I don't like seeing doctors so I don't have regular check-ups. I had to visit my excellent family doctor a couple of weeks ago and he began nagging me that I haven't had blood work done in 3 years so I gave in and had it done.
There must be many people who feel as I do...what you don't know won't hurt you, right? Well, the test results came back and last week my doctor's nurse phoned me. I knew I was in trouble when I heard her voice saying the doctor wanted to see me again. I asked if the blood test results weren't up to par and she said they were a little higher than he liked.
I saw him today and you'd have to know my sweet doctor to picture his worried face as he read me the results. My years of poor eating habits were slowly turning me into a diabetic. Apparently, my love of pasta is going to have to be replaced with a tolerance for salads. My weight was also going to have to decrease in order to stave off the inevitable diabetes for a few more years.
He's also sending me for more blood tests...I just know they'll give him more reason to worry and he'll make me come in to see him once again. I hate taking medication so I'm going to have to listen to his advice whether I want to or not.
Goodbye pasta. Goodbye baklava. Goodbye to a lot of the good stuff. I hope being healthy doesn't make me crabby.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Giving Birth in 1958
In 1958 I was 17, married to the love of my life, and 9 months pregnant.
The first tummy twinges appeared at around 8 A.M. and gradually strengthened over the day, but not too disturbingly. I knew that some day this humungous lump in my stomach would want to come out and I was uncomfortable enough to be happy the day had arrived.
At 10 P.M. the twinges had become strong enough and close enough together for me to ask my husband to take me to the hospital. We, me 17 1/2 and him only 1 day past his 21st birthday, walked into the hospital and thus began my first experience with birthing practices of the day.
As we entered, a nurse whisked me away to an examination room and left my nervous husband to fill out forms. I was to stay and he was to go home. In those days husbands weren't allowed to stay with their wives through the birthing process...either because it was felt they weren't strong enough to handle it or the nurses just didn't want them in the way. I can't tell you how terrifying it is to be left with strangers when you are about to give birth. And the sad part is that we accepted this treatment without complaint.
My examination took seconds, it seemed, and then I was taken to a ward room. For the first few hours I had a roommate who spoke kindly to me and tried to allay my fears. From other rooms on the ward I could hear women moaning and screaming. Many were cursing their husbands! I thought their screams meant they were at the end of their labor and that's where I was headed.
I was soon left alone when my roommate was taken away to the delivery room. Picture a 17 year old child, in pain, and having little knowledge of what was to come. Even then there wasn't enough nursing staff on the floor to allow one to stay with me all the time. Occasionally a nurse would come in, check my progress, and then leave. I remember one nurse in particular who seemed to understand what I was going through and she spent extra time smoothing my brow and talking to me. I desperately needed my husband or mother with me but hospital regulations wouldn't allow it. What a cruel policy.
The birthing moment arrived and I was rushed to the delivery room, enveloped in pain (no epiderals in those days) and still among strangers. After 24 hours of labor I gave birth to my first daughter.
Kim weighed 9 lbs. 8 oz. Pretty big baby considering that I weighed 105 lbs. when I became pregnant. I gained 32 lbs. with the pregnancy and lost 25 of them before I left the hospital. Oh yes, in those days you stayed in the hospital 5 days after giving birth.
When I gave birth I had a boil (first and only time in my life) on my leg so, after Kim was born, I was put in a private room and not allowed to even see my baby for the 5 days I was there. I asked repeatedly to just have them bring her to the door but even that wasn't done. I was too young and naive to complain forcefully and don't know to this day why I was isolated. Maybe this is one reason why I'm now such a strong advocate of demanding your rights and not just accepting the rulings of "authorities".
When we finally brought Kim home, I wasn't well. I'd been given penicillin in the hospital and discovered I was allergic to it. My body was covered in hives and my breasts were rock hard from milk engorgement.
One day I laid in bed crying in misery while poor newborn Kim lay crying in her crib. My 16 year old neighbor, who later married my husband's cousin, heard the noise and came over to the house and up to our 3rd floor apartment. She picked Kim up and soothed her cries. I will never forget Donna's kindness that day.
Well, Kim managed to grow up into an exceptionally wonderful woman. I love her dearly and would go through it all again just to have her in my life.
The first tummy twinges appeared at around 8 A.M. and gradually strengthened over the day, but not too disturbingly. I knew that some day this humungous lump in my stomach would want to come out and I was uncomfortable enough to be happy the day had arrived.
At 10 P.M. the twinges had become strong enough and close enough together for me to ask my husband to take me to the hospital. We, me 17 1/2 and him only 1 day past his 21st birthday, walked into the hospital and thus began my first experience with birthing practices of the day.
As we entered, a nurse whisked me away to an examination room and left my nervous husband to fill out forms. I was to stay and he was to go home. In those days husbands weren't allowed to stay with their wives through the birthing process...either because it was felt they weren't strong enough to handle it or the nurses just didn't want them in the way. I can't tell you how terrifying it is to be left with strangers when you are about to give birth. And the sad part is that we accepted this treatment without complaint.
My examination took seconds, it seemed, and then I was taken to a ward room. For the first few hours I had a roommate who spoke kindly to me and tried to allay my fears. From other rooms on the ward I could hear women moaning and screaming. Many were cursing their husbands! I thought their screams meant they were at the end of their labor and that's where I was headed.
I was soon left alone when my roommate was taken away to the delivery room. Picture a 17 year old child, in pain, and having little knowledge of what was to come. Even then there wasn't enough nursing staff on the floor to allow one to stay with me all the time. Occasionally a nurse would come in, check my progress, and then leave. I remember one nurse in particular who seemed to understand what I was going through and she spent extra time smoothing my brow and talking to me. I desperately needed my husband or mother with me but hospital regulations wouldn't allow it. What a cruel policy.
The birthing moment arrived and I was rushed to the delivery room, enveloped in pain (no epiderals in those days) and still among strangers. After 24 hours of labor I gave birth to my first daughter.
Kim weighed 9 lbs. 8 oz. Pretty big baby considering that I weighed 105 lbs. when I became pregnant. I gained 32 lbs. with the pregnancy and lost 25 of them before I left the hospital. Oh yes, in those days you stayed in the hospital 5 days after giving birth.
When I gave birth I had a boil (first and only time in my life) on my leg so, after Kim was born, I was put in a private room and not allowed to even see my baby for the 5 days I was there. I asked repeatedly to just have them bring her to the door but even that wasn't done. I was too young and naive to complain forcefully and don't know to this day why I was isolated. Maybe this is one reason why I'm now such a strong advocate of demanding your rights and not just accepting the rulings of "authorities".
When we finally brought Kim home, I wasn't well. I'd been given penicillin in the hospital and discovered I was allergic to it. My body was covered in hives and my breasts were rock hard from milk engorgement.
One day I laid in bed crying in misery while poor newborn Kim lay crying in her crib. My 16 year old neighbor, who later married my husband's cousin, heard the noise and came over to the house and up to our 3rd floor apartment. She picked Kim up and soothed her cries. I will never forget Donna's kindness that day.
Well, Kim managed to grow up into an exceptionally wonderful woman. I love her dearly and would go through it all again just to have her in my life.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Light Bulb Burns 100 Years
My brother-in-law told me about a light bulb that had been burning for 80 years somewhere in the States. I was curious because I've always felt that many of the things we buy have a built-in expiry date.
I typed in "light bulb 80 years" and began my search. Lo and behold, there is not only a light bulb that's been burning for 80 years in a fire station in Oklahoma, but one that's been burning for 100 years in a Fort Worth museum.
Built-in obsolescence means we must repurchase over and over again. This is easily apparent with "fashion" but not so easily detected in the necessities of life like the light bulb. With fashion, we have the opportunity to choose whether we want to be with the times or an old fuddy duddy. With light bulbs, we just accept that they can only last so long and then they burn out. Most of us don't question why.
The new light bulbs on the market have a longer life span...and a much larger price tag. I will bet my Old Age Pension that it doesn't cost one cent more to manufacture them.
I typed in "light bulb 80 years" and began my search. Lo and behold, there is not only a light bulb that's been burning for 80 years in a fire station in Oklahoma, but one that's been burning for 100 years in a Fort Worth museum.
Built-in obsolescence means we must repurchase over and over again. This is easily apparent with "fashion" but not so easily detected in the necessities of life like the light bulb. With fashion, we have the opportunity to choose whether we want to be with the times or an old fuddy duddy. With light bulbs, we just accept that they can only last so long and then they burn out. Most of us don't question why.
The new light bulbs on the market have a longer life span...and a much larger price tag. I will bet my Old Age Pension that it doesn't cost one cent more to manufacture them.
Recalled Toys
Mattel has recalled thousands of toys manufactured in China because they contain lead paint. I'm wondering who discovered this and why it wasn't discovered before the toys went on the market.
Huge companies like Mattel enhance their profits by having their merchandise manufactured in foreign countries. It's an acceptable cost saving measure but only if the quality of the goods is equal to that manufactured in Canada and the States. If Mattel's inspection team is unable to ensure that goods manufactured offshore are meeting our guidlines then this is going to hurt their sales.
We seem to be hearing about an awful lot of recalls these days...well after the product has been widely distributed to the buying public. I'd be interested in knowing how much of this is attributed to offshore manufacturing.
Huge companies like Mattel enhance their profits by having their merchandise manufactured in foreign countries. It's an acceptable cost saving measure but only if the quality of the goods is equal to that manufactured in Canada and the States. If Mattel's inspection team is unable to ensure that goods manufactured offshore are meeting our guidlines then this is going to hurt their sales.
We seem to be hearing about an awful lot of recalls these days...well after the product has been widely distributed to the buying public. I'd be interested in knowing how much of this is attributed to offshore manufacturing.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Panhandling/Begging
No matter what you call it, begging is one person asking another to work just a little bit harder so they don't have to.
In Toronto, a young man was approached by four young men and asked for money. When he refused he was stabbed to death. His sin was in refusing to hand over his hard earned money to young men who wouldn't work for their own. A city who allows beggars to rule the streets is a city who will soon find their downtown streets empty of decent citizens and tourists alike.
The shabby, down at the heels beggars you see are probably soliciting for booze money but then there are the young, healthy beggars who simply prefer to beg than to work. Occasionally you come across very young beggars who are doing it for fun.
I was approached by two such individuals a few years ago. Two boys about 14 or 15 years old, well dressed, faces clear and clean came up to me as I was entering a store and asked if I could give them some change for busfare. Shocked by these preppy boys lowering themselves to beg, I lit into them about how could they shame their parents in this way, etc., etc., etc. They couldn't get away from me fast enough and I certainly hope they learned a good lesson. Begging is demeaning.
There was also a story printed in the newspaper about a lady who lives in an affluent area of my city who would hop in her very expensive car and drive to her apparently well paid job in Toronto every morning. She would set up her station on a busy street corner in the downtown area and beg. She dressed shabbily and told sad stories of her poverty in order to reach the hearts of people who gave her money. No shame.
The drunken derelict who begs on the streets is to be pitied. The healthy beggars are to be scorned. They are users in the worst sense of the word.
In Toronto, a young man was approached by four young men and asked for money. When he refused he was stabbed to death. His sin was in refusing to hand over his hard earned money to young men who wouldn't work for their own. A city who allows beggars to rule the streets is a city who will soon find their downtown streets empty of decent citizens and tourists alike.
The shabby, down at the heels beggars you see are probably soliciting for booze money but then there are the young, healthy beggars who simply prefer to beg than to work. Occasionally you come across very young beggars who are doing it for fun.
I was approached by two such individuals a few years ago. Two boys about 14 or 15 years old, well dressed, faces clear and clean came up to me as I was entering a store and asked if I could give them some change for busfare. Shocked by these preppy boys lowering themselves to beg, I lit into them about how could they shame their parents in this way, etc., etc., etc. They couldn't get away from me fast enough and I certainly hope they learned a good lesson. Begging is demeaning.
There was also a story printed in the newspaper about a lady who lives in an affluent area of my city who would hop in her very expensive car and drive to her apparently well paid job in Toronto every morning. She would set up her station on a busy street corner in the downtown area and beg. She dressed shabbily and told sad stories of her poverty in order to reach the hearts of people who gave her money. No shame.
The drunken derelict who begs on the streets is to be pitied. The healthy beggars are to be scorned. They are users in the worst sense of the word.
Tattoos
Tattooing has become popular among some women lately and I think the culprit is the T.V. show "Miami Ink". Why would a woman want to ink a permanent design on her beautiful young skin? And do these women look to the future when that design will be enfolded in old, saggy skin?
My daughter mentioned a few months ago that she'd like to have a small tattoo of a sailboat on her ankle in memory of her father. My question to her was, "What do you think your father would have thought of his daughter getting a tattoo?". I know what he would have thought...he would have been furious.
My granddaughter is considering a small, "cute" tattoo and I've told her that I would be severely disappointed if she did that. We can't control our adult children or grandchildren but maybe we should be more vocal in letting them know how their actions affect us.
Tattooing is a fad that will pass and one day there will be leagues of women searching frantically for someone who can remove the tattoos...possibly before their wedding day, their child's first day at school, or their pursuit of a new career.
My sister had various small tattoos applied when she was young and foolish. In her adulthood she spent many years wearing long sleeved tops to cover them, even in the hot days of summer. When she finally was able to have them removed, they left keloid (raised) scars which she carries today. If you were to ask her, she'd tell you that getting tattooed was one of the worst mistakes of her life.
Be very careful of following fads. They might end up being a permanent reminder of your dumber days.
My daughter mentioned a few months ago that she'd like to have a small tattoo of a sailboat on her ankle in memory of her father. My question to her was, "What do you think your father would have thought of his daughter getting a tattoo?". I know what he would have thought...he would have been furious.
My granddaughter is considering a small, "cute" tattoo and I've told her that I would be severely disappointed if she did that. We can't control our adult children or grandchildren but maybe we should be more vocal in letting them know how their actions affect us.
Tattooing is a fad that will pass and one day there will be leagues of women searching frantically for someone who can remove the tattoos...possibly before their wedding day, their child's first day at school, or their pursuit of a new career.
My sister had various small tattoos applied when she was young and foolish. In her adulthood she spent many years wearing long sleeved tops to cover them, even in the hot days of summer. When she finally was able to have them removed, they left keloid (raised) scars which she carries today. If you were to ask her, she'd tell you that getting tattooed was one of the worst mistakes of her life.
Be very careful of following fads. They might end up being a permanent reminder of your dumber days.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Driveway Sealing
I had my asphalt driveway sealed today...first time in 4 years. It had to have been that long because my husband did it when he was well and that's how long ago it was.
Late last week a nice lady came to the door asking if I needed the driveway sealed. She and her husband had formed a small company to perform the service. I have to tell you how refreshing it was to not see a man looking like he'd just gotten out of prison offering to seal my driveway. Granted, these rough looking men are working men but they still scare the hell out of me.
The lady and her husband arrived early this morning and had my driveway finished within an hour. It looks better than new, there's no sealer on the house, and they're even coming back to put my heavy flower planters in their places. Another job well done and I'm a satisfied customer.
Late last week a nice lady came to the door asking if I needed the driveway sealed. She and her husband had formed a small company to perform the service. I have to tell you how refreshing it was to not see a man looking like he'd just gotten out of prison offering to seal my driveway. Granted, these rough looking men are working men but they still scare the hell out of me.
The lady and her husband arrived early this morning and had my driveway finished within an hour. It looks better than new, there's no sealer on the house, and they're even coming back to put my heavy flower planters in their places. Another job well done and I'm a satisfied customer.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Elvis Church Service
I have a tee shirt with the message "Before Elvis There Was Nothing". A little over the top but, really and truly, Elvis Presley was a phenomenon who came into the music industry when the world was ready for a change. And change it he did. He was so darned exciting after we'd been bored by the likes of Pat Boone.
My sister, Sharon, attends a non-denominational church where some of our city's black population are a large portion of the congregation. The church is a little different, a little more interesting...not as boring for me as other churches. I'm an agnostic who has trouble believing the church's teachings and, considering the bad reputation some church leaders have acquired, I have good reason to doubt.
Sharon's church had a special service today honoring the memory of Elvis Presley who passed away almost 30 years ago. I was mighty impressed when she told me about this service and thought how "with the times" her church was. I immediately invited myself to the service.
I was actually the first person to arrive and slid into a pew hoping I wasn't taking up someone's favorite seat. Gradually the church began to fill up with it's regular congregation and I was one of the very few white faces in the group. I'd been to the church before and knew I had no reason to feel uneasy or unwanted...the people have always welcomed me warmly. Today was no exception and many came forward to wish me, a stranger, good morning.
Other churches I've attended in the last few years have presented choir renditions of hymns or songs completely unknown to me but in this church they sing the old standbys...Rock of Ages, Amazing Grace, Peace in the Valley, etc. The four person choir (like many churches the congregation here is falling) led us in song. I'm such a novice about church etiquette that I didn't know where to find the hymnal or the hymns but the kind people around me saw my confusion and quickly came to my aid.
I actually had not planned to sing along because my faith is so questionable but after these nice people had seen fit to help a stranger to their church I felt I had to return the respect. As I said, the hymns were old and familiar and it felt good to join in.
The minister spoke about Elvis, his life, his music, and his strong belief in God. I thought how huge an honor it was to Elvis that he was being praised in a little church here in Canada 30 years after his death. He was a special man who dropped into our lives and changed our world. Not many can make that claim.
Come to think of it, that's what Jesus did.
My sister, Sharon, attends a non-denominational church where some of our city's black population are a large portion of the congregation. The church is a little different, a little more interesting...not as boring for me as other churches. I'm an agnostic who has trouble believing the church's teachings and, considering the bad reputation some church leaders have acquired, I have good reason to doubt.
Sharon's church had a special service today honoring the memory of Elvis Presley who passed away almost 30 years ago. I was mighty impressed when she told me about this service and thought how "with the times" her church was. I immediately invited myself to the service.
I was actually the first person to arrive and slid into a pew hoping I wasn't taking up someone's favorite seat. Gradually the church began to fill up with it's regular congregation and I was one of the very few white faces in the group. I'd been to the church before and knew I had no reason to feel uneasy or unwanted...the people have always welcomed me warmly. Today was no exception and many came forward to wish me, a stranger, good morning.
Other churches I've attended in the last few years have presented choir renditions of hymns or songs completely unknown to me but in this church they sing the old standbys...Rock of Ages, Amazing Grace, Peace in the Valley, etc. The four person choir (like many churches the congregation here is falling) led us in song. I'm such a novice about church etiquette that I didn't know where to find the hymnal or the hymns but the kind people around me saw my confusion and quickly came to my aid.
I actually had not planned to sing along because my faith is so questionable but after these nice people had seen fit to help a stranger to their church I felt I had to return the respect. As I said, the hymns were old and familiar and it felt good to join in.
The minister spoke about Elvis, his life, his music, and his strong belief in God. I thought how huge an honor it was to Elvis that he was being praised in a little church here in Canada 30 years after his death. He was a special man who dropped into our lives and changed our world. Not many can make that claim.
Come to think of it, that's what Jesus did.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Canada's Health Care Plan
Too often we hear of doctors and their lobbyists proposing the demolition of Canada's present health care system and allowing doctors to bill their patients privately if they so wish. I cringe whenever I remember what it was like before Canada's universal health care was instituted.
No, it's not perfect. Like all government business, there is waste and inefficiency, but it works better than no plan at all.
Before OHIP (Ontario Health Insurance Plan), the poor could not afford to see a doctor when they were sick so they suffered or died unnecessarily. This is what is happening in the States today and we can't allow Canada to revert to that cruel system.
Two of my children were born before OHIP so I know from experience what it means to be poor and unable to pay for basic health care. My first child was born in 1958 and we barely had enough money to live on and definitely not enough to pay for me to have prenatal care. I was young and healthy and only saw a physician when I was 6 months pregnant because a friend insisted.
The attending physician at my daughter's birth was a kindly old man who agreed to take monthly payments for his fee but I became pregnant with my second daughter before daughter #1 was paid for. Ashamed at still owing the doctor money, I again had no prenatal care.
My grandmother suffered for years with serious stomach ailments but she refused medical treatment. After she passed away from the results of these ailments I often wondered why she hadn't sought medical help. It's very possible it was because of the cost.
My husband was ill with cancer for a year before he passed away. His treatments and care would have bankrupted us if we'd had to pay directly for them. There was never a day when I wasn't humbly grateful for the excellent medical care provided by my country.
In a decent society, everyone deserves food, a place to live, schooling, and medical aid. In Canada we do a fairly good job of providing these services and we can't allow ourselves to lose what we have gained. Is it fair for some physicians to destroy the present system in order to earn a few dollars more over the backs of the poor? I hope the majority of our leaders are honest and honorable enough to stop this from happening.
No, it's not perfect. Like all government business, there is waste and inefficiency, but it works better than no plan at all.
Before OHIP (Ontario Health Insurance Plan), the poor could not afford to see a doctor when they were sick so they suffered or died unnecessarily. This is what is happening in the States today and we can't allow Canada to revert to that cruel system.
Two of my children were born before OHIP so I know from experience what it means to be poor and unable to pay for basic health care. My first child was born in 1958 and we barely had enough money to live on and definitely not enough to pay for me to have prenatal care. I was young and healthy and only saw a physician when I was 6 months pregnant because a friend insisted.
The attending physician at my daughter's birth was a kindly old man who agreed to take monthly payments for his fee but I became pregnant with my second daughter before daughter #1 was paid for. Ashamed at still owing the doctor money, I again had no prenatal care.
My grandmother suffered for years with serious stomach ailments but she refused medical treatment. After she passed away from the results of these ailments I often wondered why she hadn't sought medical help. It's very possible it was because of the cost.
My husband was ill with cancer for a year before he passed away. His treatments and care would have bankrupted us if we'd had to pay directly for them. There was never a day when I wasn't humbly grateful for the excellent medical care provided by my country.
In a decent society, everyone deserves food, a place to live, schooling, and medical aid. In Canada we do a fairly good job of providing these services and we can't allow ourselves to lose what we have gained. Is it fair for some physicians to destroy the present system in order to earn a few dollars more over the backs of the poor? I hope the majority of our leaders are honest and honorable enough to stop this from happening.
Friday, August 10, 2007
David's Funeral
Today was David's funeral. We went over to the funeral home about 10:30 A.M. and it wasn't long before the room was filled to overflowing with family and friends. My daughter was held together with gossamer threads and she put on a brave face that belied the sorrow underneath.
There were photo boards at various locations around the room and it hurt terribly to see David's big smile in happier days. When we are healthy and happy we can't even imagine that one day we'll be gone. David was a muscular young man with laughter and energy to spare so how could he have known how short his lifetime would be?
Friends and relatives spoke highly of him and we all laughed at some of the more humorous memories. David not only had a large, loving family but he'd made many friends over the years. The common thread in their eulogies was that he made them laugh.
When all is said and done, leaving this world behind with scores of people who remember how much fun you were to be around is quite a compliment.
There were photo boards at various locations around the room and it hurt terribly to see David's big smile in happier days. When we are healthy and happy we can't even imagine that one day we'll be gone. David was a muscular young man with laughter and energy to spare so how could he have known how short his lifetime would be?
Friends and relatives spoke highly of him and we all laughed at some of the more humorous memories. David not only had a large, loving family but he'd made many friends over the years. The common thread in their eulogies was that he made them laugh.
When all is said and done, leaving this world behind with scores of people who remember how much fun you were to be around is quite a compliment.
Sleeping Like an Angel
My grandson, Jake, has been staying at my house this week so I've had plenty of opportunity to watch him sleep. He's 8 years old and, when he's sleeping, looks 2 years old.
Why is it that children look so much younger when they're tired or sleeping and us older folk put on 10 years under the same conditions? If you're over 50, look in the mirror some time when you're tired out and you'll see a haggard mess.
The same thing holds true for cellulite. Cute as hell on a baby but the bane of all mature women.
Chubby cheeks? Pinch them on a baby and get a smile...pinch them on a chubby adult and get a smack!
Just a few more reasons why life isn't fair.
Why is it that children look so much younger when they're tired or sleeping and us older folk put on 10 years under the same conditions? If you're over 50, look in the mirror some time when you're tired out and you'll see a haggard mess.
The same thing holds true for cellulite. Cute as hell on a baby but the bane of all mature women.
Chubby cheeks? Pinch them on a baby and get a smile...pinch them on a chubby adult and get a smack!
Just a few more reasons why life isn't fair.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Planning a Funeral
After a loved one passes away there's no time to hide yourself under a blanket and just absorb the pain. There are many things that have to be attended to right away. Maybe that's a good thing because it doesn't allow you to wallow in your grief.
Funeral arrangements must be made and the funeral homes are expert in leading you through these arrangements with a minimum of hassle. They know how to make it all run smoothly and their staff is well trained in showing the proper respect and kindness.
There are flowers to be purchased and, in my daughter's case, she chose to shop for the perfect urn for her husband's ashes. She and her husband's family have also been putting together a photo display of her husband's life. These are difficult days for the whole family but by working together and grieving as a family we'll at least make it through the funeral in one piece.
There is also food to order and prepare because our custom is to feed the mourners after the funeral. Not until later in the evening, when all of the mourners have said their last goodbyes, will my daughter finally begin the healing process. There is no hurrying it...it will take as long as it takes. It's something that no-one else can share in or relieve the pain of. It will be done alone and in due time.
Funeral arrangements must be made and the funeral homes are expert in leading you through these arrangements with a minimum of hassle. They know how to make it all run smoothly and their staff is well trained in showing the proper respect and kindness.
There are flowers to be purchased and, in my daughter's case, she chose to shop for the perfect urn for her husband's ashes. She and her husband's family have also been putting together a photo display of her husband's life. These are difficult days for the whole family but by working together and grieving as a family we'll at least make it through the funeral in one piece.
There is also food to order and prepare because our custom is to feed the mourners after the funeral. Not until later in the evening, when all of the mourners have said their last goodbyes, will my daughter finally begin the healing process. There is no hurrying it...it will take as long as it takes. It's something that no-one else can share in or relieve the pain of. It will be done alone and in due time.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Grammas
My oldest grandson and his wife got me a great card for my birthday. It was obviously written by someone who was a Gramma or who understood what being a Gramma means.
The Top Ten Reasons Kids Need a Grandmother
10. Who else would even think of boasting about you to strangers?
9. Moms don't always respond positively to "Can I have that? Can I?"
8. "Over the river and through the woods to COUSIN SUE'S house
we go" just doesn't have the same ring to it.
7. No one else's place is more fun to visit.
6. Neat stories about the old days without that pesky "reading a
history book" thing.
5. Who hugs better?
4. A grandmother always knows when to put down what she's
doing and just listen.
3. Who else always makes sure to have your favorite treat on hand?
2. Moms and Dads tend not to tell embarrassing stories about
themselves.
#1. How else would we understand what unconditional love is?
To all the Grammas out there...every word is true, isn't it???
The Top Ten Reasons Kids Need a Grandmother
10. Who else would even think of boasting about you to strangers?
9. Moms don't always respond positively to "Can I have that? Can I?"
8. "Over the river and through the woods to COUSIN SUE'S house
we go" just doesn't have the same ring to it.
7. No one else's place is more fun to visit.
6. Neat stories about the old days without that pesky "reading a
history book" thing.
5. Who hugs better?
4. A grandmother always knows when to put down what she's
doing and just listen.
3. Who else always makes sure to have your favorite treat on hand?
2. Moms and Dads tend not to tell embarrassing stories about
themselves.
#1. How else would we understand what unconditional love is?
To all the Grammas out there...every word is true, isn't it???
Monday, August 06, 2007
Dog Days of Summer
These are the dog days of summer. It's 7 A.M. and the air is perfectly still, muggy and too warm already.
It's a holiday today so it's very quiet outside with little traffic noise from the main street a block away. An occasional tweet pierces the silence as a lone bird announces it's presence.
I've got to get some housework done this morning because company is coming this afternoon. Isn't it funny how we can tolerate a little mess in our homes as long as no-one else sees it but, knowing the eyes of others will spot any imperfection, we suddenly see all the dust and carelessly placed items? I have 2 major areas of accumulated paraphernalia...one is my computer desk and the other is the diningroom table where I tend to drop mail and other things that don't have an immediate destination. Things have been piling up in these 2 areas for some time now and it hasn't bothered me till today. Other eyes would look at this mess quite differently than mine have.
This got me thinking about how we practice our everyday lives. Sometimes we don't behave as well as we should until we stop to think about how others might perceive us. Is that conscience or social conditioning?
A young man wrote a letter to the editor of my local newspaper recently telling the public at large that he had every right to blast his car stereo and we should all just get used to it. He cited that we live in a large, noisy city and if someone wants peace and quiet they should move out to the country. That man has no concept of regarding the rights of others and obviously never adapted to the social conditioning of his youth.
Does this mean he's just immature or does it mean he's incapable of following any of the rules of society? Criminals are terribly self centered, becoming indignant when someone violates their rights but feeling no shame when they violate others. Most of us can't understand this but, when you really think about it, we all sort of pick and choose the societal rules we wish to follow. I guess the difference between being a rebel and a criminal is how badly your actions affect everyone else.
Today my rebellion against the performance of housework has to come to an end. My social conditioning has kicked in and I can't believe how I've been working all week at a desk cluttered with so much crap!
It's a holiday today so it's very quiet outside with little traffic noise from the main street a block away. An occasional tweet pierces the silence as a lone bird announces it's presence.
I've got to get some housework done this morning because company is coming this afternoon. Isn't it funny how we can tolerate a little mess in our homes as long as no-one else sees it but, knowing the eyes of others will spot any imperfection, we suddenly see all the dust and carelessly placed items? I have 2 major areas of accumulated paraphernalia...one is my computer desk and the other is the diningroom table where I tend to drop mail and other things that don't have an immediate destination. Things have been piling up in these 2 areas for some time now and it hasn't bothered me till today. Other eyes would look at this mess quite differently than mine have.
This got me thinking about how we practice our everyday lives. Sometimes we don't behave as well as we should until we stop to think about how others might perceive us. Is that conscience or social conditioning?
A young man wrote a letter to the editor of my local newspaper recently telling the public at large that he had every right to blast his car stereo and we should all just get used to it. He cited that we live in a large, noisy city and if someone wants peace and quiet they should move out to the country. That man has no concept of regarding the rights of others and obviously never adapted to the social conditioning of his youth.
Does this mean he's just immature or does it mean he's incapable of following any of the rules of society? Criminals are terribly self centered, becoming indignant when someone violates their rights but feeling no shame when they violate others. Most of us can't understand this but, when you really think about it, we all sort of pick and choose the societal rules we wish to follow. I guess the difference between being a rebel and a criminal is how badly your actions affect everyone else.
Today my rebellion against the performance of housework has to come to an end. My social conditioning has kicked in and I can't believe how I've been working all week at a desk cluttered with so much crap!
Sunday, August 05, 2007
And We Laughed
Amid all the sorrow when a loved one passes away there are still the precious moments when we allow ourselves to laugh in remembrance of the good times.
Today was no exception. It was quieter in the house with only a few friends calling or stopping by but there were bouts of laughter so loud and happy that a passerby might think we were being callous.
We reminded each other of the way Shelley referred to David as Dr. Doolittle because of his love for animals. It wouldn't be bad if he just loved them but he tended to adopt them and bring them home.
Kim told a funny story about how a small mouse got into the house one time and she, being crazed with fear, yelled for David to get rid of it. David complied but first he wanted to give it a saucer of milk before he set it loose outside.
David kept buying dogs and at one time they had 3 Jack Russells. He'd just get it into his head that they needed one more dog and show up at the house with it. After many complaints from Kim, he'd give the extra dog to a friend. The Jack Russells they kept often slept in bed with them...on David's side.
I remember when David brought home 2 lovebirds, their cage and all the rest of their needs. Kim put up with the mess for quite a while but David only relented in getting rid of the birds because they bit him unmercifully when he handled them. I believe they only love their own kind and hate people.
There are 2 aquariums in the livingroom. David needed fish. In fact, Kim had to save the life of one of them this morning when it got wedged in one of the doodads on the bottom of the aquarium.
Dr. Doolittle...we miss your spirit.
Today was no exception. It was quieter in the house with only a few friends calling or stopping by but there were bouts of laughter so loud and happy that a passerby might think we were being callous.
We reminded each other of the way Shelley referred to David as Dr. Doolittle because of his love for animals. It wouldn't be bad if he just loved them but he tended to adopt them and bring them home.
Kim told a funny story about how a small mouse got into the house one time and she, being crazed with fear, yelled for David to get rid of it. David complied but first he wanted to give it a saucer of milk before he set it loose outside.
David kept buying dogs and at one time they had 3 Jack Russells. He'd just get it into his head that they needed one more dog and show up at the house with it. After many complaints from Kim, he'd give the extra dog to a friend. The Jack Russells they kept often slept in bed with them...on David's side.
I remember when David brought home 2 lovebirds, their cage and all the rest of their needs. Kim put up with the mess for quite a while but David only relented in getting rid of the birds because they bit him unmercifully when he handled them. I believe they only love their own kind and hate people.
There are 2 aquariums in the livingroom. David needed fish. In fact, Kim had to save the life of one of them this morning when it got wedged in one of the doodads on the bottom of the aquarium.
Dr. Doolittle...we miss your spirit.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
David
I didn't know quite what title to use for this blog so I settled on "David" because he's the man whom this is all about.
Each day I travel over to my daughter's house, about 10 minutes drive away, and carry in my necessities for the day...tote bag with Swedish weaving, purse, Tim Hortons coffee for me and my 2 daughters. The yappy Jack Russell terriers meet me at the door...yapping, of course. I shed my shoes and carry the rest of the stuff into the livingroom, pausing only to check on David who lies inert in his hospital bed in the diningroom. Nothing too much changes from day to day except he falls a little further away from us.
Yesterday was terrible because David was in constant pain and/or discomfort but today his medications have been refined enough to keep him deeply sedated and relatively comfortable. I'm so grateful for his comfort. His labored breathing is all that signals he is still with us but no-one gives up hope that he might wake up any moment and give us a hint of the old David...I miss his ready laugh and even his dirty jokes.
Family and friends arrive and leave all day long. Tears flow but, for the most part, hearts have hardened to the inevitable and now want only to show respect for someone they care about. My daughters doggedly tend to his present needs as best they can.
When the home care nurse arrives, she has suggestions and solutions for David's care. The voices are hushed in deference to the sleeping figure in front of them. I just want to mention that the home care nurses must be angels in disguise because they show more compassion than seems possible. You would almost think that David is the prime concern in their lives...there is no hurried visit because they won't leave until they're positive they've done all they can. And when they do leave, it's to dispense their kindness and expertise on some other ailing individual who is dependent on them.
I go home around dinnertime and think long and hard on my way. I see the streets as I pass and think how David will never pass that way again. I come into the house and think how David will never enter there again. As I water my flowers on the back deck I remember the great times we've had sitting outside and enjoying warm summer evenings. David can't be there ever again. "Never again"...those words are just too painful.
Each day I travel over to my daughter's house, about 10 minutes drive away, and carry in my necessities for the day...tote bag with Swedish weaving, purse, Tim Hortons coffee for me and my 2 daughters. The yappy Jack Russell terriers meet me at the door...yapping, of course. I shed my shoes and carry the rest of the stuff into the livingroom, pausing only to check on David who lies inert in his hospital bed in the diningroom. Nothing too much changes from day to day except he falls a little further away from us.
Yesterday was terrible because David was in constant pain and/or discomfort but today his medications have been refined enough to keep him deeply sedated and relatively comfortable. I'm so grateful for his comfort. His labored breathing is all that signals he is still with us but no-one gives up hope that he might wake up any moment and give us a hint of the old David...I miss his ready laugh and even his dirty jokes.
Family and friends arrive and leave all day long. Tears flow but, for the most part, hearts have hardened to the inevitable and now want only to show respect for someone they care about. My daughters doggedly tend to his present needs as best they can.
When the home care nurse arrives, she has suggestions and solutions for David's care. The voices are hushed in deference to the sleeping figure in front of them. I just want to mention that the home care nurses must be angels in disguise because they show more compassion than seems possible. You would almost think that David is the prime concern in their lives...there is no hurried visit because they won't leave until they're positive they've done all they can. And when they do leave, it's to dispense their kindness and expertise on some other ailing individual who is dependent on them.
I go home around dinnertime and think long and hard on my way. I see the streets as I pass and think how David will never pass that way again. I come into the house and think how David will never enter there again. As I water my flowers on the back deck I remember the great times we've had sitting outside and enjoying warm summer evenings. David can't be there ever again. "Never again"...those words are just too painful.
Friday, August 03, 2007
Dog, the Bounty Hunter
Being a psychology nut, I analyze all my feelings whether they be likes, dislikes, fears, etc. and lately I've been trying to understand what I see in Dog, the bounty hunter.
I'm unable to shrug off my fascination with him, his wife, and his one son. The others I can take or leave but not those three. Dog can look pretty silly with his long, dyed blonde hair and his warrior clothing but there's something so darned sweet about him.
Beth is the kind of woman I'd love to have for a friend. Her blousy dyed blonde hair and way, way too tight hooker clothing can't seem to hide that heart of gold. I do worry all the time that her gigantic boobs will make her fall on her face, though.
Leland, Dog's son, has a smile that would melt anyone's heart. The fact that he has a shaved head with a pony tail and also dresses in silly warrior clothing is beside the point.
Every time I watch one of their T.V. shows I pick it apart unmercifully and make note of every ridiculous, overdramatic phrase out of Dog's mouth and the unbelievably silly sight of these weirdly clothed men chasing after boring criminals. I watch Beth with her chubby little body stuffed into the tightest and shortest clothing possible and wonder if those huge breasts hurt when she breaths.
I'm unable to shrug off my fascination with him, his wife, and his one son. The others I can take or leave but not those three. Dog can look pretty silly with his long, dyed blonde hair and his warrior clothing but there's something so darned sweet about him.
Beth is the kind of woman I'd love to have for a friend. Her blousy dyed blonde hair and way, way too tight hooker clothing can't seem to hide that heart of gold. I do worry all the time that her gigantic boobs will make her fall on her face, though.
Leland, Dog's son, has a smile that would melt anyone's heart. The fact that he has a shaved head with a pony tail and also dresses in silly warrior clothing is beside the point.
Every time I watch one of their T.V. shows I pick it apart unmercifully and make note of every ridiculous, overdramatic phrase out of Dog's mouth and the unbelievably silly sight of these weirdly clothed men chasing after boring criminals. I watch Beth with her chubby little body stuffed into the tightest and shortest clothing possible and wonder if those huge breasts hurt when she breaths.
But I like these people. They exude an innocence and honesty that I can't help but find appealing. They are all "characters" who don't care to change themselves to blend in with the so-called average people in society. I'd love to have all of them for buddies because they're darned interesting people.
I worry about Dog because he smokes too much and has a terrible cough. I worry about Beth's boobs causing her back problems. I'd like to see Leland married to a nice Hawaiian girl.
When T.V. characters can make you actually care about their welfare, they must be something special. I have no idea what it is but Dog and his crew have it.
Life is Tenacious
We've had 90 degree temperatures for almost a week now and they will be with us for another 2 weeks. This is so unusual for a Canadian summer.
Because I'm away from the house most of the day my garden becomes very dry and wilted so I try to water early in the morning and then again in the evening. It tickles me to see the wilted plants soak up the water and come back to life but I always worry they might have suffered too much heat to make the trip back.
The front of my house bears the brunt of afternoon full sun so I've planted a lot of Portulaca out there. That is an amazing plant, can take drought and hot sun for ages and still flower with no sign of wilting. It's sure facing a challenge this summer but so far is succeeding easily.
My neighbors seem to have given up wasting water on their lawns so I've got the greenest lawn on the block. I started letting it grow longer and keeping the lawn mower blades high this year so that could also have helped to keep it green. Whatever the reason I'm doing something right and, although there are some burnt patches, the lawn looks pretty good.
Unfortunately, the weeds love this kind of weather and I don't get out as often to pull them up so they're gaining too strong a foothold. I just think that one day soon I'll have more time to play in the garden and I'll get them then. But it will have to be when the heat wave is over.
Because I'm away from the house most of the day my garden becomes very dry and wilted so I try to water early in the morning and then again in the evening. It tickles me to see the wilted plants soak up the water and come back to life but I always worry they might have suffered too much heat to make the trip back.
The front of my house bears the brunt of afternoon full sun so I've planted a lot of Portulaca out there. That is an amazing plant, can take drought and hot sun for ages and still flower with no sign of wilting. It's sure facing a challenge this summer but so far is succeeding easily.
My neighbors seem to have given up wasting water on their lawns so I've got the greenest lawn on the block. I started letting it grow longer and keeping the lawn mower blades high this year so that could also have helped to keep it green. Whatever the reason I'm doing something right and, although there are some burnt patches, the lawn looks pretty good.
Unfortunately, the weeds love this kind of weather and I don't get out as often to pull them up so they're gaining too strong a foothold. I just think that one day soon I'll have more time to play in the garden and I'll get them then. But it will have to be when the heat wave is over.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Nursing
My son-in-law is home and being cared for mainly by my two daughters. My purpose, it seems, is to keep watch over him when they leave the room for any reason. Since he's so well taken care of I guess my purpose is acceptable.
You know how sometimes you view a situation and that picture will be with you forever? Well, today my son-in-law's parents and aunt came into the house. I greeted them with hugs and then returned to my "watch spot" so I'd be out of the way and let them have good access to the patient. David's father went directly to his son and spoke a few words before retreating to a chair on the other side of the room. David's mother, aunt, and my two daughters hovered over him, straightening the sheets, smoothing his brow, and talking to him. He was unresponsive but they skittered around him wanting to do something to help...trying to do anything.
It was the picture of the four women doing whatever they could think of to make David more comfortable that struck me as such a poignant scene. They don't love David any more than his father but his Dad stepped away to let the women do what women have to do, and that is to physically care for one of their own. They can't stop the cancer but they can straighten the sheets.
I don't mean to say that the ability to be a good nurse is found only in women. I just mean that the job of caring for the sick usually falls on the able and willing hands of women. The male nurses I've come across, however capable, lack the feminine touch. My opinion only!
David's family come every day to see him and always bearing great amounts of food for family and visitors alike. I can't imagine what thoughts go through his parents' minds because I've never had the misfortune to lose a child. I do know that your child remains your "child" forever regardless of age. David's parents arrive with love and sorrow for their son but they also arrive with love and support for the rest of us.
Thank heavens for family.
You know how sometimes you view a situation and that picture will be with you forever? Well, today my son-in-law's parents and aunt came into the house. I greeted them with hugs and then returned to my "watch spot" so I'd be out of the way and let them have good access to the patient. David's father went directly to his son and spoke a few words before retreating to a chair on the other side of the room. David's mother, aunt, and my two daughters hovered over him, straightening the sheets, smoothing his brow, and talking to him. He was unresponsive but they skittered around him wanting to do something to help...trying to do anything.
It was the picture of the four women doing whatever they could think of to make David more comfortable that struck me as such a poignant scene. They don't love David any more than his father but his Dad stepped away to let the women do what women have to do, and that is to physically care for one of their own. They can't stop the cancer but they can straighten the sheets.
I don't mean to say that the ability to be a good nurse is found only in women. I just mean that the job of caring for the sick usually falls on the able and willing hands of women. The male nurses I've come across, however capable, lack the feminine touch. My opinion only!
David's family come every day to see him and always bearing great amounts of food for family and visitors alike. I can't imagine what thoughts go through his parents' minds because I've never had the misfortune to lose a child. I do know that your child remains your "child" forever regardless of age. David's parents arrive with love and sorrow for their son but they also arrive with love and support for the rest of us.
Thank heavens for family.
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