Tuesday, August 29, 2023

Tuesday, August 29, 2023

Damn! I'm in bad shape: depression or just grief? The losses have piled up, and they keep coming. I'm so vulnerable that Lutz's plans to leave for Asia next week and be gone for six months hurts. Lutz had become a regular walking and talking partner. He can be difficult. He corners people and talks their heads off. There have been some funny scenes where I've stepped in to save the hapless listener. I learned I could tell him to stop talking or stop talking about a particular topic. I can be myself. I also find much of what he talks about interesting.

  One of the traits I object to is his contempt for the people of Hawaii: he says they're unfriendly and not very bright. He likes people from other countries, such as South America and Asia. I suspect they're friendly because he's a tourista. They're interested because they don't understand what he's saying, and their culture prevents them from escaping the situation. Lutz doesn't mean to be rude. He really doesn't get it. He may be on the spectrum.

  On the other hand, he has a current of sweet energy running through him. I've only seen him manifest it once. Shivani, my niece, visited with her five-year-old son. He broke out in a rash. Shivani was concerned it might be monkeypox. Sidney accompanied me on an evening walk with Elsa. I shared Shivani's concern. Lutz asked Sid if he could check. He was so gentle. He asked if he could look and knelt down. The stream of kindness is not evident when he walks and talks. His arrogant stance dominates. But he likes me and enjoys my company- a winning combination.

  I miss this tender connection. Scott offered a little. It was part of his personality. He didn't spend much time with me, but the little he did slightly relieved my loneliness.  

 After church last Sunday, I spent some time talking to people. Shirley had another meal for me. She, Paulette, and I stood there talking together. As Shirley's husband came to join us, he brushed her shoulder with his hand. It nearly ripped me apart. Boy, do I miss those hardly noticeable exchanges of affection!

   Adolescent D handed in the work we did together. This is amazing. He often doesn't hand in work he has completed. Did he forget, or did he want to avoid a humiliating low grade? I emailed the completed work to his mom with instructions. She said she would look it over and help him edit it. I was afraid she would change some of his tender honesty about his failings as a student. He was amazingly vulnerable. 

She said she put it into Google Docs and emailed it to him. He was going to edit it. Oh, dear. I was afraid he'd change his message. But no. he didn't do that. He corrected some spelling. While I had run the part where he talked about his failings and what he would do to fix his bad habits through Grammarly, I had yet to do that with the first part of the piece where he summarized chapters one through five.  

  One of his suggestions was asking for help from others. When we discussed it, he said getting help makes him look weak. Did he enjoy the work he did with me? Yeah, a little. Were you surprised? Yes. I suggested he tell me immediately whenever he gets an assignment. He doesn't have to do the work with me; he has to tell me it exists. It would be a start.

 I worked with Mama K's twins. With Twin E, I'm still working on word recognition. She was showing much improvement. She always makes an effort to pay attention to the letters. She can only read a passage accurately with a lot of support on a first-grade level.

  I worked on fluency with Twin A. Her word recognition is better than it is for Twin E, but she still reads word by word. I have her reading pre-primer material to teach fluency.

 Mama K met with her kids' teachers on open school night. She said the special ed teachers see improvement in both girls. Most impressive is the news about Twin A. Last year, she would cry because she couldn't do the work, but now she works to figure out the word. This is what I work for. I teach strategies for decoding and remembering.

  I contacted Josephine at Ula Wini to see how her tutoring program is developing. She has different people coming in on different days to tutor. They were trying to repair two computers so that I could work with some children. I fear they're too old to support Zoom.

 I was interested in doing a psychedelic trip to heal my PTSD. My mom was like the barbed 'mother' in Harlow's monkey experiments. It was terrifying. 

   My friend Darby found a psychologist who had just completed two years of training. Once the use of psychedelics becomes legal in Hawaii, she's in business. The woman came to my home to interview me. She wanted to ensure I was physically and mentally up to the experience. She decided I probably was okay. I liked the woman but found her flaky and inconsistent. She talked about monitoring me through the trip and then not doing it. It's not legal in Hawaii yet. Doing so might put her psychologist's license in jeopardy.  

 I texted her asking if she would or would not be willing to monitor me or if she would do the pre and post-sessions. She told me that she charged $200 an hour and a half. Now, she said the conversations we had fulfilled the pre-trip requirement, and she was not charging me. Huh? I have to ask Darby if she is this way usually or if she is this way because she's recovering from the death of her wife of forty years. Either way, she was sending out ambiguous messages. I told her I only wanted to do it with her if she was clear. If not, it wouldn't be suitable for either one of us.

 

  

Friday, July 28, 2023

 Friday, July 28, 2023

    I saw some natural color in my face this morning for the first time. It means I can walk the street and go to town without scaring people. I started applying some make up. I notice how nice Judy and Paulette looked every day. They apply mascara, darken their brows, put on rouge and lipstick. I haven’t done any of that in years. I wore mascara and eye liner when I was in grad school until a male friend of mine told me I looked better without it. I haven’t applied anything to my eyes since then until now.

  We’ve had drama galore here. Yvette’s friend who lived here for over a year and did a brilliant job taking care of me when I first came out of the hospital, cracked up. I’m not using that term loosely. He posted suicide intentions on Facebook. He called his mom to tell her his intentions and hung up. His behavior was so erratic the cops were called. Our Kona cops were wonderful. I don’t believe they violently restrained him at any point. However, they did cart him off to jail after a long standoff. He was in his van parked on the street. The cops barricaded the street and called for him to come out of the van for about an hour. I wasn’t directly affected by it. I could hear the police speaking to him over their megaphones. I could hear his voice shouting but not his words. I once went out into the driveway. I could hear less there than I had on the lanai at the back of the house. The fence between me and the street muted the sound.

Our neighbors up and down the street weren’t as insulated. They had front row seats to the action.

   When I told my hanai sister jean the story the next morning, she encouraged me to call the police and be sure he was still in jail. The duty officer for the jail told me had screamed all night and had just fallen asleep. His bail hearing was on Thursday. A rich friend he knew from a work situation bailed him out. He and another friend came around to move his van from the front of our house. We thought he was going to stay with the  rich friend, but that didn’t work out. The owner of the storage unit allowed him to park his van on her property and live in it. Not a perfect solution but good enough given the housing shortage on the Big Island.

   This poor tortured soul. He’s capable of brilliant work. He’s demonstrated that with his construction work and the care he gave me. There’s disagreement among us about the nature of his problem. Of those I’ve talked to, they argue for the biochemical diagnosis. I checked on the internet. Yes, indeed, bipolar sympyoms are often the same as those of complex PTSD. I prefer that explanation. It was mine for me and it gave me a handle on my problems which allowed me to heal.  I’m still a work in progress. The problem with this young man is nothing is his fault. He always is an example of the true nature of man, love.  He denies his dark side. What we resist persists. If we resist complete, we are completely overwhelmed.  This is such a sad situation.

  There’s more drama. I checked my credit card transactions.  Between my two cards I had something like $600 in charges I hadn’t made. This was the second incident for one of the cards. It all occurred when my home health care services started. I had already had to cancel one of the cards. I had to cancel it a second time. While I don’t know if it was the health care worker who planned to rent from me, the coincidence was overwhelming. She had access to both my cards because I order uber services for her. There was also cash missing from one of my kitchen drawers. I had been dipping into it; I don’t know how much was missing. I just told her I decided against renting the room. She persisted in asking me why; I told her. She wasn’t

defensive; neither did she outright deny taking the money. It wouldn’t have made any difference. The coincidence is persuasive on its own. Another sadness.  I am living in interesting times. My fall and subsequent injuries have ripped the veil off a lot of things.  Some revealed as better than I could have imagined, some worse. There have been some shockers.

Sunday, August 27, 2023

 Sunday, August 27, 2023

  It’s been a week since my last post.  At church today, Shirley asked me about my posts. She hadn’t seen one in a while.  I used to post every day. It was time-consuming. Now, I post infrequently, and starting a new entry is hard. I feel I have nothing to say. When I wrote daily, the words flowed. Detailing the moments of my day made me feel substantial. Judy commented on how busy I was, which was from a woman overwhelmed by all she had to do. It was the writing that made me sound and feel busy.  I should go back to it to lift my spirits. 

     I discovered the amazing medicinal effect of journaling when I was in grad school. I was depressed, so I started recording everything I did, literally. I got up, brushed my teeth, washed my face, got dressed, etc. The unconscious mind doesn’t know the difference between doing something monumental and doing something quotidian. It just knows I’m still alive and in motion.

   I noticed recently that hearing about the good fortune of others made me feel sad. This is new. In the past, only Meryl Streep and Cate Blanchette could have that effect on me. Everyone else’s good fortune reminded me that it was possible for me, too. Now, I don’t feel that way. I’m 82 now. I have to start all over again. It isn’t impossible, but... 

  The work I’ve done with Adolescent D came to mind. Two important things. First, I introduced fluent reading to him. His word accuracy was greatly improved, which is a basic necessity if someone is going to read fluently. However, he was still reading word-by-word. I showed him how to blend words to sound like a single word, then pause before reading the next group of words, giving him time to recognize them. Even with those pauses in between, he sounded much better. This was the first strategy he adopted without my pushing him. You could see the improvement immediately. Wonderful!

 

Tuesday, August 29, 2023

Damn! I'm in bad shape: depression or just grief? The losses have piled up, and they keep coming. I'm so vulnerable that Lutz's plans to leave for Asia next week and be gone for six months hurts. Lutz had become a regular walking and talking partner. He can be difficult. He corners people and talks their heads off. There have been some funny scenes where I've stepped in to save the hapless listener. I learned I could tell him to stop talking or stop talking about a particular topic. I can be myself. I also find much of what he talks about interesting.

  One of the traits I object to is his contempt for the people of Hawaii: he says they're unfriendly and not very bright. He likes people from other countries, such as South America and Asia. I suspect they're friendly because he's a tourista. They're interested because they don't understand what he's saying, and their culture prevents them from escaping the situation. Lutz doesn't mean to be rude. He really doesn't get it. He may be on the spectrum.

  On the other hand, he has a current of sweet energy running through him. I've only seen him manifest it once. Shivani, my niece, visited with her five-year-old son. He broke out in a rash. Shivani was concerned it might be monkeypox. Sidney accompanied me on an evening walk with Elsa. I shared Shivani's concern. Lutz asked Sid if he could check. He was so gentle. He asked if he could look and knelt down. The stream of kindness is not evident when he walks and talks. His arrogant stance dominates. But he likes me and enjoys my company- a winning combination.

  I miss this tender connection. Scott offered a little. It was part of his personality. He didn't spend much time with me, but the little he did slightly relieved my loneliness.  

 After church last Sunday, I spent some time talking to people. Shirley had another meal for me. She, Paulette, and I stood there talking together. As Shirley's husband came to join us, he brushed her shoulder with his hand. It nearly ripped me apart. Boy, do I miss those hardly noticeable exchanges of affection!

   Adolescent D handed in the work we did together. This is amazing. He often doesn't hand in work he has completed. Did he forget, or did he want to avoid a humiliating low grade? I emailed the completed work to his mom with instructions. She said she would look it over and help him edit it. I was afraid she would change some of his tender honesty about his failings as a student. He was amazingly vulnerable. 

She said she put it into Google Docs and emailed it to him. He was going to edit it. Oh, dear. I was afraid he'd change his message. But no. he didn't do that. He corrected some spelling. While I had run the part where he talked about his failings and what he would do to fix his bad habits through Grammarly, I had yet to do that with the first part of the piece where he summarized chapters one through five.  

  One of his suggestions was asking for help from others. When we discussed it, he said getting help makes him look weak. Did he enjoy the work he did with me? Yeah, a little. Were you surprised? Yes. I suggested he tell me immediately whenever he gets an assignment. He doesn't have to do the work with me; he has to tell me it exists. It would be a start.

 I worked with Mama K's twins. With Twin E, I'm still working on word recognition. She was showing much improvement. She always makes an effort to pay attention to the letters. She can only read a passage accurately with a lot of support on a first-grade level.

  I worked on fluency with Twin A. Her word recognition is better than it is for Twin E, but she still reads word by word. I have her reading pre-primer material to teach fluency.

 Mama K met with her kids' teachers on open school night. She said the special ed teachers see improvement in both girls. Most impressive is the news about Twin A. Last year, she would cry because she couldn't do the work, but now she works to figure out the word. This is what I work for. I teach strategies for decoding and remembering.

  I contacted Josephine at Ula Wini to see how her tutoring program is developing. She has different people coming in on different days to tutor. They were trying to repair two computers so that I could work with some children. I fear they're too old to support Zoom.

 I was interested in doing a psychedelic trip to heal my PTSD. My mom was like the barbed 'mother' in Harlow's monkey experiments. It was terrifying. 

   My friend Darby found a psychologist who had just completed two years of training. Once the use of psychedelics becomes legal in Hawaii, she's in business. The woman came to my home to interview me. She wanted to ensure I was physically and mentally up to the experience. She decided I probably was okay. I liked the woman but found her flaky and inconsistent. She talked about monitoring me through the trip and then not doing it. It's not legal in Hawaii yet. Doing so might put her psychologist's license in jeopardy.  

 I texted her asking if she would or would not be willing to monitor me or if she would do the pre and post-sessions. She told me that she charged $200 an hour and a half. Now, she said the conversations we had fulfilled the pre-trip requirement, and she was not charging me. Huh? I have to ask Darby if she is this way usually or if she is this way because she's recovering from the death of her wife of forty years. Either way, she was sending out ambiguous messages. I told her I only wanted to do it with her if she was clear. If not, it wouldn't be suitable for either one of us.

Monday, July 24, 2023

 Monday, July 24, 2023

     I went the church yesterday for the first time since the accident. I was not one of the best dressed. I wore a polo shirt of Mike's over a white cotton skirt. I put on some makeup so I didn't scare people. I still looked gray and drawn. It was good to see people again. Many knew about my accident through Judy and Paulette. Monica talked to me at length. She knew about the Meals that Heal program through the church. She will prepare a Korean dish. Cheryl, who heads our local program, posted she would bring me food from a local restaurant, and I don't mean Denny's. She brought me a poke bowl, crispy pork ribs, and a dessert. Someone else signed up for next week to bring me a margarita pizza. I'll have more food than I know what to do with.

  Paulette and I stopped at Target on our way home. I wanted to pick up eggs, Dave's multi-grained bread, and real maple syrup. Paulette was picking up food items for Judy, who was hosting her two grandchildren, seven and five, from her older son, who lives on Lana'i, while the parents did other things. Judy was exhausted.

               As Paulette drove us home, I caught my image in the side view mirror. I saw my left eyelid was drooping. My eye was barely open. No wonder I was having trouble seeing. When I got home, I had Kayla, my weekend caretaker, take a picture which I sent to Sandor, my friend and optometrist. He was in town and would stop off on his way home. I told him I hit the bone under the eye when I fell. Had they given me a CT scan of my head? No. Even though I had a clear bruise on the eye. However, there was no pain. I hadn't been worried.

 Sandor did various tests. He was concerned about a possible aneurysm. I was sure that was not an issue. I had no pain. He agreed. He checked my pupil responses and my range of eye movement. He recorded it for future reference. I have had problems with a drooping left eye for a while. The ophthalmologist concluded the problem was with my brow. I get Botox shots in my forehead to deal with that problem. It's not a perfect solution. I  think I have a problem with the eyelid as well. 

    Sandor was leaving for Miami for three weeks the next day. He said Meali'iani, his wife and business partner, would stop by to check on me. I can't drive until the beginning of September.  

  The friend of Yvette's who lived here for over a year has finally moved out. Alohi, my weekday caretaker, says she would like to rent the room. Now, she has to travel by bus from South Point every morning. It's a two-hour trip. She said many of her clients are in Kona and most of those in the Palisades, where I live. It would be a wonderful solution.

Saturday, July 22, 2023

 Saturday, July 22, 2023

    I've been home for about a month now. I'm making great progress. I'm using ten-finger touch typing to write this update. I can only manage this with my computer on my lap. I can't raise my left arm high enough to do it with the computer on a table. My ring finger and pinky on my left hand are still swollen and numb. I have to make accommodations. My goal is to be able to pick my nose with my left hand. So far, I can touch my belly, but not much higher. 

  After my shoulder surgery, the hospital occupational therapist told me to wear the sling at all times. I was to take it off twice daily to do arm stretches to prevent my muscles from freezing in a contracted position. When I saw my surgeon last Tuesday, she said I was only to wear the sling when in public to alert people to my vulnerability. How's that for contradictions? Fortunately, the sheer discomfort of my improperly sized sling made me seek ways to protect the arm without it. I would be in much worse shape now if I hadn't. I ditched it at night first. I placed a pillow under my upper arm. The occupational therapist told me I could ditch it when sitting in a chair with arms. I put a pillow on the arm of the chair and rested my arm there.

   I also ditched the hospital bed. I've spent the last three nights sleeping in my own bed. What a treat! The agency Scott rented it from will pick it up on Monday. Yay! Good know what I need to do when I get older. 

   The man staying with me did a fantastic job taking care of me for the first week or so a few- until he burned out. Apparently, he took the job very seriously, a little too much so. He hadn't slept well. I thanked him for telling me. I had a moment of panic. I still needed 24-hour care. Judy went into action and had someone by my side within hours. I couldn't have handled that task. I was still fuzzy-headed from the drugs and too emotionally involved in the outcome. Brian said he could take the overnight shift but couldn't make it for Friday and Saturday nights. He was preparing and attending his grandson's graduation party. Paulette slept over Friday night, and Judy did Saturday. I would do it for someone. I choose friends who enjoy giving but respect their limits.

   This situation has revealed so much about people, both delightful and frightening. I asked one family member to text me daily and call me once a week. He refused. It wasn't the way he operated. He wouldn't make an accommodation for me. He only called twice in a month and a half. The purpose of the second call was to tell me he was canceling plans to visit Hawaii because he didn't want to deal with the stress of my limitations and to ask me why I didn't go into a residential facility instead of getting help at home; "I had the money." I already had 24-hour coverage at home. He never asked how that was doing with the home care. I rarely complain outright about someone, but the degree of self-centeredness is impressive.

  As anyone who's been in a hospital knows, you get to deal with a cornucopia of personalities. So interesting. It was almost worth the accident. Some loved me, and some hated me. I have a strong personality. I am not a people pleaser. Nor am I someone who insists on getting my own way, but I do insist that we negotiate. That's a deal breaker for many people. 

    The OT, making home visits, told me she was concerned when she first met me, but I became her favorite client. I asked her why she was concerned when she met me. I was bright and had more knowledge of the body than her average client. She thought I would dominate. She discovered I was as interested in her point of view and knowledge as I was in having input. People cannot work on me; I won't have it. Everyone has to work with me. I am not a passive participant in a relationship. People who do it love working with me. The work becomes more exploratory and vastly more successful when the client is an active participant, and it so much fun. People learn that I respect their input. Now that's not always true. If I find someone truly incompetent, I don't. But that's the exception, not the rule.

 

Wednesday, July 19, 2023

Wednesday, July 19, 2023

 

       I'm doing a bit better every day. I'm exploring using dictation in Google instead of typing with one finger. Typing with one finger caused back pain. This is a better solution, but it is really weird. I've used 10-finger touch typing since I was in 7th grade. I'm used to the words flowing through my fingers. Using dictation is very awkward.

       I thought I'd talk a little about what it's like to be confined the way I am through the healing process. I'm confined to a limited number of positions. When I lie in bed, I always have to be in what they call the corpse position, which is flat on my back, unable to turn to either side. I can't turn to the left because that's where the injured shoulder is; I can't turn to the right because the left arm will be suspended, unsupported, and the left shoulder can go into an unfortunate position. It's exhausting. I've been sleeping in the corpse position since June 13th, a full month. 

       I can sit on a chair since I've been home. When I was in the hospital, They offered it, but I wasn't comfortable. While I sit now that I'm home;, I sit too much.

      In my everyday life, my healthy life, I do a lot of sitting too. But I'm constantly up getting something moving, something doing something else, or I'm out for a short walk. Now I do none of that. If I want something, I must ask a helper to get it for me. My condition has improved a lot since I've been off the drugs, the painkillers, and now I can get up and do things for myself. I no longer feel I have to be accompanied every minute and be super cautious so I don't fall over. I'm much steadier on my feet.

        I get more movement, but it's still limited. Parts of my body are worn down from constant contact, pressure, and friction. While in the hospital, I was swaddled in a diaper immediately. I couldn't get out of bed, especially on my own, to go to the bathroom. An Aid came in and said, "You're incontinent." I argued because of my everyday life I'm not. I make it to the bathroom in plenty of time. I wear a light day's pad to be safe, but I don't have trouble getting to the bathroom. A nurse asked me why I didn't go to the toilet instead of using the diaper. I thought about it and said, "Let's see. I have the urge to go to the bathroom; I have to find the call button; I have to press the call button. Then I have to wait for someone to answer, which ranges between immediately and never. Once someone answers, I have to communicate through the faulty auditory system that I need to go to the bathroom. Then I have to wait for someone to come. Getting out of bed is a laborious process, taking time. I have to walk  to the bathroom very slowly. When I get there, I have to be stripped of the diaper and seat myself on the toilet. I wasn't that continent." The good news is I no longer need the diaper. I can make it to the bathroom just fine on my own. This is good news on so many counts. The diaper,  a pull-up, irritates my skin. It is a relief to be out of it and wear all-cotton briefs with a cotton pad inside. For those who don't know,  Costco sells cotton incontinence pads. Nothing to be sneezed at, wonderful, wonderful cotton. 

   I'll start dating the entries. Today is July 17th. I had my accident on June 13th. It's been over a month now. It's been an ordeal. It's also been an interesting experience. I can't say I regret it;. Each day brings little victories. I ditched the diapers, which were breaking down my skin and the worst way. That material that's made out of is very irritating. I wear my cotton Underpants with a cotton pad that I don't really need. That achievement is a few days old. Today I had a new victory.

    The occupational therapist came. She's good. She doesn't just give me exercises to do on my own; she also manipulates my arm at the wrist, the elbow, and the shoulder. Somewhere along the line, she injured her back. The hospital bed couldn't be raised high enough for her comfort. But the bed I usually sleep in was higher. To accommodate her, I had to lie with my head at the foot of the bed. That was fine. It was an absolute delight to lie on that mattress again. It even got better than that. She wanted to work on my left scapula, the wings on my back. I had to turn onto my right side for her to reach them. I didn't even know I was allowed to do that. Oh my God, what a treat to lie on my right side. It felt like absolute heaven.

    The doctor's office called today. I thought it was to confirm my appointment for Friday at 11:30. But no, it was to offer me one tomorrow at 11:00. I grabbed it. I asked the secretary to hold on to my Friday appointment because we are expecting a hurricane. The Big Island has never been hit by a severe hurricane. We have occasionally had some Shoreline damage to homes and businesses, but it's never gone beyond that. There's always the next time; there's always another chance. You can't count on it never hitting. Three of the island's five mountains protect Kailua Kona. Someday each of those mountains will command its own island as time wears down the ground between the mountains. We'll see what kind of weather this hurricane brings us. I asked the receptionist to hold on to the Friday appointment in case we couldn't make it tomorrow. 

   I made it to the appointment today with my surgeon for a follow-up exam. She said I was doing well but had to wait until 12 weeks after the surgery before I could drive. Great, not. She took my bandages off and expressed surprise that nobody else had done it. Who knew that it was okay to take them off. Two weeks ago, her colleague replaced the original bandages and implied that I had to wait until I saw Dr. Chang, the doctor who performed the operation, before removing them. It felt very liberating to be rid of them. She also told me I only had to wear the sling in public to warn people that I had an injured arm so they avoid bumping into me. The doctor expressed surprise that I could piece together 24-hour care at home. Scott may have heard her expressing concern about my ability to get full-time care at home and thought she preferred the Residence care. 

     After the doctor's appointment, we went directly to Kia to make an appointment to fix the air conditioning. I can't imagine what's wrong with it. Then we went to pick up my computer at Jack B click. That was a simple in and out. The two-month-old computer had been destroyed because water got spilled in it. I know I didn't do it. The care worker was the only other person here then; I assume it was her. She quit the next day. I'm not going to call her on it. I have more money than someone who works for $17 an hour. It's done; it's fixed. I have a new computer assembled at Apple headquarters rather than somewhere in China. Every piece was replaced.

    Alohi and I went home directly from the computer store. When we went to put the plug into the outlet to charge my electric car, I couldn't get the door open. As I'd been told to do, I pressed the door opener key twice, and it did nothing. Holy cow, everything that can go wrong is going wrong in my life now. Others have it a lot worse, but it's still stressful. In fact, I'm handling it all pretty darn well.

    I am still working with four students, Adolescent D and Mama K's crew of three children. I work with them almost every day. I don't work with all three of Mama K's kids at the end in one session; it would be too much for me. All the kids are making progress.

      Adolescent D's improvement is most interesting. As I always suspected, doing 15 minutes daily is more effective than doing half an hour twice weekly. We often skip a day. That winds up being the same set amount of time each week but much more profitably spent. he finally believes in the strategies I'm teaching him and started investing. He's making an effort to follow the steps of the procedures that I've taught him on his own. I don't mean he does it outside of the class. Sadly, adolescent does nothing outside of class. He has an aversion to doing work on his own. It isn't just laziness; it's learned helplessness. But now he's investing in the procedures, and I can see improvement daily.

     I don't know if I mentioned another miracle with Adolescent D that occurred a few weeks ago. He had to do a table reading in his theater class. There's no way he could read unfamiliar material without stumbling. He announced to the class, the whole class, that he had problems reading and accepted help from the other students when he got stuck. This is a boy who still hasn't let me see his image on Zoom, who hides his face when he does online classes for school, and who insists on wearing a hat at all times because he hates his hair. Last year, when I said something about the other students in his class knowing he had problems reading, he responded, "I hope not."  There is no way that they didn't know; he had his head in the sand. This breakthrough allows this boy to enter the work world with his disability. Now, he can ask his boss to make accommodations and accept whatever accommodations he has to make to complete the work. I consider this a miracle. 

     Concerning the kids and Mama K's crew, Twin A continues to March ahead. She's reading at a third-grade level with a lot of support. It's not actually support,  just the patience to let her read slowly. She can figure it out and reads with a surprising amount of accuracy. Whenever it comes to comprehension, she aces it. Twin E is still struggling on a first-grade level with word accuracy. I'm basically doing the same kind of coaching with her that I'm doing with Adolescent D. I would love to make a video showing how I work with these kids. This is how I drill the strategies and the letter/ sound patterns without using drill cards. Always focusing on what the student needs help with rather than deciding they have to be drilled on everything. It is that drill that Lucy Calkins claims is mind-numbing and soul-killing. This process is neither.

       I've worked with fourth-grade-going-into-fifth-grade K on accurate reading accuracy because he gets sloppy. Otherwise, my focus is on comprehension. We worked on one story, and he had to articulate the theme. He had no idea what the word meant. He made a guess but was way off. When I asked him to tell me what he learned from the story, he aced it; he had no problem.

    While I was sitting here typing this or dictating it, Alohi, my caretaker during the week, called to ask if I had received the hurricane warning signal. Yep, my phone had screamed at me. It declared that we might be in imminent danger of something, probably nothing terribly destructive. It's hard to be flooded if you live on a hill; everything flows past your house. She said the buses that run on the north-south line she takes to get up here won't be running tomorrow or the day after. She offered to turn around and come back to stay here for the next 2 days. I think she's genuinely concerned. But in addition, she would lose two days' pay. Nothing to be sneezed at. as I wrote this, she was standing on a street corner waiting for the northbound bus to come and pick her up. she called back to report the buses had been canceled for the night in anticipation of the storm. She was standing there with no way to get home or to my house. She called her brother, but he was stuck way north because of a car accident blocking the road. I helped her order an Uber. Uber or apple pay had to verify the account. We had some drama getting the card verified. Aholi and I were on the phone with the bank. The guy was ever so nice. He was doing what he could while Aholi cried, "The crack addicts are coming out of the bushes." she wasn't exaggerating. The homeless live in the bushes and come out at night. Many are mentally ill. It must have been scary. Then she cried, "It went through! I'll see you in an hour."

  

Tuesday, July 11, 2023

  Tuesday, July 11, 2023

   

          It will be a month since I fell and shattered two joints. I spent two weeks in the hospital and had two major surgeries.  I still require 24-hour care. I’m doing well medically; I’m just helpless like a baby. 

          When I first came home, I needed an aide by my side whenever I was on the move. I couldn’t go to the bathroom by myself.  I was woozy and in danger of falling-an absolute no-no. My head was just beginning to clear. I counted seven threats to my mental clarity: the trauma of the fall, the two surgeries, the five-hour elbow reconstruction, and the three-hour shoulder replacement ( The doctor split the surgeries because of the danger of having someone my age under for that long), the eight hours of anesthesia, the weeks on pain killers and blood loss.

    I came in with a blood count of 13.5. At one point, my blood count was 7.0. As I understand it, that means I lost almost half my blood. I had someone tell me my daily blood count. Most was lost before the first surgery, which means I bleed internally from the accident. They wouldn’t release me from the hospital until it got up to a certain amount. A doctor friend of mine recommended I ask for a transfusion. I did. That boosted it a bit.

   I understand it will take at least two months before I mentally recover from the eight hours of anesthesia, the three weeks on Percocet, and two weeks of almost immobility, rarely making it to the bathroom and not doing much better my first week home. I’ve been doing little more than binging on old TV series. I have a lot to recover from. I remain helpless for at least another week, requiring 24-hour care. I have been remarkably fortunate.

     I’m home for several reasons. I couldn’t be released from the hospital unless I was assured appropriate care. All the rehab facilities on the island covered by Kaiser, my insurance company, were full. One had a vacancy for a male. I was game; they were not.

    The middle-aged man who had lived in my house for a year had stepped up to the plate and done a brilliant job. I doubt better care would be possible. I went home under his care. Understandably, he burned out, and I went to plan B. I found the name of a residential facility with a vacancy not covered by my insurance. My friend Judy assumed the responsibility of finding in-home care. I contacted five friends in the neighborhood, friends to pinch-hit. They all stepped up to the plate.

       I am seen as a generous person. I give selfishly because bringing relief or pleasure to people brings me joy. I don’t expect reciprocity, gratitude, or praise. I consider it an honor and privilege to play that role in someone’s life. I often thank my students for working with me. I dig deep into their minds and emotions related to the learning issue. Students give me their trust.

   That reminds me of one of my most gratifying stories. Before Mike died, I volunteered in a third-grade class at a local public school. For the most part, I worked with the lowest functioning students assigned to work with me by the teacher. There were days when those kids were absent, and the teacher would ask me to help a student with a less serious problem. I worked with one boy on his writing for two days. He made immediate progress.      

      The teacher told another student to work with me a few days later. As he walked toward me, the first boy called out, “She’s okay. You can trust her.” I can’t think of a greater compliment. I truly consider it an honor for someone to trust me when they’re vulnerable. It feels like flowers blooming in my chest. I expect others to give in that spirit and make that joy their primary motivation.  

     Giving out of duty, obligation, and sacrifice without regard for our own boundaries is always part of long-term giving. What parent feels nothing but joy caring for a cranky newborn. Believe me, it wasn’t all joy to sit by Mike’s side for the five weeks he was in the hospital. I dreaded his recovery. I knew he wouldn’t be his old self, and he would hate himself for his condition. That self-hatred would have made my life unbearable, but there is no way I wouldn’t have done what I had to: duty, obligation, and sacrifice-not much joy. Yes, sometimes we can enjoy the luxury of joy. 

     I discovered there are people for whom duty, obligation, and sacrifice are the starting point. They expect you to appreciate them. Yuck. My vision of hell is being cared for by such a fundamentally joyless person. Sounds very grim.

  The other important quality I need from people is respect for their boundaries.  That’s not always easy, particularly in a crisis. I tried to take care of myself when in Honolulu for five weeks, but it was tough; I knew I was overextended.

    I had a weird experience today. Jana called to ask my advice on helping two of her students with their reading problems. I managed to reel out suggestions at a good clip, and I sounded good. However, my prefrontal lobes were still on lag, and I felt I was watching my unconscious mind bypass my conscious.

     A relative through marriage demonstrates a similar mental phenom. He has been diagnosed with dementia. He can no longer drive; he repeats the same story, asks the same questions, and can’t retain the answers. However, he can still operate a complex computer program with something to do with refining oil. He is one of a handful of people familiar with the program.  Despite his short-term memory problems, he can still do this complex job. He is currently training others to take his place. He has spent so much time with the program that he can bypass his failing working memory. Amazing. 

Saturday, June 24, 2023

Saturday, June 24, 2023 

       The staff is talking about getting me out of the hospital.  A rehab facility would be preferred, but the ones covered by insurance are full.  They won't release me unless I assure them I will have 24-hour care.  Scott said he would do it.

    I made alternate plans should Scott not work out. Step 1- I called Judy to set up teams of people to do turns of hands-on care: walking me several times a day, feeding me, cleaning me up, walking me to the toilet, changing my bedclothes, scheduling visits from friends and neighbors,

I planned to leave the hospital by Tuesday morning at the latest. Scott has ordered all the medical equipment I need at home. It should arrive on Monday. With any luck, I will be out by Monday afternoon. I have spoken to everyone about getting my discharge order set up. The plan is to go home. If that's not workable, I hope to enter a skilled nursing facility I pay for.  Question: If I went AMA and was absent without medical authorization, how would it impact my going into a facility after I got home? If I go out with AMA, I can go into an insurance and Medicaid-covered facility for thirty days.

  Dr. Sanchez came tiptoeing in while I was dozing and turned to leave when he saw I was dozing. I asked him to please not do that. I was always dozing; I didn't want to miss an opportunity to consult with the doctor. He insisted he was just being respectful. I insisted it wasn't respectful if it was not what I wanted. It drives me crazy when people impose their will 'for my sake.'

  Dr Chang, the surgeon, stopped by to check my range of motion limit. Given a choice of a trip around the world for two weeks or this stay in the hospital, I would choose the hospital. I have learned a lot about communication, cognitive styles, and my standards and expectations. I can also see my hard driving style and how it impacts others.  The approach should be as variable as the handshake; it depends 

   I had two bowel movements today. My first one since Tuesday morning before the shoulder surgery. 

Monday, June 19, 2023

   I wasn't tired at 10 p.m. I needed some stimulation.  I was sick and tired of lying in bed all day. I needed a long walk. They took me for a much-needed walk in the loop around the hallway. Because it was late at night, I walked without my toga. Except for my diaper, my shoulder sling, and my hospital socks, I was stark naked. We didn't run into anyone except hospital personnel. I wasn't tired when we got back to my room. They set me up in a chair with the bed table, and I typed my notes for the updates. I typed away happily for a while. Then my shoulder started hurting.  I asked for more painkillers.

  Surgery was scheduled for the morning. I wanted to get movement in. I had to insist someone walk me. I knew I would be flat on my back for at least the next twenty-four hours.  Jonathan, who is gentle and caring despite being on the spectrum, accompanied me for a round of the hallway.

Sunday, June 18, 2023

 Sunday, June 18, 2023

    The menu lady took my order in detail. She does a lovely job. She does everything she can to give me control over my food. It's such a gift under the circumstances when I have no control over anything else. 

Yesterday told me I was getting a roommate. Nothing by 11:30 

2.5 oxycodone. Much more alert. Less sleepy. Irritated bu in activity. Needed some movement. Getting desperate. Need activity. 

Saturday, June 17, 2023

 Saturday, June 17, 2023 

     I was up to do some writing. I found a response to my Craig's List ad. I told the person I had had an accident and was in the hospital and wouldn’t be available for a while.