Frankly speaking my dear

It is a delight to go into the homes of people and provide a service they require.
I am so fortunate to be able to do this.
Today was a wonderful day.
Ooops, there is that word again. "Wonderful"

this should be called "Superlative abuse "
---however----
I do find wonderful the correct word.

admirable, amazing, astonishing, astounding, awe-inspiring, awesome, brilliant, cool, divine, dynamite, enjoyable, excellent, extraordinary, fabulous, fantastic, fine, groovy, incredible, magnificent, marvelous, miraculous, outstanding, peachy, phenomenal, pleasant, pleasing, prime, remarkable, sensational, something else, staggering, startling, strange, stupendous, super, superb, surprising, swell, terrific, too much, tremendous, unheard-of, wondrous

nope... tis definitly wonderful that I mean.

This is today's story from my wordsmith:
---------------------
He was a little bit of a thing and tagged along everywhere with his 2 elder brothers.
His father was in Her Majesty's army in India and retired to private civillian life only to find there was little call for Edwardian gents with cavalry skills.
The family went from a life of plenty to living in a single room of his Aunt's attic.
Noone slept in a bed and they counted themselves fortunate to have blankets.

The boys found a great respite in the Boy Scouts.
The panjamdrum of the neighbourhood was a Mrs. Prescott, still hoop-skirted and ramrod straight. She would allow the Scouts the freedom of her Estate and come out of the parlour onto the spacious veranda with apples or sweets to reward the winners of games and contests.
Frank was a very small boy, obviously too young to be in this group, however his mind was bright and sparkling and his enthusiasm boundless. He had won more than a few of the word games and distinguished himself enough for Mrs. Prescott to pay close personal attention to him. As the grande dame approached the little fellow, she noticed he had a black eye.

Drawing herself up to her imperious maximum height she looked around at the group of scouts
and then asked Frank:
"My boy, who gave you that black eye?"
He replied without hesitation"
"Noone gave it to me Mrs. Prescott, I had to fight for it."


Years later he found himself on a day off in the old neighbourhood. He lounged against the Estate walls and then, overcome with curiousity scaled the wall and looked in on the grounds.
A maid was just exiting the henhouse at the moment and looked over to see what weed this was growing down the wall.
"Do you know if Mrs. Prescott still lives here?" Frank asked.
"Yes she certainly does and get off of there and come and see her."
"Do you think she will want to see me?" Frank asked.
"Oh yes."

Frank followed the maid into the Manorhouse and there in the parlour sat the redoubtable Mrs. Prescott. She took one look at him and pointed her finger.

"I remember you!"
------------------

What a delight it is to be in Frank's company.
Frank recently turned 96 years old. A Master in the art of living.
So many memories he shares with me. And indeed us all.
He always tells me to write about him if I wish and to use his real name.
I can't do that without endangering the privacy of everyone I write about.
HOWEVER, his name really is Frank.
The only real name used in my ponderings.

---------

Many web sites are established by anonymous individuals who hide behind nicknames or nom-de-plumes with no postal address. Please be advised that information obtained via the Internet can be single sourced, horrendously biased and notoriously inaccurate.

Can you hear them?

Can you hear them
They talk about us
Telling lies
Well that's no surprise

Can you see them
See right through them
They have no shield
No secrets to reveal

It doesn't matter what they say
In the jealous games people play
Our lips are sealed

Careless talk
Through paper walls
We can't stop them
Only laugh at them

Spreading rumors
So far from true
Dragged up from the underworld
Just like some precious pearl

It doesn't matter what they say
In the jealous games people play
Our lips are sealed
Pay no mind to what they say
It doesn't matter anyway
Our lips are sealed

There's a weapon
We must use
In our defense
Silence

When you look at them
Look right through them
That's when they'll disappear
That's when you'll be feared

Hush, my darling
Don't you cry
Quiet, angel
Forget their lies ---"Go-gos"


===========

Online sources attribute that song to Belinda Carlisle of "The Go-Gos"
It seems to me it was written by someone else. I cant put my brain in gear.
Oh wait, I think I am thinking about "Girls Talk"
For some reason I want to make that song by Nick Lowe or Dave Edmunds.
You know.... "Cruel to be Kind" etc etc

All those lyrics blending together in my brain. It is a mess in there all righty.
Still: it does seem to me that an old rocker wrote that. hmm

=============
My return to work was of course heralded by alot of comment.
"Where have you been?"

Here are some of the things people said to me.

"I heard you went on a cruise."

"I heard you quit and went to work for the Theatre."

"How was Scotland?"

"You only work in ___ now I heard."

"I heard you had back surgery."

"How are your new teeth?( I loved that one, considering the tooth jewellery I have)
----------------------

One of my very best friends said to me yesterday:
"There certainly IS a difference between the happy you and that other one."
uhm... what other one? There is only me in here. Right? Right!

Cheery Autumn

It's the Litebook (tm) !
People are remarking on my happy mood everywhere.
Perhaps they underestimate 5 weeks of cabin fever and the threat of brain surgery.
hah!

Another fine Autumn day to wake up to.
My little man and I went for a long walk on the Nature trails; long by my standards.
Oh, let's face it: anything in the woods is long by my standards.
City-girl! Still remember the first time I had to use a portipotty.
It was so traumatic.
("You want me to what?")
One of the best things about a dog is the enforced exercise that comes with ownership. Responsible ownership.

We got a new front door installed yesterday.
Not only is there less heat-loss there is alot more light in the hall from the tempered glass etched window. It is amazing what a small change can do for esthetics in a place this size.
The installer was laughing at my choice of playlists and was asking certain younger family members why something more contemporary wasn't playing.

"Hey!" I intervened. "I am Queen of the downstairs noise... you want contemporary its upstairs with headphones thank you."

I think he was just amused to hear Echo and the Bunnymen unabashedly wailing in a place like this. Hahaha.
He did mention more than once that our cookie cutter condo had more character than anyone elses. I do not think he was talking about the walls. Hee hee.

In starlit nights I saw you
So cruelly you kissed me
Your lips a magic world
Your sky all hung with jewels
The killing moon
Will come too soon

---- Echo and the Bunnymen "the Killing Moon"

head and shoulders knees and toes

Frost settled on my car last night.
Tonight the moon is a huge pumpkin in eclipse, beautiful and eerie.
Suitably October-esque.

Carelane was crowded today. I feel old in this cold. My knee is grumbling.
This is what happens to people who spend too much time on their knees for reasons other than prayer. Perhaps even the devout suffer arthritic knees.

It is strange to think how normal the bodies of the elderly are to me.
Not in a dehumanizing way, just familiar. I see alot of skin in my work.
Some people are just very genetically gifted and age little externally.
Today I met such a gentleman.
His body looked 70. His mind however has every minute of his 93 years well-etched and has run out of space. Now he is in the forgetting to clear a little room.
We spoke about Henrika who was in the other room. How wonderful she is.

As I left she told me Henrika was her late mother.

I motored on to my least favourite call.
--sigh--
We are not supposed to play that game.

=============

You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!
Rudyard Kipling

Sunshine girl

Happiness spills from my fingertips like sparks.
I love my job.

I have a wonderful gentleman on my list for 8 hours per week.
That would be awful if we did not click.
---click---
But we do!
I met his wife and him this morning and the relief in her eyes was visible.
I suppose she did not know what to expect.
Let's see how she feels about me in a week's time.
For now I am their *sunshine girl*

ya-hoo!

o/~ back in the saddle again! ~\o

I'm back in the saddle again
Out where a friend is a friend
Where the longhorn cattle feed
On the lowly gypsum weed
Back in the saddle again

Ridin' the range once more
Totin' my old .44
Where you sleep out every night
And the only law is right
Back in the saddle again

Whoopi-ty-aye-oh
Rockin' to and fro
Back in the saddle again
Whoopi-ty-aye-yay
I go my way

---- Gene Autrey

===============


Whoopi-ty-aye-oh indeed! I am back back back as a matter of fact I'm back!

Whether I am just elated over being back to work or the LED medical device I am using for
SAD syndrome really works, life, she is good. www.litebook.com hmm where are all the little formatting buttons where I can link... hmm... ( ok got em in edit mode...)

This little "litebook" (tm) belonged to my private client~
ie: something on the side I did for cash.
She was a woman of 80 in the throes of a vascular dementia.
Her son had graciously allowed her to stay in her home as was her wish, til the money ran out.
Private care is expensive. I worked for the woman he hired.
She of course paid me less than she was making, and it was all cool with me.
I enjoyed being with this lady a great deal.
She was very happy and serene.
She now resides in the extended care wing of a "rest home" and has settled in very nicely.
The litebook is one of the things her son tried to keep her as cognitive as possible.
She certainly is a great deal more alert than most people suffering from the same disease.
I bought this from him as it apparantly eases carbohydrate cravings.

Not that I am concerned or anything BUT: (teehee)
I do seem to be taking on some of the physical manifestations of a hobbit.
--and we aint talkin hairy toes here---

ah to be free and living here!
Bliss sublime.

I am going to post this and try to format it.
Hang on now..

A fine idea indeed!

A friend of mine who happens to live in Macedonia pointed me to a very interesting website.
Usually I smile and nod when people recommend websites to me but this friend is very much the Tolkien fan along the same sightlines as my own little obsession with the works of his pen.
The site is: http://www.ancanar.com/
and I think you should go browse around it.

Morgostas you are a very discerning dwarf indeed! (make sure you have adblock on for that one and pop-up removers too... still it is very interesting to see exactly what my dwarf friend does in his off-middle-earth hours)

=============

I probably already pointed to this site but here it is again...
I find this fellows reading very interesting.
http://www.simulation-argument.com/

I do not have any inspirational quotes today.
Still on hold irl.... it is somewhat disconcerting.
-----------

A plummy sop of wino

Dinner was an experience savoured with fine friends and red wine.
I contributed the Remy Martin; essential to any festive gathering.

It was a little different for me, the solo act with two duets.
Later the ladies both went to work and the gents and I sat, wine in hand, disseminating.
-- we are all the same--

Looking in from the outside they have it all. A beautiful home right on the golf course. A family of two beautiful children. Good-looks, charm, and happiness. The reality I was told, is rather different. Employment uncertain, love crushed by debt, anxiety and medicate the kids into happiness.

The wine was good though.
----------------

It's 1993.
Kurt is looking into the camera telling us how he is happy for the only time in his life.
He is calm, clear-eyed.

We heard it on the news ------
--------------

I’m on my time with everyone
I have very bad posture
Sit and drink pennyroyal tea
Distill the life that’s inside of me
Sit and drink pennyroyal tea
I’m anemic royalty
Give me a leonard cohen afterworld
So I can sigh enternally
I’m so tired I can’t sleep
I’m a liar and a thief - "Pennyroyale tea" Nirvana

Waiting

The telephone is silent.
I have no work today.
I imagine a little meeting going on somewhere.
Hopefully the results will be accomodation... if not, I shall return to school.

and borrow MORE money!!
--------------

Gentle souls wait quietly for nightfall.

I saw the wordsmith this last week. He has been so ill. Mind shining like a diamond, just one or two facets dimmed by life and pneumonia. I used to have the most pleasant assignment of going and sitting with him for 3 or 4 hours so his wife could go out and get the basics done.
He is 96 she is 80. The trouble is she looks about 60 and people forget this is her retirement too. He requires alot of maintenance these days.

One of our mutual pleasures was dreadful puns. And quips.
He would tell me story after story. "Showing off" his wife said.

It has been a few months since we crossed paths.
And there I am on Thursday, looking in the room to hear him say:
"Oh you are so cheery. And you LOVE your job."
Yes!
A little later he told me that it meant so much to him to have someone who enjoys their work near to him at a time like this. So honoured was I.

I went to wash my hands and I heard him say to his wife:
"What's her name again?"
hee hee a little reality check there.

Even worse was her reply:
"it's Anne."

(it's not)
--------------------

"Blessed are those who give without remembering. And blessed are those who take without forgetting."

Bernard Meltzer quotes

Our search for significance

Human beings are hard-wired for the perilous pursuit of seeking significance.
It is not that we shouldn't, it is more that we search for it in all the wrong places.
The God-shaped hole in our souls remains empty as we try to fill it with glory or gold or fame.
We find life disappointing and full of regret. Where is God now?

Pursuing property, power, pride, position... we have turned pride and passion inwards. We push pleasure into something of benefit chiefly to ourselves. I believe this is a primal need.
"Tell them I mattered."
Maslow's hierarchy was one of my chief interests in Nursing studies. It ranks Food and Safety only as less compelling than our need for significance. It is the addiction of our time.
It is honoured and lauded by our culture. Awards of every type on every channel.
Oh to matter!

Psalm 29 is my new mantra for this struggle.
" Ascribe to the LORD, O heavenly beings, ascribe to the LORD glory and strength.

² Ascribe to the LORD the glory of his name; worship the LORD in holy splendor."

That about covers it.

------------------

I read the most amazing book this week. It was written by Umberto Eco.
"Foucault's Pendulum"
(and I thought I had brains)
It is an extremely witty novel rife with irony of the sort I love.
It is also a committment. I do not think I have ever read so many inter-related factiods in my entire visual memory's life, with the possible exception of Tolkien. Even there, I could not hope to put them all into a novel let alone one with a decent plot.

Upon completion I went to the Web to read reviews. I did this primarily because I had never heard of this novel prior to buying it. The reviews were of two schools: One black and one white. One camp pronounced it *unreadable* and the other announced its' brilliance.
Count me white. I was amused and amazed and entertained.
I also am one of those people who do not believe anything provable by mathematics.

It hurt my head a little trying to follow the twists and turns until I realised with a laugh it did not matter one whit. M. Eco really is a very clever fellow indeed!

-------
I believe that you can reach the point where there is no longer any difference between developing the habit of pretending to believe and developing the habit of believing.

-- Foucault's Pendulum, Chapter 87

Going Home

It has been such a privilege and pleasure to meet and know intimatly a wide variety of folk whose combined lifestyles and times embrace all aspects of the human experience.
In school we had a little poem we chanted at recess:
"Tinker Tailor Soldier Sailor
Richman Poorman Beggarman Thief
Doctor Lawyer Indian Chief
Royal Canadian Mounted Police."
I think I have met them all now.

Alas it is a sexist poem. Where are the women in that rhyme? Are they merely implied?

I had to say goodbye to a few people this week.
To some the goodbye was a gesture, something I did that perhaps they will remember later as a farewell. To some it was a verbal expression of a thank you for sharing so many things with me.

Change is inevitable. Change is hard. Change is here.
---------------------------------

"Change is not merely necessary to life - it is life."
Alvin Toffler

Processing speed

It was a decade or two ago when I was a self-described adreniliniac.
Now my processing speed is down by a few hertz.
I require more time to adjust to new things. Unexpected events take me by storm.
In the moment I am just fine. Afterwards, I crumble like last months stale cookie.

We had a suicide. I understand it. I just do not like it.
Coming back to find that out was difficult. Who and how and so on.
It was definitly a choice. Definitly someone who had had *enough*
Definitly a need for one last chance at control. --sigh--

The impact of our little community of caregivers is tremendous.
The people who came on shift to discover that... well. I hope they take the counselling offered.
I am still sad but not as sad as yesterday. It devastated me.

----------------

About power to recover from trauma and devastation…

1 Corinthians 14:3 If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing. (NIV)

Talking out of turn

tic tok
tick talk
-----------------------------------
Talking out of turn
Shot to pieces
When will I learn
Talking out of turn
Shot to pieces
When will I learn -Moody Blues (long distance voyager)


Conversing is a pleasure when it is practised among friends.
I have been very fortunate in the last decade to have enjoyed the companionship of fine folk most of whom I never will and never have met.
It is in times like this, when I cannot be understood when I speak out loud that I thank God for the kindred spirits of the Internet.

Thank you Wids.
Thank you ' clue.
Thank you Helene.
Thank you Keller.
Thank you Dale.
Thank you Turk.
Thank you Kevin(s).
Thank you Brian(s).
You will never know the comfort afforded me through your willingness to befriend a silly woman. I may be old but I am not yet olde.

I realize with company, I hardly focus my attention on the beauty of the place.
Yet, it is with company that such beauty is best shared.

===============================

It contributes greatly towards a man's moral and intellectual health,
to be brought into habits of companionship with individuals unlike
himself, who care little for his pursuits, and whose sphere and
abilities he must go out of himself to appreciate.


Nathaniel Hawthorne

A Cunning Plan

"Auntie's coming!"

Yes Auntie me was coming to visit her very favourite nieces and nephews who technically are not even related to me but that's just reality intruding. We are family!

I had this brilliant and cunning plan.
a) Get the dentistry done.
b) Take a holiday week.
c) Visit the "fam"
d) Be very smug about the superior intellect that conceived such a grande plan

I accomplished a, & b, and we are stuck there.
I called my dear niece to let her know traveling was out of the question.
Her 7 year old son answered. We had a nice 5 sentence long conversation.
I concluded with: "Can you understand me?"
"Yes."

I had my daughter call back when she arrived home.
She explained to the same lad that Auntie cannot come.
A few hours later my telephone rang.
"Auntie?"

"yes?"

---- long gasp and pause -----

"WOW Auntie! Oh my GOODNESS!"

I asked her if her son mentioned I called.

"He told me your daughter called and then said:
"Oh Mommy some weird lady called for you. I think she was Chinese."

hah!

God Bless the young. They tell the truth!

!
============

There arises from a bad and inapt formation of words, a wonderful obstruction to the mind.
- Francis Bacon

tic toc tic

One of my friends unwittingly gave me my motto:
"You can never have enough time"

We were talking about clocks.
I have a minor obsession with chronological devices. I am really a closet matho-holic.
(I LOVE that link. This person is a definite pale shade of me or the inverse)

St Augustine said that 'Time may not only be queerer than we imagine,
but queerer than we can imagine.' I have a good imagination. It is spilling out everywhere.

What, then, is time?
If no one asks me, I know what it is.

If I wish to explain it to him who asks me,
I do not know.

My house is a home for wayward clocks. It started as a fascination with cylindrical music boxes. I love the idea of weights and measures as a means of knowing your place in time and space. Or what you perceive to be....

Now every room in my house has at least 2 clocks except the powder room which has been spared. It is my oasis within time's illusion. The funny thing is that although clocks capture my attention, time matters not. We are here in this illusion but I do not believe we really exist in the way most of us would like to believe. Now before you think I am about to go all Matrix-y on you, its just a way of looking at life. My way. My life.

I picked up a vintage Bulova watch from the clockmaker yesterday.
It was in awful shape. Being an optimist I gave the clockmaker 1.5 years to fix it.
He came in a little late but its working.
Generally the vintage watch I wear is a very nice Rolex but lately I have been wearing nothing at all surrounded as I am by all this time at home.

This little Bulova has the curved glass and a missing second hand on a secondary dial on the face but it is special because it was a gift to my father from my mother in the early 50s.
*sigh happily*
Dad looked at the clockmaker and said brightly:
"She has over 100 clocks in her house!"
Perhaps he is still trying to make sense of it. I know he thinks I am a little odd.
Perhaps affirmation from the Clockmaker would make it all right.

It is just so wonderful to see attempts at quantifying the universe.
Archaic before their creation and yet so endearing.
Tic toc tic.

======================

In other news: work beckons.
*gasp*
=======================

"All my possessions for a moment of time"
Last words of Queen Elizabeth I of England and Ireland 1533-1603


"As if you could kill time without injuring eternity"
Henry David Thoreau 1817-62

"At Gerties"

A little retirement town has the million dollar compounds and the trailer parks on the outskirts of town. There are also various low-income complexes run by the Lions Club and the Shriners. The Legion has one or two also. These places are small and servicable and alot of the people living in them get home support or home nursing or both. It is possible a person could start their shift in one of those places and work almost the entire day without driving anywhere.

I had a new name on my list a few years back, a gentleman who was never home when I got there. A note was tacked to the door: "At Gerties, no worries." It was probably 2 months before I connected with him and found him to be a very chivalrous gent. He was profoundly deaf and his eyesight was going. He had congestive heart failure and wore compression stockings to keep his gouty feet under control. My little assignment was to remove those stockings around 10:30 pm.
Yes, we get paid for this!

Benny was the name he went by. Benny was a British Airforce man all spit and polish. He had been widowed for around ten years. One of the nights he was home I went to get him a drink of water and opened cupboard after cupboard to find empty bottles of Crown Royale Whiskey. I gently hinted he might want to get someone in to recycle. It got so that he was unpredictable and my list of those evenings took me the entire length and breadth of our area. I would call him to see if he was there. If not, I would carry on. When he was home he would say things like: "My stockings are off but I would dearly love for you to come by."

I asked about him to another woman.
"He's never home", I ventured.

"Ah don't you know Gertie?"

"uhm, no. Does she live in the same complex?"

"No! Gertie! From the day program!"

I do not do the day program so this meant nothing to me. It went in the storehouse of my brain somewhere around the ZZZZ888Z part.

Around Christmastime I was down in the shopping district of our small town.
The streets were festooned with lights and painted windows with merry scenes beckoned passersby. Along the short little one-way street, about 1 mile from home strode Ben.
I honked at him but he did not hear me. He wore a look of utter bliss. Whatever it was he was doing was clearly agreeing with him.

Two months later I had a new medication client. She lived in a rather more fashionable area of town and had serious memory trouble. She was very pleasant and most acceptant of help but quite conscious of her diminishment. A little budgie chirped from the counter where his cage sat on a towel. (gratuitous link here: I LOVE this site)

We sat at her dining room table and she told me about her friend.
He had always discreetly gotten up from the table right after dessert and moved to the recliner to watch the tellie. This was her signal to get the dishes done. Old-school I guess.
The bird was his. He came with the bird by cab a few times a week for supper.
Around Christmas week she had been sad over her inability to shop.
"Don't you worry my girl."
He had gone out and bought presents for everyone on the list. They had all been delivered to her door by cab neatly wrapped and then he had arrived separatly with the bird.
They finished dessert and she was up to the sink when she heard a *thunk*
She said she had stood over him saying: :"I'll get the neighbour you just stay there"
She told me the thing that had bothered her was his eyes were unblinking.
The very sensible neighbour had the ambulance there and her in another room drinking a cuppa while they removed Bens' body.

I kinda like this story alot.
He died on one of the happiest days of his life after a mission of kindness for a woman he cared deeply about. She could not remember his name but she took great care of his budgie which now lives in the extended care wing she happily stays in.

Gentle Ben.
You were so kind.
God blessed Gertie with you and me with you both.
-----------------------------------

"True blessedness consists in a good life and a happy death"
Solon (Athenian statesman and poet, 630-560bc)

100 words per minute (with the gold pin to prove it)

This is a story about a very proud woman.

Born in Canada to immigrants from the British Isles. Her mother was from the beautiful Lake District near Coniston in England and her father was from just outside Glasgow. She was never anything in her own mind but 100% Scottish. She lived with her husband of a half-century in a beautiful oceanfront home after their retirement to the Island.

The entire upstairs of their home was one huge bedroom. It overlooked the most famous and beautiful beach in this area with a view that was breath-taking no matter how many times you saw it. There was a library area in this room, a reading nook complete with a pale peach leather couch, an ensuite with a very large and deep jacuzzi tub and a separate shower. The closet area was bigger than most peoples bedrooms. There was still enough room for a HUGE largescreen television which she only allowed on to watch her favourite show:
"Keeping Up Appearances."

Those big closets of theirs were 5% the husbands clothes and 95% hers.
Stuffed full of fashionable outfits and shoes all in boxes neatly stacked near the shelves where the matching purses were housed. Inside the handbags were change purses in the same shade.. Each box had a description neatly written in her beautiful and distinctive script in the same place as all the others. She wore no make-up but very light lipstick, and the blonde oak dresser had two full drawers where dozens of Revlon, Max Factor and Mary Kay lipsticks awaited her whim.

Her bathroom was mirrors and tile. The counter had Chanel #5 powder alongside the perfume and cologne.
She was surrounded by all the pleasures and comforts money could buy. Her chief comfort was her dedicated and selfless husband who considered it his duty to attend to very every need. It was a high calling he felt. Each night she insisted on taking a long hot bath and her husband would lift her out of it and into her bed. She refused to use a commode. She would not use a walker. She would not even consider an incontinent system. Those topics were absolutely forbidden. The word "death" was also on that list. "Cancer" was the other word not allowed.

She held court in her king-size bed and the view was out to sea. Her visitors could sit in the wingback chairs and watch the resort stayers frolicking on the mile-long white sands.

This Lady was very sick, in fact she was palliative. She had refused a colostomy because of her distaste for the "bag". This decision resulted in her being dramatically affected in the frequency and proximity department. She could not go anywhere. She had a solution. She bought a motorhome to travel in. You could see her all around the area, a gaunt figure gripping the steering wheel. It was a little scary for those of us who knew how ill she was.

Her husband did everything for her. She sent him out for pudding and boost and ice-cream: whatever her tastebuds fancied in the moment. He would get so very hopeful and bring home 5 of whatever she asked for. Unfortunatly she could no longer eat. She had just finished a round of radiation treatments. The desire for food had left her. She was more than disinterested in food. She could not even force herself to eat. Radiation can be bad that way. She wore her wedding rings on her third finger now and even then they slipped and slid. Her once tight watch hung limply at her wrist. She continued to wear it because she said it was the first really frivilously expensive piece of jewellery her husband had bought for her. It had an moscaic face and diamonds around the dial. The strap was 18ct gold. Even in her worst moments, the jewels remained on.

It had been almost 18 months since the Doctors had told her husband her death was imminent.
Since then, she had spent tens of thousands of dollars in experimental treatments.
Possibly more than that.
She also volunteered to take experimental chemotherapy.
It was very difficult to watch her go so forcefully ahead with these methods when the odds were overwhelmingly against her. Her husband had a heart attack in the middle of her treatment. The stress was piling up and up and up.

It was the Hospital Social Worker who finally let the family know that Community Care was available. Noone had offered anything before. Not that she would have accepted it. She was too proud. After her husband's heart attack and recovery she knew she had to let someone help, or she would lose him.

The assignment was overnight care. The idea was that her husband could take a sleeping pill and get a good nights rest. She then could sleep downstairs in a hospital bed with the healthcare worker sitting near for any needs she might have. A butterfly injection site was put in for Haldol

Now Haldol is a very good drug. It is used to counteract mania and to combat the side-effects from cancer drugs. This woman had not slept a full night for months. The Haldol would help with that.
But the mind is a powerful thing and this woman had a very strong mind and will.
Night #1 she threw the worker out.
Night #2 she asked the new worker to get her something from upstairs, and took her carkeys and tried to escape in her motorhome. The only reason she didn't was her lack of strength.
She got to the Motorhome. She got the door open. She could not get herself up high enough to get in, thank God.
Night #3 the worker well-orientated and on-guard was a little harder to fool so she pretended to sleep. Around 4am she crawled over her bedrail, and down the hall and up the stairs on her hands and knees to her bed. She couldnt get into the bed. Her husband fell over her at 6am when he got up to the bathroom. Clearly, we had it wrong.

The new improved plan was to give the workers the assignment to TALK to her all night. This worked like a charm. The Haldol was discontinued due to her screaming each time she was injected (it is almost painless) and the Workers were culled down to 4 hardy souls who got on well with her.

The woman on the hill could talk and talk the entire shift without ever repeating herself.
The story she told each and every worker was not about her adored husband. Not about her 4 kids of whom she was very protective and proud even if they DID drive her to distraction. No it was about her secretarial training. She had wanted to be a Doctor. Her mother had told her that she could do anything she wanted but if she chose University, it meant absolutely no dating. She was already in love, life-long consuming love with her future husband so she chose secretarial school and business college which came without the dating clause.

She was not very challenged by it, so she concentrated on proficiency. She attained a typing speed of 100 words per minute on a manual typewriter and was the very first recipient of a gold pin to honour this achievement. Every worker and every Nurse and even the Doctors had seen this pin which she brought out at the climax of the story to proudly display. Stories about her career at the University stories about her prestigious job as the Secretary to the Chief of Police, stories about her work.... it was very important to her that these women and men knew she had DONE something. She had MATTERED.

Each morning the Workers would leave looking worn out. They cried and sobbed and wombled their way to their cars. The woman got the nicname *Boadacia*.

The carebook was full of entries like this:
"family present. tension in the home."

The small team of Nurses and caregivers were relieved when the husband hired private Nurses to care for her full-time, and the Healthcare team only had to go in 3 nights a week.
When she died, each caregiver said it was the hardest assignment they had ever had.
The funeral was packed.
The Nurses and Care-givers sat in the pew behind us.

The woman on the hill was my Mother.
It has been 7 years now.
Nothing can ever take your mother away from you.
Not unless you want it to.

I miss you Mom.
You were unique.
Anything in me of great spirit and compassion is from you.
For all that you gave to me and all the blessings I did not see at the time, thank you.
You were an indomitable personality.
Heaven is much spicier with you up there, I know it!

----------------------------------------

A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials, heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine, desert us; when troubles thicken around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.--Washington Irving

"Are you married?"

Most Nurses and Healthcare professionals out in the field hear that query many times from many people. There is no right answer, not in these uncertain times with skewered social mores (Pronunciation Key (môrz, -z, mr-) --Dad and I just argued about the correct way to articulate that. Did you know Dictionary.com has audio files to educate us all in the proper enunciation of our language? Should you attempt to hear their files you will get this message:
Audio pronunciations are available only to Dictionary.com Premium members.
(phht)
Yet another company that wants my information. No thanks.

Now about marriage: I get proposals decent and indecent a few times a year.
Mostly indecent in my way of thinking. It is a strange thing how people transfer their feelings.
One moment you are their care-giver and the next you are their future wife. Or mistress.
Or something inbetween.

I wear a wedding ring every work day.
When I come home after my shift I put my uniform in the hamper and the ring in a little trinket box. I might as well NOT bother. The only ring that works is this very large diamond ring I have that I would not be able to do any personal care wearing. That ring prompts clients to say things like:
"I can see YOU'RE taken!"
"Oh boy, someone loves you alot!"
Who bought me that ring?
Why I did of course :)

I was thinking about a dear person today named Mrs. Th.
I miss her dearly.
She said to me once:
"My dear girl, if you're not married it's because you do not want to be."
At the time I thought it was a very strange thing to say.
I think I understand what she meant now.

Ms. Th had been married 3 times.
Widowed 3 times. And still an optimist!
She lived in the most remote location from our central office. It was spectacular.
One day I almost fell over when an eagle swooped in front of the window.
Mere inches away.
I had never thought about how large an eagle really is!

The home was on a bluff.
Huge trees first growth variety were on the bank leading down to the waterfront. She looked out to a lighthouse and light marine traffic from the marina just around the bend. It was just a pleasure to be in the home. She was the icing on the cake.
We got along like a house on fire. Once I went off the night shift I did not see her again.

Mrs. Th so elegant and full of largess, gentility and warmth. It was that quality of class you cannot quite put words to. She was so very polished in such a refined manner. She exercised life as a nice choice; discriminating and sensitive to beauty; just a woman of quality. She once told me she wished I had been her daughter in law. I was so honoured. It was one of the highest compliments ever paid me.

I only found out a small while ago who her son is.
I had met granddaughters and adopted daughters and sons-in -law at her home but never the son. And yet it turned out that I know him.
He bore nor resemblance to his Mother at all physically.
He is a bit of a gentle giant.
But the heart is the same. He is a very good man.
He is a man who loves his family.
But the elegance and genteel manner skipped his generation.

Isn't that just like a classy woman to pass on the things that TRULY matter.

Oh Mrs. Th how I miss you.

------------------------------------------
A truly elegant taste is generally accompanied with an excellency of heart. - Henry Fielding

The only real elegance is in the mind, if you've got that, the rest really comes from it. - Diana Vreelan

~*~ Death of a Warrior ~*~

Amid angels sighs...
on wings of thunder...
through a sunrise sky the eagle and its mate flies high…
The spirit warriors wait
-------------- ©Faye Sizemore
October 26, 2001

-------------

A sad thing happened around my town. I had the usual every 2nd Friday duty of dropping off my hours and mileage ito the office. Another worker was in the lower area where we have a drop file for such things.
I said my hi's and then my eagle-eye caught a single word on her client report sheet. *deceased*

I looked at her and she said, clutching it to her chest: "Oh no , don't look at that."

I asked her who. It was the warrior.
I gave her a big hug and asked her if she had been present at the time of death.

She burst into tears and said: "Yes. It was horrible."
She went on to tell me the last few days had been awful for her.
I told her how when I first started that happened to me in my second week on the job and I did not much like it either. We both cried.

"I am glad it was you." I said, then clarified; "And I mean that in the best of ways, you are a caring wonderful person and I am glad he had you.

What a warrior he was. He was a Pilot, a diver, a treasure-hunter, a financial wizard and so much more. He approached his brain cancer much the way he fought his paraplegia. He told me the hour and day of the accident which took away his ability to walk. It never stopped him from much except walking.

Mr. T. you were so strong.
Your courage and grace and appreciation of, and for, life was boundless.
God bless you and envelope you in his arms, free of pain and suffering.

@-#@-#@@-#@-#@@-#@-#@@-#@-#@@-#@-#@@-#@-

~* Always*~ on the Job

Serendipity.
Synchroncity.
Coincidence.
God.

All of the above.

I am having a bit of a time regaining my abilities to the degree where I can comfortably drive long distances and perform life and death and after-death care. You would not want me walking in unable to speak clearly would you? How about if I lurched a little to the right every second step.
Yes yes, I am still off. I feel alot better but I am definitly not myself enough to go anywhere far. Luckily I live in the middle of our little resort city just up from the beach just over from the Library and just a few short blocks to the fabulous Thrift stores. We have the best deals ever in this town. Dealers line the aisles each and every morning picking up this and that for 50 cents and 2 dollars. It is a wonderful place if you like scrounging through other peoples stuff.
I do. Woo boy do I!

My little home houses me and my collections. The most noticable collection is my clocks. They really are fabulous. I also collect boxes, religious iconary, and cushions. I recycle. Get good stuff, enjoy it, get better stuff, donate the good stuff. The circle works for me. I never want for anything. Needs are few. Food. Money. Roof over my head. All that is taken care of. ahhhh

But I digress.... :)

I was very cranky yesterday. My jaw just would not unclench and I had to wear my jig all day to keep my teeth apart. Feeling very blue and unable even to cheer up by thrifting, I decided to go for a really good cup of coffee. A really really good ETHICAL cup of coffee.
But where?

My absolute favourite place is 1 hour up the highway in beautiful downtown nowheresville.
I couldnt possibly drive that far. If I could I should be working. I can't.
Inspiration hit. I went down to the little funky place owned by a 28 yr old hippie-chick. Her place is just down the hill near the water by me. The lights were dimmed. Odd for 13:00 hours. Even odder the keys were in the lock. I went in and she sat by the counter in tears.
"Sorry I am closed."

"I can see that. Your keys are in the door."

"Sorry... sorry closed. Ouch. Sorry."

She was doubled over in pain. This woman is fit and tough. She hikes and bikes and works her little shoppe 12+ hours a day in the tourist season and 8 every other day. She is no wimp.

"Oh please, dont make a scene. Please."

One of the advantages of being a take charge personality is that in crisis, I do not have to wait and think what to do I just do it. Ambulance came with little fanfare and she was whisked off to hospital and into surgery. She is recovering nicely at home now.

I think God had one of his angels whisper in my ear when I was thinking about going for a cup of coffee. I have not frequented her bistro for a year or so.

God can use anyone to accomplish his purpose.
God can work anything for good. Anything.
=======================

I love to cruise the Web looking for good things.
The quote below is from a site http://www.itwm.org/positive.html
This looks to me like a very inspired individual.
What do you think?

The raven is solitary in deposition, but was used by God to feed the prophet Elijah. God can use anything or anyone to do His will. Even someone like you and me.