When I got up this morning, something else was out of place. Mike's towel rack with his used towel on it was shifted in an odd position. Nothing subtle. Anyone who thinks it was Elsa, no way. A) I throw balls for her while I'm in the bathroom, bouncing them off the walls. They often wind up between the wall and the base of the towel rack. She steps over it carefully. B) she weighs 14 lbs. She doesn't have the strength or the heft to move that towel rack. For some reason, Mike is upset.
The poltergeist incidents started after I had that dream that he told me he left me for another woman. God, I wish he'd stop worrying about me. That makes me worry about him. I want him to be at peace. I want him to be happy.
I had plenty of time to make an east coast call this morning before I left for Bikram. Kathrin had done the dishes last night, and I had my breakfast smoothie made already. I called Workmen's Circle to determine if a Life Insurance Policy I found among his paperwork was valid. Surprise! Of course, not. I didn't think so but thought I'd better check before throwing the paper work out.
After Bikram, I went to the transfer station to drop off another large bag of paper from Mike's collection of paper and some cardboard. I loaded the car with the wicker basket Mike used to carry his books to Bible study with things I had to mail or drop off as donations.
I saw a young couple gently touching each other in obvious affection. It's a little hard watching the two be loving with each other when I lost my loving partner. Anyone remember the King and I's song, "Hello, young lovers, where ever you are. I hope your troubles are few. All my good wishes go with you tonight. I've been in love like you?" I take pleasure watching them, but there is also some sadness mixed in for me.
When I got home, I did some work on the blog as I drank my morning Juice Plus smoothie. Dorothy and Karin called on FaceTime, and Jean called while I was on the phone with them. I sent her to voice mail. When I got off the phone, I saw it was already after 11 am. I had a noon appointment with the grief counselor from the Hospice Center. I didn't even have time to shower — that good rinse off I took after Bikram was going to have to do.
The woman I was meeting with had given me the address, but I got somewhat tangled in my mind. Unfortunately, I had several maps in my head. Many of them were incorrect. The office is on Mamaloha Highway. The address prefix was 76 as my address prefix is 73. (Explaining the address system here is a whole other blog entry.) That prefix told me that the location was south of me.
Mamalahoa Highway is the upper highway as Queen K is the lower highway. I used to think that Mamalahoa continued down into Kailua Kona. I recently found out that is not the case; it veers off in the middle of the road down the mountain. The roadway becomes Palani Street, which continues down into town. So I wound up thinking that I could get to Mamalahoa Highway by going down Queen K.
I couldn't get my GPS to work. I finally pulled over to call the counselor. She said, "Oh, dear." She gave me directions. Continue south on Queen K, and make a left on Lako. When you hit a dead-end, make a right. When you hit the second dead end, make a left. We're about half a mile down the road on the left."
I made my turn onto Lako correctly. Yeah. When I got to the dead end, I made a left. Oh, well. It was a lovely drive. We're in the rainy season, and it rains more the higher you go. It was a dense jungle with great ocean views as I went down this precariously curvy road. I finally realized something was wrong and pulled over.
I pulled over into the edge of a driveway. I had to get out of the road to make that call. No way anyone in their right mind would sit on that curvy, narrow road to make a call. It said, "Private Property, No Trespassing." Yeah, I wasn't going to go on their property, just to the edge of their driveway. The house was a good tenth of a mile away down a road running parallel to the main road. I made the call, pulled out, and saw a man come running from the house toward me. I waited. His voice was controlled, but he was shaking with rage. Did I see the sign saying no Trespassing? Yes. Did I realize I had run over one of his signs? No, I'm so sorry. He had the signs up because he has a dangerous dog, and it was for my protection. Did he see I didn't get out of my car and was driving away? No danger from the dog I could see. I was genuinely sorry I ran over his sign, Did I really? (One of my under five mph accidents.) I was prepared to pay for the sign. I was afraid he was going to call the cops. Another adventure. He let me go without charging me for the sign or calling the cops. I had made a left at the dead-end at the top of Lako instead of a right. Back up the lovely road. No loss there. I finally arrived at the Hospice center.
Susan, the counselor, interviewed me. I talked for a least an hour telling her some of the stories from our 5 weeks in the hospital at Oahu. It has been getting a little harder. My throat is often tight. She gave me a list of symptoms to expect as I go through the process.
At one point, I made some comment about not worrying about my survival. I could feel the impact on me as I made that statement. Well, let's put it this way. I'm not worried about my survival because of Mike's death. I'm not so sure if any of us will survive what I fear is coming. But that, again, has nothing to do with Mike's death.
If what I think is coming comes, I'm glad he's gone. I always anticipate the worst-case scenario ahead of time and did well when a crisis arrived. He maintained the most hopeful viewpoint and then had trouble adjusting when the shit hit the fan. His optimism resulted in some good decisions for all the times he was right. My preparedness served us well when the shit hit the fam. We balanced each other.
