Saturday, November 2, 2019

I had a terrible night's sleep. I dozed but didn't sleep deeply. It reminded me of the endless insomnia I experienced after my father died when I was fifteen.  There I was, left to deal with my mother all by myself. I was so scared.  I don't remember feeling sad about my father's death; I was overwhelmed with fear.  My insomnia ended the first night I slept in a dorm during my freshman year of college.  I was far away from the most dangerous person in my life, my mother.

With the loss of Mike, I can face what I am feeling: grief, deep grief. However difficult my situation is, it is not as bad as it was when I was 15.  I know I will survive this time; at fifteen, there was no guarantee I could make a life with what I had left.  I often thought of suicide.  It was difficult.  Now, I have the luxury of pure grief.  Unfortunately, it sometimes manifests in unattractive ways.  I don't think a loss like this can be a winning situation immediately – in the long term.

    As I lay in bed, I could feel my body pounding.  I was hyper. I had been hyper last night, which made me less sensitive than I should have been.  Judy and her sister are true believers.  They are good people who serve so many people and do no harm. Their faith gives their lives shape.   I'm a born skeptic, as her husband pointed out. He's into astrology.  He says my chart predicts my personality. I'm open to both belief and skepticism.  I learned to live comfortably in that in-between zone.  But others don't. I don't want to lead other people who live with a secure faith in any number of ideas to lose their grasp on life. 

    I went to Bikram for the first time in a week.  My back and leg had been good enough for me to think taking a risk was worthwhile.  I still did all the work lying down.  I have been incorporating the exercises my primary doctor gave me into my walk, and I emphasized the objectives of those exercises in the yoga class today. After the class, the teacher said it looked like I was doing less. Boy, it didn't feel that way to me.  I was working on my psoas like mad and could see some progress. 

There is a student in the yoga class whose name I have been mispronouncing.  I can't seem to get it straight.  It's like the difference between Mary and Merry; a nondifference in pronunciation if I came from Connecticut, which I didn't.  Every time I say it wrong, she corrects me.  I apologize, and she says she doesn't mind. Today, I asked her why she always corrected me if she didn't care if I said something wrong. She responded she did it, so I learned.  She says once she had corrected me, she let it go.  I told her I don't. I would appreciate it if she didn't correct me. That's my mother's voice telling me I do nothing right.  This woman corrects me with the sweetest smile.  If she had done it once or twice, that would have been one thing, but this goes on and on. Remembering names gets more difficult as I get older. I will be 79 in December, in about one month. I expect people to cut me some slack.  

     I've decided that if this woman feels she doesn't want to respect my boundaries, I will have to ask her not to reach out to me.  I can imagine her saying that my reaction is my problem. That's her philosophical perspective. True, it is my problem. My thought was that I'd tell her when I felt I could be the person she thought I should be, and I'd let her know. In the meantime, I would appreciate it if she had nothing to do with me.  Most people at Bikram are genuinely respectful of me. 

      Today, when I stood up after class, I was on tilt. I swayed back and forth like a drunken sailor struggling to stay upright. People rushed to my aid.  One student helped pick up my equipment from the floor.  This other woman would have been helpful, but she couldn't also respect my boundaries since she didn't mind when I mispronounced her name. I suffered when she corrected me. What can I do?

       I stopped by Costco on the way home to pick up some salad ingredients. There was a demonstration of standing vibrating machines.  I have had one for the last fifteen years. Shortly after I got it, I pulled an inner thigh muscle, and any movement, no less jerking movement, was out of the question. It sits on the bedroom floor, serving as a resting place for my clothes. Just this morning, I started thinking I might be able to use this machine again.  The offended muscle is much better; it can tolerate being jerked back and forth. However, I am worried that I might fall because the machine has no handlebars; it's a bare platform.  I was thinking of getting this machine, but it costs $3,300. That's pretty steep.  When I got home, I checked the handles of the standing vibrating machines on the Internet; they cost $189 to $250.  Why this incredible price difference? 

      When I got home, I asked the young woman staying with me if she could help me prepare the house for the tenting.  I have to pack up all the foodstuffs.  I want to put the dry goods, drinks, and oil in boxes and bring them to B's shed.  The stuff in the refrigerator will have to be stored in Styrofoam coolers. B may also have room in his freezer or fridge.  I have a fantastic collection because I've been collecting boxes to pack up Mike's books for shipping.  I successfully emptied the pantry.

      When the young woman's boyfriend finished work, he came home, and they set out for a festival in a neighboring town.  I asked her how she slept in that small side room with a futon bed.  She told me she was not well and went into the big bedroom to sleep.  That is out of the question.  That floor is a disaster for Yvette and Josh. The squeaking sounds those panels make are impossible to sleep through.  They cannot be in that room when either Yvette or Josh is home. I told her to sleep on one of the sofas in the house if she was uncomfortable there. 

    I wrote and listened to my NPR Saturday shows while packing the pantry items.   I ate dinner, read more of Sebastian Junger's book Tribe, and wrote.  No TV and no work in the library.  I am, however, feeling somewhat better this evening.  I feel a little less like I'm swimming in a broth of grief. I may be better off completely alone.  I found it stressful having two people stay in the house with me, particularly since they are a new couple deeply involved with each other. 

_____-_____-_____

Musings:

I loved Junger's book. Of course, I did because it confirms all my theories about how humans function better when dealing with basic survival needs in small groups than in our modern society.

      He cited research after research showing that when faced with disaster, we revert to our primitive behavior. Society becomes more egalitarian, material goods are shared more evenly, and people work for the group's benefit rather than their own interests. (There are always those who think it's a perfect time to loot.)

      He also says that while people were not necessarily more moral when living in hunter-gatherer groups, they did carefully monitor everyone's behavior.  A coalition of men from the rest of the group quickly dealt with theft, murder, hoarding, and even bullying.  People who violated the group's ethical standards, which always prioritized the group's interests over individual ones, were censored, expelled from the group, or punished.  A trial was unnecessary.  When dealing with a group of 50 people, everyone's behavior is under surveillance 24/7, for better or worse.

     In today's society, we are moving steadily to increasing anonymous interactions, where people can do things electronically anonymously and get away with it.  Maybe it's time for a disaster. We're too far from our roots. From where I'm sitting, it looks like it's coming whether we want it or not.

Friday, November 1, 2019

      If my mom were alive, she would be 116 today. She died two weeks before her 98th birthday.  I miss her now more than ever. I miss people who I knew loved me. I know those of you who read about her treatment of me wonder how she could love me and treat me the way she did.  I had some questions about it as I was growing up because her craziness overwhelmed anything positive about her relationship with me, but that was not true when she lived with Mike and me for the last 18 years of her life.  It was clear that she had loved her children passionately, perhaps a little too passionately, all along.  My mom was a person who was difficult to like but easy to love. Go figure.  I could try to explain it, and I certainly have to myself. Maybe I'll try to explain that phenomenon in a musings one day. 

    I decided not to go to Bikram today. I was foggy yesterday.  I think it was from having taken that muscle relaxant the day before.  Also, my left leg had something to say.  The truth: I'm scared about triggering that terrible pain again.  

    When I took Elsa on her morning walk, I did it without the support of a walking stick. I walked up a high hill, emphasizing the full extension of the right hip with every step. Incorporating movement that triggers specific muscles is much more effective than simply doing a prescribed exercise once or twice a day. 

     When I came home, I made my morning smoothie. At 8 am, I called the carpet store to see when the salesman who had changed the product on me would be in.  I needed to talk to him directly.  His wife said he should be in between 9 am and 2 pm. If I haven't mentioned it already, Yvette volunteered to go with me to support me. She's not as good as Mike, but she's here and willing to do what she can.  I am so lucky.

      I went to the flooring store first.  The man I dealt with wasn't there, but his wife had gotten all the information from him. It was always assumed that the thinner material, which comes in a roll, would be used.  It is the material that is used in the condos.  She said that the thicker, more rigid material is used in gyms to buffer falls. The solid pieces come in tiles and would be less effective as acoustic insulation. All seams create spaces for sound to penetrate. I said it would be good for them to be clear about that from the start. She pointed out that a lot was going on that day- i.e., me sobbing in his wife's arms.  I paid the deposit and left satisfied.

     I had more chores to do in the area but had to come back later when Costco was open.  I went to Lowe's to check on the acoustical board they had shown me.  I wanted to get the manufacturer's name to learn more about the material. Once I had it, I went to Target to stock up on doggy bags and chocolate. Then off to the transfer station to finally get rid of the glass I had.  I checked online, and the transfer station still takes the glass. 

      Then, I headed to KP to have my blood drawn to check my kidneys. After that, I went to Home Depot to buy a better-quality sprayer. The better ones are all 2 gallons, but  I have been buying the cheaper 1-gallon ones because they're easier to carry. I was going to go to Costco to get salad, but I figured I could do that tomorrow.

      I've been feeling stoned.  I thought it might be the muscle relaxant, but I've decided it is full-on grief. Mike's birthday was on October 27. On the 28th, besides that meltdown at the carpet store, I learned I wouldn't have a place to stay on the East Coast, so I couldn't join my family for Thanksgiving as Mike and I have done ever since we moved to Ohio.  And I found out that the family I thought would be here for Christmas won't be coming either.  I was devastated immediately but could see the good side after about 2 hours. However, the lingering knowledge of how alone I am in the world can't be erased.  For Mike, I was number one.  He would have been with me if he had had to swim the ocean. (Okay, a slight exaggeration. He couldn't swim that well. But you get my point.) Even if he hadn't been here, he was supposed to have been here.  He was someone who was supposed to be with me.  No one else has that distinction now.  I am really alone. 

        If all the circumstances of my life were to do a 1800 now and I could have family for Thanksgiving and Christmas, it wouldn't make any difference.  What hurt was the knowledge that I was alone. I have heard reports that for some people, the grief can hit three years down the road. Can you imagine being blindsided that late in the game? I'd rather have it now when people can still feel some sympathy for me. This is the reality of my life now. I was going to have to face this depth of grief at some point.  So here it is.  I only hope it doesn't get much worse than this. It's interesting. My facial muscles were totally relaxed. It's hard to smile. 

Judy called to invite me for dinner. Then I went out to pull down the vine, which grows, regrows, and regrows on the part of the fence I share with my neighbor, a commercial farmer. He was already overwhelmed with his weeds; he didn't need mine, too. I enjoyed the physical energy output. I must have worked for 2 hours. When I came inside, Judy had sent a message telling me to come up at 5:30 pm.  It was 5:30 right at that moment.  I called her and told her I would jump in the shower and be there as quickly as possible. I was up there by 6 with Elsa in tow.

I will be staying at Judy's the night of the 6th while the house is being tented.  I had never heard of tenting when I lived in the northern climes.  People tent here when they fumigate a house for termites. It's been nine years since the house was last tented.  It was time to do it again. The preparations are enormous, and everything living has to leave the house – or die. We're going.

      She served something called Tortuga soup.  It was delicious. I couldn't finish it all.  I have been eating much less since Mike died. I didn't think grief caused my diminished appetite; I believe this is my natural appetite. Mike always cooked delicious food, enough for the Russian army, and ate a lot himself.  He blamed my weight gain, which only kicked in when I was 55, on my love of sweets and not his overstuffing both of us. 

     Over dinner, I was in a hyper mood. Trimming the vines flipped me from grief into something else. I brought up topics that I should have known better and avoided.  They were contentious topics. The only good that came out of it was that I got to know Judy's husband, Howard, better. 

Judy had to leave early to pick up Jazzy and Luke from the airport.  They came in earlier than Adam and Leon because the insurance covered her flight and Luke's.  Adam took the cheapest flight he could get instead, so they didn't come home together. Luke had had an operation on his eyes to fix his weak eye muscles. Judy couldn't wait to see him.

    I worked on reading and writing. I am struggling with a section of Chapter 1 of my book on word recognition in Word. It's a section on connected speech.  I suspect I'm having trouble because I'm writing about something that most people haven't thought of before. I am writing about the distinction between the pronunciation we use in conversation and the pronunciation we use when reading out loud.  Teachers say the goal is to have children read 'fluently,' which I heard a teacher define as sounding as if they are speaking normally. But that's just it; the conversational voice differs from the reading voice.  The intonation pattern and the pronunciation of individual words are different.  Children have to become familiar with the reading voice. The primary goal of having adults read to children is to have them become familiar with the syntax, vocabulary, and pronunciation of the read word.  

    I recently worked with a girl who claimed that she had no idea what an expression meant.  I repeated the sentence in a conversational voice. She got it immediately.  She knew what the words meant.  It sounded so unfamiliar to her that she thought she didn't know what it meant. (Ah, I am going to include this paragraph in the book. It's a good introduction to the section on connected speech.)

I walked Elsa and went to bed.

_______-_______-_______

Musings:

Howard brought up several topics that challenged my thinking. One was why sociopaths were allowed to survive historically.  Why weren't they eliminated from the gene pool?

Okay, here's my answer.  A sociopath is a person who does not respond to social praise or punishment.  They don't feel the same need to conform that most people do.  How could this be an advantage to our primitive ancestors?  How does this sound to you?   The sociopath, not fearing censure, is free to think thoughts that do not conform to group standards. That means they can introduce change into group dynamics, adapting to new circumstances. 

The idea that you would need someone special to perform that role seems alien nowadays.  We live in a pluralistic society. Everyone does something different — our clothes, food, table manners, you name it.  We are constantly faced with a need to adapt to new social circumstances.  People we have known for years do things entirely differently than we do.  That didn't happen way back then. There were individual differences, but I guess they are in such a small range that our 21st-century minds might barely perceive them.

Thursday, October 31, 2019

    I slept like a baby.  I didn't wake up until 7:30 and went back to bed. I'm still feeling the impact of that muscle relaxant I took. While my leg and back were in A+1 condition, I stayed within easy distance of the driveway, walking back and forth about a football field in either direction.  As I walked, I worked on stretching out that right psoas. Doing so changes my gait.  I feel lopsided, but when I watched my image in the window as I walked, I looked just fine, straight in fact.  

    I had an appointment with Shelly, my therapist in Ohio, at 10 am.  I made sure the phone was adequately charged; it was a little low when I got up.  While I had time, I did a few housekeeping chores.  I feel up to it now.  While I'm sleepy, I feel so much better. I was looking forward to doing housekeeping, gardening, and those exercises the doctor gave me to even my hips. 

      Because I had noticed that my pulse rate was close to 90 regularly, I wanted to deal with it in the therapy session.  Very interesting. The image that came to mind was me cowering in an enclosed area with a plexiglass top. My mother loomed over the lid, anticipating when she could poke the cover again, sending sound vibrations through my body and making me miserable.  I could see the glee on her face. I was always cowering, always focused on having to anticipate her next attack.

    There's not much question that my mother had a sadistic streak.  In 1966, when her mother was in a nursing home, an incident confirmed that it made it clear to me for the first time.  My grandmother was fading fast; her ability to understand what was going on was weak.  At some point, she addressed me as if I was my mother.  I was 25 at the time.  She was slipping back in time.  My mother pushed her to get her facts straight.  One could think of many reasons to do such a thing: help my grandmother regain her bearings or force her to recognize my mother, who was frightened to see her mother not know who she was. But no, I could feel her glee.  I told her to stop, "You're  being sadistic."

    After we left there, we went to a restaurant to have dinner. My mother started yelling at me on the way over. She said I had accused her of being a sadist. I hadn't; moreover, it hadn't even occurred to me.  The situation between us was so bad that I walked away and hitched home, several towns away.  I was expecting to get home and have her tell me never to darken her door again.  It didn't take me long to see that the lady had protested a bit too much.  It was clear that she saw this tendency in herself and didn't feel great about it.  She didn't throw me out; she had calmed down, and we never talked about it again.

    In defense of my mother: she had suffered a medical procedure for the first 6 months of her life that could easily be described as torture.  That she didn't do worse to her children is a miracle and a testimony to her essential goodness.  It is not to my advantage to see her as evil, as most therapists I worked with wished I would. That was their need; it did nothing for me. 

    So back to the image: I'm cringing; she's looming over the plexiglass lid looking down on me, anticipating the pleasure of triggering my agony and watching me writhe when someone to her right calls her name. "Margaret, why don't you come over here?"  She's torn between joining the other person and remaining with me and getting her kicks. She chooses to go to the other person.

    That person is a combination of my dad and Mike. No surprise, I always saw a physical resemblance between the two men.  My dad says, "Why don't you leave Betty alone and stay here?" It's an invitation rather than a command or criticism. My mother looks over toward my container, torn between listening to this man and continuing her behavior with me.  This behavior is addictive.  My dad, it is clearly him at this point, looks at her lovingly.  He, like I, has always known about her problem and loves her anyway.   

    Next, a group of men forms a circle around her and my dad, preventing her from leaving and coming over to me.  Then her mother joins the circle and says, "Ricka (R-ee/k-ah), genug," in German. "Ricka  enough!" 

            My grandmother was aware of my mother's cruel streak. She suffered it as I did. I would watch my mother humiliate my grandmother. There was nothing any of us could do to protect each other.  My mom was a force of nature.  This need to act out was uncontrolled and uncontrollable.   More than that, she would tell me that if anyone in the world was ever angry at me, I deserved it.  She removed even my right to protect myself. Or, she tried. I always have protected myself, but my actions haven't always been appropriate for the situation. I assume this is no surprise to anyone given my background.

    When the session was over, I tested my blood pressure and pulse.  My pulse had dropped to a steady 89 to 72.  Life is still scary, and I am sure I have more work to do, but this step is in the right direction.

    There had been a phone call while I was on the phone with the therapist. They left a message; it was the physical therapist.  She told me that the doctor hadn't said what my problem was. This is a problem. The doctor said she would order work on both hips because PTs can only work on what the doctor orders, which is often limiting to the point of rendering the work ineffective if not counterproductive.  I made an appointment for Monday after Bikram. We'll see. I'm open to seeing what they have to offer.  Unfortunately, my experience with PTs hasn't been the best. From my point of view, they have no idea of how the body works.  

    I thought it might be better to apply the thick rubber blocks to Yvette's ceiling rather than the floor.  If applied to the floor, it raises the level of the flooring too much.  I spoke to the installer.  He said the insulation would work better if applied to the floor because when applied to the ceiling, the joists wouldn't have any protection.  

    I had the name of the material on the estimate. When I looked it up, I got a roll of some rubberized product but not the one he had shown me. I wanted to check to see if the material would hold if applied directly to the joists and then have the drywall attached.  Would the glue hold, or would it all come down from the combined weight?

    Since I couldn't find the product online to call the manufacturer, I called the flooring company.  One of the salespeople told me that the product she had ordered was 5/18 of an inch and came in a roll. Now I remember the blocks he showed me as 2 inches thick, and there was no way it could be rolled.  She told me that the blocks I saw on the counter were only 3/8th of an inch.  I was shocked.  I said this is not the product we discussed.  She told me that the product I had looked at was much more expensive. I'm sure it is. He told me that it had an R factor of 67.  It is like cement.  I can think of several reasons why the rolled product might be better, but he never discussed that product with me. He switched products without telling me. Oh, boy. 

    I lay down shortly later for a nap.  I was drained.  I had plans to go out, get my blood drawn for my kidney test, and go to Costco. I also wanted to stop off at the flooring store. I'll have to do all that tomorrow. There is always tomorrow. Ah, I thought I can do Bikram tomorrow. It will be useful to get back into my routine.

    I went down to the bottom of the property to pick more limes for my limeade. Our tree runneth over. I pick up most of the limes I collect from under the tree. A few are ripe enough and within reach for me to pick off the tree.  By the way, ripe limes are yellow, just like lemons.

    Elsa got a bath- not her favorite activity. But she survived. While I was setting up for the bath, I felt something on my neck. I flicked at it, not expecting to be rewarded with finding a bug, but- my lucky day, it was a small centipede.  I wasn't interested in biting me as long as I was just a surface to crawl on. I wasn't as opened minded about it. I washed it down the drain.

    After Elsa had her bath, she raced back and forth around the house. I don't know what benefit she gets from that behavior. I took my shower after I had washed the girl.  I did MELT, and then I sprayed the shower pan with Clorox.  The river stone gathers mold, and the Clorox kills it off nicely.  I closed off the bathroom to make sure Elsa didn't get in there while I was spraying. Then I took her for her early evening walk. The sunsets early these days. I'm going to need a flashlight when I go out around 6 pm soon.

    I came home and worked on the blog and played some FreeCell.  Yvette came home while I was working. She had treated herself to a movie today. I told her about my experience with the flooring people. She also thought the idea that the salesperson switched products on me was inappropriate.  The man's wife's response to my confusion was that the other product was much more expensive.  Nonetheless, I think it should still be my decision if I am going to use it or not, not his without consulting me. 

    Yvette came up. We shared our day. I told her about the work I did in my therapy session.  I find that I am often involved in defensive discussions with people I anticipate I'm going to have trouble with. Nowadays, the man at the carpet store, the therapist that Yvette and I are planning to see, and now the physical therapist I have an appointment with on Monday. Yvette is the type that walks away when there is a conflict like that. I'm the one exception to this rule. 

    As I have asked her more direct questions about what she means when she says and doesn't say certain things, our relationship has already improved. I realize that I engage people because I have hope that we can work things out if we only discuss it.  I held out that hope with my mother for most of my early life. Silly girl. In my adult life, therapists often go into negative countertransference with me.  I have found that if I speak up in a group, some people have no compunction about telling me what a terrible person I am, and others that come and tell me that I am the only person in the room they find entirely trustworthy. It's weird. I asked Shelly if she saw me as a  self-involved person, never taking others' needs into consideration. She said never.  But she also said I don't sit nicely on the top of the bell curve in my behavior. Many people find me confusing. Think of the woman who criticized me for offering a place to stay to a widow who was being booted out of her home.  Different standards entirely.

    Yvette offered to come with me to speak to the salesman at the flooring store. Wonderful offer. She's not as good as Mike, but she's here and willing to do what she can. I can't ask for more.

Wednesday, October 30, 2019

    I didn't even think of going to Bikram this morning. I didn't even set my alarm clock. My body needed to rest. Or, at least, that's what I thought it needed.  I am reasonably sure this pain is an interim step to an improved posture, but I'm also afraid of the pain. Could this transition take weeks, months, or years? That would not be fun. This has been going on since September when I was at Karin's house in Seattle. It has already been over a month.  Now, that's not a month straight, but on and off.  I vary between being just fine and dandy and incapacitated.  The latter is not good. 

      After lying around all day yesterday, sleeping at night didn't come that easily. I woke at about three and only dozed until I got up shortly before 8.  What a beautiful day!! There is a slight nip, clear as a bell, with a substantial breeze.  Wow! Hawaii is a paradise in so many ways.

Judy's text when I woke up told me she would sleep for a while.  Judy has a severely disabled grandson. He is almost two years old and functions no better than a 2-month-old.  He has a genetic mutation called FoxG1, which involves severe brain anomalies. He will never walk or talk.  Among other problems, he has no regular sleep pattern and cries frequently. Her son, Adam, and his wife, Jazzy, live in a separate building on the family compound. Judy sometimes takes Luke, the baby, for the night so his parents can be guaranteed some sleep.  She took him last night. When I  finally spoke to her, Luke had slept from 11 to 3.  At 6 am, she had to drive the young family to the airport. They were taking Luke to Oahu to have an eye operation.  Among other problems, Luke suffers from hypotonia. This weakness shows up in all his muscles, including his digestive tract.  It also shows up in his eyes; they wander. He's cross-eyed, and he can't see a single image.  The operation will allow him to see only one image by tightening those loose muscles. 

      I was feeling very lost and alone this morning.  I could feel my heart racing. I took my blood pressure and checked my pulse.  My pulse was around 90, but my blood pressure was normal. No wonder I feel like my body is pounding. I think this is fear in response to Mike's death. Mike was my shelter, my protector in the world, the one I could come home to and feel safe.

      The first time he came to my mother's house for dinner in 1976, he demonstrated his desire and willingness to protect me from her attacks.  I was tired and wanted to take a nap in my old bedroom.  He came up to the room and set a chair at the head of the bed, facing me, and read while I slept.  He had heard enough stories of her behavior to know that I would need that protection.  He used to say that I was like someone who had been tortured.  My mother got the message and left me alone. I got the message that one of Mike's roles in my life would be to shelter me from criticism. (Not that he thought I was always right, but he still loved me.)

My dad used to perform that function when I was a child.  When I was interacting with him, my mother never attacked me.  The worst was when he wasn't home; then, it was open season.  Shortly before my mother died, she once said, "I didn't need therapy; I had children." I clearly understood that she relieved her anxiety by attacking us, particularly me.  

        It was terrifying for me when my father died when I was 15, leaving me alone and unprotected from her. Daily life is harder for me now without Mike around.  Mind you,  I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.  This is all PTSD and nothing more. 

      I recently heard a perfectly loving father make a statement similar to my mother's.  He burst into anger when he discovered that the diaper pail hadn't been emptied. His 7-month-old son burst into tears.  He was distressed because he had caused his son distress.  His wife said," You have to learn to control your temper." He said, "I control it by expressing it. Then it's over." This man was able to recognize that his coping strategy harmed his poor son.  My mother refused to acknowledge that her behavior could hurt us. She argued that it couldn't because she hadn't intended to hurt us.  Unfortunately, my mother was a very anxious woman and had a lot of tension to release.  Her children suffered as a result. She went to her death, never recognizing what she had done and accepting that we had forgiven her.  She was a young soul who gave birth to two children who were older than she was at their birth.

     I took a limited walk with Elsa, fearing that my leg and back would give out and I wouldn't be able to get home. But all went well.  I had some twinges during the day but nothing to write home about.  However, I felt the threat of a full-blown attack was a possibility.  I didn't want to duplicate what I did yesterday, which was nothing. Instead, I walked the length of the house several times a day and did some of the exercises the doctor gave me. I worked on blogging most of the day.  I also dozed. I was still feeling the impact of the shingles vaccination I got the other day.

Judy threatened to bring over dinner again. I told her Mike was not thrilled with the way I was eating. She said she wasn't either.  Give me a break! I have veggies, meat, and sometimes carbs, and always some dessert. I told her not to bother bringing over food. I had plenty in the house. I still had the rest of the chicken back and leg I had prepared the other day and had one meal left. I also had most of the chicken she had brought over the day before, not to mention the food I still had in the freezer. I made a salad, cut little chunks of chicken off the back and legs, and put them into the toaster oven. So delicious. Crispy but not dry, and I can be sure they are thoroughly cooked.

     When Judy called later that day, I reported that I felt fine, with a vestige of the pain from yesterday in my back and running down the outside of my right thigh. She suggested that I take the muscle relaxant to allow my muscles to relax completely.  It did make me feel better.  I don't want to take more than one a day until I'm sure my kidneys can handle the dosage.

     I called the people at Floor Coverings Hawaii, who will lay the new flooring for me.  I have arranged for a 2-inch-thick rubber piece to be laid down on the subflooring for starters. Problem: it will raise the level of the floor by 2 inches. Question: Can I use that material to insulate the ceiling below and drop the ceiling by two inches? Here's the problem: If used to insulate the ceiling, the joists will not be covered.  Suppose the rubber material is used under the carpet. In that case, it will cover the entire floor area, including where the joists are.  Question: Is there some way material could adhere to the bottom of the beams? Could someone attach the drywall to that rubberized material? For that matter, would the glue that held the rubberized material to the bottom of the joists be sufficient to keep them in place despite the extra weight of the drywall?  Is it worth the risk to have the flooring level? All these questions drive me nuts.  I don't know the answer, and I don't trust workers to know the answers. I'm good at thinking outside the box and considering alternatives that people with specific skills might not think of.  Problem: They don't like my ideas.  Very frustrating.

     I finished the Very Short Introduction: Aquinas book tonight. I have discovered that Tommy Boy was not always a church favorite. All these theological arguments back and forth between various factions are silly. They are arguing over the nature of God and declaring opposing theories to be heresies and their proponents heretics worthy of death. Jesus Christ!!!  Given how silly some of the arguments of the great thinkers of the Western world sound, I don't feel like such an audacious idiot putting forth my musings.   What any of us has to say is only as good to the degree we help others bring coherence to their lives. If any of Aquinas' musings brought peace of mind to my dear Mike, I am his best champion.  

Tuesday, October 29, 2019

  I slept well.  Fortunately, I don't experience pain when I sleep. I walked Elsa briefly. My back and leg made some complaints but were not crippling. But I had already decided not to go to Bikram because I was afraid that I would work too hard and reactivate the pain. I washed the dishes and sat down to drink my two cups of water. When I stood up, oh, boy! Yvette called. I exclaimed, "I'm in agony." She said she would be up in a few minutes. I decided that doing nothing for the day was my best option. 

            Yvette came up with two insulated food bags filled with ice packs. She said it should be ten minutes of cold followed by ten minutes of heat. While Yvette was attending, Judy came over with Vicodin with codeine.  She and Yvette discussed the dosage. I am very reactive to medication and generally have to take a lower dose than the usual. We decided on a quarter of a pill.  She left for a tea date and to do some chores for me. 

    Judy helped me move from the bedroom to the love seat/antigravity chair on the lanai. I could do more out there; I could read, write, and make phone calls. I got myself out there, with difficulty. Judy carried everything else I needed out: my computer, books, and my phone. She made my morning soup. Then, she had to leave. She had to find a way to store the food she had made for 60 people until November 25.

    Judy and Paulette make dinner for the homeless once a month. As they were preparing the meal yesterday, they received a call saying the dinner was canceled because their water had been shut off at the homeless center due to construction on a neighboring property. Judy and Paulette had already started preparing the meal; the only thing to do was finish it and figure out how to put it in the freezer.  While Judy was here, she checked to see if there was any room in my freezer. Could she fit the rolls in there?

    Yvette had a tea date and was going to run some chores for me.  She planned to stop by Safeway to buy bread and eggs for me, and, of course, bars of Hershey's Milk Chocolate with Almonds.  I had forgotten to tell her to get them before she left. Thank God for texting. She also stopped off to get me the muscle relaxant the doctor prescribed for me yesterday at Kaiser. She couldn't drop off the carpet sample book that I had taken home at the carpet store because she was running late for an appointment. I had called them to tell them that she would be bringing it back today.  I called them back to tell them it would have to be the next day.

    Kathrin and Mike came by to drop off their stuff. The two of them are moving in. They had been staying where Mike was living.  He was serving as a long-term house sitter, doing some extra work around the house and garden.  Unfortunately, the owners are not welcoming Kathrin's presence, and they have to move.  They were looking but couldn't find another place to stay. 

    Here's the problem with my house.  Kathrin was staying in the large guest bedroom. Unfortunately, that floor creaks something horrid. I was having the flooring redone, but it's not okay now. Mike and Kathrin will have to make themselves comfortable in the small bedroom, which served as my study and storage room for my materials. They just came in, said hello, and dropped off their stuff while I stayed on the sofa. A friend of theirs dropped them off at the airport to catch a plane to Oahu.  Kathrin had an appointment with the immigration office the next day. She said they need to take her biometrics. Mike went with her.

    Sometime after they left, Victor, the carpet installer, came by to measure the room.  He would give Dan the numbers from Flooring Coverings Hawaii, from which I am ordering my carpet.  Very interesting.  He walked on the floor and told me why it creaks so badly.  It was incorrectly installed. You are supposed to leave ¾ of an inch between the edge of the laminate flooring and the wall.  The person who installed it didn't do that. At most, they left 1/8 of an inch, and where the laminate meets the tile, zero inches. As the laminate expanded and contracted, the attachments broke down. Therefore, everything is moving around and creaking. 

   I will let Ken know. I don't remember if he installed it or if someone else did, but I have to tell you it is the only mistake he made out of over $60,000 in renovations.  It was the only mistake, but all the things he did benefited us; they more than make up for any errors. The man is a wonder.  If there were such a thing as a Contractor's Hall of Fame, I would nominate him for the honor.

    I have been spending most of the afternoon working on the blog. I still haven't gone back to working on the book.  I need to do that for my sake.

    Judy called and asked what I was planning to do for dinner.  My back was better, but standing and walking still challenge the muscles.  She said she would bring dinner over to me. Earlier today, as she attended to me, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude for my great fortune in having her in my life.  I expressed it.  She said, "No, no. I don't deserve it." I told her she had the wrong response. The correct response is, "I'm so jealous." Mike taught me that.

    Sometime in the first few years we were together, before 1978 when we moved out of the commune, I declared one day that I was filled with love for him.  He said he didn't feel the same, and he was so jealous.  I thought, yes, that's the right response. The person who is overflowing with love is the lucky one. Gratitude is a similar delicious feeling. 

_____-_____-_____

Musings:

 

    Is my inclination to express gratitude freely inconsiderate of others? If it makes someone uncomfortable, shouldn't I tone it down?  I show it because it feels so good to feel gratitude and express it.  It's like a sneeze.  Some repress it; me, my sneeze can be heard around the world. Love to sneeze. But, yes, I do try to control it under certain circumstances.  

    Maybe that's one of a godhead's functions, to receive our feelings of gratitude, someone, or something that has an endless tolerance for our positive emotions.  

    I don't know if there's a right or wrong way, but I do believe I'll have to respect someone's feelings when they say they're uncomfortable with my effusiveness — fair's fair.

Monday, October 28, 2019

No Bikram and no school. My back was killing me. I walked Elsa in the morning, up and down in front of the house.

    I spent the morning making some phone calls to friends and family and calling to make a same-day appointment with my doctor to see if I could get some muscle relaxants. All walking was a challenge. 

    I was going to make arrangements for my flights to the East Coast today when I received an email from Damon telling me that his mom wasn't up to having guests. What!!! She was the one I always stayed with when I went to Princeton. I can't stay with my sister, who lives nearby and at whose house the family will be gathering. I am unwilling to stay in a hotel without Mike. I was devastated. 

    I called Judy immediately. I told her that I would be with her and her family for Thanksgiving and probably Christmas because Damon wants to use that time to visit colleges in northern California with August, his son.  

    After feeling sorry for myself for about two hours, I started thinking differently. Maybe this is all for the best. This will be my first Thanksgiving without Mike. His absence would be difficult not only for me but also for the rest of the family. If I'm not there, we can all deny the reality for another year, have another year to adjust to this remarkable situation.  

    Judy, Paulette, and Adam will be cooking and serving dinner here at my house. They have used my house on other occasions for celebrations. There's more room for seating people, and the kitchen is fantastic. Mike designed it with the contractor Ken. He was so happy with it. It was a dream come true. I am delighted that others can enjoy it. Me, not so much. I use the microwave and the toaster oven. I rarely even use the six-burner stovetop. Last night I finally ate some of the chicken back and leg I broiled in the toaster oven a few days ago. Since I had no idea if it was thoroughly cooked, I sliced some meat off the bones and placed it loose in the toaster oven tray. I came out delicious. I was afraid it would come out dry, but it turned out crispy. You wait, I'm going to be writing a cookbook soon.

    I had a 4:15 appointment with the doctor. Fortunately, I was able to get my primary doctor, with whom I get along beautifully. She agreed that this was probably a psoas problem. She showed me some exercises. She also prescribed physical therapy. As it winds up, she was a massage therapist for five years. The exercises sounded good, but I have to be careful not to trigger more problems. She prescribed a muscle relaxant, but the pharmacy was already closed. She also wanted me to go to the lab and get a blood sample to check my kidney function to be sure that the medication dosage is correct. I will be careful taking those pills until we know how they will interact with my kidneys. My last test was a year ago when I was being evaluated as a kidney donor for Mike. I failed as a donor because my kidney function was good enough for my age, but not good enough to be a donor. God, that is all so long ago now.

    Yvette came up in the evening. I asked her some direct questions about what she meant by certain things she said and did. Our communication styles are very different. Although we've known each other for 50 years now, we're only just getting to know each other. The differences were a shock. There are ways we scare each other. It can be very stressful. And then we have Mike's death on top of it. Mike was also very important to Yvette. His being gone changes the dynamic of our relationship, hopefully for the better in the end. Mike was somewhat tighter about dealing with conflict and differences than I am. With fewer restrictions on our relationship, things can come up and out that couldn't before. Yes, it's a risk, but I find it's always worth it. We both feel that even if we can't develop the relationship we both want, we will grow and become better people through the process. At the end of the evening, Yvette spoke about feeling so much stress at times that she couldn't think straight, our relationship being one of the causes. I knew exactly what she was talking about. Our differences are difficult for both of us. She thanked me for making her grow. I thanked her for challenging me, and we laughed together. What a gift to be able to laugh about our difficulties together. 

   I stayed in the living room and didn't watch any TV. I can't do anything with the books right now anyway. Lifting a book is out of the question. E. came up to say goodbye after spending the weekend with his grandfather. His eyes had the same open look I had seen a week ago.  I always thought his veiled look was due to shyness, depression, or shame. It finally occurred to me to ask him if he was understanding conversation better than he used to.  Wow!  I had already asked him about his reading speed and ability to understand what the teachers said, and he had told me that both were better after listening to the phonemic awareness audio file, but this...   I knew he had problems reading when he was young. We straightened that out, and he has been a top-performing student for years, but I had no idea that his auditory processing was still a problem. I was blown away by the difference the recording made in this 15-year-old child's life. This is more than I had ever hoped for.

 

Musings:

    I finished the book on Aquinas; it was a very short introduction, as promised. I learned that this man's work, which is now considered one of the church's foundational thoughts, was rejected by the church for many years after his death. He was resurrected during the Enlightenment period when thinking became more liberal. Aquinas was designated the anchor of conservative thought against the flood of looser thinking. Interesting.

    I've started two other books now. It's hard to read them at length because they are so full of exciting and challenging ideas. They reflect my thinking for the most part. One of the books is Tribe by Sebastian Junger, which Josh recommended.

    Junger writes that in the early periods of this country, many whites abandoned life among their kind to join some Indian tribe, finding the way of life much more pleasurable. On the other hand, there were no Indians who abandoned tribal life for life among the American-Europeans. The advantages of tribal life included social connections, equality of power, and access to material goods. Since these tribes were nomadic, it was difficult for anyone to accumulate a great deal of wealth. An anthropology teacher once pointed out that theft was not an option in a small tribal group because all basic material needs were shared. If anyone stole something unique from another person, they would never be able to use it. Everyone in the 50-member group would know who it belonged to. 

            There is greater leisure living primitively than the way we live now. He says the iKung tribe, which continued living primitively into modern times, was observed. Only members worked 12 hours a week gathering and preparing their basic needs, living in one of the world's most hostile environments. Some white people wrote that there was no one forcing anyone to work in tribal settings. During peace, tribal life was pleasurable.. No one was ever alone. However, I know this from what I had read about tribal life and what I experienced in the commune when I lived there: privacy is achieved by people ignoring you when you signal that you want to be by yourself. The standards of behavior are quite different. There is plenty of time to be with your thoughts in the secure presence of others who don't judge you. Truly lovely. 

    Junger also wrote that when he was younger, he hitched across the country to get to know the country better and find himself. I understand completely. I had similar fantasies. I felt it would get me down to the basics of life, and I would be securely anchored to reality. While we dread disasters, they also represent some of the best moments of our lives as we share those moments with others and pull together for everyone's sake.

 

Sunday, October 27, 2019

   Today would have been Mike's 79th birthday.  I woke up early but stayed in bed until 7:30. My back felt good, but I only walked up and down the street, I live on instead of around the block, so I was never too far from home.  I used the walking stick while I walked, but I didn't need it.  I stretched out the right hip joint, meaning the psoas muscle. 

    When I got home, I sat in my typing chair and drank my two cups of morning water- but then, when I got up, oh boy!  It was bad. That pain comes and goes. When my back was good, it was perfect; when it was bad, it was really bad. I managed to shower and get dressed.  I texted Judy to pull into the driveway to pick me up because I could barely walk. 
I made it out to the car and, with some help, into the church.  There was no way I was going to miss today.  The mass was dedicated to Mike, and Fr. Lio was officiating.  When I saw Fr. Lio yesterday at the celebration Mass, I made sure he would be at Holy Rosary for the 10 am Mass.  I wanted to share that moment with him because I know he loved Mike.  The new priest, who usually does our Sunday mass, had never even met him. 
     Lio didn't say much about Mike, but his sermon combined today's readings with those from last week.  Last week's was about a widow who persuaded a judge to consider her appeal by badgering him into submission.  The message was to be persistent in prayer. If a judge could be moved by persistence, think how much more our appeals will move our heavenly Father.
     I knew he had included this reference to the widow for my sake. But he said something even more interesting from my perspective.  It was as if he knew the way I thought.  I know Lio hasn't seen enough of me to know, but maybe Mike told him. 
      Lio discussed the purpose of prayer. He said it was there to help us keep hope alive.  He said to pray as if it is all in God's hands, and act as if it is all in our hands. He also said prayer's proper function is to change us, maybe even change our minds about what we are praying for.  I have never considered prayer changing us, but that makes sense.  God represents ideals. If we spend a lot of time praying, we think about our standards and ideals. That influences who we become. 
     There were refreshments after church. We sat around and chatted. I spoke specifically to Margo, who runs a nursery. Mike and I planted bougainvillea on the edge of the upper lanai next to a low-lying fence.  On the other side of that fence is a 10-foot drop. The bougainvillea were there to discourage Peaches and Horatio, our two 50 lb. Portuguese Water Dogs from getting near enough to the fence to jump over it.  For those of you who don't know, both Peaches and Horatio died before Mike and I moved to Hawaii. Also, for those of you who don't know, bougainvillea has thorns.  I once leaned on one and punctured a vein; I bled like a stuck pig.  Those thorns can get big enough to flatten truck tires. They are monsters. However, it was not the thorns that were bothering me. 
   The plan was to keep the shrub trimmed. I had to go out and trim it daily.  The more I trimmed, the more aggressively it came back. It has become a monster plant.  I wanted it gone.  I didn't need it because I have Elsa now, a 12 lb. dog. She had to make an effort to jump up on the couch.  Good-bye to those bougainvillea.  I spoke to Margo about something else I could plant in that area.  I want something that has a yellow flower.
    Judy and Paulette stopped in when they dropped me off to help me consider the carpet samples I had brought home.  I was struggling to decide what would look best with the area rugs in that room.  Paulette said, Forget the rugs. You can get other ones. Think about what you like best about the samples. What a freeing suggestion!  Making my mind up was easy then.  Paulette also worked on my back. She has healing hands.  She knows what she is doing.
      After they left, I lay down on the loveseat/antigravity couch with a heating pad to see if I could improve my back.  I read a little and slept a little. Around 1:30 pm, Damon called.  I hadn't spoken to him in three weeks. He had a lot on his plate, and I didn't want to bother him. His mother was diagnosed with heart problems and had to have open-heart surgery last Monday. He had a major project due at work the day after her surgery, and had a busy week at work this last week. He didn't need to worry about my problems as well.
         One thing we need to solve immediately is my flight plans for Thanksgiving.  Besides needing to order them, I have been called for Jury duty starting November 19.  I had to send in a copy of my flight itinerary to get a delay.  I will be on the East Coast for the week.  
      It has indeed been a stressful few weeks for me. Besides dealing with some differences in communication style, personal style, and actual differences of opinion, I had to make decisions about the acoustic insulation project. It was only yesterday that I could put the flooring project to rest after visiting the flooring store and discovering they knew precisely what they were talking about and had the absolute best solution I had seen to date. Ah!!!!
     Yvette's friend Scott mentioned another potential problem with the flooring that could create noise.  I hadn't understood what Yvette was saying. I thought she meant that there was a problem when the laminate panels rubbed against each other.  No, that's not it. The problem could be that the support beams had been nailed together, and the mitered ends rubbed against each other.  I don't know if that is the problem, but it would be better if it's checked before we lay a new floor above the ceiling, if the subflooring has to be lifted to fix that problem.  Whatever it takes, we have to find a way to deal with the noise Yvette and Josh have to deal with downstairs. 
     On a previous occasion, Yvette used the word 'sacrifice' to describe her living downstairs.  Sacrifice is not part of my vocabulary.  Sacrifice is an extreme situation where I submit to unrelenting discomfort because I can't find a better choice.  There is nothing good about a situation that requires sacrifice.  I do not consider myself to have sacrificed anything when I spent eight hours a day by Mike's bedside in Oahu for five weeks; that was primarily a joy to be there for him with some discomfort.   I wouldn't have had it any other way. For Yvette, it means doing something other than what she had initially planned to do. That is very different from mine.
      My question is, how much is positive and how much is negative about her living in the downstairs ohana?  If it was more negative than positive, she and Josh should have talked seriously about what they would prefer, and we should have made that happen.  I don't enjoy people sacrificing themselves for me. No, thanks. There is always a side order of resentment that comes with it. That's not the way I want to live. I want a win-win situation. Then, Yvette and I can have a flourishing relationship. That's what I want.
    After Yvette gave me a fantastic leg and foot massage that helped relieve the pain in my back and right leg, we went to Kua Bay in the late afternoon.  This beach was Mike's favorite.  We didn't go down to the shoreline because I could barely reach the sea wall's edge. We sat there and watched the sky, the waves, the swimmers, and the boogie boarders. I texted Damon, saying that I would FaceTime him so we could share Kau Bay with Mike.  He was driving home from his dinner with friends.  I told them to pull over. They were on route one and said they couldn't.  I flashed a short shot while Damon slowed down to glance at the screen on Cylin's phone.  Later, I took a short video and sent it to him.  I didn't do that initially because I wanted to share the scene with him in real time.  It was Mike's birthday; I wanted us to all be together: Damon, Cylin, Yvette, me, and Mike.
    When Yvette and I got home from Kua Bay, she walked Elsa. We each had a slice of the pizza she bought the day before. Although we've known each other for 50 years, in many ways, we're only getting to know each other now.  During the past 50 years, we had cartoon images of each other, which are only now being fleshed out. The bad news is that there are things we don't like about each other; hopefully, it's just that we don't understand each other. The good news is that we are both interested in working things out for our mutual benefit. We both understand that we will become bigger people with a more extensive vocabulary of responses to the human condition as we work things out.  Very exciting and, at its best, lots of fun.
     After Yvette left, I hit the couch again with the heating pad.  I did some release work on the left side of my neck.  I had known for hours that that was part of the problem, but I did nothing about it. When I got up after playing with my neck, I was able to walk more easily.  Who knows, I may wake up tomorrow with my back feeling like it never had a problem in the first place. Oh, there is no question that the problem is with a tight psoas and a weak latissimus dorsi. I'm working on remedying those two problems. Hopefully, this won't take forever.  I feel quite limited when the pain hits. It's exhausting. Combined with grief, it's a total package.
I finished reading the Sunday New York Times and did some work on the blog. I'm not walking Elsa tonight. I'm not risking not being able to get home and having to spend the night sleeping in the street. (It's not that bad, but close.) Elsa will have to use the backyard. ____________________________________________________________________________
Musings:

Lio spoke about the transforming impact of prayer. Later, as I read Kerr's A Very Short Introduction to Aquinas, I came across that theory again. Aquinas believed that if you continued to pray for something, you would eventually see God's will for you. I think this is supposed to happen because keeping the ideal of God in mind transforms us. So, praying for something leads us to accept what is. Interesting theory.  I can see how it might work, but by now, I've learned that no method will always work for everyone.
    In another book I am reading, Spiritual By-passing, the author questions the value of Vipassana meditation, which the Buddha developed.  This meditation requires awareness of sensation with a sense of equanimity.  Equanimity means calmness, a persistent sense of well-being that remains undisturbed by our awareness of physical or psychological pain. The theory is that calmly viewing our pain transforms it. Now, this method has worked for me in a big way. But I have seen others use it to escape their feelings.  No technique will work for all, and there is always that person who can use every conceivable method to avoid the transforming benefits of an activity, if they are so determined.  Prayer guarantees nothing. Mediation guarantees nothing. There is no single cure.  Too bad. Life would be so much easier if there were.

Saturday, October 26, 2019

There was a question as to whether I would go to Bikram today.  My back bothered me yesterday; I didn't want to make it worse, even if it was just a bad charley horse. I was fine when I went to bed last night and perfect when I got up this morning. I did all the asanas while lying on the floor, just as I had been doing since my back problem started.  I worked on strengthening the antagonistic muscle to the psoas.  I finally found its name: latissimus dorsi; bet that helps everyone reading this.  This muscle sits at the top of my right hip. It contracts when I lean back or try to stand straight, when my psoas is contracting, forcing me to bend over.  When the pain is bad, I look like the hunchback of Notre Dame.  
      I did great work, but it resulted in pain. I had to get up and go to the bathroom.  I crawled over to the ballet barre at the back of the room. I still need help getting up.  Once I was on my feet, I was fine.
      After class, I rinsed in the shower and headed to the church. There was a special service honoring people who served the church. Judy and Paulette were both honored today.  
      I slipped in a side door and got into a pew. I made it there just in time to see the host sanctified.  I noticed that Brenda and Don were sitting right in front of me. I moved up one pew and next to Brenda.  She was unaware that I was there.  I sang loudly in her ear, which was a stretch for me since she was six inches taller than me.  She finally realized that something was different, turned, and gave me a big smile.  When I turned to my right, I saw the couple that ran the church gift shop.  The husband is the father of Mrs. B., whose children I work with at school.  Judy and her whole family sat in front of me.  It is nice to be part of a community where I know and am known by many people.  They were mostly loose connections, but there are those I see outside the church environment, like Judy, Paulette, Don, and Brenda.
    This mass, honoring people who served the church, was not just for those from St. Michel's, but for every church on the island's west side.  Each person was called up individually. Well, that's not entirely accurate. In some cases, people were called up as a couple, and in one case, an extended family, or an ohana, was called up together.  It all took time, but I was glad I was there.  
    Afterward, there was lunch: sandwiches made by people from the various parishes and cookies. I had tuna fish salad and egg salad sandwiches, and two chocolate chip cookies. That was my dinner. The plan was to eat my breakfast food for dinner.
      I was planning to see the massive hula celebration at the palace after church, but my back was hurting too much.  The dancing was from 10 am to 2 pm.  All these groups had been trained by a single teacher who was the honoree of the celebration.  One of my Bikram buddies was dancing, Sharry.  I wanted to go, but there was no way I could walk down there and back again without crying. 
I went to the transfer station to drop off the glass I had. There was a sign saying they only accept cardboard and brown paper bags — no mention of glass.  I don't know what's going on.
    I went to Costco to get gas and to Home Depot to check on the floor under the carpet foam.  There was this costly stuff that might do the job.  For my last stop, I went to a flooring store across the street from Costco, which the chiropractor had recommended. She said they have better quality products than Home Depot or Lowe's and are somewhat more expensive.
    My back was hurting as I looked at the samples.  I explained to the salesman that my grim face and impatient look had nothing to do with him.  His products were of better quality, but nothing spoke to me like the tight weave samples he showed me. Then I asked about under-carpeting foam, explaining that my primary concern was acoustic insulation.  I told him that the product I had seen at Home Depot was thicker.  He said a thick foam would void the warranty on the carpeting. Too much bounce puts stress on the carpet and wears it out. He showed me the padding he uses.  It seemed thin.  I asked him if I could use two layers: one of the denser material and a second of the spongier material.  He said yes.  Then he showed me a rubber product, saying he lays it down in condos where sound transfer is a significant issue. No one had shown me a product like this before.  I talked about putting down the dense rubber product with the cheaper foam on top of it.  He said that would work.  He also talked about checking that the underflooring was securely nailed down so it wouldn't cause noise.   I felt such relief that he mentioned this problem independently, and I wouldn't have to worry about monitoring the workmen myself. I put my head down. 
     I told them that Mike had just died in March, and having to deal with all these decisions was tough.  If he were alive, I would be doing all the research, but then I could go home and consult with him. If nothing else, he would have told me how smart and brave I was to deal with this issue. He would also have hugged me.  I started to cry, as hard as I had at Bikram on my first day back to the studio after he died.  There was also a salesperson there. She asked me if I wanted a hug.  I said yes.  She came over and held me while I released racking sobs. I didn't know what I was crying about the first time that happened. This time, I did: I missed Mike. 
     I said it was a good thing the store wasn't filled with customers. Then I said, "It's Hawaii. Everyone would have circled around me to support me. "  The man said they would be lining up to give me hugs. I would never leave this environment in a million years. 
     I went home to lie down and relieve the stress on my back. After that cry, I thought I would fall asleep immediately, but no. That didn't happen; it took a while.
     I called Dorothy because I wanted to clarify why I said my right leg was weaker than my left.  She just had a total hip replacement on her right hip. She was struck that my right hip was weaker than my left, not my arthritic side.  I realized she was thinking of leg strength when walking upstairs; my problem on my right side is lateral. 
     After I napped, I walked Elsa.  I talked to Mike as I walked. He told me I was a piece of work because I could comfortably engage with total strangers as I had in the carpet store.  My behavior used to freak him out, but in the end, he learned to admire it. 
      On that subject, during lunch after the service this afternoon, a woman who just lost her husband last week and whose funeral was yesterday told us that she is going to be forced out of her home in a few months. Whoa! Their home belongs to someone else, and they want to sell the house.  I offered her a place to stay if she needed more time on the island.  Someone else at the table commented that I say whatever comes to mind.  When I said that people would line up to offer this lady a place to stay, she responded that "no one would be that forward."  I'm not sure of her thinking.  If the lady said she had no place to go and might have to stay in a hotel, the opportunity to make the offer was there - well, as far as I'm concerned.  I wish I understood how other people think better. It would be worthwhile learning because there is always someone for whom my way of relating is offensive.  I don't think it was for the lady I made the offer to. She has expressed delight in my straightforwardness. 
After I walked Elsa, I made my usual morning soup.  I had it for dinner with my smoothie. Yvette came up and offered me a slice of pizza.  Now I have two sandwiches, a slice of pizza, and two broiled chicken backs and legs in the fridge.  My food supply runneth over.  I hope I get to eat it all before it goes bad. 

  

Friday, October 25, 2019

    I had several chores planned for today before I went to school. I had packed up the car with Mike's jackets, the glass recycling, and copies of the London and NY Times Book Reviews. When I arrived at Bikram, I called Jean. I had a better chance of reaching her early in the morning. I was planning my usual brief: "Hello. I love you. Goodbye," honoring her request for no long exhausting phone calls.  But today, she had something to say.  She will be going home tomorrow at 11 am. 

The yoga class went well. I worked on stretching the outer edge of my left foot and the left side of my left leg.  When my class ended, I was in pain, the same pain that had been coming and going since September. 

After class, I crab-walked into Island Naturals to buy pumpkin seeds, which I added to my salad. Delicious. Then I went looking for the Friendly Place, which serves the homeless, to donate Mike's winter jackets.  I found it by accident; the storefront is not on the road but set back quite a bit.  When I got back there, I found several buildings. I am wondering if they provide shelter, among other things.  They weren't open until 10 am, and I had to be at the chiropractor by then.

I am still working with Dr. Kim's partner, Dr. Nancy. She has a different perspective and brings other skills to the process.  She is making a valuable contribution. She sees that my current condition is not a spinal problem as I do.  My right psoas and its antagonist's muscle are not functioning correctly.  The psoas is too tight, and its antagonist is too weak. She muscle-tested me.  She pulled on my ankles and asked me to resist her pull.  All was good when she gripped my left ankle from the outer edge and pulled toward her, but I had no strength when she pulled on the right ankle. Surprise!  When climbing stairs, the left leg is weaker.  I had no idea about the problems I was having with my right side.  Should I have had any lingering doubts, it is clear that the pain I am experiencing is due to muscle strain. As I shift more weight to my left leg, I am exposing the problems with those muscles on the right side of my body.  This is great! I'm thrilled. I'm not so much doing damage to myself as I am exposing existing problems. It gives me something to work on, resulting in an even straighter spine.  I am so excited. However, in the meantime, I am one of the walking wounded.

I did stop at Memory Lane to drop off the literary periodicals.  I needed help getting them into the shop. I was bent over in pain and crab-walking into the store. I asked for help in the parking lot; two women rushed to help me.  After I left there, I went to the Friendly Place to drop off the winter jackets.  While it opened at 10, I didn't see where I was supposed to go.  There were some people in the driveway, including one employee.  She said she would call Lisa, an employee, and she would come out to meet me.  I was to park by the gate.  Lisa and another employee came out and took the jackets out of the trunk of my car.  I didn't have to move.

I had planned to do more research on carpeting before going to school to tutor.  I did get to Lowe's to check their tightly woven carpet samples.  I found something I like better than the samples at Home Depot. I checked out the under-carpet foam samples.  They have their samples hanging on a ring at the flooring desk.  I asked for the best one. They showed me a thin air-filled foam. I know crap when I see it; if I press the stuff between my two fingers, it completely compresses.  How is this their best?  The denser material is cheaper. I want something that will act as sound insulation. I'm thinking maybe if I put the cheaper stuff down first and the expensive crap on top, that may be the most effective way to dull the sound of footsteps from above.  Before I make my final decision, I will call Max, the man I met the other day at Lowe's, who belongs to Kona's flooring union.

I would go back to Home Depot to check out that expensive underfoam; was it 30 square feet or 30 linear feet in that roll?  That will make a massive difference in cost. However, my back was bothering me so much, making all walking difficult.  I texted the teachers at school to tell them that I was not coming today, went home, took 3 Advils, slathered my side with Salon Pas, grabbed an ice pack, and hit the couch.  And that's where I stayed, occasionally dangling my right leg over the side of the sofa to stretch out the right psoas and do some contracting exercises to strengthen those back muscles.

I texted two parents whose children I had been working with and whom I hadn't seen for a while.  In one case, the child asked to work with me to learn how to decode longer words.  In the other case, the child's reading is much better. At any rate, she enjoys reading now and does it on her own, but she continues to need help with math.  The mother said there was no way they could get her to me regularly. I recommended she bring the girl and the two siblings who had been helping her to my house for an hour. I would show them how to navigate Khan Academy and the most effective use of that source to teach themselves. 

I also texted a church friend whose husband's funeral was today. I had meant to go, but all the best-laid plans, etc.  Judy told me it was a lovely funeral.  Her husband was about 84.  He and his current wife, also in her 80s, had only been married four years ago.  It is a beautiful late-in-life romance. They were very happy together. 

Yvette came up to visit.  We just chatted about this and that. I think she is making more of an effort to visit regularly, realizing that I am alone now without Mike.  I like the visits but also need someone who lives here and does their own thing: companionship.

I walked Elsa briefly, very briefly, using the walking stick to give me some relief. Judy called. She had a busy day, was engaged in another activity, and couldn't talk long. My back has been bothering me, so I didn't do any work in the library; instead, I stayed in the living room and worked on writing for the evening while listening to classical music.

Musings

There are so many triggers for me; it's ridiculous. I was reading Spiritual By-Passing: When Spirituality Disconnects Us from What Really Matters by Robert Augustus Masters.  He is singing my songs.  While it's a relief, I also realize that what he calls spiritual by-passing has given some people a leg up out of a bad state of mind.  

He says, as I do, that there are many 'spiritual' expressions that are used to avoid our feelings.  He says, as I do that in getting to the bottom of our feelings, especially dark feelings about ourselves, we achieve spirituality.  But now, reading someone who agrees with me, I can see that nothing is that simple.  We can't merely say an affirmation and banish all that is deficient in our lives, in ourselves, nor can we face the 'dragon' and conquer ourselves. If we face that dragon too early in our development, it may destroy us. That's not the objective. It's healing.

As I type, I can hear someone spouting one of those catch-all phrases from Louise Hay and the like and feel my gut twist into a knot. I have to ask myself, "Why?" Is it just that it doesn't conform to my belief set, or is it because those who don't pursue self as I do have judged me negatively.  Feels like it's probably the latter more than the former.  Why can't I sit quietly on my laurels and see what my approach to self and being a member of the social order has netted me? I'm almost 79.  I am a good and loving person who served as an above-average presence for many people.  Can I believe that?  I know Mike felt that way about me.  He thought I was the most loving, giving person he knew.  Boy, I miss him.  

Thursday, October 24, 2019

I have been working on my triceps as I walk, drive, type, etc. WOW! This change of behavior was triggered by JJ's comment yesterday that a 96-year-old yoga teacher had no drooping skin on her arms.  Of course, when I asked him about it directly, he had exaggerated.  She had muscle tone; her biceps and triceps were strong, but there was no way to avoid the skin sagging. But he did tell me to work on my triceps to see if I could make a difference.  In class, I am pushing my upper arm into the mat while lying on my back. While driving and typing, I can also think of pulling my arms back without losing contact with the steering wheel or the keyboard. Besides strengthening my triceps, the impact is elevating my sternum, tipping my whole rib cage forward, and pushing my shoulders back.  Mike, Kathrin's friend and a Bikramite, told me that pushing my scapulae together has that effect, but this is different.  The movement is triggered by the arm muscles rather than the body muscles and is more effective- for me with my alignment.

Yvette had grabbed my mat and yoga towel while I rinsed off at Bikram after class.  I was confused about not finding it when I returned but not alarmed.  This is a good group, I couldn't imagine someone walking off with my sweat-soaked towel and mat.  I headed off to HPM and Home Depot.  HPM is known as the local building store used by contractors. They had nothing I wanted. They had no acoustical materials and no carpeting- off to Home Depot.

     My first step at Home Depot was the flooring department, where  I checked out some carpeting samples. I didn't want a solid color; it shows dirt. I have multi-colored carpeting on my lanai now. I like the pattern: it is various shades of brown with a touch of red woven in. HD didn't have anything like that. I'll check at Lowe's tomorrow. Maybe I'll also check if an independent carpeting company exists here in Kona. 

Next, I went to look for acoustic insulation. Lowe's had something appropriate in the building department, so that's where I went at Home Depot. I couldn't find anything or anyone to tell me where I could find it. Finally, I spotted one guy. When I asked my question, he pulled out his phone and looked it up on some app. He explained he was a loader.  I asked him what he did.  He patiently explained that he "loaded."  I smiled and said, "What?" He helps people load their cars with the materials. Oh! He didn't know where to look.  We walked around, and he spotted Stanley.  

I grabbed Stanley and asked him where I could find acoustical insulation.  He gave the loader a dirty look and said, "You should know where that is." Then he led me to the other end of the store, far away from the building supplies section, lumbering along with what looked like annoyance. When we finally arrived, he pointed to some packages with a sullen face.  I had no idea what I was looking at. But then I spotted the Chicago Bars. There were panels to be attached to the ceiling.  I explained their function was to muffle sound within the room, not from the floor above.  He gave me a dirty look and walked away.  Bunions or hemorrhoids would be my best guess.

I came home, got dressed, and headed out to school.  As usual, I started with the students in Mrs. B.'s class. I had K read in the third-grade text. We opened to a story deep into the text. She said she knew the story.  Had she read it already? No, but they were talking about it in class. She makes me feel like I'm in a bumper car.  Her behavior is much better than it used to be, but, boy, she makes nothing easy.  Okay, we start reading the story. She did a great job with most of the words, including the ones she had to decode, but then, we ran into some longer words, 4 to 5 syllables. I showed her a procedure for decoding those babies.  I tell the kids over and over, "You're not just figuring out this word. You are teaching your brain how to decode longer words.  The procedure is always the same." She wouldn't follow my instructions.  To a certain extent, she couldn't, but there is also that attitude of hers that leaves you wondering how much is just an unwillingness to cooperate with someone else, anyone else. Patience isn't this child's long suit.

Next, I worked with D.  We worked on one of the early stories in the book. He also struggled with multi-syllable words. He worked hard.  He's an ideal student.  He tries to do it my way.  My tolerance for difficulty is weak these days.  I don't have Mike to come home to so I can destress.  

I didn't put the audio file on with either of these children because they listened at home.  Well, I'm sure D is. Who knows what K is doing.

Then, I went to work with Mrs. D's students. I started with R., whom I didn't get to work with on Tuesday because of the emergency drills. No recall of the word there.  I switched tactics.  I worked with the word family -at: bat, cat, fat, hat, mat, pat, and rat. I had to have her decode [a-t] each time before she added the initial letter for the first few words. For the last three, she saw the pattern and was able to blend them on her own without first decoding -at. It looks like this might be the way to go.  If she can retain the word family,-at, -in, an, etc., and blend the initial sound to it, it would be a way to work her auditory processing and recall problems and teach phonics. If her recall problems weren't remedied, she would never read adequately.

I went into Mrs. D.'s class to ask her who I should work with next. Before she could select a student,  two others asked to work with me.. A. came with a big fat book at least 6th-grade level. (This is a third-grade class.) Mrs. D. suggested that she get an easier book. I figure if that is what she wants to work with, it's good as long as she understands that it is a challenge and she's not using it to pretend she is better than she is.  She wasn't.  Her word recognition was pretty good. She had some trouble understanding the sentences. I did the sentence comprehension exercise, demonstrating how the words within the sentence relate. That exercise kind of blew her mind. As she read the sentences, she thought they were weird sounding.  I spoke the sentences in a context that would be more familiar with a conversational tone. Then, the sentences sound familiar. She understood it. We only worked on one paragraph. She started fading.  This work was hard. She didn't realize how hard, but I did.

I finished up with B. and N., reviewing how to decode larger words and put both of them on the audio file.

When I got home, I worked on the blog. Then, I called Judy to ask more questions about Richie. I want to know how easy or difficult he is to communicate with. Then I called him.  I told him I had decided I wanted to go with carpeting because that was guaranteed to provide the most acoustical insulation.  He said he didn't do carpeting because he didn't have the tools.  I will have to explore hiring someone through the stores.

I also told him that the clerk in Home Depot showed me tiles and Chicago Bars.  He immediately interrupted me, telling me that he had told me they would never work for my purpose.  I told him I knew that. He asked why I brought it up.  I explained that I recognized that what the clerk showed me was useless because of what he had taught me. At least he asked why I had brought it up and listened to my explanation. But the answer to "Is he easy to have a discussion with?"  Somewhat.

Time to start moving stuff out of the bedroom to get someone in there to do the work. I started in the small office, clearing out the closet to move stuff in there from the closet in the other room. I  gathered six of Mike's winter coats and heavy sweatshirt jackets to give to the Friendly Place, serving the homeless.  Winter is coming. It never goes below freezing, but it does get down to the low 60s or high 50s at night. A warm jacket will be a welcome relief. 

I also cleaned out the bookshelf in the lanai section of that room, which serves as a storage area for extra supplies. I have to empty the breakfront of all the dishes, move the wine rack, and the four-drawer file cabinet. Then, all that will be left will be the large pieces of furniture.  Hopefully, I can get a few young folks over here to do that. We'll see.

    I worked on the library last night.  I didn't find any more requested books, but I did find a manuscript of Mike's- a big fat spiral-bound thing.  It was the book he had told me about; it covered a course he was teaching. I just hugged it to my heart and rocked for a while. When I opened it, I saw the dedication, "For Betty and my students." I took the book to bed with me and put it on Mike's pillow.