Tuesday, February 20, 2024

Tuesday, February 20, 2024

 

  I  woke up feeling lousy. I felt like I had been up all night working on a paper and smoking. My whole body felt like the inside of an ashtray.

   I incorporated additional morning exercises after finishing my Gentle Seated Yoga video: the three-foot exercises prescribed by Gokhale, 10 to 20 sit/stand from a chair, and a kneeling exercise with thigh stretches and finally getting up from that kneeling position. I still have to provide assistance with my arms.

  I called Gokhale support for the second time to get help finding the Gokhale Elements book online. I couldn’t locate it. While talking to customer service, I realized that I could ask to be transferred to a different teacher or, better yet, have my payment prorated for what I’ve already received and moved to a group session. I was almost in tears with relief. I told the customer service agent I was sure the teacher would be as relieved to be rid of me as I would be to be rid of her. 

  Her teaching is so bad it should be considered a crime to charge $200 an hour for it. The teacher knew the script well but nothing beyond that. She made no adaptations for my personal needs. I don’t think she read my intake form; I wrote I had a spinal curvature. If she had known that, she could have given me specific directions. The worst incident was while she was teaching me the stretchlying. She said, “Do it every night for five minutes.” I said, “I do it every morning, too.” She said, “Do it every night for five minutes.” I tried again, “ I do it every morning, too.” She repeated, “Do it every morning for five minutes.” She became robotic. She told me not to do it in the morning, only at night, and only for five minutes. She contradicted the founder, Esther Gokhale, who said to do it as often as possible.

   I continued pouring boiling water on the weeds. It’s a nontoxic weed killer. I boil the water in my electric carafe. It’s easy to carry out; it’s easy to pour with its handy spout.

   I had plans for lunch with Zola. She called to say she wasn’t feeling well and wanted to cancel. She proposed rescheduling for next Tuesday. I was already booked for another luncheon date for then. We made it for two weeks.

    I went to town to pick up meds from Kaiser and check out Farm and Garden again. As I drove on Queen K, a departing plane flew overhead. I remembered how Mike would wave to the plane as it passed over Otec beach, almost close enough to touch. I loved Mike’s joyful abandon. Mike once went swimming with Jean’s husband, Randy. Randy told Jean that Mike was like a little kid jumping in the waves of Kua Bay. Mike was emotionally open in other ways; he was loving. He was comfortable expressing his joy about me. He was more reserved, expressing his dissatisfaction.

   We had a false warning about a North Korean missile attack on Hawaii. It was supposed to be a test of the warning system, but the guy pressed the wrong button. The governor had the power to override the warning, but he couldn’t find the password. We spent several hours waiting to see what would happen. Mike was on Oahu at a deacon retreat. He sobbed like a baby because we weren’t together. Someone told me about it, judging him as weak. I never found his ability to cry freely a weakness. He was the only man there without his wife, facing the possibility of his death alone or surviving while I died. I do think he wouldn’t have lasted very long without me, but that’s true of most men when they lose their wives.

   While Kaiser contacted me, saying the meds I ordered were available, I had to wait for the pharmacy to find the tube. Huh? It was pleasant sitting at the outdoor picnic table. I was told I would receive a text when the prescription was ready. Nothing. I set my alarm for five more minutes. No text. I went inside to check the board. There was my name.

   I went to check out Farm and Garden next. I tried to stop by yesterday, but it was closed. I was surprised it was closed for Presidents’ Day. It looked the same today. There was a chain across the entrance. I looked up and saw the sign was gone. They were gone, really gone. Farm and Garden is an institution in this community. We depend on it not just for products but for wonderful advice as well.  

    I called Darby to see if she knew what was going on. She did not. She was in the store about a month ago. They didn’t have a product she wanted and told her to return in a month. There was no mention of moving.

   I called Margo. She knew. They moved to a new location in the new industrial center. I found it. It was in a bay at the back of the Island Marina. It looked very neat but much smaller. An Asian man was behind the counter. I asked him why they moved. “Because our lease ran out.” The previous owner sold the property to a large corporation without consulting the previous owners. They were devastated. The new location was smaller and more expensive. Hopefully, they can keep going.