I had considerable discomfort last night lying on both my sides. This is new. In the early morning hours, I decided that my body needed to rest today. It needed to recover from the work the PT had done yesterday.
Good move. While I had left a phone message with the carpet store telling them to call Yvette when they wanted to start, and they couldn't reach me between 7:30 and 9:30 am, I got a phone call at 8 am to say the installer was on his way.
I asked Victor, the carpet installer, to show me how he pulled up the Pergo panels. Big secret. He ripped them up. I had gotten one small piece of molding up before I gave up on the task, and that's all he needed to start the process. He put a wedge under one section and broke it. The rest was easy to deal with, and he didn't have to take off more molding.
He asked me if I wanted the floor taken up or left. I thought, "You're kidding." Get that flooring up is the whole point."
As he was laying the sound insulation material, I thought, "How is this thin piece of material going to block sound." It doesn't. It diffuses it. When you drop something or take a heavy step, the sound doesn't go straight down; the sound waves are sent in the horizontal plane through the material.
I had him stack the Pergo panels outside under the eve. If at all possible, I want someone to use it. I hate to throw things away. I posted the offering on Craig's list.
Once he had the carpeting in the house and no longer needed to keep the door to the driveway open, I felt I could leave the house and no longer worry about Elsa taking off.
My first stop was the Friendly Place. Closed. I finally saw the sign. They're only open from 8 am to 12:30 pm. I'll have to go after class sometime.
On my way to the Food Basket and Habitat for Humanity, which are next door to each other, I stopped at the Carpet Care store and picked up the smaller floor attachment. I figured the suction would be better with a smaller opening. To boot, the bristles on the smaller brush are shorter as well. The young man thought the long bristles on the bigger attachment may have compromised the suction. Let's see if his theory is sound. The woman said I could return the bigger one.
Then off the Food Basket. I dropped off the food I had for them and got a receipt. I thought they sold food to the residents of the low-income housing across the street from their outlet. But no. They only sell to organizations like the Salvation Army and probably the Friendly Place. I wondered if the items I drop off, one of this and five of that, will be of use here.
Then off to Habitat. I did Food Basket first because I knew that they closed at 3 pm as of yesterday. The guy at Habitat, who took the donations, was a little testy until I told him I was Mike's wife. Mike had been the president of their board of directors until he died. We went through all the items individually. Any items that had water running through it, think my mother's old Mr. Coffee maker, are not acceptable by order of the health department.
Once I finished dropping off the donations, I went to the main door to get a receipt. There was a young woman behind the counter. I told her she probably knew my husband, but she only started in March. She missed Mike. She told me that her husband had died two years ago. Wow! She was young, how old could he have been? She was thirty when he died. I didn't ask of what because I suspect drugs, but no. She volunteered that her husband died of pancreatitis. I am hearing of more cases of people affected by this disease. They're coming out of the wall.
His disease progressed differently from Mike's. He wasn't diagnosed until after he died. He had been complaining of abdominal pain periodically. Then one morning, he said he was hungry. His wife went to a corner store to get some food. When she came back, he was still in bed. She kicked the bed to wake him, knocking the covers off. There he was- blue. She said, thank God her daughter was already in school.
While I was at Habitat, my back went out. This morning my back and legs just felt weak. I assumed that specific muscles had relaxed due to the PT's work on my sacrum, and another set of muscles needed a chance to kick in and start doing the job they were meant to do. I just didn't want to ask more of them too fast and force them back into their old patterns. I hadn't had the pain I have been experiencing on and off since September 23, but here it was again.
When I got home, I hit the sofa. When the carpet installer was through, he asked me if I wanted to check his work. No. I was happy on the sofa. He pulled down the lanai shades before he left. Nice guy. He gave me his number in case I found any problems with his job. Aside from finding the carpet disappointingly darker than I thought it would be, it was fine. I didn't install the carpet for aesthetic reasons; it's for the sound insulation, so Yvette and Josh aren't tortured by the squeaking sounds from above.
I did some work on the blog and alphabetized two shelves in the library. However, I didn't find any more books on the list today. This is very frustrating. Working on four shelves has only netted me three books. I have a good 25 left to find.
I texted John Coughlin yesterday to ask that I be invited to the ordination of this crop of new deacons. I want to be there to represent Mike. I don't want to be there as someone's friend. His role in the diaconate training program was significant to him; the men and their wives were important to him. I believe he was also important to them.
It feels that being there for the ordination will be the most challenging thing I will have to do, more so than deciding to let him die, seeing him die, and attending his funeral. That all had to do with the loss of him for me. This sorrow will be about his loss, the loss of the great joy he had serving others through his work for the parish, the diaconate, and Habitat for Humanity. Both Damon and I thanked the community for giving him these roles.
It was such a Hawaiian experience. Mike was made entirely welcome, and his skills were duly valued. He was a complete outsider to the island. In his high energy east coast style, he came tearing in, and they listened and followed his advice. I can't imagine another setting where this could happen, no matter how knowledgeable the person was. He had the best five years of his life. He would say he should have been born rich so he could have spent his life volunteering; it was all the goodies with none of the angst. Have I told you how happy he was?
Judy finally called. She was exhausted. She got no sleep last night while she watched Luke; he was up all night crying. She doesn't know how her son and daughter-in-law cope. They must get no regular sleep. Very little is known about the FoxG1 kids. The disability has only been recently identified. Jazzy and Adam are part of an online group of parents that shares tips about what works with these kids. They are way outside the typical spectrum.
Nonetheless, there is something lovely about Lukey. His parents are incredible. These are two young kids who work together to deal with this incredibly difficult situation – and they clearly love this child as is. It's impressive to watch them with him. There are no complaints and no fanfares. They just do what has to be done most lovingly for themselves, both their children and whomever they run into.
The kids who are staying with me shared their dinner, allowing me to avoid having to get up and prepare something for myself. It was a simple oatmeal that I had with my limeade and pills. Of course, I finished this off with some Hersey's Milk Chocolate bars with almonds.
Damon called. He has been very busy at work. He is now a producer and is working on a film. He loves his job. He loves the project and his bosses. My guess is they love him too. I told him they'd better. I told him to tell them that if they keep treating him well, they won't have to worry about my coming over and giving them a piece of my mind. Damon assured me they would feel much better knowing this.
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Musings:
The biblical expression is, "Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing."
Now, according to McGilchrist's book on the function of the left and right hemispheres of the neocortex, it should be the other way around. The left hand is connected to the right side of the brain, the intuitive side, the side that is in touch with the world's physical reality. This is the side that knows everything. It observes whatever we do, whether it is initiated by the right or left brain.
It is the brain's left side, which is connected to the right hand, which has limited knowledge. Knowledge is limited because it views the world through the lens of concepts. It does not acknowledge contradictions so easily. That requires pressure from the right brain.
I always liked the biblical expression because I thought it reflected an intuitive understanding of the human brain. According to McGilchrist, Matthew got it backward.
I got in a discussion with Judy's husband, Howard, about both believing and not believing at the same time. I was raised to be a skeptic, an agnostic, if not an atheist. Full-on belief, as I observe it in some of my cradle Catholic friends, is just beyond me.
But my skeptical left brain has given permission to my right brain to believe because the right brain has been able to convince it that it is better to believe than not to. Now, this isn't better because it soothes God's need for worship. No, this is better because it is better for my mental state to believe. And I do. Probably not quite in alignment with the Nicene Creed, but enough to calm me in the night and feel cared for. This cared-for state does not guarantee that nothing bad will happen to me, just that I will be able to cope with it. I think the underlying theme is that even if bad things happen to me, it's not because I 'deserve everything that's coming to me.' Yes, my mother tried to convince me that if anyone was ever angry at me, I probably did something to deserve it. Nuts, what can I tell you. However, when I was in trouble. She was there for me. It's that little girl with a little curl phenom again.
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