Wednesday, November 1, 2023

Wednesday, November 1, 2023

 

  My mom would have been one hundred twenty today. She lived until two weeks before her 98th birthday. She was an incredible woman. She faced challenges that would have flattened someone else, me included. She had a survivor’s spirit and took on life as it came. She did very well in crises.

  I periodically experience a weird sensation; It feels like every cell in my body vibrates. I don’t know what caused it. Is it anxiety or something else? As odd as the feeling is, it is equally weird that it disappears.

  I assumed it was anxiety. That’s what it felt like. Mike and I were both seen as people who suffered torture. I can think of another person I know who also projects that image. I know we’re all scared. Is this trembling something we all feel when we pay attention? Is this feeling only readily available to those of us who were tortured?

 Yvette started up driveway yoga again. So far, it is only Casey and me. Hopefully, others will join us. Masha, Yvette’s latest addition to her dog children, joined us for the first time today. She was fine; all three dogs, Masha, Little, and Elsa, got along just fine. Then Masha stood over me, sniffing my face as I lay on my back. Well! Elsa took offense and charged her. Yvette separated them easily. Did Elsa see me as vulnerable and protect me, or was she jealous? I was her person.

  My occupational therapist is a hand specialist with an amazing store of information. Each time, she recommends another exercise. I finally understand that the exercises can help with nerve dysfunction. I thought my hand problem would resolve when the pressure on the ulna nerve lessened. My hand wasn’t damaged in the fall. The problems were all with the shoulder and the elbow. I had substantial scarring from the elbow reconstruction. I assumed the pressure on the ulna nerve would lift when the swelling went down, and my hand would be fine. I learned if I waited more than six months, the damage to the nerve could be permanent. I had to exercise my hand, encouraging the nerve to extend and grow to support the activity of the hand or lose the full range of movement in the hand forever.

  I learned something surprising about the hand. There are no muscles in the fingers, just tendons. The hand operates with a muscle-tendon system. There are small muscles in the palm, just below the finger stem. They contract and pull on the tendon, forcing the finger to bend. This understanding has implications when teaching handwriting. This has implications for handwriting. I’m not sure how yet.

  Darby is a manual weeder; she stoops to conquer. She can comfortably rest in a deep squat while she pulls weeds. I told her the problem I had getting out some weeds by the roots. She recommended something that looks like a forked screwdriver. I picked it up at Home Depot. Darby is a great mentor for my gardening activities.

  I’ve been maintaining my gardening schedule; a different section is assigned. The front of the house is weed-free. I needn’t put in much time to maintain it. Getting it down to a weed-free state from my neglected look took many electric kettles full of boiling water over many days. The maintenance takes a few kettles of water in one day.

    I had an acupuncture appointment today. She put needles directly into the scar tissue from the shoulder operation. I saw an immediate difference in the scar and my range of movement.

 

Monday, November 6, 2023 

 

   I have been keeping up with my gardening schedule. Today was the front of the house where a large magnificent blue-silver palm resides. I’ve taken up pulling the weeds instead of knocking them out with boiling water or vinegar. It’s great exercise. I have to squat down. I think I’m getting down lower with practice.

 I made a similar schedule for housekeeping. I don’t know that I have much less to do than I did before Mike died, but it sure feels that way. I have to keep busy to stave off the grief.

   Grief is cumulative. There was my grief over my mother’s rejection of affection and her constant criticisms of me. Then, there was my father’s death when I was fifteen. My sister told me about standing in her elementary school playground and feeling lonely. All I was was terrified. I was left to deal with my mother alone. My dad had afforded me some protection. I think she toned down when he was around. He also offered me a safe haven. I knew I wasn’t feeling the loss as I should at the time. I didn’t have the luxury. I’ve never dealt with my grief over his loss. Now, I have to deal with a lifetime of unresolved grief. It’s hard. I don’t wish it on anyone.

   Yesterday, I took on my kitchen. The refrigerator needed a thorough cleaning. I took out shelves and drawers. I knew the Sears repairman was scheduled to come today. He could help me reassemble it. For the second time, they canceled. They didn’t have a serviceman available. Like every other operation, they can’t find employees. I called Darby and asked if she or Patrick could help me replace the large shelf.

I got the frame in myself. When I tried to put the glass plate in, I couldn’t manage it. I should put the glass and the frame in as a piece. My left arm isn’t good enough yet to pull that off. Darby took on the chore like a champ. She is used to fitting large pieces back together in her piano tuning work. I’ve never seen a piano tuner take a piano apart. Darby is trained in repair as well as tuning. She offered to let me watch her tune her piano one day. Can’t wait.

   It was a Darby night for my evening walk. We passed Shannon on the way. She offered to join us. Shannon asked if either of us had seen the Barbie movie. None of us had. I would love to share it with them. I called Darby. She was on. I have a TV set. I can connect to the computer and the internet.

 

 

Wednesday, November 8, 2023

 

    I got up around 5 am and meditated till six. Then I went on my morning walk with Elsa. Dean and Nina were my morning walking companions when I am fortunate to run into them. I know they look for me. Dean is a cornucopia of miscellaneous knowledge, as Lutz is. I enjoy listening to them both. Dean mentione helping a friend of Nina's with a leaky faucet. I asked if he could fix mine. This is a fantastic neighborhood.

  The other day I wrote down the names of all the people I run into on my walk whose names I know. I was surprised to come up with over fifty names. There are another dozen or so whose names I do not know, even though our paths have crossed for years. They're more private and don't want that interaction. There's this one fellow who delivers a smileless nod as he comes abreast. Some folks give a hardy wave and say hello as they pass in their vehicles. Mr. Sullen stands out.

   The other day, Yvette asked, "Have you always been this friendly?" The answer is yes. It drove the two Scorpios in my life, my mom and Mike, crazy. I love talking to people, connecting. I never had so many loose connection friends in my life. The difference is there are more people like me here. I thought I was the one weaving the neighborhood together. I discovered that many people I knew others on their own. I was a little disappointed at first. Being a social knitter is part of my identity.

  Sometime in the mid-seventies, my sister-in-law got married in a Hindu wedding ceremony. Her husband's Indian friends and my sisters-in-law's family and friends were there. After the event, she commented that people of different backgrounds with nothing in common wind up talking together when I'm present. I never noticed because it always happened when I was there. I love that image of myself. But I love the image of a community of people who interact with each other more. It feels like a safety net. In fact, of the fifty-some-odd people whose names I know, I have the cell number of at least twenty. Several I have done something for or they have done something for me. Good will abounds. I don't know if this pattern is true for all of Hawaii with its aloha spirit or just this magical neighborhood.

  I know this neighborhood has some special magic because many of the people who walk, run, or bike here come from other neighborhoods. They find the area welcoming and shaded. We have some large old-growth trees. It is a lovely.

   Once a month, I participate in an online group called The 80s Club. Everyone in it is over eighty. I was invited to join by a local participant. It's mostly men who were in environmental work. Participations are far-flung; one man is in Australia. Our last topic was retirement communities. Having recently investigated one and knowing something about my Hanai sister's situation, I had plenty of information. I shared what I knew and listened to what others had to say. At the end, the leader summarized our discussion. He ignored my input; he focused on costs. That was his primary concern.  

   When I go to the  Ulu Wini Community Center to tutor, students come up to me saying they need help. "Can I be first?" "I'm next." I saw such an improvement in one boy after a fifteen-minute session when I worked on his automatic recall I wondered if his presentation in the first session was accurate. Could he have been too shy to perform his best, and did I see a poorer performance than his teacher might have seen?

On the other hand, one boy came back and told me his teacher commented on the change. One time, I asked him what she said. He said she told him I was very smart. I'd much rather they show an interest in my methods.

   After Ulu Wini, I went to Costco to have my tires inflated. They used to do it for you. They experimented with self-service and then went back to doing it themselves. I discovered they had set up two air pumps in nearby parking spaces this time. I didn't know the correct pressure. I couldn't see well enough to make out what it said on the label on the door frame. A woman on the other pump saw me open my glove compartment to get the driver's manual. She offered to help me. While I unscrewed the nozzle covers and she was pumping air, the phone call for my doctor's appointment came through. I told her my hemorrhoids were kicking up. Last time, the doctor put a rubber band around one- the same process used to castrate livestock. Works like a charm. The helpful woman tending to my tires offered me dietary advice to prevent hemorrhoids. It was good advice, but my problem was caused by an overload of roughage from all the beans I ate. It was a funny scene.

  Paulette called to ask if I needed a raised toilet seat after my hip replacement. Carol was in great pain. I had raised toilet seat. I got it in anticipation of my second hip replacement, which had been scheduled for July 13 this year. It was upstaged by my fall on June 13 when I shattered my left shoulder and elbow joints. I walked the seat down to their house. As I approached, Paulette drove down the hill to pick it up.