are “two sets of rules”–one for members of his administration and one for ordinary citizens–then why did Daschle have to go if Geithner got to stay? When Charles Gibson asked Obama this question  on ABC NEWS on Tuesday, the president dodged, saying, “Well, as I said, I think everybody makes mistakes. Tim owned up to them. And I think I’ve been very clear of the fact that this was a bad mistake.” 

After all, this is the dawn of a new era.  A time for setting aside the past and looking to the future.  A time for hope and reconciliation.

It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I Remember Rain

The soft pitter patter of rain on my windows, the rivlets  running down the panes, the puddles in the drive way has eluded my life for months now.  Gone are the days of snuggling down into my sofa reading while listening to the rain, a pot of soup simmering on the stove or sipping a cup of hot tea.  It has been too long since  I have been able   to  lie in bed while the thunder rolls and listen to  the rain pelt the windows.  The trees around here have taken on an eery thick beige coating of dust.  Everything is brown.  There may not be any wildflowers this year.  Wildflowers need rain in the winter.  
Whoever heard of Easter without wildflowers?  That’s just wrong!  Each cold front promises rain, but doesn’t deliver.  It only brings a red flag warning of “High fire danger” because of the low humidity and dry conditions. It’s as if the weathermen were snake-oil salesman.  Promising desperate people a 20% chance of showers that never comes.  We believe them because we want to, we must; but in our heart we know we have heard the prediction before and been left high and dry.

Read This-Save a life!

Mr. D-You have cancer.  With those words my husband was initiated into a fraternity he never wanted to join.  Approximately 3 months ago he went for his annual physical and  the requisite blood work.  Part of the blood work was a PSA (Prostate specific antigen). If you are not familiar with this forgive me for going into details that some may not know.  The PSA is a test to see if the Prostate is giving off too much of specific antigens and in the past, anything below a “4″ on the test was considered “normal”.  Little did we know that my husband’s had been climbing from a 2.7, to a 3.5 to a now 4.7.  After the “call” from the physician and recommendation to see an urologist so we wouldn’t be his problem any more, we began research and found out that the  American Cancer Society and  M.D.Anderson both recommend now a safer 2.5 level for the PSA.

The urologist recommended an immediate biopsy but we were sure that the test was wrong and had it repeated.  It can back lower, but still above the accepted 4.  So we scheduled my sweet heart to have an office biopsy the next week.  He didn’t get the results until the following Monday evening on his way home from work.  Talk about a traffic stopper!  There is nothing like being told you have cancer to change your perspective on everything.  That night we both stayed up crying and surfing the web to try to find everything we could about prostate cancer until we couldn’t focus anymore.  There is more information and misinformation than you could possibly ever read. 

We prayed and we called friends and we had friends call us.  We had so much information I felt as if I was swimming in a sea of books, leaflets, pamphlets, videos and more.  My world had become a world that now was full of experts everywhere I turned.  The thing is they all mean well and are so supportive!  My husband has joined a group of men called Us Two.  It is a group of men that have been diagnosed with Prostate cancer and chosen one form of treatment or another.  They are incredibly supportive!

There were 186, 320 new cases of Prostate cancer in 2008.  There were 182, 460 new cases of breast cancer in 2008.  Each cancer is devastating.  Each deserves the best treatment possible.  But it seems to me, that breast cancer receives a disparate amount of publicity, funding and for lack of a better word “Status”.  Prostate cancer is not nearly as glamorous, yet 28, 660 men died from it last year.  When prostate cancer escapes the prostate, it is incurable.  Prostate cancer is easily cured, IF it is caught early!  But that means men Must have annual physicals and PSA’s.  Starting in their 40’s.  Earlier in they are African American or have a family history of Prostate Cancer. 

My husband is a fortunate one.  Yes, he has been diagnosed with Prostate Cancer.  But, he was in the military and in the habit of having a physical every year.  I have talked to wives whose husbands have not had a physical in 10-15 years!  Yet their husbands would be aghast if their wives did not have their annual check ups and mammograms done each year.  Yes, the physical is slightly uncomfortable, as my husband called it in the military “a finger wave”.  But better that, than something much worse. 

Treatments for Prostate cancer include laproscopic robotic surgery for the best results for continence and nerve sparing, radiation either external beam or seed, cryosurgery, hormone therapy and much more.  It depends on the stage of the cancer and the age of the patient.  

We are just beginning on this journey. I am told this diagnosis affects both the husband and the wife.  Of that I am convinced.  I know if I could take this from him for myself I would, but I cannot.  We will walk it together, but we will not walk it alone.  And in a few months, we will run!!

Keeping Christmas

While the rest of the world has packed away most of the decorations and started to receive the bills for Christmas 2008, I am still vowing to celebrate Christmas a little while longer.  Today was Epiphany.  The day traditionally celebrated as the day the Magi visited the infant Jesus.  It is celebrated in Slovakia and other eastern European countries.  Epiphany also means the sudden realization or comprehension of the essence or meaning of something.  I think that is significant in a time when we are just packing up the decorations including the manger set, lights and Christmas tree.  It saddens me each year to put it all away because it brings such joy to get it all out, the sparkle, the shine, the memories.  When we put it all away, the house seems a little less warm, a little more plain.  So, I am keeping up my Christmas lights outside this year. 

Open Your Door

Most people go through life never experiencing and living out what they were designed to do.  We may experience the joys of painting or writing or building things with our hands as a child,  and we get messages, that those are all fine and good, but… some day you’ll have to make a living.   Always the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” 

$$$$ Hence, the talents God planted inside you whether it was designing, or leading others or organization or looking at bugs under a microscope are put on a shelf in your soul’s closet as you pursue higher education that will result in a “career”.