Friday, April 7, 2023

 Friday, April 7, 2023

     I lingered in bed this morning until seven-thirty. I had plenty of time. When I applied the tea tree oil this morning, Elsa stretched her neck to give me access to the lesions under her chin. I treated them yesterday. Katie, my PT, said tea tree oil stings. Elsa doesn't respond that way. She did jump off the bed after I had treated her back and under her neck.

  Elsa and I walked up Kukuna this morning. We all made it up to the second fire hydrant but not further because I had a nine am appointment. My upper thighs were bothering me this morning. After yesterday's PT session, I worked on getting a twist in my waist and hips as I walked. I put stress on formerly neglected muscles. Come on, guys, wake up!

  At nine, I had an appointment with Shelly, my therapist/life coach. I have worked with many therapists on my fear of doing just about anything. I will want to do something and deliberately hold myself back. At first, Shelly thought it had to do with tasks I didn't really like. Nope. It has nothing to do with that. I could love doing it and still hold myself back. The best I can come up with is learned helplessness. My mother criticized anything I did. It was a combination of a cultural tradition; she believed it was harmful to say anything positive to a child, compounded by a touch of outright insanity. She added steroids to that cultural tradition. I remember thinking, why try? She's not going to like what I do anyway. She didn't just respond with silence; she went into a full frontal attack. I'm an eighty-two-year-old woman, and my mom's been dead since October 16, 2001. It will be twenty-two years this October. I survived her. But the trauma keeps giving and giving. That I managed a reasonably successful life is a wonder.

  Jean, my Hanai sister, called. Nothing profound was exchanged. We detailed our medical appointments, problems, naps, how hard it is to get things done, and the dilemma of retirement. Jean and I love each other. That comes through the lines. It's a lovely feeling. After the call, I got an hour's nap in.

  At two pm, I had an appointment with Adolescent D. The first question was whether he had forwarded the topics we generated during our last session to his teacher. Really, I developed all of them. He showed his teacher the interview questions we generated and was told none worked. The assignment was to interview someone who lived on the Big Island about something to do with the Big Island, not to interview anyone about anything. He hadn't checked the assignment. I generated possible topics. I did get one out of him today that I hadn't mentioned. Tourists. I was thrilled that he came up with that. This boy has more than adequate intelligence. He is just unbelievably passive- and he has a memory problem. We will never know how much of his problem started out physically and how much became physical because of his behavior. It's bad.

  I sent him another email with his suggestion, which he forwarded to his teacher. At least, I hope he did. Those were the instructions. Not to do it after class, but now. I also asked him how he could remind himself to do something. He said he could text himself. I do that all the time. I can no longer rely on my memory as I once could. I create reminders. To do that, I have to remember that my memory is weaker than it once was, and I have to compensate. D knows his memory is weak but can't remember to design or use compensations.

  We had time left, and we did some work on phonics using the words in his book, Investing for Young Adults. He needed help remembering the distinction between a phoneme and a syllable. When I asked for one, he would give me the other. He may understand the difference between the two; the problem may be that he must understand and listen to what I say. Is this an attention problem or an auditory processing one? I've been working with this kid for three years this March. He had made enormous progress by any standards. He was at a first-grade reading level when we started. He couldn't distinguish between her and here, for starters. There is no question about his progress in reading.

  I called the mom of the first-grade boy I worked with yesterday. I assured her son would learn rapidly. He grasped the idea of counting the bounces after fifteen minutes of instruction. D was still struggling after two years. He tries to avoid identifying the individual sounds. It's still hard for him to hear them. This is his auditory processing problem. But the only way to fix it, to change the brain, is to force it to learn to distinguish them. It's comparable to forcing a stroke victim to move an impaired limb.  

  The mother of the six-year-old said, "I know he could do it if he wanted to." Oh, boy. Is that ever a trigger for me. It drives me nuts to hear comments like that. Everyone assumes all learning is a matter of will. It's true. Students often have the will not to do something. They experience it as a cat does when his fur is stroked backward. I have been in the business for over fifty years. I have yet to meet a student who could do the work if they tried. I'm not saying there aren't people out there this applies to, but I haven't met them. Sometimes, the problem is cognitive; sometimes, the problem is psychological. Either way, it is a major obstacle to their learning.

  Judy called. She was on her way to Safeway. We talked about the church service last night. She asked if Fr. Lio kissed my foot. No. The foot washing was very superficial. He wasn't enjoying it at all. It was something to just get done. I was the first one called up. He poured a pitcher of cold water over my right foot. He quickly swiped the foot with a towel and signaled for the next person to come up. I picked up my shoes and got off the dais as promptly as I could. I had to step down two steps without support. That wasn't fun, but I made it safely. I put my shoes on once I got into the center aisle. I leaned on one of the pews. The woman at the end asked me if he only washed one foot. Afterward, I noticed people went up barefoot. Thank God I didn't have to do that. My right foot wouldn't have made it. I can only walk a few steps before the pressure on the pinched nerve becomes unbearable. Thank God for the spongy Oofos and the wonderful metatarsal self-sticking gel pads. They're washable and reusable. The glue lasts forever. I put two on my Oofos, one for the central arch and one for the metatarsal one. I can add one on top of the other to build up the support in any way I like.

 I had a doctor's appointment at four pm to check on the lump the acupuncturist found in my upper arm. It wasn't in line with my armpit; it was in line with my thumb. It was soft and moveable. It was unlikely to be cancerous, but it needed to be checked.

    The Kaiser clinic closes at 5 p.m. I was the last patient called. I was put into a room to wait. A baby was crying in a room nearby. Oh, dear. It must have been close to four thirty by the time the doctor, a PA, finally came in. She checked the lump, came to the same conclusion I did, and prescribed an ultrasound. She said the best the ultrasound could do was say that it fits the description of a lipoma. It couldn't give a hundred percent guarantee. A high likelihood would be good enough for me. I will keep my eye on it from now on.

 The PA said I would get a call from the tech to make my appointment for an ultrasound. It would be several weeks; they didn't have an ultrasound tech on staff now. So far, I've had the best medical treatment ever, and every place I lived in was a major medical hub. The PA also prescribed some standard lab tests that were due for diabetes and kidney function.

  I got out of the clinic shortly before five p.m., closing time. As I walked to my car, I remembered I wanted to pick up a prescription for estrogen cream. The door to the Kaiser pharmacy didn't open automatically. I stood there, hoping they would let me in. They did, and I headed home.

  It was pouring when I got home. Elsa and I didn't get to do our evening walk. I ate a bagel with Lox for dinner and then walked afterward. I didn't take Elsa with me. I'm sure that was going to be a mistake. I walked Elsa at nine pm. She didn't like it. Neither did she poop. Ah, I remembered. I walked her before I left for my 4 p.m. appointment. She did poop, then. I'll see. Maybe I won't find another gift on my lanai.