Sunday, April 17, 2022

 Sunday, April 17, 2022

   I dealt with waves of fear as I lay in bed this morning. These were not prompted by negative thoughts; they just came unbidden. It reminded me of how I felt about my hot flashes when they first started. I experienced them as panic attacks. They also were not thought-driven. 

   My positive interpretation is I'm finally dealing with the PTSD of perpetual terror I lived in when I was a child. (Note: my sister does not share my perception of the situation.) I hope that between my work with my therapist and my meditations, I will be able to dissolve much of this fear. 

    Some people actually like being afraid; seek it out. They go to horror movies. Not Mike or me. When we saw ads for those movies, we would say, "Remind me not to see that one," as if such a reminder would be needed. I have no idea why anyone likes to be afraid. My fearfulness, when it strikes, is extreme, even by my standards. Friends won't watch movies with me because they know I run out of the room at the slightest provocation. Even Mike lost patience with me. He'd say, "It's only a movie. It's not real." But there is always something real about it. The characters were acting out man's inhumanity to man in some way. 

     The most extreme bit of acting out resulted in a funny story. Mike, Damon, Yvette, a friend Paul, and I went to see Aliens 2 together. We arrived late and wound up sitting way in the front. Early in the movie, a sudden loud noise occurred while someone was milling around a lab with long cylindrical containers with monster embryos. I was up on my feet and running up the aisle. I had no control over my actions. I returned to my seat only to walk slowly up the aisle at another scare. It was summer; I was dressed all in white. I couldn't continue going up and down the aisle. I grabbed my book and sat outside in the lobby. When my fear quieted, I'd peek in a watch more. Then I'd duck out again. Paul said, "Every time the door was opened, a light shone on the screen. "I'd say, "There goes Betty!"

   I got up later than I planned, at 7 am. I wanted to be ready to leave by 8 am for the 9 am Mass. The church parking lot would be jammed if I went any later. I thought I would drive myself. I texted Judy, saying so. She texted me she would pick me up at 8 am.  

   I started my libations at 7:15, figuring I would be finished by 7:45. I laid out my dress and a jacket on the sofa and sat down in my underwear to edit the blog update for April 17, 2021. Fortunately, I had HPR on and heard the familiar sounds signaling the hour. It was 8 am. I jumped up. As I did, I saw Judy in my driveway. I raced to put on my clothes to the accompaniment of her honking horn. She just honked once. No one honks their horn here.

  When we arrived at the church, we managed to sneak into the driveway behind a long line of cars waiting for the folks from the seven o'clock Mass to leave. There were going to be plenty of parking spaces. We parked close to the front door.

   Since my hair was still wet and the church is usually airconditioned, I sat out on the south lanai in the sun to let it dry. Lovette greeted me, and then Terry, one of my PTs. I knew she was Catholic, but I didn't know she was one of the church hula dancers. In Hawaii, these dancers dance to the religious hymns of the church. I told Terry I hadn't seen her because we had forgotten to schedule appointments. However, I was very anxious to speak to her. Could we speak after the Mass? No, she had to rush off. Could she call me? That would be great. 

   So far, two body workers have told me I will not do well with a total hip replacement. Something unique about my body will not be resolved and possibly cause me to have even more significant problems. It did seem I would not be as delighted as most people are after a routine and successful surgery.

    My acupuncturist was concerned about the surgical cuts' impact on my atrophied muscles. I checked to see what cuts would be made with the anterior approach. None to the muscle. The muscles are moved aside. That was good news. Of course, there is no way to access the joint if the skin isn't cut. I need to know what I am getting into. Also, those muscles are very tight on me. Will the doctor be able to move them easily?

   Instead of going inside for the Easter Mass, I chose to stay outside on the south lanai. The sidewalls of the church are sliding glass doors. Before Covid, these doors were often open if the weather was cool enough. They were closed and locked today.

     I sat with Terry and Anita, two of the hula ladies. Later on, Judy Shipley joined, sitting between Terry and me. Judy is this fantastic lady who made it her mission to see that I learned the hula I performed at Mike's funeral. Yeah. I did that. He had always wanted me to join the dancers. Anita, the head of his ministry, knew it. They all went out of their way to help me. Seeing I was struggling, Judy came to my house several times to work with me. I would never have been as good as I was if she hadn't. I turned to Judy and said, "However grateful I was then, I am a hundred-fold more so over the years. I so appreciate what you did for me." 

    After Mass, I made sure I greeted Sandor. He's a great hugger. He apologized for not having my glasses ready. Sandor runs on overwhelm.

    I returned the booklet Darby loaned me as I walked past her house. It was a collection of remembrances about an amazing Filipino woman who lived to be almost 101. She owned and ran a furniture store for many years. She said, "First, you make a customer a friend, then sell them something." Darby was her piano tuner. She was embraced by this woman. She embraced everyone who could tolerate it and probably some who couldn't. Besides the repeated theme of friendship, she hawked two other ideas. One was hard work; another was making your bed every day. I heard this before. "If you make your bed neatly in the morning, you will feel okay when you go to bed at night." I had been neglecting my bed. I promptly went and made it and resolved to do so every day. I mentioned this to Darby when I returned the book. She said she, too, was inspired to make her bed daily.

    I met with the M & W sisters later in the afternoon. First-grade M said she didn't want to do any work. She looked sad. I had never seen her so sad. I never did find out what it was about. I suspected her mom had yelled at her. Mom was a yeller. The sadness was evident. She started crying. When I mentioned it, and buried her face in a blanket. 

   I didn't see the point of doing any work in her state. Instead, I did several rounds of an EFT exercise. "Even though I'm sad, I love and comfort myself." "Even though I'm angry, I love and comfort myself."  "Even though I'm disappointed, I love and comfort myself. I did a round for each setup. I wanted to do the ones on anger and disappointment. I didn't know if they were correct. If they worked, they probably were, but she didn't have to tell me. After the third round, her mood shifted, and she was ready to go to work. I started her on the comprehension activity, asking questions about each sentence. She needed help using the words on the page rather than her background knowledge. It took several tries before she understood that the source of her information was on the page, not her background knowledge or her imagination. I had fun. I think she did too.

  Next, I had her sister, 5th grade W. In our last session, we encountered a problem with a passage about wool production and its relationship to the British economy in the 16th – 18th century. I had done some research in the meantime. I was surprised to learn the Industrial Revolution started in 1760, much earlier than I thought. So much of my 'knowledge' is proving to be false. W and I went down several rabbit holes. What did an English wool cap look like? What did women's wool caps look like? There were several more questions. It was fun for her and for me. Boy, do I recognize her impulse. She loves the surprises; she hates the stale find-the-answer exercise. She wants the background. She's bright as a whip. Her questions were deep. Unfortunately, that's not what school is. 

   As Elsa and I did our evening walk, we saw Lutz coming toward us. Elsa barked a greeting, and my mouth started salivating. I laughed. When we were together, I told him about my response. He told me about the meals he planned to cook for me after my surgery. When I described the meals to Shivani, I had her mouth drooling, too.