Ah, The Mystery of Life

 A week or so ago, I tried to print my literary masterpiece from 
CHAT GPT. I could read the brilliant words but the print feature did not work. This morning the floor by the printer is rife with pages---all those that did not print last week. An embarrassment of riches...

"The saints and poets, maybe ." Answer to Question from "Our Town"

 Does anyone understand the value of life while they live it?  Emily Webb chose to relive an ordinary day in her life after she had died. She chose her 12th birthday to revisit the past. 

  I can't exactly recall all the events from an earlier day in my past life, but this is an approximation:

  It's a warm summer day and I've driven the kids to my mother's house in the village. The back yard is like a plaza, life abounds. My mother is there and Helen and foster girls, and family next door. There is a well-used old porch swing beneath the cherry tree in the little flower garden. My mother might have been working in the garden before sitting down to rest for a while. Helen would have been watching what  the kids were doing, carefully but non-judgmentally supervising the play of the five young cousins. There was an abundance of animals, including not only dogs and cats, but chickens, rabbits, a sheep, and even ponies. The smell of homemade tomato sauce may have permeated the air. 

  After visiting for a while, I decide to take my youngest child for a walk upstreet. The stroller is kept there at the house, a newly purchased item in orange and yellow; the other strollers worn out now and discarded, after several years of being no longer needed. I pass the Valley Inn. The doors are ajar, windows open and unseen voices call out as we pass by. I smile and wave, and keep walking. Near the corner on the other side of the street, Gloria is standing and I'm sure gossiping with Bonnie and maybe Julie. We exchange greetings and keep on with our journey. When we get to the duplex house, formerly Griggs's, Emma is sitting on her front porch, joined by Sharon who lives in the other part of the house. We say hello, but Emma, as usual, wants to hold the baby. So we visit for a while. As we leave, Alma is sitting on her porch across the street and calls for me to come over, to talk for a while. She comments on the baby's hair, which I've combed in a curl on top of his head. She says she used to fix her son's hair that same way. As we cross back over to "our side" of the street, Sharon calls out, asking to join our walk. She has undergone a recent tragic accident with her husband and needs to get out of the house for  a while. So she joins us on our stroll, in pleasant and ordinary conversation.

   My memory of this resurrected day does not include the homeward path, but that does not detract from the atmosphere of the day. I'm not sure that even saints or poets could have foreseen the value of such an ordinary day.

While Still In Bloom

 

From the Archives: A Solution

     Our youngest child had somewhat of a speech delay, and then a stutter. He didn't want to have to struggle to speak and would seek out his sister, grab her hand and take her to wherever it was that he wanted, and point to it. She was always willing to help him. My mother felt for him; she said when he wanted to speak when he was at her house, he would use his fingers to try to move his mouth into a position so he could talk. We were ready to enroll him in Colleen's Pre-school , and I had informed her of his problem, and she was willing to accept him as he was. I had brought the matter to the attention of his pediatrician , and he suggested speech therapy. I was reluctant, aware of the recently released movie, Ordinary People, and guilt was in the offing. 

   Then a miracle happened in the persona of singer Mel Tillis, a gifted vocalist who stuttered. He was a guest on a late night talk show, and Tillis confided that the only time he did not stutter was when he sang. The host asked him why  that  was and Tillis said that when he sang he didn't hear his voice, as he did when he talked. Listening to that explanation, I had an epiphany. Why not have my stuttering child whisper?  Then he wouldn't hear his own voice either. Not a scientific conclusion perhaps, but worth a try.  AND IT WORKED.

May 29, 1995

 Dorothy was at our house then, as she most often spent the weekends here during that time in her life. And she would bring the recipe, ingredients, and even her favorite mixing bowl and make us the most delicious Sunday dinner. But that day was different; she knew a storm was coming. Dorothy was not afraid of much of anything she confronted, but she  had a lifelong fear of the wind. When we were little and shared a bed, she would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night screaming in terror, maybe the sound of the wind outside, maybe a bad dream. 

  We knew a storm was coming, but nobody seemed overly concerned, seriously underestimating what was to approach. But Dorothy was on edge, even before she looked out the back window and saw the eerie sight. "The trees are sideways," she told us. "Let's go."  She went into the bedroom and grabbed pillows and blankets. "We'll go down into the basement."  I told her the 2 full sized glass windows might not be safe. So we shut the doors in the hallway and settled down there with our blankets, waiting for the worst. It was nervewracking. I'd give anything to be able to repeat that time.

Calls of the Wild

 These 3 things that I must do before my time is done:

Yank up ivy. Chop down  dead tree. Put woodchuck on the run.

Pic#3 The ivy that grows through the ground, and will climb the lilac trees and bend them to the ground. Pic #4 The dead tree that serves as a ladder for the ivy vine to reach the lilacs, or any tree it wants to. I used a hacksaw so it took a while. Pic#2 The groundhog trying to burrow into the  basement. Pic#1 Ma's Hydrangea which was leveled by the last wet snowstorm, but still has some life, which houses a nest of Blue Jays. And one of the parents "attacked" me yesterday, flying right into  the back of my head---not hurtful, but startling. 

Reality or Illusion

I'm posting here to keep my ailing brain apprised of events. And no one, and I mean no one, seems to have any idea of why the mystery appt. today.  No one was prepared for my visit, for sure.

 When I was in hospital Feb. 25-27, one of the neurologists I saw there, and was assigned to follow up with  was Dr. U. At f.u. O.V. on March 9, he ordered a number of tests, procedures and referrals: Lumbar Spine MRI, Brain EEG, TEE (Trans-esophageal Electrocardiogram,  30-Day Heart Monitor,  an RX for Gabapentin, and a referral to a Neurosurgeon at A.M.C. He said Samaritan Hospital will call me to schedule the EEG and the MRI. 

   March 10, my Primary, Dr. M. called and said I should have been prescribed Plavix on release along with the Statin and Aspirin that Hospitalist  Dr. Black had prescribed. She also disagreed with Dr. U's recommendations and recommended a different neurologist. 

     Samaritan  did not call and when I called them, said they had no record of any script submitted. 

 At March 17 post hospital discharge follow up office visit with cardiologist, Dr. P. said to forget the prescribed TEE and Heart Monitor, that testing had been done in hospital. Take Statin and Plavix. Don't take aspirin along with. 

 April 17 visit with Primary Dr. M., she referred me to PT, which had been suggested by cardiologist and transition nurse, but D. M. had previously said she didn't see what good it could do. And she actively referred me to the other Neurologist. (That's another story.) I began P.T. on April 26.

April 24  After update from me on my attempts to comply,. o.v. with Dr. U.  resulted in more  referrals and tests ordered: Extensive Blood Labs, 9 tests, the brain EEG at Samaritan,  (again), ENT for Vestibular Therapy and Vestibular Balance Studies, Psychotherapy, Audiology for Hearing Test, and the referral to neurosurgeon at AMC., naming Dr.Alan Boulas (another story.

April 27 follow up with Dr. P. keep taking statin and plavix. Return visit in 2 months.

Actions:

     May 5, EEG at Samaritan

    May 10, Blood labs at Labcorps (as noted) in C.P.

    May 12, I had re-scheduled appt. with nephrologist Dr. B., as they had had a BABY!!! which meant I had to repeat my blood labs for him as time had passed. He said results were stable and I really didn't need to be a patient there any more. OK. 

Lab results posted on my Patient Portal. EEG reading was not. My F.U. appt. with Dr. U was July 24, 2023. But Monday early evening, I received call from his office saying I had an appt. very next day, May 16. I wondered(not worried)  if there was some significant findings. Today I found out. Dr. U. enters and asks if I'd had the labs and the MRI. Labs, yes, I say, but order was for EEG, not MRI. He  says the labs were all normal, but I saw a few were Flags, which I wanted to ask him about. Turns out he has only partial results from the 9 tests ordered, so he asks me to wait while he attempts to retrieve the rest. He does so, and "reassures" me the few Flags were due to the effects of the Statin, and to just keep an eye on it,  to return in 4 months. I ask about the EEG, the results he doesn't have, what was it done for? He answers for some scan of some brain abnormality or something like that. Then he says he can tell from talking to his patients, that if they use sarcasm or humor or laugh at his poor jokes, he knows there is no problem. He puts me in that category, though I can't recall instances of any of those examples. Before I leave, he says the nephrologist should NOT have released me from his care, something about creatinine. 

  P.S. Results from the EEG on May 5 were not read at the hospital until May 24. So not Dr. U's delay.