My leg was problematic this morning. It was pinchy in the joint and crampy in the calf. Again, I found myself thinking I might need a total hip replacement. Only, that will not be available for the foreseeable future- maybe ever.
First, I had an appointment with Shelly, my counselor. I work with her weekly, dealing with the stress everyone is going through these days. I may be dealing with current stress, but it increases all the underlying stress.
I worked, as I so often do, on the fear of putting out my work. Today I was able to sit with the fear as just the sensation throughout my body. I don't know if I would normally label it as fear; it didn't sit in my gut. My whole body felt shaky. My skin felt shaky. Not a great feeling. But, as I sat, my stomach started to growl. Now, that was a good sign. A growling stomach means a meaningful change.
That shaky feeling is uncomfortable. I don't know how to describe it. It feels like a loss of control. A loss of control means an outside threat to respond to – if things are going well. The goal is to reestablish control. That tiger has to be killed or gotten away from. Ah, shaking- that's my body getting ready to go into action. But, if there is no tiger, what is my poor body going to do. All that shaking and no place to go.
The things that scare us these days, at least for now, are not life-threatening; they're merely embarrassing. We didn't follow someone's script and made an error. That's all. We introduced an idea that a listener was uncomfortable with. Taking off in a dead run toward or away from the person we made uncomfortable would be most inappropriate. We can scream at the person who 'makes us uncomfortable,' but that makes us look like we have a screw loose and ultimately makes us feel even worse. We can attack ourselves, but that doesn't fix the problem. Or we can stand there and feel the shakiness and feel crazy as a loon. None feel like good choices. However, the only option that frees us is to stay calm and feel shaky until it passes. It will pass. At some point, it becomes clear, even to the deepest recesses of our minds, that our lives are not in immediate danger.
I had two students today. I had D. at 11:30, and M. at 2 pm. D. is doing much better for the time being. He said his memory is getting much better. Fantastic! I feel freer to challenge him when he makes a mistake. It has become a form of play. We finished chapter one of Socks today; we've been working through it for several months, at least since August. It's still slow going but not like it used to be. It's become fun for both of us.
I had requested a consultation with M.'s mother- again. When I got out of my 10 am counseling appointment, there was a text from her telling me she was available for fifteen minutes around 10:30. I also found a long email telling me that she worked on some written answers to a reading assignment on the Montgomery bus boycott. To the question of what some of the inconveniences were, M. answered, "their feet hurt.' Her mother said it took her half an hour, and she couldn't get her to generalize to the idea that the boycotters had to walk a lot because they couldn't take the buses. The mother said she couldn't get her to see this broader point. The mother said she saw no improvement over five sessions. First of all, the five sessions amount to two and a half hours. Also, my assignment was to help her daughter think 'outside of the box.' She was unable to use background information and make inferences. Gee! Speaking about how the feet of the walkers hurt wasn't in the text and, in fact, and makes sense. (I found a quote on the Internet, "My feet are tired. But my soul is resting.”) The next step will be to learn to infer the answer the teacher wants. She had a grip on background information now. She thought of how her own feet would hurt. The next step would be putting it into academic language. I was thrilled; mom almost said outright that her work with me was a waste of time.
M. and I worked on some of the other questions due today and tomorrow. I thought she did brilliantly. In one case, I think she did a better job than I did. As she started to answer it, I thought she was going in the wrong direction. But it became clear she connected the passage to the story better than I did. I typed all her answers, following her words as near as I could. I also wrote notes about the actions I took and didn't take. I sent it all to the mom, making it clear that I thought she had improved. I think part of this girl's problem is her mom's need for perfection. Not only does she want the right answer, but it also has to be her correct answer. I don't think mom is very good about thinking outside the box, either.
As I closed the half-hour session, I asked the girl if she felt she had made an improvement. The girl gave an enthusiastic answer. I told the girl I had had a lot of fun. She thought it was fun, too. That's what I'm after, finding learning fun.
Scott finished the floor today. It looks great. He does meticulous work. I feel that we have done the best we could at this point. The new subfloor is much more solid than the old one. The original builders scrimped on building materials and labor. The house will stand till my death, but . . ..
While my leg was pinchy and crampy this morning, every time I stood up after sitting for a while, it moved easily. This is a change; I usually have to give a few minutes to get my left hip to gear. Not today.
After being ready to throw the frozen salmon patties I bought in Costco away because they tasted so bad, I now look forward to them. Once I discovered that they were delicious when grilled in a small frying pan, they became one of my new go-to dishes.
I got a letter in the mail from the police department today. After my unpleasant experience, I wrote to the Police Chief about my effort to get a valid fingerprint chart at the Kona station. I had to go all the way over to Hilo to get one. The two stations under the same chief had completely different policies. What do you know? Kona is now receiving blank fingerprint forms, and all the police stations in the district had a meeting to coordinate the policy in all the stations.
Darby came out to greet me as I went for my walk. She wanted to talk to me today about a friend who is somewhat older than me. She has a new 'boyfriend' from Africa. They are planning to run away together someday. All she has to do in the meantime is send money. Hmm! I said, call the cops. This is elder abuse. When I got home, I Googled the sweetheart scam. There is no legal action possible unless the victim complains. All you can do is convince the victim they are a victim. Good luck! These scams prey on lonely older adults. They only go after people who are over forty. I suppose after forty, you've either given up although or gotten so desperate you will grab at any straw.
Ironically, I had some gentleman try to make contact with me through Instagram. In his picture, he looked like a slightly thinner St. Nick. He wanted to call me from Germany, I think. At least he wrote to me in German. It was a common enough phrase, so I could read it; I am a first-generation American of German descent. Because of my talk with Darby earlier in the evening, it occurred that this might be a Sweetheart Scam. That would make sense. Sandor helped me post information about the blog" Mike's death; Betty's life" on Instagram with plenty of hashtags. Someone smelled a sweet deal out there, a lonely widow looking for love. Not. There is no way I would respond to a miscellaneous man reaching out to me.
No comments:
Post a Comment