Saturday, March 23, 2019

Ah, Saturday. I didn’t have to get up a 6 am to make the morning class. I could get up at 7, and I did. I emailed my eulogy to Damon. I wasn’t feeling right about the end and wanted his suggestions. He made a grammatical correction and advised me to leave out a whole section where I talked about Mike’s history as an arrogant person. He was never that way with the people he met in Hawaii, but he was that way when I met him. I’m sure it was part of what attracted me to him. It was familiar. I had seen it in my father. But what was also in my father was a desire to be a better person. My dad didn’t have the resources that Mike and I had. We saw psychotherapy as a means not just to be happier people, but better people.  

    And then he married me. I have discovered that anyone who is not interested in growing and changing finds me unpleasant to be around. This is not to say there aren’t other reasons to find me unpleasant to be around for some people, but those who are stuck and want to stay there are a class unto themselves.  

    I think I’ve mentioned this before: After Mike left his first wife, he asked a colleague what to look for in a life partner. The person told him to look for a ‘worthy opponent.” Everyone in our life is an opponent at some level or another. They’re not us. Of course, not all of us is us at any particular moment. We can be our own worst enemies and our own best teachers. I think he always thought he found that in me as I felt that I had it in him. We were each other’s best teachers. We both believed that as we adapted to each other’s needs, we would become bigger and better people. I know I like myself better after 45 years with Mike. This is because he worked hard to overcome my mother’s constant stream of negative messages, but I have also become a less reactive, more tolerant person. It takes a lot more to get me upset. 

    When couples enter a relationship with expectations, trouble can follow. One mate can claim that the other has to make the adaptations, and accuse them of being a limited or bad person because they don’t. That’s abuse. A deep respect for the other, a foundation of acceptance for what they are, and appreciation of their strengths have to be the foundation of this arrangement. Both have to change. Both have to adapt to the other. If one is always in the wrong and the other always in the right, something is amiss. I remember that when I decided to accept Mike as my life partner, my thought was I could live with him the way he was. The rest was gravy. However, I would never hook up now with the person Mike was 45 years ago. Mike liked to say that our relationship worked because there was always one adult present, and it wasn’t always the same person.

    On that note: I included in my eulogy something about Mike’s weakness in unstructured conversations. I wrote it in a funny way. My intention was to add some humor to the eulogy. Damon actually did a rewrite of that part of the eulogy eliminating most of my comments about Mike’s weaknesses. I wound up agreeing with him wholeheartedly for two reasons. First, there was too much about me in this section. My intent was to emphasize Mike’ s willingness and ability to change, to learn from me and life. I was somewhat disturbed by that, but not enough. Then, more importantly, Mike didn’t like it when I used him as a butt of humor. I use myself as a butt of humor and couldn’t quite get to the point where I understood that I didn’t have the right to use him this way without his permission. I can say that my admiration and love for the man so overshadowed my vision of his weaknesses, that the humorous criticism was trivial. But it wasn’t for Mike. I was working on changing. He had told me to stop repeatedly. I fully agreed that a joke using another person is not funny if the person is hurt by it. Doing so is downright mean. Again, my pride, comfort with, deep trust in, and love for him overwhelmed not only whatever minor complaints I had, but my ability to see my behavior as a problem. I was as comfortable with Mike as I have ever been with any human being. I knew that he always had respect for my point of view even if he didn’t agree with it. If there was an opportunity to render something with humor, it was out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I think I also assumed I could treat him the way I treated myself. I don’t use myself as a subject of humor out of disrespect for myself. I just find the human condition funny. 

    Bikram was pretty full today; there were 17 students. The woman who I had been concerned about because I hadn’t seen her back in class was there. Maya was in Mike’s Tuesday morning bible study class, and he was her tutor in her conversion process. I spontaneously thought to ask her if she would be willing to hold a procam or a phone so we could live-stream the funeral. I still didn’t know anyone who knew how to do this. I was hoping Sandor would be able to. Turns out, Maya had a live-streaming account and knows all about it. Wow! Another incredible piece of luck. Each turn I make is one for the better, so far. I can only hope that my good fortune will continue.

    During the Bikram class, I focused on contracting the right psoas and shifting my right hip moreover to the left and back and my left hip forward. I continue working on repairing my body. After the Bikram class, I went over to the church to do hula practice. I asked if we could practice in the church in the formation, we’d be using so I would be familiar with the space. Anita, who heads the hula ministry, placed me in the center with all the other dancers to the left and right of me. I said, no. I need someone in front of me. Anita said, “You can see what they’re doing when they are to the side of you.” I explained to her that having someone in front of me actually helped my sense of balance. I couldn’t believe the difference it made when Judy stood right in front of me. 

    The practice was difficult. I was always behind. I finally realized that the arm transitions from one posture to the next don’t happen on 1 but on the upbeat, the & in 4-&. That helped quite a bit, but it is not going to guarantee that I will be okay for the actual performance.

    I still had a bowl of limes from the time that Paulette and I went down to pick them. I squeezed enough to last me a few days. It takes four limes for each glass of limeade where the glass is ¾ filled with water, ice, and coconut water. It takes a lot of limes to make enough.

    I listened to my Saturday shows on NPR, “Moth Radio Hour,” and the “TED Talks.” I missed “What Do You Know?” because of hula practice. I’m getting used to “Ask Me Another,” but it’s for a younger audience. While I listened, I proofed Wednesday’s entry. 

    I took Elsa on our before dinner walk. I picked up the mail. This was the first day with no mail related to Mike. This is the start of an avalanche of reminders that Michael is gone.

    Yvette came up and did some Graston work on me. I love the way she works. It’s like my muscles purr and relax. They’re saying, ”You’re giving me exactly what I need.” I can see the difference in the next Bikram class. Between the ‘injury’ I experienced when in Honolulu when Mike was in the hospital, Yvette’s work, the work I’m doing in Bikram and all the work I’m doing changing how I sit, stand, walk, and sleep, I am seeing a big difference in my body. I am doing the hula because this is what Mike always wanted me to do. But, the truth is I couldn’t have done it much sooner. I didn’t have the range of movement I needed to do any of it. I think I am going to continue participating in the hula ministry both because it was what Mike wanted me to do and because the movement is good for my body and my mind as I learn a new discipline. It also will keep me connected with the church community, which is a wonderful group of people.

    I was working on finishing writing Friday’s entry when I got a phone call from Sandor. He was back from his professional development class in Las Vegas. He told me he was going to work on figuring out how to create a blog site for me. He then tried to prepare me for what I was going to miss about Mike. I had thought about everything he mentioned. In so many ways, Mike is still here for me. Most importantly, I can feel his energy. His energy is so much a part of me, it is hard to know what is him and what is me. There were very few rough edges between us, at least for me. I loved doing things with him and sitting with him in silence. Our relationship started out being ‘something I could live with,’ and it got better over time. I am imagining conversations with him. But those wonderful hugs and kisses, and just sitting next to him with bodily contact, how will I live without this for the rest of my life. Others hug me, but what I created with Mike was special to us.   

    I walked Elsa, wrote some more, ate dinner, and watched some TV. Tonight I turned the TV off in favor of writing more. I think I would be much better off if I devoted the evening to reading and writing instead of watching TV. It is so much more satisfying.

    Before I took Elsa for our bedtime walk, I treated her ear. She doesn’t like that at all. I have to hold her down and squeeze the liquid into her ear. I think I mentioned that she peed on the lanai after one treatment after I had just walked her two hours earlier. Yvette said, “ I think she pissed with you.”

    Elsa and I did our late-night walk, I washed my face, brushed my teeth, went to bed at 10:30, “Good night, Elsa, Good-night, Mike.”

Sa

Friday, March 22, 2019

    I got up, walked Elsa, did my oil rinse, drank my two cups of water, but no Bikram today.  I had too much to do.  First, I called our financial advisor in Princeton, NJ.  We started using Raymond James when Merrill Lynch was exposed for mismanaging the Enron situation in 2002.  We were using a broker in Merrill Lynch. When he moved over to Raymond James, we followed.  Or I should say, Mike followed.  I’m like one of the three monkeys when it comes to money.  The only thing I’m sure of is I don’t want to be in debt, a carry-over from the financial management style of my parents.  I don’t know what Mike’s financial habits were a carry-over from.  He was confident in making financial decisions.  One good one he made is not getting out of the market in the 1989 crash.  He said, “Good time to buy  more stocks.” He held on to our money and made more for us.  I accepted that I was handing over the responsibility to Mike, and was prepared to live with the consequences of his decisions.  If I abandoned my role, then I had to live with his choices.  I had no confidence that I could do better.  Now that Mike is gone, Damon will take over the role of managing my money with Rick White at Raymond James.

    But, one decision we made recently I fought for was paying off the mortgage.  He preferred being in debt.    I had proposed paying it off long ago, but Yvette wasn’t up to it. She didn’t want to be in debt to me.  Mike wasn’t interested either.  He preferred being in debt. Josh, Yvette’s husband, and I are on the same page.  Pay off what you can.  Yvette changed her mind because our relationship has improved a lot, and the market is looking wonky.  Mike and Rick agreed to slowly pull out money on the days the market bumped up.  Now, I have money coming in from Life Insurance.  Mike wanted to hold off and pay off the mortgage all at once.  I wanted, and want, to pay it off as soon as some cash becomes available.  I think the money pulled out of the stocks and in a cash account isn’t going to make us any money. Therefore, better paying off the mortgage.  That way, the monthly payments that Josh also makes will pay off more of the principal, and less of it will go to interest.   I’ll find out if I’m right.

    Rick, our financial advisor, wasn’t available.  He was traveling in Europe.  He will call me on Monday when he gets back.  Hopefully, that will be enough time before the market does something absolutely sad.  I need to figure out how much he has already pulled out and how much more we need including the money from the Life Insurance Policy.  

    The other piece of information I need is how much money was in Mike’s individual account. If it’s under a certain amount, I won’t have to go to probate.  We can do something more straightforward.  Now, if Mike had put that account under the trust, it would have come to me automatically. 

    Our lawyer, horrified, listened to me say that I had no idea if he had put his account in trust.  She said she told us to do it.  I like our lawyer, but in the future, I will keep in mind that she isn’t reliable in giving directions.  She said something like,” Put your private accounts in the trust.  The form is in the folder I just gave you.” A better approach might be: “You need to put your private accounts in a, or is it the trust.  Here is the form you need to file with your financial institution. This is the information you have to provide. See Line #1, etc. etc.” She assumed a level of understanding and competence that neither Mike nor I had.  However, I got the message now. When I see her on Monday, I will have her pull out that form, make several copies for me, go over the form line by line, making sure I understand what information I have to provide and who I have to send this form to.  Then I will take care of it by Tuesday.  That way, if I’m hit by a bus, my inheritors won’t have to go through probate, as I will to secure that private account of Mike’s.

    I did some cleaning of the study, vacuuming the gecko gifts that accumulated over the time we were away and before.  I also emptied out all Mike’s bags with books I could find so his bible study students could pick from the books he was carrying at the time.

     Judy Chaput, who has the email list for the evening bible study class, posted that I was offering students from that class the opportunity to select a book from Mike’s library, or just see his famous library with its 3,000 books.  There weren’t many people who came, just Don and Brenda Nelson, Mellissa Smith, and Mike Hernandez.  I know that Judy Glickstein and Sandor and Mealiinanai Hernandez will also want a book apiece.  I said that everyone has to come before the 28th when John Coughlin and the seminarian Ace, who is serving at St. Michael’s, will come to scan Mike’s library to create a catalog of his books for seminaries across the country to pick from. The first seminary to get to pick will be Notre Dame in New Orleans, which is still suffering from the impact of Katrina.

    Besides doing a decent surface cleaning of the library, I found a drawer on Mike’s side of the bathroom that was filled with old medications.  I checked for which ones had expired, only to find out afterward that the expiration dates were greatly exaggerated, and many of the medicines I tossed could still have been used.  I collected the still valid drugs for Melissa. She is a doctor who travels to third world countries in need to provide medical care.  While these medications can’t be used for someone who doesn’t have a prescription here, they can be used in these other areas.  It is wonderful to have a way of disposing of medications without feeling I have to just throw them away.

    At 11 am. Erika ( not her real name), the student I worked with briefly yesterday, arrived.  She is a bright 12-year-old child even if she is reading on a first-grade level.  She was able to follow my descriptions of how the brain works and give me precise information about what she experiences.  Her visual processing seems strong for art, although she reverses b and d, and confuses t and f when it comes to letters.  She told me the tricks her teachers had taught her to resolve the b/d confusion, and she was able to incorporate the additional mental methods I showed her.  This isn’t just a matter of knowing what the problem is and being able to articulate it,  it is a matter of changing the wiring in the brain.  We always have to look for what will work to get the neurological changes necessary to overcome a problem. Erika is a good learner.  She allows changes to occur in her brain.  There are those who don’t.  They keep any information safely stored in their prefrontal lobes. They don’t let the big changes necessary to make changes long-lasting. 

    I concluded that Erika’s perceptual problem is with her auditory processing more than her visual processing. She uses the visual area of the brain to do auditory processing.  Yes, it is possible to use that part of the brain for listening to sounds, but it is just harder to get it to work.  I met a woman who had been a thalidomide baby and had no arms.  She was able to use her legs and feet with a dexterity which almost rivaled what I could do with my hands. It’s possible to use a part of the body or the brain in an unusual way, but it requires special training and great effort. 

    I showed Erika what part of her brain was best for processing language versus music.  She was easily able to switch over once we resolved a problem that interfered with that switch.  When I asked her if she experienced sensations of spinning in that area, which interfered with her understanding of speech sounds.  She drew a spiral that went from the outside in, slowing down, and from the inside out, speeding up.  It came out that the slowing process came first, and the speeding up process was a fear reaction to the slowing inward moving spiral.  She told me that her teachers would tell her not to zone out or go to la-la land. 

    Ah, I told her to look at the view of nature in front of her and follow that inward spiral.  A wonderful calm overcame her.  This is a lovely skill which helps her keep calm.  Unfortunately, it does not serve her well when it comes to those left-brain skills like reading and math. 

    I drew a rough picture of the two halves of the brain, explaining that the left half of the brain controls the right side of the body, and the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body.  The goal is to be able to coordinate the two sides of the brain.  She demonstrated that she could easily tap her hand on the top of her head and rub her belly at the same time.  Not only that, but she could also do it reversing her arms.  I think she has an exploratory mind.  Wonderful!

    I had her do a few minutes of alternating her focus from her right brain and her left brain. When she focused on the right brain, she achieved that wonderful calm.  I had her listen to me read while focusing on using the auditory center on the left side of her brain. Then back again to the right brain, and back to the left brain, back and forth, back and forth. This is how I learned to coordinate my hands in the tapping/rubbing activity.  I did one hand, stopped and did the other, and went back and forth like that until I could comfortably do both together.

    I gave her some homework.  I told her just to name the letters in sequence in running text.  Naming the letters helps you monitor if you are doing them in the correct order.  Naming also pulls on the auditory recall, drawing up labels for quick recall.

    Erika’s great-grandmother brought her today because her aunt couldn’t. She is one month less than a year older than me. She also lost her husband. Boy, she didn’t give up and sit on her duff.  She got her bachelor’s degree and is now working on her master’s.  She does substitute teaching in the local middle school.  She says she’s used to being busy; she raised 8 children.  Geez, Louise! There are those who make me feel like a complete slouch.  I want to get to know this lady better.  She’s a good role model for me in the years to come. I have a master’s degree and can’t think of anything I’d like to do less than get a Ph.D. Well, maybe cooking.  I love creating ideas.  I learn about other’s people ideas to nurture my own.  When I was in graduate school, someone said,” Do you ever read something for its sake instead of yours?” Mysteries.  I read them for sheer enjoyment.  Otherwise, I read to learn something new that will help me improve my life or the life of others. It’s the same problem I have with travel.  I don’t understand collecting information for its own sake.  When I am talking to someone, I want to know more about them.  Aside from the pleasure of getting to understand someone’s point of view, I like making people feel seen and heard, letting them know that their story is important.  Each person’s story is a glimpse into another world.  Learning about their lives helps me get insight into my own and the lives of others.

    I wrote a piece on my idea of the nature of selfishness for yesterday’s entry.  I deleted it because Judy had too many challenging questions.  However, when I talked to Melissa about my ideas. She looked at me and said, “Doesn’t everyone see it that way?” This woman is a doctor who travels to third world countries to deliver free medical care to the poor. She understands that she does it because it gives her pleasure. 

    I showed Melissa some of the principals of the work I did with Erika.  I thought since there was a neuroscientific orientation, she might find it interesting.   She gave me some additional information from her medical knowledge.  I didn’t have time to listen to it at the time because we only had a few minutes.  One suggestion was about monitoring which half of the brain is receiving increased blood flow by feeling the carotid arteries. The other was that some disturbances in the corpus callosum show up on MRIs in people who have learning disabilities.  I need to follow up with her.

    The folks from the Kona Flower Shoppe called back. This is the first time I heard from them since the lady delivered the flowers from my buddies from Licking heights South, and I gave her the shot of the flowers Damon had delivered to Mike in the hospital that I want for the funeral.  The lady I dealt with wasn’t in.  The other lady said her partner, Shelly, was on it. They had discussed it.  Shelly had called their supplier and was trying to get the coconut shell base for the plant.  I assured her I wanted the arrangement in any form they could give it to me.  We are only allowed one plant for the funeral because of Lent.

    I finally sent out Tuesday’s blog only to discover I hadn’t sent out Monday’s yet.  It had been ready.  I must have been interrupted.  I am often very busy and have to deal with unfamiliar chores.  I’m not up to a routine yet.

    Someone arrived as I was working on the blog. I called come in without being sure who it was, but the voice was friendly.  It was Judy Shibley arriving at the appointed time for a hula practice.  The other day she mentioned that she and her husband have regular appointments with a physical therapist. I pointed out some changes she could make from the perspective of body mechanics, so she doesn’t injure herself.  Apparent, her hula kumu, her hula teacher, doesn’t pay attention to those aspects of a dancer’s moves; he only worries if she has the sequence of the movements correct.  Also, her physical therapist doesn’t ask her to demonstrate how she does the hula.  From my perspective, body mechanics are crucial to all movement.

    After Judy left, I sat down to do some more writing.  Dealing with Mike’s life is a full-time job.  I walked Elsa, had dinner, watch TV, walked Elsa, and went to bed.

Thursday, March 21, 2019

    I got up in a timely manner, 6 am,  walked Elsa, did my oil rinse, washed dishes, drank two cups of water, and went to Bikram.  The class size was reasonable today, 11 students. I got there early, but someone put their mat in my spot. I am not entitled to my place, but most of the students respect it. It’s not that I need that exact spot, but I like having it; It gives me a sense of belonging.  

    When I got home, I tried to call the florist to see how they’re doing only to learn they’re not open till 10:30. I called again at 11 am. Still no answer. I left a message this time.

    I cleaned out one of Mike’s bathroom drawers.  I found one medication that expired in 2005. Given his overstuff freezer, a year’s worth of food, multiple cooking, and serving items,  I conclude that my husband was a hoarder, a very, very neat hoarder, but he certainly had more than he needed.

    I was about to leave to take care of the faxes I had to send when a car pulled into the driveway.  It was a young girl I had taken on as a student. She has had a troubled background, which includes missing a great deal of school.   She is 12 and reads on a 1st-grade level.  Another parent I worked with recommended me to her aunt, who now has custody of her.  I had thought that I had the appointment for Friday.  That’s what I have on my schedule, but who knows what I said.  I thought this was a good opportunity to do the first meeting quickly. I like to start with introductions to allow the student to scope me out. Am I trustworthy or not? The student is in this situation at their most vulnerable; I am there at my strongest.  I asked the aunt to be with her so the girl would feel protected in a new situation.  I first asked her if she had any questions for me. She asked me about my personal life.  I filled in some general details, age, widowhood, one sister, first-generation American of German descent, 50 years teaching career, you know rough details. 

    We spoke for a while. She seemed comfortable with me.  I asked her on a rate from one to ten how comfortable she was with me. She stated she felt at 10.  Amazing, that this girl who has been shuttled around from home to dysfunctional home should be this trusting and open.  Wow! My home life wasn’t nearly as hard as hers, and I can’t claim to have been doing at well at 12 as she was doing.  Whatever I have become has taken years and years and years of hard work. 

    Once I felt a fundamental relationship had been established, I made arrangements to meet with her the next day and skedaddled. I had several things I wanted to take care of in town.  I wanted to complete my business at Office Max, Xeroxing the application and death certificates, and buy some compressed air so my friend Brian can clean my computer.  I asked my grandson how he cleans his laptop.  He said it doesn’t get dirty. I’m a total slob in front of my computer.  I’ve only drowned one, but I eat all kinds of junk while working on it.

     I also stopped off a Petco next door to buy some tar and sulfur shampoo.  When Judy brought Elsa home from her grooming at Petco, her skin was in perfect condition.  Before she had all these sores on her body.  I give her pills every morning, but this soap seems to have resolved her problem lickity-split.  Unfortunately, Petco was out of the soap.  I had to order it online.    

    I drove immediately to the chiropractor.  This is the first time I’ve seen Kim since Mike got sick.  I couldn’t even get an appointment earlier than this date; she was completely booked. I found out Kim is still following my blog.  Wow! It always amazes me that people are still interested.  She did AR on my left foot and calf, my left psoas, my main problem,  and my right inner thigh.

    From the chiropractor’s, I was off to the lawyer.  Jennifer was recommended by Kim, my chiropractor, and I also knew her from my Bikram class. I went to the address on the binder and checked it in my GPS to be sure. However, when I got there, there was construction going on in their office. The outside walls of their office space were gone.  I checked with Lady Gaga again and came up with the same address. I frantically called Jennifer.  “Oh, sorry.  We haven’t been there for two  years.”  She told me where her office was and texted me the address. Following Lady Gaga, I made it to the general area, but I still couldn’t find the office. I called Jennifer again.  While she had no idea where I was because she didn’t know the landmarks in the area, she was able to tell me that the office was on the mountainside of Kuakini and not the ocean side.  I was on the mountainside, so I moved a little bit further up the hill, and there I saw the office park.  There were any number of buildings there.  I saw buildings marked A, B, C, and D.  I called her again.  She was in building C.  I checked the building directory, but couldn’t find her name on that list. I took the elevator to the second floor, got out, and had no idea which way to go. The lady may be a good lawyer, but she is lousy at giving directions.  I found it.  I was able to tell her that there was only one account that was exclusively in Mike’s name, for which I wasn’t also listed as a beneficiary.  She said if it was under a certain amount, it would be a simple procedure, and the will wouldn’t have to be probated. We made an appointment for Monday.

    Ah, Mike and I had not followed her directions when we had our will done a few years ago. She directed us to create a trust to put our money in so we wouldn’t have to go through probate. I am sure she mentioned it to us, but neither one of us registered what she said or followed up. Fortunately, most of the accounts were in both our names, so they automatically became mine.  I was the beneficiary of his retirement account, so also, no problem. There was only that one account in Mike’s name that might have to go to probate.  Fortunately, that amount was under $100,000, and Hawaiian law did not require probate.

    I went off to Safeway to complete my final town chore for the day. There were some unopened items that Mike might have used, but I would not.  The return was easy.  I bought some salad stuff and two Hersey Milk Chocolate Bars with Whole Almonds and went home.    When I got home, I finally texted a Bikram buddy who also attended one of Mike’s bible study classes and who converted to Catholicism under Mike’s tutelage.  I was concerned that I hadn’t seen her in class. She had just completed a very challenging round of chemotherapy for a very rare and aggressive form of cancer following an operation.  During the treatments, she had been unable to attend.  I knew she was planning to come back. Previously, she had attended the 7:30 am class from which I drove her home every day.   Winds up, she had been making later classes, and she was fine. 

    I communicated with Zola, who proposed putting together a memorial booklet for us as she had for her daughter’s funeral.  She has been collecting the material, both written statements, and pictures from all of us.  Yvette said she wanted to do a eulogy as well as me.  Damon decided he wanted at least to write a eulogy for the booklet, whether or not he presented it orally.  Then Jean said she wanted to include a eulogy for the booklet.  The booklet will now include eulogies from me, Yvette, Damon, Cylin, August, and Jean and the full obituary.  This has turned into quite a production. But the whole funeral is a production.  Whatever it is, it is not as big as a full Hawaiian funeral.  They’re like contemporary weddings.; they’re three-day events. Ours is a mere three hours

    I had to get Jean and Yvette to send me their final copies of their eulogies to pass on to Zola.  I have some resistance.  Not even sure what it is about.  Is it the finality of a funeral?  Will that get it through my fat head that he’s really gone permanently from my physical presence? He certainly isn’t gone from me energetically. Every night when before I go to sleep, I say, “Good night, Elsa. Good-night, Mike,” and focus on his energetic presence for a minute.  I can feel my heart bursting with energy.  Can I tell you definitively that it is Mike sending me love? No.  But I’ll take the illusion – and I’ll even accept it as real. 

    I checked my email before I shut down for the night.  There were a few from one of Mike’s bible study classes that were interested in coming over a getting a book out of his library. Boy, he loved teaching those classes.   

    I walked Elsa, wrote some more in the blog, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to be. “Good night, Elsa. Good-night, Mike.  I love you.”

Wednesday, March 20, 2019

 I’ve given up on the good news/bad news because it’s basically the same every day. I may wind up in a puddle of brown depression at some point curled up on the living room floor, but not yet.

    I spent the morning making phone calls and organizing paperwork, so I could do all the faxing at once.  I had to send out a signed application to the insurance company in Ohio, 

the death certificate to the main branch of the insurance company, TIAA Cref, and  New Jersey Pension and Benefits. The next move is theirs. I’ve done what I’m supposed to do.

    When I got home, I got to work to do some of the house cleaning, which was postponed due to Mike’s illness and my long stay in Honolulu. I washed the kitchen floor and vacuumed the lanai.  The kitchen floor looks so much better when clean.  I have a white tile floor that has to be maintained, or it looks like a mud patch. I have a Rainbow vacuum.  It allows me to dump water on the floor and then vacuum it up.  I don’t know if one needs a high-end Rainbow to do the job or if any wet/dry vac will do.  However, I do know this is the only way I will ever wash floors again.  It allows me to suck the water up off the floor.  Otherwise, I am just distributing the dirt evenly and maybe getting some of it up.  With this method, even the grout comes out clean.  What a joy!

    Ah, I found a missing vacuum cleaner attachment under the sofa.  I swear I looked there when I first misplaced it shortly before Mike and I started our ‘vacation’ in Honolulu.  It was hiding, but now it has taken mercy on me and manifested.  

    I worked on Tuesday’s entry, showered, and tried on the shorts I bought at Costco yesterday.  I thought I picked up one medium and one large, but no, both are large.  My friend Carolyn taught me to just grab stuff, try it on at home and then return what I don’t want.  So much less stressful.

    I did a quick hula practice on my own.  My big problem is my balance. When did I become so uncertain on my feet?  Hmm!  Am I getting old?  Let me see, I’m 78.  

    Judy Shibley showed up to do hula practice with me.  What a generous gift.  She says, “Call, and I will come.” She has been learning the hula for some 18 years. What a difference it makes to have her doing the dance right in front of me.  I don’t know why, but I feel more stable, keeping my eyes on her. Her strength passes on to me.  She told me that we will all do one hula together, and then the rest of the group will do another one without me.  I’m concerned about having enough time for the eulogies.  Fr. Lio could make the trains run on time in Italy.  He wants the mass to start promptly at 10 am.  

    I played some FreeCell.  I’m unclear how much of it is a waste of time and how much is much-needed rest. I wrote more of Tuesday’s entry, and then put all the items I want to return to Safeway in the car.  I also packed up the material we got from the dialysis center to return it to them.  I have no use for them now and hope to never have a use for them again. I am a little nervous about going there.  I complained about the nurse’s reaction to Mike’s illness.  

    That nurse told me to just take him home the night he had his attack. He said he had spoken to Mike’s kidney doctor in Honolulu, and he said it was probably just a GI problem.  He told me that I should just take him home.  I wanted to call an ambulance.  I can appreciate that the nurse might have thought it was a simple GI problem, but he didn’t go into the bathroom. Besides having stuff coming out at both ends simultaneously, the smell was something else.   I had never smelled anything like that before. It was that smell as much as how bad his GI upset was that signaled to me this was something else than a simple GI problem.  I assumed the nurse’s version of what the Honolulu doctor said was accurate, and I was angry at him for telling the nurse to just send him home.  When I was in Honolulu, I actually spoke to the doctor.  He didn’t tell the nurse to just send him home.  He did say it sounded like a simple GI problem, but if in doubt, have him go to the emergency room.  That sounds like a more likely thing for a doctor to advise over a phone when he doesn’t have a chance to exam a patient.  To boot, I feel comfortable saying the nurse didn’t see Mike once he went into the bathroom.  If he had, he would have known how it was something unusual.  The nurse actually said something about how expensive the ambulance service is.  I believe he was afraid the center would be charged with the fee if he called, and he would have been in trouble.  What I don’t understand is why he wasn’t supportive when I proposed driving him there myself.  Thank God I did.  Getting him to the emergency room earlier would not have saved Mike’s life, but it would have shortened the time he was in excruciating pain. Getting him to the emergency room assured that they had him on enough pain killers to knock the poor man out cold.  For those who don’t know, pancreatitis is considered one of the most painful experiences possible.

    I walked Elsa. Dinner was just a butter piece of whole-grain bread and about 5 tablespoons of soup.  I find that my appetite is lagging. I noticed how poor my appetite was yesterday in Costco.  One of my pleasures at Costco is eating from the sample food carts.  I didn’t even want to do that.  I don’t know if this is my real appetite, the one I always had, which was obscured by Mike’s influence on me,  or this is a reaction to my circumstances. It could be either. 

    When alive, Mike did all the cooking; his idea of a simple meal was enough to feed the Russian army.  I ate more because he served and ate more, and the food he cooked was good.  For the most part, I eat to live rather than live to eat.  I’m not a foody.  I was actually able to maintain my adult weight of 128 lbs., most of my adult life.  My radical 20 lb. weight gain at the age of 56 wasn’t Mike’s fault.  It was my mother’s.  My sister had gained a  lot of weight in the previous year. She told me that she gained that weight because she ate a muffin a day.  I started eating one muffin a week and one big serving of French fries. That did it for me.  I gained weight because I didn’t want to be in a position where my mother could use me and my relatively slender body to bully my sister. Couldn’t stand being used that way.  Oh, well.  I’ve lost 10 of those pounds, but I’m still not down to where I was.

    The only thing that Mike criticized me for was my belly. Yep, I had acquired a belly.  Mike had a belly the day I met him and had one the day he died. I pointed out to him that I accepted his belly, he should just be quiet and accept mine. “But,” he said, “ you didn’t use to have one. You used to be an ad for world hunger.” For some reason, he thought that was a compliment. Really, the woman who didn’t have a belly at 30, 40 and even 50 has one at 60, 70. What a surprise! Now, that is not to say he didn’t find me attractive as is.  He told me I was beautiful every day of our life together. 

    I’m slowly, slowly cleaning up evidence of Mike’s presence from areas here and there. I came across a bag containing things Mike would have taken to dialysis. I found an open bottle of water Mike had used right before he got sick.  I opened the bottle and drew in a deep breath.  One change for me will be in my biomass.  I will be missing all his contributions to what I am physically. In the most subtle and profound ways, I will become a different person.  I am sensitive to these changes.  With each move, from Brooklyn to Princeton to Columbus, OH, and finally to Kailua, Kona, Hawaii,  I am aware of the chemical changes from my one environment to the other.  It takes months to make the adjustments to become the new me.

    I did more writing and vacuumed and washed the hallway. I then had to call Apple because I was not able to access the voicemail on my cell phone, Mike’s physical cell phone with my sim card and my data. Mike’s phone used to just list the voicemails without a password.  Now I need one. Apple informed me that I had to contact T-Mobile to get that problem fixed.  I did.  They assigned me a new password. Voila!

    While I was in Honolulu, three new books arrived from Amazon for Mike. I couldn’t figure out his Amazon password to do the return.  I finally called Amazon and explained the situation. They will hard-mail me three return mail labels.  All I will have to do is drop them off at a UPS store.  The refund will go to the credit card listed on his account.  Okay, which one is it?  I had to pull out all of his cards before I found it.  They told me that if the credit card was shut down, the card company would send me a check.  Or would they send Mike a check?  What then? How do I cash a check made out to Michael?

    When going through old pictures, I found one of my mother holding my sister on her lap in a way that looked like a normal mother-child relationship. It was ordinary, relaxed, strain-free.  I had never seen her like that even with her grandkids.  Dorothy said it must have been a one-off.  I wanted to send it to Dorothy, but now I can’t find it.  I know I set it aside in a special place to be sure I sent it to her.  I’m sure it will show up someplace sometime.

    I sorted the charity receipts I had for tax purposes, inventoried them, and compared them to my record of the charities I contributed to.  I will have to make some follow up phone calls.     

    I walked Elsa, had some dinner, watched Tv, walked Elsa, and went to bed.

Tuesday, March 19, 2019

     I got up, walked Elsa, did my oil rinse, and drank my two cups of water, and went to Bikram.  The teacher gave me an incredible compliment.  He said that from what he has seen, 

I‘m not doing anything that could cause an injury, and- and- he couldn’t think of anything he would say I could do better.  I modify the poses.  I have a spinal curvature and a severely arthritic left hip.  I am working on correcting the spinal curvature and getting as much range of motion out of my hip as I can.  I have been working on the spinal curvature since I was 55 when I first saw the problem in a mirror.  

    I went to show Mike.  I corrected my lopsided posture and asked him if I looked straight.  He said yes.  Then I stood the way I always stood.  He could see how distorted my body posture was then.  It had been at least 50 years of incorrect movement, which created my problem; I understood fixing it was going to take a lot of time.  I accepted that.  The better I get, the faster the changes come.  Now that Yvette is working on me every other night, either giving me a short massage or a Graston treatment, I think things will go even faster.  

    I love the way she uses the Graston.  She does it very gently and meticulously.  She sees the instruments as extensions of her hand.  It feels great, and I can see the difference in the next yoga class.  Sometimes that difference looks like I’m worse.  But I understand that something rigid has been released throwing my weight onto muscles that haven’t been able to do their job before, limiting what I can do at that moment.  I have to take it slow, modifying my work.  I love detail.  I love working slowly and meticulously.  It’s like the Mindfulness mediation I learned, paying careful attention to the body. Wonderful!  I’m also getting better.  Also, wonderful. I’d love to be able to teach someone what I know.  In my experience, there aren’t many people who are prepared to work with my concept of progress.  It’s the one articulated by the yoga teachers: look for an improvement 1/16 of an inch difference.  But, it’s not what most people do.  I was made for 1/16-inch improvements.

    I rushed home from Bikram because I have to get my phone calls in before 11 am when the businesses I have to deal with on the east coast shut down.  I dealt with State Farm Insurance.  Mike bought it when we were living in Princeton.  He thought he bought one kind of insurance, which would be worth a fixed amount in the end.  At some point, he found out that he had bought the other kind, which would continue to grow.  Besides informing them of Mike’s passing, I had to find out how to claim the insurance.  I had to fax the death certificate to the main office and the claim form to the local office in Ohio.  Mike never met the agent in Ohio.  Our policy was transferred there when we moved to Columbus. The Ohio agent is still our agent because there is none in Hawaii.  I had to give the agent my email address so he could send me the application form. The amount of money available was a delightful surprise.

    I think there must be people who are struck by my dealing with these financial issues before his body is in the ground, literally.  I have been planning for his death since the day I knew he was my life partner.  My father died when I was 15.   Many people who lost parents as children regularly grieve the loss of significant people in their lives.  Mike used to kid me about it.  When we were living in Princeton, he would sometimes come home later than expected.  I would be curled up in a ball on the sofa, convinced I was a widow. This pattern has continued to the end. Mike would say, “Stop burying me.” And then, he’d say, “We’re going to die together in our 90s.” Liar, liar pants on fire.  At any rate, I thought through all I would have to do if he died over and over.  I have thought through my life after Mike, not always coming up with a successful scenario.  These thoughts have been driven by my need to know that I could survive his death.  I’m doing well now; check back in 6 months or a year.  

    I adored and still adore this man.  Those 6 weeks in the hospital were a gift. Some have commented on how difficult that time must have been.  It wasn’t.  I know it was stressful, mainly because I developed a killer back problem in the middle of it and was in constant pain, but the rest was easy.  As I said before, touring Scotland, something Mike wanted to do, would have been much more of a self-sacrifice.  Being with him in the hospital every day was a meaningful activity.  Mike ran several mental hospitals in New Jersey when we lived in Princeton.  He said to me several times, “If I’m ever in a hospital, don’t leave my side.”  I was prepared for what I did.   Being there, I was able to provide him company, information that he wasn’t alone in this ordeal and tons, and tons of love. God, did I love him. And the six weeks allowed me to fuel up on love, which is carrying me over now.

    Paulette called to tell me that she would stop by to drop off the homemade chicken noodle soup, from what was left of the chicken Brenda got for me, and two biscuits.  Then Brenda called and asked if she and her husband, Don, could come over on the 27th  for dinner.  Of course, they are coming to pick up the photographic panels for the funeral, and bring the food. Brenda is the one who will take care of setting up the panels early so they can be enjoyed by people coming in early.  

    While I had her on the phone, I talked about the reception.  I know that Fr. Lio is expecting 300 people.  The church will hold 450.  I have this nagging feeling that there will be more than that.  So many people talk to me about how they love Mike and how much they are going to miss him.  He was no ordinary man.  I know what he was like as a husband.  That’s what I focused on.  I know people liked him and admired him, but it seems they loved him, truly loved him.  I suggested to Brenda that we order for at least 50 more people, and I pay for it.  She read me the menu.  I was expecting what’s called heavy pupus,  appetizers, but no, Fr. Lio has ordered a full luncheon. There’s a vegetarian dish, a beef dish, a chicken dish, a pork dish, salad, fruit, and dessert. “Holy Shit!” was my response, probably not entirely appropriate, given the circumstances. Brenda assured me that there would be more than enough food.

    Adam came over to take me and the items I wanted to return to Costco.  He loaded 9 (nine) cases of Pellegrino.  This was as much my doing as Mike’s.  I bought them when they were on sale.  He couldn’t drink them anymore because of his kidney disease, but he was hoping that once he had a transplant, he could again. Costco only accepted 5 of the cases because the rest had expired.  I thought of just leaving the remaining cases outside with a note for people to help themselves.  The clerk said I couldn’t do that.  Plan B: load them in my car and contribute them to a food bank.  I left the flatbed cart by the return desk and did some shopping.  This was a new first: the first time I shopped at Costco since Mike’s death. Now, I  only had to think of myself.  I didn’t have to call Mike and ask if he wanted me to pick up something for him, another moment which brought home that he’s gone.

    Adam had left after getting me to the return desk to drop off the recycling at the transfer station.  I thought I was going to have to deal with those heavy cases on my own.  Lo and behold, when I got to the checkout line, there was Adam.  He had forgotten something and had to return to pick it up. We went through the checkout line together.   He loaded the remaining cases of Pellegrino and some other heavy items I had bought into his car.  I thought he’d be right behind me.  But no, it took him about an hour to get home.  He had to pick up some takeout food for his family.  Given there were only three cases, he took them home for his family.  Good enough.

    Flowers arrived from Kathy and John Coughlin. Now I have those flowers and the plant from my colleagues at Licking Heights South. I have more than enough to last me for a while.

    I walked Elsa. When I got back to the house, Yvette was there with a loaf of fresh bread in hand. She gave me a big slice. I slathered it with butter and finished off the remaining salad and the salmon. Then I watch some TV, Suspects, walked Elsa and went to bed.

Monday, March 18, 2019

I had a terrible night’s sleep. Fr. Lio had Brenda call me and tell me that we couldn’t extend the time for the eulogy from 15 minutes.  He also said he didn’t want us, Damon, Yvette, and me,  to just talk story.  He wanted the eulogy to relate to Christianity.  I pictured him angry with me for not making Mike’s role in the church as a deacon the theme of all our talks.  He wasn’t a deacon to us.  Being a deacon was something he did, like being a driver of a car.  For us, he was a husband, father, grandfather, godfather.  We loved him in those roles, not his role as a deacon. 

    I suggested I send copies of all our eulogies to Fr. Lio.  I spent a difficult night worrying about it.  I thought if he really wants our eulogies to be all about him as a deacon, maybe he should give it himself.  My agita was all to waste.  He thought all our eulogies were great, including Yvette’s which is more talk-story than either Damon’s or mine.  All’s good.

    I worked on practicing the hula dance which I was planning to perform along with the other women in the hula ministry at the funeral.  Good luck!  Guess what?  I am not the agile, coordinated, quick study I was at 40.  Coordinating the top and the bottom half of my body is not going smoothly.  I feel like a stick stuck into a rock instead of a boat gently rocking on waves.  I’ll see how it goes. I can’t imagine crying while doing the dance at the funeral unless I fall and hurt myself, a real option, because I will be focused on remaining upright. 

    The morning routine was the same: I woke up at 6am, walked Elsa, did my oil rinse, drank my two cups of water, washed some dishes from last night, went to Bikram.  It was another small class.  But I continued to notice more small changes in my body in what I can do, although my midback continues to complain. I drove home, showered, and boiled water for my morning two cups of miso soup with tofu and greens. 

    I sat down to call State Farm, which had Mike’s life insurance, and then the Long-Term Insurance company to inform them of Mike’s death and start whatever processes are appropriate for each company. Both were already closed. I have to make phone calls before I leave for Bikram at 7 am or immediately when I get home at 9:30.  I only have a small window for contacting these east coast companies before 11 am my time. 

    Judy stopped by, picked up two bowls and a spatula she left here from last night’s dinner.  Now the two bowls were filled with the remains of the chocolate pudding and the Chantilly cream she had made for the dessert.  Hmmm! I licked those bowls clean. 

    I found the will the other day.  I’m amazed I had any idea where it was, but I found it right away.  Today I called our lawyer.  I would file the probate and be done with it.  How hard can it be?  Well, apparently,  if you don’t have all your t’s crossed and all your I’s dotted, your screwed.  You need a lawyer to do it as much as you need an accountant to do your taxes. Our lawyer is someone my chiropractor recommended who is also a Bikram student.  It’s a small town.  She was a delight to work with.  I left a message for her and also sent an email

    I took a much-needed nap after a lousy night’s sleep. Judy called.  When she picked up the bowls, she forgot to take the remainders of the chicken Brenda brought over to make chicken soup.  She stopped by to pick it up. 

    I tracked down Elijah, who I am helping go to the Science Camp this summer. Did he send in his application yet?  The head of the organization called me back to tell me he hadn’t received it. Kids!  I didn’t like to have to worry about this while I was in the hospital with Mike and now, but my larger concern is for Elijah.  What kind of an impact is this behavior going to have on his life long term?  He said he forgot.  He reminds me of Mike, who just checked out when things got too stressful.   I’m a fight/flight responder.  If I’m under stress, everyone knows about it.  There is nothing quiet about me. I’m just getting to understand those who go into freeze mode, also manifesting as a total retreat from the existing world.

    Closing activities: walked Elsa, ate dinner, watched TV, walked Elsa, did not do my facial routine tonight, too tired, read NY Times a little, and went to sleep.

Sunday, March 17, 2019

Good news: Status quo

Bad news: a little sadness

    

    I got up at 7:30am because I wasn’t doing Bikram today. Today, I was going to church, doing what Mike always hoped I would do.  I took Elsa on her walk.  I followed her lead. She took me on a long walk around one of the big blocks in our neighborhood instead of just up and down the street.  These hills are great for strengthening my legs.  For those of you that don’t know it, if you’re facing the ocean or have your back to it, you are always walking either up or down a fairly steep hill.  As I pointed out before, we don’t have mountain peaks on the Big Island; all we have is hills.  Our hills are 10,000 to 14,000 feet, but they are still just hills, continuously moving either up or down with no jagged drops. This is because the Big Island is still the baby of the islands, the last to be made and, therefore, with the least erosion.  

    The Hawaiian Islands aren’t formed by earthquakes pushing two continental plates together as they are on the mainland or in Europe.  No, our islands are created by the earth spewing lava up, and then up again, and then up again, building a hill, and then a mountain from scratch.  The lava comes out of a spot and then runs downhill like melted ice cream.  You may not know it, but the tallest mountain in the world is here on the Big Island.  It’s a mere 14,000 feet from sea level, but that’s not the base of the mountain.  The base is at the bottom of the ocean. “Measured from the base of the ocean floor, it rises 33,000 feet, significantly greater than the elevation of Mount Everest above sea level.” (Wiki) We had a visitor from Princeton who asked if they had to clear the lava before they built the airport. Mike and I laughed and explained that the lava was forever.  All the beaches and the surrounding ocean floors were lava from the base of the mountains.  It’s a foreign concept when you’re used to thinking of mountains rising from a continental plate.

    When I got home, it was back to daily chores: taking out food waste for composite and writing. Judy and Paulette were going to pick me up at 9:30 for the 10:00 mass at the Holy Rosary Church.  I was so busy writing that the time slipped away. Fortunately, Judy called me, woke me from my concentrated state.  I jumped in the shower and got dressed in 10 minutes flat. Who has to dry first?

    Being in church makes me feel sad, both because I’m more aware that Mike isn’t there and because I don’t completely buy into the belief system.  I came to Catholicism on my own, not because of Mike.  My conversion started when I was 12. Long before I met Mike. 

    My family took a trip to Quebec.  While we were there, we took a side trip up to Saint Anne de Beaupre, a healing church filled with crutches.  My father wanted me to see how silly the whole thing was.  He was a committed agnostic if not an atheist.  However, when we got home, I experienced a physical change that was a surprise.  I suffered badly from warts on my fingers.  They suddenly disappeared.  My father said, startled, “I lit a candle for you.”  I could see that he was a secret believer even though he didn’t want to be. 

    I felt more attachment to the church earlier in my life than I do now.  Now, I actually believe this was a setup.  I was being used to facilitate Mike’s conversion and religious life.  If that is the case, I accept it.  Being a Catholic and a deacon in the church brought him endless joy.  I loved it when he was truly happy.  But once he had what he wanted and needed and didn’t need my support anymore, my interest fell away.  I want to go to church to give him what he wants and for the community.  I will have to find my own way to be a Catholic.

    On Facebook, I discovered that 30 people had donated in Mike’s name. Although I can’t find any information on who they are and what they donated to, I suspect they all donated to the national Habitat for Humanity.  Unfortunately, that means that little or none of that money will be seen by the local organization Mike was involved with.  My sister said she donated to the local one.  She found the site and made a contribution that way.  When I asked for the information from Mike’s Habitat colleagues, they only gave me the hard mail address.  Who uses checks anymore?  It makes me sad that Mike’s favored organizations will not receive these benefits.  It would be his gift to the people he worked with in the church and at Habitat.

    More housekeeping: Set some soiled clothes out for the sun to bleach out the stains.  It may take a few days, but the system works better than any other I know of.

    I started a new procedure in the blog writing process: I jot down notes about what happened in the day.  That way, I don’t have to reconstruct the day from memory.  I can still pick and choose what to write about. 

    Around 4 pm, Judy and Paulette came over to start cooking dinner for St Patrick’s Day. My idea of guests: they bring their own food, cook it, serve it, and even do some clean up as they go along.  Today, they brought paper plates because Judy feels guilty about leaving me to clean the dishes. I can’t seem to convince her it’s fine with me.  I like washing dishes.  Also, I don’t do them if I don’t feel like it. I don’t ever have two weeks of dishes stacked in the sink.  I mean, I do some when I want to.  I almost always want to wash some dishes. 

    Where Friday was just a nonspecific feast, today was a St. Patrick’s Day Feast: corned beef and cabbage and Irish soda bread, all homemade.  Fantastic!  Besides, Judy, her sister, Paulette, there was Judy’s husband, Howard, her son, Adam, Adam’s wife, Jasmine, their sons, Leon and Luke, and their tenants Brian and Amanda.  When Adam and Jazzy and the kids arrived, their dog Bones and their cat Shifu were right behind them.  Bones actually pushed his way into the house.  He is a lovely dog that arrived at their door one day when they lived in the boonies, starved with an abscessed tooth. Bones runs loose.  They tried to confine him to the house, but he just broke the door.  They’re too busy to build the fenced-in area they are planning on.  Bones seems to be doing quite well wandering the neighborhood.  I think we’re all used to him by now.  When I walk Elsa, he always comes up and greets us.  Once he’s through sniffing Elsa, he comes to me to be scratched behind his ears. 

    Judy used Mike’s hot pot.  He never got a chance to use it himself.  She has one at home, but ours was a little different from hers. She used it to prepare the corned beef. When it was done, she released the steam. It spewed steam for 2 to 3 minutes.  It was a little scary, but the meat came out wonderfully.

    It was quite a crowd around the table.  I was placed at the head of the table, where I never sit.  I have to remember not to allow that to happen again; it made me feel like I didn’t belong.  Not a nice feeling when it’s in your own home.  If Mike had been here, he would have been involved in the cooking and hosting.  While I was delighted they were all here, I felt the bonds of their relationships with each other. I was aware there was no one there for whom I was the primary person or even one of their primary persons.  I will have to get used to this change of status.  This does not mean I’m invisible to these people, or some sort of third wheel; it’s just that they don’t think about me the way Mike did, and I feel the loss.

    While the food was being prepared, I took care of all sorts of chores.  I walked Elsa and found our marriage certificate, which I will need for Social Security.  My accountant told me that all my expenses on Oahu will be tax-deductible because I had to be there.  Really?  I thought the only one who had to be there was Mike, but I’ll take it.  Figured out how to get my Airbnb receipts, the hotel receipt for one night when I had to wander the city to find a place to stay, and I tried to get the Turo receipts.  No luck on that yet.  I have the written directions, but I don’t know how to apply them to the Turo Website. I will try again.

    When Judy and her family left, Elsa kept rushing out the door to go with them.  I thought she was saying, “Take me with you!  This woman is horrible, and my nice daddy is not coming home.” But when I took her for her evening walk,  she had the longest pee I had ever seen.  The poor girl had to go to the bathroom. Yikes!  

    The truth is she is slowly adapting to the reality that it is just the two of us.  She’s not sitting in the same spot on the rug where she can watch the front door and wait for Mike as much; she’s coming to the side door when I come home to greet me; she’s sitting near me when I work; and  she sleeps on me when I take a nap the way she used to with Mike. Slowly, the two of us are adjusting to this new reality.

    I watch some TV, brushed my teeth, did the facial treatment recommended by Colleen, and went to bed.

Saturday, March 16, 2019

Good news: Status quo

Bad news: None    

    I woke up this morning to a spasm of self-hatred.  I had that a lot when I was 13.  I remember that year.  I walked around, hearing, “ David, I hate you.”  David is my maiden name.  I was at camp, and we were all referring to each by our last names that summer. While I suffered from self-depreciation most of my adult life, those spasms are quite different. They’re small electric shocks surging through the body.  This one included some thoughts that I might be responsible for Mike’s illness and death.

    Just before he died, I went on a ridding jag.  I wanted to get rid of all the surplus.  I cleaned out the shed; I cleaned out the toolbox. I got rid of anything we hadn’t used, and I couldn’t imagine needing in the future.  Habitat for Humanity was the primary beneficiary of all this surplus.  In cleaning out the toolbox, I came across several old prescription bottles with screws and nails carefully sorted.  I recognized my father’s hand.  He died in 1956.  My thinking, if we haven’t managed to use these in 63 years, it would be safe to assume we could get rid of them without regret.

            Mike wanted to keep them.  If one of us was going to use a nail or a screw, it would more likely be me.  I’m the family handyman.  He was the cook and host.  The question: was I sending out some message that Mike had become access baggage along with those nails and screws.  I was becoming more self-reliant with his more frequent absences, mostly for diaconate weekends, and taking over more of our joint responsibilities with his illness.   I know this is totally ridiculous. I also understand that it is common for people to wonder what they could have done differently when someone dies.  Except for pushing the doctors to have his bile fluid continuously drained with the NG tube to prevent the aspiration pneumonia, I can’t think of anything else I could have done.  And I did ask the doctor about it after his death. He said there were risks either way.  He could have even choked on the tube somehow.

    Except for these painful thoughts, before I rose, my sleep was good.  I was able to get up at 7 today because the Bikram class is at 8:30 instead of 7:30. I got to class early, just in time to get my spot in the back of the room.  I needed to brace myself against the wall and hold on to the ballet bar.  When the class started, there were 21 people in the class.  The largest class I’ve seen so far.  And, someone was standing right in front of me.  I said, “Bruce.”  He turned around saw he was blocking my view of the mirror and moved to the back of the room by the door.  I saw him move his arms to the side and realize that he didn’t have enough room to get a complete range of motion.  He might as well have stayed where he was.  The teacher stood in front of me the whole time, blocking my view in the mirror.  He made sure not to block Yvette’s view, who was also standing in front of the teacher’s platform.  Now Yvette is a gorgeous woman about his age with an incredible yoga practice.  Talk becoming invisible as you age! The truth is: I don’t feel invisible for the most part.  I am lucky I live in Hawaii. The elderly are respected here and a very active part of the community.

     Right after class,  I headed off to the hula rehearsal to learn the dance I’m planning to do with the group for Mike’s funeral.  This is their regularly scheduled practice time.  I had never had a conversation with any of the participants. There are two young girls, but most are well over 50.  There is one haole in the crowd.  Haole means those without breath and is a prerogative term for white people.   While white people who come here often have money, they are clearly not the majority.  The Asians and Polynesians are. The political system is pretty much run by the Japanese.  Mike liked to say that the Japanese needn’t have bothered invading Hawaii, they would take it over in time anyway.  I really don’t know how accurate this is, or if he just meant it as a joke appreciating the irony.

    Everyone in the hula group came up to hug me, except the youngest of the two young girls.  One of the elders gave her a look, and she moved to approach me.  I assured her that her gesture was unnecessary. She took me at my word because she backed off with impunity. One of the women told me how Mike had approached them and told them that I was considering joining the hula ministry, and he was so excited.  Yes, there is literally a hula church ministry, just like there is a choir ministry.  The hula group only performs on special occasions, but Mike just loved it.  And, he very much wanted me to join.  I was reluctant because of my hip problems, but I had just been noticing that the older ladies didn’t bend down as much as the younger ones.  Maybe I could get away with it.  My arms are still good.  

    They had already developed a choreography to the song I selected.  This would be easier for them than the Ava Maria, which we had initially proposed doing. First, they demonstrated the dance while I videotaped it. Anita, who heads the ministry, slowly started teaching me the dance.   Now certain parts of it I could pick up quickly, but I was surprised about how awkward my arms felt.  My arms have always been the strong suit of my dancing.  My legs were never something to write home about.  Anita broke down the dance section by section. Then, I videotaped the oldest of the young girls separately, who is lovely to watch.  Her arms have the flowing motion, which makes hula so entrancing, and she coordinates her knee bends with her arms organically and effortlessly.  Watching her is like watching a boat rock gently on waves.

    On the way home, I stopped off at Long’s to take advantage of their ‘extra bucks.’ I don’t know about you, but I never get to take advantage of these offers.  Either I forget altogether, or I remember too late.  Ah, but today, I planned it.  The item I really wanted was on sale already. Good enough! I bought it and a CVS version of the same product with the extra bucks, and of course, a Hersey Milk Chocolate with Almonds, unfortunately not with whole almonds.   I have noticed that the old smaller version of those chocolate bars, with whole almonds, has disappeared off the shelves. Neither Target nor Longs carries it anymore.  I was able to buy it at Safeway, where I stopped off to buy more packaged kale salad, my mainstay.

    Then off to Kaiser to pick up my new prescription of Lexapro.  I think I’ll stick to taking a whole pill for the time being, even though I don’t have to take it for Mike’s anxiety anymore.  Afterward, I drove to Costco next to get air in my tires.  I had the attendant check the tire treads at the same time.  My regular mechanic had told Mike that I needed four new tires.  Yvette and Josh were concerned about the safety of those tires.  It winds up the criterion for judging the tires was the date on them, which is written in code.  The idea is the tires need to be changed every 5 years or so.  Learn something new every day.  The fellow said I had some more to go before I absolutely needed to change them, but better sooner than later.   I have a rebate from Costco for $100. I know where that is going.

    But then I have a lot of returns to make to Costco.  Mike and I were both into buying in quantity.  Our house has the space for us to indulge.  I have something like 8 cases of Pellegrino.  Mike drank it, but I can’t stand the stuff.  However, I would buy it whenever it was on sale. There are other unopened cases of things, but the Pellegrino outstrips them all.

    When I got home, I finally had breakfast, my usual: a cup of miso soup with tofu and some greens and a Juice Plus smoothie made with almond milk.  I posted Thursday’s journal entry and worked on Friday’s.  Doing this is vastly superior to the many other things I could be doing to distract myself.  Much, much better.     

    Saturday is NPR day.  Love those Saturday shows, mainly “What Do You know,” “Moth Radio Hour,” and “TED Talks.   I napped, walked Elsa, ate dinner of kale salad, leftover salmon and mash potatoes from yesterday, and finished off the Haagen Das vanilla ice cream.  I found a new English murder mystery series, “Suspects.”  I think Mike might have enjoyed this with me.  He liked anything English. 

    I picked up the mail on my way back into the house.  Another bill telling me that we hadn’t paid last month and owed ungodly amounts of money in late fees and interest.  I paid the fines and terminated the card, which is only in Mike’s name. 

    I finally sorted the pictures and letters into piles.  There are 40 pieces of correspondence my mother had saved, many of them from friends and family in Germany. They must have been written during WWII because they are marked “Opened by Censor,” in both English and German.  Does anyone know someone who can translate from German to English?  I understand the handwriting may be a problem.  The handwriting of my grandparents is very different from the handwriting of today in Germany.  The difference between then and now in English script is not nearly so great.  

    I took Elsa for her last walk of the day, did my facial routine as recommended by Colleen, and went to bed.