Refiguring My Life

I'm reconfiguring my life and it's left me feeling disoriented. For the past 5 months I'd been devoting much of my physical time and emotional energy toward helping my friend Pie. She's gone now and I'm very unfocused and at sea.

I'm filling in the holes in my day with the things I used to do. I've started going back to the driving range, and I played golf this weekend. It was just Par 3, we meet up with some friends, broke all the rules and had a most enjoyable time.

Had not one, but two Library Book Sales this weekend. Did well at both. I'm haunting the thrifts again and looking for books. Trying to write book descriptions. I've never liked doing those so my avoidance of that task is not at all out of the ordinary. Scouting for books is great fun, getting them listed is a tedious bore. But I can't call myself a bookseller if all I do it horde the printed word!

Now if I just master sleeping through the night I might be able to get back on track again. If it doesn't happen soon it will be time to explore better living through chemistry.

An Ordinary Day

I had an ordinary day today. My district gives us Columbus Day off - I do love holidays that most other people don't get! We had our first cool day since last winter, coupled with the first rain in weeks - a perfect day to stay home and putter. I balanced my checkbook, I packed some books, I read, I did laundry, I slept in, I sorted out coupons. I cut back my jungle of basil and made basil cubes (Basil, garlic, olive oil, puree to a paste in a food processor and freeze).
I ate what I pleased and didn't worry about the food pyramid.

It had been a very long time since I'd had a day without a single commitment.

I'm going to miss my friend Pie - during the day part of my mind would wonder : "How is she doing? "Should I go and check"? "What would be a good time to visit"? "Did her meds get delivered" ? Hope she's having a good day today".

Then I would remember, all her days from now on will be good ones. And I've a got a 2 hour hole in my day and bigger one in my heart.

The Minnow Is in Port

My friend Pie's spirit has left her body around 5:30pm CST. She is now with all the others she has loved who have gone before her.

She always said that while she might be dying she was having to much fun to die. Up till Monday night she really was having to much fun to die, but after Tuesday it wasn't fun any more.

I will always remember her as she was last week, a wild woman with a wicked sense of humor and the kind of courage I'd never seen before. She is at peace and out of pain and with those she loved the most.

Gilligan's Island

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip.
That started from this tropic port, aboard this tiny ship.
The mate was a mighty sailin' man, the skipper brave and sure.
Five passengers set sail that day, for a three hour tour, a three hour tour;
The weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed.
If not for the courage of the fearless crew, the Minnow would be lost;
the Minnow would be lost.

The ship took ground on the shore of this uncharted desert isle,
with Gilligan, the Skipper too, the Millionaire, and his Wife, the Movie Star, the Professor and Mary Ann, here on Gilligan's Isle.
So this is the tale of our castaways, they're here for a long, long time.
They'll have to make the best of things, it's an uphill climb.


My friend Pie and I were casual library book sale acquaintances. We ran into each other at book sales & the post office. We'd chat about books , E-Bay and this and that, the sort of things semi strangers talk about when they find themselves waiting in line.

At the last of the Spring sales she mentioned that her shoulder hurt and she was going to have to go to the doctor. I sent her a "how are you doing" e-mail, she fired back that she'd broken it and the doctors suspected bone cancer was the cause. She mentioned she couldn't pack her books so I offered to help out. And I did.

By July she'd broken her leg also, the bone cancer was advancing at a rapid pace and it was apparent that her house was unliveable due to the piles and piles of books heaped in and on every available space. So I started packing. And packing. And packing. 150+ boxes of books later you could see the floor.

And as the books staggered out the door our friendship deepened. She got sicker, I learned more about emergency rooms, home nursing , ambulances, hospice, caregivers than I ever thought I needed to know.

I also learned about humor, courage and that it's possible to face the unspeakable with a smile, a laugh and a joke. And that while one could be dying, one could also being having way to much fun to die. I learned that people who knew each other only through the internet could come together and become a family. And that pink plastic flamingos are as important as pain meds.

I told her that sometimes I felt like one of the passengers on the Good Ship Minnow. I signed up to pack a few books and here, 5 months later I was still on the island.

But now The Minnow is heading toward her final port. Pie is at the hospice in patient care hospital, sedated to almost unconscious because the pain is unbearable.

God Speed my friend, blue skies and fair winds on your final voyage and thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking me along on the ride.

Flamingos!

The internet commuity is second to none. It's brought people together in ways we never thought possible. My friend "Pie" is a active member of a Question and Answer board on E-bay. When she became ill they rallied round as her personal support group. Cards, cakes, flowers, stuffed animals, phone calls and visits are pouring in - all from people who have known her for years but have never meet her in person.

Last night, with the assistance of some local members her yard was flocked- 30 plastic Flamingos, all adorned with the names of the donors arrived - complete with giant greeting card.

30 plastic pink Flamingos - $150. 1 heart full of joy - Priceless.





Pink Flamingo Kind of Love - Howard Rebecca Lynn c2002

Life is great without the clutter
Pass the apple butter
I can't believe this heat
Ain't it simple,ain't it clever
How good we go together
Like june bugs on a string
If our yard was an ocean
And we were sitting' in our lawn chairs
I wouldn't feel any more emotion
Then I do now,
all I want's a
Sprinkler on the garden hose and
Aim it at the patio
Iced tea,you and me
Pink flamingo (kind of love)
Let the clothesline be our fortress
Gas up the tiki torches
Sun up,sun down,
big dreams,small town
Pink flamingo kind of love

Pink Flamingo Kind of Love - Howard Rebecca Lynn c2002

The Circle Game

There’ll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return, we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

The Circle Game by Joni Mitchell

This song seems to summing my life at the moment. My friend "Pie" who is ill is really, really ill. In fact she's dying. At the same time our next door neighbors just welcomed their first child into the world - a healthy, longed for baby boy.

Thursday night I went to her house to help her with some odds and ends. Then I came home and cuddled a 2 day old baby.

The ending of a life and the beginning of one - all in one night.

They Just Don't Get It

They just don’t get it.

Hospitals are very strange places. They are supposed to be set up to accommodate people who are in pain, immobile, handicapped and not in the best of heath. The elevators are all hung with signs proudly proclaiming their mission. The walls are adorned with pictures of happy, healthy ex-patients. But somehow they always manage to miss the boat.

My friend who is ill was admitted to the emergency room of one of the premier cancer hospitals in the nation. We arrived at 11am and she was not admitted to her room till after 7pm , giving us 8 hours to observe the wheels turning, creaking and frequently stalling.

To set the stage – she has a broken leg, a broken arm and her other arm is very weak and her hand has no strength due to complications from a cancerous tumor. She’s not exactly an ideal candidate for the Susan Koman Race for the Cure.

They plop her a room, drape one of those gowns over her clothing , hook her up to an IV with multiple tubes and then hand her a specimen cup and point her toward the bathroom.
The cup has a lid, she’s tethered to an IV and has extra layers of clothing to contend with.

We decide modesty be dammed and I go in to help her. We get the gown tangled in the IV tubes, I who have 2 good hands can’t get the cap off the wretched cup and there is no pee forthcoming. Time for the old camp trick of sticking your hand into warm water. It works. We break into gales of laughter and make so much noise we alarm the staff. I guess they don’t hear many hysterical giggling fits.

That taken care of she gets back into bed and tries to nap and I read. Hours crawl by. Dinner time arrives. Dinner, which is delivered consists of a turkey wrap, a carton of juice and a bag of baked chips, everything wrapped and sealed in plastic containers. And just how is she supposed to open it, much less eat it? I’d pilfered a couple of straws from the cafeteria so the juice is manageable. I chop the wrap into pieces with the oh so helpful (also hermetically sealed in cellophane) plastic knife and we manage somehow.

Half way through dinner the phone rings. It’s on a table, against the wall, a good 5 feet from the bed. Not only can she not answer it, but I can barely stretch the cord far enough so she can talk. It’s transportation. They will be “right down” to take her to her room. “Right Down” is hospital speak for 2 hours.

Helping someone who is coping with cancer is definitely a reality check in just how inaccessible many “handicapped” facilities really are.

And that no matter how grim it gets there is always something to laugh about.

Even if it’s just a urine specimen cup.

Becoming Invisible

My friend who is ill has a broken leg and a broken arm and can't drive so I've been her chauffeur. Kroger offers electric go carts so we headed there to replenish her pantry and larder.

She got herself situated and off we went, she did the steering and me following with my own cart. My job was to get the groceries from the high and low shelves - grocery stores aren't made for people who shop sitting down.

They also aren't made for people who aren't ambulatory, but for some reason they are made for people who can't see. I don't see how anyone can ignore a go-cart but my friend (who is not the shy, mousy type) suddenly became invisible. We chanted "excuse me" , "please move", "Beg pardon" , "I'm sorry", "No, you need to move your cart too" (Texans are very polite) while traversing aisles 1-6.

By aisle 7 we cut to the chase "move".

By aisle 8 I wondered if Kroger carried bazoka horns - the kind the clowns use in the circus - we could have used one.

By aisle 9 friend contemplated rapping people on the ankles with her cane.

The kicker came as we left. Car was in the handicapped section. Standing there, blocking the way to the car and the door were 2 woman with their carts gossiping. One of them had a toddler which both of them were ignoring. We approached and it was pretty obvious we needed access to the car they were blocking. They ignored us.

We tried the loud cough approach. Didn't work.

"Excuse me" Didn't work either".

Finally resorted to "You have to move, you are blocking our car".

They moved - all of 2 feet and blocked the trunk. Toddler continued to run up and down the rectangle created by our car, an adjoining car, us and the gossip monglers. My friend couldn't maneuver the cart down the ramp for fear of running over him. I couldn't bring the groceries down. The ladies kept talking, the kid kept rambling about and we kept staring at them.

Finally we snapped out "Get your kid and move. We need to get into the car you are blocking."

They looked mildly put out that we dare disturb them and went on into the parking lot. Where they continued to stand. And talk. And ignore the child. I fully expected to the see story on the evening news "Child run over in grocery parking lot, film at 11".

Laughter is the Best Medicine

Drove my friend, who is very ill to the Cingular store so she could get a new phone. Ernest young salesman carefully explained the differences between the one year and two year plans. Simultaneously we look at each other and burst into gales of laughter. The salesman looked most perplexed.

She explained the reason- she'll be lucky to have another year, much less two.

The salesman took in stride and was most helpful, a distinct pleasure after some of my previous encounters with folks in the service business.

Sometimes you just gotta laugh, even it's not really appropriate. It beats the alternative.