Meeting the In-Laws….. (especially my Mother-in-Law)

I married Stephanie in October 78, it was 2nd marriage for each of us.  Steph had been married to a Phd, and I was enlisted in the Navy.  Marrying me was a step down the social ladder.  But it is amazing what love will do for you.  The process of marrying always involves meeting the future in-laws, gaining their approval, and making what peace needs to be made.  It was no different in Steph and I’s relationship.  On Steph’s own she had driven to Kentucky and visited my parents. As a matter of fact, Steph met my Mom at Mom’s favorite Waffle House.  Apparently whatever transpired at that meeting was the right thing, Steph and Mom got along great throughout the relationship.  Steph even created a Christmas tree (using only White House ornaments) similar to Mom’s.  Dad liked Steph immediately, as much as Dad liked anyone.  She could hold up her end of a conversation intelligently, that was the major factor for him.

My meeting Steph’s parents wasn’t quite as positive, Rufino (future father-in-law) and I got along fine from the moment we shook hands, but my relationship with my future mother-in-law started on thin ice on a foundation of shaky ground.  I won’t keep you in suspense, my mother-in-law and my relationship grew to a great friendship, filled with love and respect.  Arlene was a lady with no end of class.  She was well read, and she cared greatly for the arts, and dedicated to her Church. She was well respected during her career, and she loved her children and grand-children and took care of them even in her passing. Steph said she was at one time a great cook, I don’t have any 1^st hand knowledge of that to agree.  But in retirement after Ruf’s passing she found the many great inexpensive restaurants.

I have so many fond memories of Arlene, I could write several thousand words, but I am only to relate 3 or 4 stories of our time together.  The first couple will be the negative impact the latter will be the of our better times.

I met Arlene at the wedding of her youngest son.  Steph and I drove up from Norfolk VA. I was just returning to Norfolk VA (from a 7 month Med cruise), with wedding in Danbury Conn., the next day.  Steph and I had a couple stops (picking up my suit and taking a nap), before the all night drive to Conn.  Traffic was bare thru New York City, and with other circumstances led us to be a bit late.  Of course it was my responsibility to get us there on time, but I did fail LOL LOL.  Instead of driving directly to the reception after the wedding we diverted to the motel to check in and change cloths.  We were therefore late to the reception.  Again my fault, gosh I hate being late.  Clearly Arlene wasn’t a big fan of lateness and so far I was 2 for 2 incidents. After the reception we were invited to gather at Ruf’s and Arlene’s to play poker (in Alexandria VA)[[[‘;’;.  This was a family tradition and cheap; nickel, dime, fifteen cents, max bet.  I was in the Navy, I played to win always and I was pretty good.  The players were Steph and I, Ruf and Arlene, Dot (Arlene’s sister) Herm (Dot’s husband) and Bill their son.   Ruf was the hardest to read, Arlene and Dot the easiest, they both had cards that gave hand ranking from low to high, they would look at their hand and run their fingers up the list until they found their hand, and they were honest their fingers always stopped at the hand they had.  I realized way to late that night that from time to time Ruf and Herm would throw in hands so the ladies could win.  I didn’t throw in a hand unless I thought I was losing and I won a bunch of money that evening, and the next couple times we played as well, before I was clued in.  That was my first major mistake.

Over the next few months I didn’t make a lot of headway with Arlene, it was kinda like 2 steps forward and one and one half back.  Ruf and I did great, each weekend when I came to town if he had chores to do at one of the apartments he owned I would help out.  We talked and became friends.  Ruf was an extremely interesting man with a ton of courage, skills, good nature, sense of humor, and a work ethic to the extreme.   He also enjoyed baseball and football which we could also bond. 

Arlene and I were a work in progress.  Steph and I had been asked to take on the management responsibilities at one of the buildings they owned.  It really meant keeping the public spaces clean and the trash out.  We were to do this for reduced rent in a unit.  But we were still required to pay.  I had sold my motorcycle just before I got out of the Navy, this is long before electronic checking, and out-of-state banks still took 3 days to clear checks.  Well guess what happened, that’s right the check I wrote to cover the 1^st month rent, and security deposit bounce like a super ball.  Arlene took Steph aside and asked if she realized what a deadbeat (my words) she was going to marry.  Steph explained the out-of-state thing, and that appeased Arlene and took me off the hook.  But it was still strike two.  Let me say at this point it was looking grim.  Over the next several months I worked very hard to get on Arlene’s better side and was making significant progress until we had to delay the wedding because my divorce was not final.  We had failed to tell her folks I was going thru the divorce process.  WOW what a shaky start.  But as I said earlier Arlene and my relationship grew to one filled with love and respect.

Steph, Allison and I visited her mom 2 or 3 times a year.  Sometimes it was for a long weekend, other times a week or more.  Allison would spend a month visiting her during the summer. (those visits could warrant a post on their own) For months prior to a visit I would have Arlene put together a list of things she wanted done around condo.  The list could number as many as 20 or more items, but never so much as to take more than a day or so to do.  Things on the list could include buying furniture, taking donations to the church, clearing a closet, buying tires and other maintenance for her car, or putting her awards on the brag wall.  Then it was golf for me. 

Some folks have accused me of having courage, but Arlene was the definition of courage.  She had a hip replaced prior to me knowing her, and after that she had the other hip done, an ankle and knee surgery, and several small strokes.  Thru it all she made the necessary adjustments to her life.  One of her post retirement goals was to learn how to ballroom dance.  So at the age of 65 she started taking lessons.  Ruf had passed, so she had both time and opportunity to take lessons and she did.  She loved dancing, she loved the music, and she loved going to the dance competitions.  After a couple of years of practice and learning, she started entering dance competitions.  Clearly she entered the age appropriate competitions and she did quite well.  And she did quite well acquiring at least 15 plaques and small trophies.   One day I was tasked to put them all on a brag wall.  Arlene sat in her chair in the living room of her condo, and directed me on the placement of the plaque or trophy.  I teased her without mercy while putting them on the wall.  Arlene sat and giggled like a little girl, when I said “oh, here is the one when you came in second”, (only 2 competitors), true she would say in response, but at least I didn’t come in third.   Or “here’s the one for competitors with medal hips.  You won this one.”  And she had, I was so proud of her efforts, maybe I even learned a bit from her.  But that afternoon we had a wonderful tit for tat, as I placed the awards on the wall.  It was a great experience.   

Over twenty years Arlene and I worked on our relationship.  We shared a mutual respect, and loved each other in and son-in-law, mom-in-law way.  She included Steph, Allison and I in several of her vacations, one of my favorites was Massanutten VA. She was a very nice person, which I am glad I got to know.

As always your thoughts and comments are encouraged and welcomed.  Take care, Bill

 

How I Feel Today 05/14/13….

On my own devised scale I feel about 2.  No real pain to speak of, no real fever, no poops, but with a cough that all but rips your chest out and no energy. Yes I am back in the hospital.

Folks how are you today? As for myself I as I said above I am once again back in the hospital.  The pneumonia and Pseudomonas which reside in my lungs (primarily the left) have decided they were tired of being ignored and wanted their special place at the head of the table.  Truly, these two house guess’s I could do without.  I really thought I had gotten a good head start having seen the doctor in a very timely manner to head off a trip to the hospital, but I was wrong.  I was brought kicking and screaming (just kidding) to the hospital yesterday and admitted immediately.  But of course immediately means something entirely different to a hospital, I was in the ER room for close to 7 hours before space was found.  But now I am sharing a room with a gentleman a bit sicker than I.  Bless his heart. For those that don’t know me or haven’t followed me, I have COPD.  It is a terminal disease, and in time it will kill me.

Last week I picked up a cough that was a little stronger than normal.  I found that in the course of the overnight I would wake up to cough, and this early am coughing was very productive, quite offensive looking, sharp yellow/green in color, and as thick and sticky as grade school paste. Yuk Yuk!!!!

This is only day two of my hospitalization, but I am further along towards recovery.  My interest and ability to read are high, I am writing this and hopefully it makes sense to the readers.

I just had my vitals taken and there they are: BP 114/54, O2=92 pct, heart rate 94 (which is low normal for me), temperature 97.6 which is normal for me, another key test is my white blood cells is well over high normal, so they are working their little butts off getting this infection under control.

COPD in my case is made up of chronic bronchitis with a chronic cough that produces a ton of mucus. It is one of the aspects of the COPD umbrella.  The major bugs I get stem from Pseudomonas which is the jump starter for pneumonia.  Until a few years ago, Pseudomonas was not an ongoing issue, but over the last year or so it is not only the jump starter for illness, it resides in my lungs and with only the slightest of pushes becomes full-blown pneumonia. Over the last couple years my body has developed a tolerance for the drugs necessary to fully beat the Pseudomonas to submission.  So as the COPD progresses, my body will develop further tolerances for drugs and eventually the story ends.  But until then I will fight this sucker as best I can.

Now the Pseudomonas resides in my left lung waiting for the opportunity to flare up at a moment’s notice.  It is these flare ups that immediately get me hospitalized.

No mention has been made of what the duration of my stay will be.  It is way too early in the process to make that prediction, but having said that, I may report again later in the week of my progress.

Unlike my last trip to the hospital, I am in an actual room (it has a bathroom, a window with a view of trees, and enough room to turn around) as compared to the cell I was in last time.  I am sharing this room with another patient, but that will change very soon, I have MRSA and that will require isolation. So either he or I will be moved and it will most likely take place within the next 24 hours.

The goal of course is to get the f….. out of the hospital, and to be well enough to enjoy the upcoming Disney cruise with my family.  The cruise has been in the works for over a year and I have my granddaughter as fired up as I can, and only hope to amp her up a little more before our July cruise.

Well folks I hope you have a pleasant day, thank you for your continued good thoughts and kind words of encouragement.  As always your comments welcomed are encouraged – take care, Bill

 

Morbid Thoughts

Preface — I was going to shit can this post, but today (5/8/13) I found out I once again have pneumonia and pseudomonas. I also found out that a drug that is normally used to fights these illnesses’ is no longer effective in my body.  The list of drugs which are effective continues to shorten. So having said that it seems this post has even more value than originally thought.  Oh more great news, I will also have a pic line installed Friday, and after vacation most likely a medi-port. OH Joy!

Anyone that has followed my blog understands I have COPD, it is a terminal disease, I was “officially” diagnosed with COPD in 2006. and it’s the 4th leading killer of people worldwide. Like any other terminal disease it is not fun. (DUH!) Sometimes the worst part about it is that it takes such a damn long time to complete its’ mission, except at the very end when it races to the finish line. For those who don’t know COPD is the most common lung disease and is made up of a combination Emphysema and chronic bronchitis. COPD’s symptoms include a long-term cough with mucus, and shortness of breath or SOB. Eventually the outcome is the total destruction of the lungs.  Gee, that sounds like fun already.  If you hadn’t figured it out, I guess now is as good a time as any to warn you that this blog will be filled with my random morbid thoughts about this disease.

My recent pulmonary tests (4/13) revealed that my lung function is down to 41 percent, that’s like having a little over 3/4’s of one lung to use for all things breathing.  It doesn’t mean I can run a half marathon.  Any congestion, any irritant, overly spicy cooking, the smell of a single cigarette, a small brush fire a mile away, a hard breeze in my face, a mask which prevents the spreading of germs, even standing in the shower with the water in my face, trying to walk 50 yards without slowing down or stopping, all has a very real impact on my ability to breathe.

Like most COPD sufferers I can have a runny nose and cough on Monday and full-blown pneumonia by late Wednesday. I feel sometimes (but not all) that considering all my visits to the doctors I must be a hypochondriac. But the reality is I know I am not, and that these visits to the doctors help me in my fight against COPD. Yet even if I think I might be coming down with something my anxiety amps up, I fear the worst and my head plays mean games. But when I become sick, it is that much worst. The worst is the realization of another extended stay in the hospital.

For the last 2.5 years, it seems that, I have been going to the hospital every 6 months or so.  Prior to the last visit, my average stay was about 7 days.  But this last visit busted the curve with my 21 day stay.  I truly hope that isn’t a new trend.  I can eat only so much hospital meatloaf and egg noodles.   But with each exacerbations and hospital stay, are generally followed a further diminishment of lung capability. Time is the enemy.  Time always wins.

Speaking of fighting, (LOL a couple of paragraphs up) when does a person who is terminally ill have the right to stop fighting?  How much anguish should a terminally ill person put their love ones and their friends thru?  When does a terminally ill person stop making purchases for him or herself?  When is it okay for the terminally ill person to start publicly feeling sorry for themselves? are these folks ever allowed to ask “my me?”  We know we are a burden on our loved ones, but why does guilt sometimes have to come with it?   Of course these and many questions I haven’t even added are all rhetorical.  There aren’t any clear answers.  The answers change from individual to individual. And the answers change with where a person is emotionally, mentally and the stage of the disease they are in.

Let me put you to rest, I have no intention of giving up or in to this fucking disease. I have no intention of laying down and dying, I have no intention of ever stopping my fight.  And I will continue to do my very very best to aid and support other sufferers of this disease.  I will continue to fight until I reach that day where I cannot breathe on my own.  Then folks the fight is over and the disease has won.

To accommodate my illness I don’t travel anyplace that requires an airplane ride.  Even with a FCC approved oxygen devices, many airlines will not accept you as a passenger.  So for my wife and I to travel, it has to be car now or boat.  But even going on a cruise requires a lot of advanced planning, so it would be extremely unlikely for me to take a last-minute trip. And we travel all the time.

Hell it has gotten to the point where I even attempt to schedule vacations around when I think I will be in the hospital, and how much time post hospitalization I will need to recover enough to travel.   Even my wife looks at the calendar when we plans trips.  It becomes second nature, and if you think about it, it even makes sense.  But we make the plans and go.

I am about the most upbeat and perky person you would want to know. I am so upbeat I could drive you insane.  I am a kidder, the class clown, a joker, someone who tries to smile a lot, and generally I hope I am someone who folks like to hang around.  The best thing about me is I will not repeat will not just give up, I will not just lay down and die.  Those are skills I just don’t have, nor will I learn them.

Folks I have gone on and on.  I feel better writing this, and while it has some morbid stuff, I hope you understand I will not willing let COPD win.  It will have to kick my ass.

As always your thoughts and comments are appreciated.  Please take care, Bill

 

My Boot Camp Experiences ….. or the beginning of Manhood

Today’s offering will be about my time in US Navy Recruit Training or bootcamp, at the US Naval Recruit Training Center in San Diego CA. Depending on how this flies I may add chapters dealing with the rest of my Military career.  The recalling of this came about because earlier this week (4/29/13) I spent the afternoon judging high school seniors “Senior Projects.”  These 6 minutes presentation was on a subject of their choosing, and will make up a significant portion of their senior English grade.  I am sure you’re asking how is he stretching high school senior projects, to his being in the Navy. I am glad you asked!  Of the 13 presentations I listened to and judged, 6 of these kids were choosing the military as a pathway to their future.  Of the six kids, 4 had already completed at least 3 years of JROTC, and the other 2 had completed 2 years of JROTC.  Five of the 6 had already enlisted, and would be off to boot camp shortly after graduation.   And for those keeping stats 3 of these six students were young ladies.  None of these kids have actually been to boot camp, soft smile, but soon they will find out.

I enlisted in the Navy on April 13, 1969.  Joining the Navy was a choice I made, it wasn’t something I did completely willingly, I had few pushes from adults in positions of authority that made a good case for me using the military as an opportunity to grow up, and not spend time in an 8 x 10 room.

After being sworn in at the Naval Recruiting Center in Louisville KY, taking a physical and a million other little things I flew from Louisville to San Diego CA.  I arrived in San Diego about midnight and gathered with other new recruits. Sometime around 1am we were herded (and I do mean herded) onto a bus which took us to the US Naval Recruit Training Center (NRTC), San Diego.  It had been a quiet uneventful trip, I was excited because it was my 1^st airplane ride, I was excited because I was becoming a sailor, and I was excited because I wasn’t going to spend 6 months in an 8 X 10 room in Kentucky.  But I was not prepared in the least for what was about to happen.

With my arrival at NRTC (at approximately 130am 4/14/69) my world change.  Within 10 minutes of getting off the bus at NRTC my vocabulary increased by a couple dozen words.  And I heard combinations and grouping of words I had no idea went together.  I also found there was an entirely different level of being screamed at, my parents and coaches had screamed at me up until this point.  I thought these folks were pros and knew how to scream at an individual, but they were whispering lullaby’s to me compared to Sailors we were introduced to at NRTC.  And this was before we even met our “Company Commander” BT1 (forgot name)…. Once he was introduced he took it to an even higher level, explaining to the 60 men in the company (we were Company 281), that he pretty much hated everyone.  We would find out later that he did hate us all.  After these introductions we were marched to our barracks, arriving at our beds at approximate 230am.

The 1^st full day of boot camp started at 0400, and last unlit 1730 that evening.  My very last thought before marching to the barracks, as I looked out on the residential area outside of NRTC was I wanted to go home, that I didn’t want to be a sailor. But that wasn’t an option. I wasn’t going to be allowed to go home for 8 weeks. 

For the next 8 weeks I was given intense training in; G.I. Bill, Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ), U.S. Navy Ships and Aircraft, First Aid, Rank/Rate Recognition, Uniforms and Grooming, Conduct during Armed Conflict, Military Customs and Courtesies, Naval History, Conduct and Precautions Ashore, Weapons Familiarization, Firefighting, Basic Seamanship, Intense Physical Training and on and on.  Besides these basic skills and information boot camp also provided a foundation by which I grew into an adult.  It helped form my attitude and work ethic. Folks, let me also say that the navy taught me about team work, depending on that sailor standing next to you. It gave me a skill that I used for the next forty years.  And it taught me how to fold my cloths and how to neatly put 10 lbs. of crap into a 5 lbs. container.  It also taught me about respect both giving and getting. 

I will break my story into two parts here, part 1 the first third of boot camp, the 2^nd part the final 2/3’s of boot camp.  If I were to go into any great detail this could end up being….  well long LOL.

Our companies’ (Company 281) first commander (CO) was every negative thing you have ever heard or seen about what military boot camp was like.  He was a sadistic SOB, and truly enjoyed inflicting pain, both mental and physical. Humiliation was his flag bearer.  As I said earlier he took screaming at an individual or group, to a level I have not seen since.  I will offer 2 examples of his inhumane actions.  Once a recruit gave him an improper rifle salute, and he stood before this recruit and slap the recruit in the on the face using both his right and left hands until the recruit was bleeding from both sides of his mouth.  The other incident the CO stuffed laundry into the recruit’s mouth and crawl around the barracks going “oink oink I’m the company pig” until the recruit had blisters on both his palms and knees.  This second incident caught the attention of local media; the CA Bureau of Investigation did a cursory review and turned it over to NCIS.  NCIS investigation lasted 7 days.  At the conclusion of the investigation the BT1 CO was arrested and charged with 10 counts of cruelty, abuse of authority, and a list of other charges that ran the length of my arm.  He was convicted on all counts, he was reduced in rank from an E6 to E1, had to serve 2 years in military prison, lost his retirement and given a Bad Conduct Discharge.

CSCS Brooks became the Company Commander for Company 281 during the NCIS investigation.  99 percent of my learning during boot camp was guided by him.  As a group the sailors in 281 started bootcamp in a very rough way.  But we finished strong.  Senior Chief Brooks was a short stout guy, (kinda like me today fat but not quite), we called him the Pillsbury Doughboy behind his back. He didn’t scream at you when you screwed up, but his quiet chats made dang sure you didn’t make that mistake again.  The Senior Chief was required to march with the company to any and all training exercises (physical or classroom), medical exams and shots, and just about any other activity the company had to attend.  CS Brooks had short legs, and he had a hard time keeping up with 48 guys marching in column, taking at least 32 inch strides.  So whenever we would get too far ahead he would order “to the rear march” which had the 48 of us turn 180 degrees and march back the way we came.  When we marched back past him going the wrong way, he would again order “to the rear march,” we kept this up until we got to the destination.  Generally we marched twice as far as needed.  If we had upset him as a group (i.e. screwed up) he would have us march in half steps to the destination, I would much rather do “to the rear” marching all day than take half steps, everything below your waist hurt after marching 2 miles at half step.  Yet I don’t remember a single sailor in Company 281 complaining about this method of getting from point A to point B.   

Under the guidance of CS Brooks Company 281 graduated on time.  We had started with 60 and completed the training with 48.  He was proud of us and we were proud to have served under him during training.   Upon completion of training, the Chief treated the entire Company to a pizza and beer dinner.  It was the 1^st non chow hall meal I had in 2 months.

All of this is to say, that in the next couple of months we (the United States) will have 6 more young people, both men and women, joining the ranks of the US Military.  Some will serve in the Navy, some in the Marines, some in the Army, and some in the Air Force.  These are extremely smart kids, and they are dedicated to our country, and they are dedicating their lives as well. They are doing this because they want to.  No one is forcing them, no one is threatening them.  They want to serve and I am so damn proud of them.  This was 6 student soldiers and sailors out of the 13 presentations I witnessed.  I am told over 200 seniors gave presentations over 4 days. I suspect a lot more than 6 have chosen a career in the military, I am equally proud of them.

Folks as always your thoughts and comments are welcome.  Please take care, Bill

 

Free eBook The Persecution of Mildred Dunlap

Reblogged from The Persecution of Mildred Dunlap:

A very special thank you to all who have helped support the book with profits going to animal rescue. Getting the word out is equally important in the name of tolerance and to help raise awareness to get animals out of cages and into forever homes. Please feel free to reblog and help spread the word.

The award winning, The Persecution of Mildred Dunlap eBook is being offered for free through Amazon Wednesday May 1st through Sunday May 5th.

Read more… 58 more words

This is a wonderful book, set in the late 1800's out west, it is a view of then and a snapshot of now. It is one of the best books I have read. Enjoy -- Bill

 

How I Feel Today 04.28.13

I won’t say I am impressed because I waited 2 full weeks again, I just really didn’t have enough information to write about so I waited until I did.  Since my last “How I feel today” post I have made the great circle thru my doctors.  I have seen the eye doctor, the lung doctor, and my infectious disease doctor within the last 14 days. For those of us that keep track, I feel I am at the 2.75 level and have been pretty much for the last two weeks.  Early evening coughing is still a significant issue, and SOB at this level is now a fact of life that I am working to deal with.

This was my 1^st visit to the eye doctor in over 16 months, it was a good appointment. I have changed eye doctors because I just wasn’t happy with the doctor, or the eyeglasses that came from his prescription, and even though they replaced my lenses twice and the frames once in the 1^st 8 months, I was still not satisfied, therefore I changed doctors.  This seemed to be the right decision.  I had the most through eye exam in years, with a Doctor that really seemed to care.  She listened to my complaints, involved herself in a dialog that forced me to think before answering, made some suggestions then examined my eyes.  Apparently vision has changed enough to warrant a new pair of glasses.  One of my biggest complaints was that I could never adjust my head the proper way to feel comfortable reading thru the bifocal aspect of the lenses of my old glasses.  That issue has been addressed to my complete satisfaction.

I had two different appointments with the infectious disease folks over the last 2 weeks.  The 1^st was a follow-up and the decision to remove the pic line.  The removal of the pic line is important to me because that means in my doctors eyes I have made enough progress to not warrant the extra medication that the pic line is utilized.  My white blood count is within high normal, and all of the other parameters that they use to measure my health seem to be okay.  The MRSA and Pseudomonas still reside in my left lung, but both seem to be a bay.  Yes they will flare up again, when, who knows, but for now that is not on my agenda.

I also had my 14 monthly infusion treatment on this past Thursday.  It was almost as simple as when I have the pic line.  I was there promptly at 9am, was in my chair by 915am, it took the nurse only two sticks before she got into the proper vein and 5 hours later I was done.  I read, played on facebook on my laptop, worked on my blog for a bit, and watched some great music videos.  I even had my ear buds so I could really rock.  I was the youngest person in the center, so I don’t believe my choice in music was universally accepted.

The other doctor appointment I had last week, was with my Pulmonary Doctor.  I had my annual breathing test. I also had a post-test follow up.   Of course there is no good news from the results of these tests.  I don’t expect one, and beginning quite honest if my lung function had improved, I would have questioned the test.  The net difference between Sept 2012 and April 2013 was the lost of 10 percent of lung function. Overall I went from 45 pct in Sept to 41 pct in April, granted that is only 4 percentage points but its 10 percent of functionality.  The good side, and we will take good sides when we can, is that my  doctor thinks that this is a great victory considering the health year I had between Sept and April.  So if he wants to qualify it as a victory, I like victories so it has been a good year.

Oh by the way, I don’t know how I failed to mention that the University of Louisville kicked some serious butt during the recent 2013 NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament.  Louisville beat Michigan 82-76 (or too much to not enough) for the National Title — GO CARDS! ! ! ! !.  Also, while not quite as successful as the Men’s team, the Lady Cards also kicked serious butt during their tournament, only losing to a very strong UConn team during their National Title game.  All of this, coupled with the Cards football team winning the Big East, and having Gator (during their victory over Florida) stew at the Sugar Bowl, really made for a great year in Louisville sports.

As always your comments, thoughts, suggestions are always welcome. Please take care — Bill

 

A Tribute to my Mom – Ila Hamilton

Cari, this is a story about your Great Grandmother Ila Hamilton, she was my Mom.  You met her twice during your very early years, once when you were a few months old, and again when you were 3 almost 4.  My Mom thought you were very special, and quite a lovely baby (don’t get the big head).  You are still lovely and you are indeed special.  During your 1^st meeting with Mom you sat in her lap and did all the baby things that great grandmothers truly loved.  You smiled, you goo’d and giggled, you waved your little hands all about, and your eyes sparkled when you look at her.  She truly loved you.

Mom was born on February 12, 1927 in Lincoln County Kentucky.  She passed away on November 30, 2011, in Louisville Kentucky. Her maiden name was Ila Belle Williams.  And she absolutely hated the “Belle” aspect of her name.

She was raised on a farm in Waynesburg KY.  Mom attended elementary and high school in Eubank KY, and college at John Hopkins University, School of Nursing.  Mom was a nurse her entire professional career.  In all of our conversations when she spoke of working it was either as a nurse or as a kid working on the farm.  I have seen the farm she grew up on, I have worked on it a tiny bit, and I have spoken of it in other posts.  It was no picnic living and working on a farm in the 1930’s and 1940’s.  At one time I almost believed Mom when she said she had to walk up hill  going to school and coming from. She also rode to school on a horse-drawn sled (go look that up). As a farmer’s daughter mom had all the required chores a farm kid had, milking cows, plucking chickens, gathering eggs, picking all manner of wild fruits, cleaning the barn, weeding the vegetable patch, and chores I can’t even imagine.  I got my work ethic from Mom, I got my sense of self from Mom, and I my stick to it-ness from her.

Cari, I loved my Mom, just as you love yours. I loved her like a son should love his mom, and I respected Mom because she was Mom, but I also respected her because she had earned every ounce of respect she got from work or the neighbors.  I looked up to Mom, I trusted her, I hid behind her many a time when Dad was mad.  She was the 1^st person to give me a book with the word “fuck” in it, (I was 19) which I thought was so cool, but it also embarrassed me at the same time, that mom would have books with that word in them.

Even though I put forth so little effort in school, Mom always found ways to support me in my efforts.  I am sure she was quite proud of me after I got out of the navy, and started college.  She was probably even prouder when she I was actually making very good grades.  I know she was proud of what I managed to accomplish during my professional career.  Mom wanted to know everything about each promotion, the change in title, the increase in responsibilities, would I be travelling more, how many people reported to me, and of course how much more money did I make. LOL

Mom and I used to have wonderful conversations (one such conversation was regarding the Weeping Willow Tree), she would ask about my job (not having a clue as to what I did) and acted interested and amazed at my ever changing responsibilities, and accomplishments. We would talk about, the places we have lived as a family, what it was like growing up on the farm, how special it was that she and her sister both got to go to college, and on  an on. She gave her support without reservation.  She always made me feel loved.  I am sure that each of my brothers and my sister all have similar memories and feeling about Mom.

It couldn’t have been easy being Mom to the 5 of us, hell I can’t image a tougher job.  I know I struggled being a good dad, and a good parent to Allison, I can’t imagine having 4 additional children demanding attention, having different needs, having different abilities, having different emotions, having different needs for attention, and finding a way to balance all of it.  But Mom did!  Then she also worked full-time, she was a nurse forever and a day, and from every word I heard regarding Mom during her career she was an extremely caring nurse and very highly regarded and respected.

Mom also was the main bread-winner in the family, and yet she put herself aside and allowed Dad to be the man, chasing jobs, changing careers but always at his side.  Mom was always willing to start over at a new hospital, no matter where Dad’s career choice took him.

Mom’s last few years were difficult, health issues were winning. Mom had several small strokes before the major one in March 2009.  In addition, post-surgery hip issues made it difficult for her get around.  The stroke she had in March 2009 put her in the assisted living home.  The only good thing from her being in the home was that her short-term memory had gone away, and that allowed her to live there on a daily basis without the anger of knowing she was in the home for the long haul.  Her memory issues did make for some interesting conversations. And sometimes John would call me from her room (or shortly after leaving her room) to give me an update and just explain that Mom didn’t feel like talking that day. It was just how it was, and I didn’t have issues, I understood.

I wasn’t there when Mom passed away on that gray wet chilly day in November 2011.  I have mixed emotions, a large part of my heart wanted to be there, but because of her struggle, and pain she suffered at the end, I am grateful that I wasn’t.  According to Nancy, Mom’s exit wasn’t a quiet slipping away it was supposed to be, but more of an ugly struggle.  I guess that says a lot about Mom.  It was always a struggle and she always fought, she never gave up, even to her last moments.

Cari, I hope that someday (when you’re a bit older) I will have the opportunity to share this with you face to face, smile to smile, but if not, then hopefully these words will help you understand my Mom.  Love Grandpa.

As always if you have any comments or questions. Please feel free to leave them.  Take care, Bill

 

My Favorite Movie……

I am 63 years old, and have been going to the movies for more than 55 years, I must have paid to see almost a 1000 at the theater, (I also paid for at least an additional 600 tickets {that’s a lot of movie dates LOL}), but because some of these were at drive-ins, I have probably only seen 900 all the way through.  Then you add Blockbuster, Netflix, HBO, Showtime, Saturday morning creature features, and all the other pay for view channels and that adds at least, another 1500 or more movies, I have seen.  That folks means I have seen about 45 movies a year for 55 years.  That’s a lot of movies, and a lot of time spent watching them.  Of those 2500 + movies, I have seen 100’s more than once, and still other’s 2 or 3 times, and some (Midway, White Christmas, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Forest Gump to name a few) more times than you can count.

Considering all of the movies I have seen, my single favorite movie of all time is Forest Gump.  I saw Forest Gump the 1^st time while I was on travel to San Francisco, on business. I was staying in San Modesto, CA, because that was as close to the Govt office in San Fran as I could get.  I was alone, the work day was over, but it was really too early to eat.  I didn’t want to stray too far from the hotel I was staying, so I asked the desk folks where the closest movie theater was, I was directed to a Cinema about 2 miles away.  I got in line, and when my turn came, the lady behind the counter asked if I wanted to see a sneak preview of a new movie, Forest Gump. I would get a discounted ticket, but needed to fill in an instant review card after the movie.  There didn’t seem to be anything else I wanted to see so I said sure.  That was the single most enjoyable movie decision I ever made.  I fell in love with that movie within the first 5 minutes of the start, and I was captured by it for the next 217 minutes. As soon as I got back to the hotel I called my wife and made a date to see it that very weekend with her. My wife and I saw it, and she loved it as well.   She enjoyed it so much we talked another couple we knew into seeing it the following weekend.  I saw Forest Gump 3 times the first eleven days it was in the theaters. I bragged to everyone I knew how wonderful the movie was and I must have convinced at least a couple dozen folks to see it.  Since then I have sat thru Forest Gump at least 2 dozen times.  In addition, I have watched bits and pieces of this move at least 100 other times. I tease my daughter about her ability to speak the dialog in the movie Sense and Sensibilities, but I am pretty much the same way with Forest Gump.

The entire post came about today, because I was flicking channels looking for some sport something to watch and I bumped into Forest Gump on HBO.  The flood of memories came rushing back.   How the movie was simple and complex. How it touched your heart, how it forced you to think differently about people.  How it made fun of itself, while asking us to enjoy it.  The movie asked you to not set limits on those who may have less.  And it doesn’t matter what less equals.  It taught us about complete and total love.  It also showed us the pleasure in simple things.  It exposes our limitations and weaknesses, but at the same time it showed us the beauty of our lives and the world we share.  It speaks to compassion, it teaches you to be humble, and it divulges every emotion one can have.  As the last 10 minutes plays out behind me I am again reduced to tears listening to the dialog.  Yes this is my single most favorite movie.

Folks as always questions and comments are invited.  Please take care, and have a good day.  – Bill

 

The Willow Tree

The following is a story that is very near and dear to my heart, it doesn’t have a happy ending for me, but it is filled with memories.  Decades after the event Mom and I talked about this, and while both of us smiled at the memories, I also reached for my butt.

I was in the 3^rd grade when this event happened.  We lived in Easton Maryland, in a sub-division of small homes and they pretty much looked all the same.  Our little house had a huge Weeping Willow in the center of the back yard.  This was a majestic tree, with branches sweeping down and touching the ground.  Underneath this tree was the coolest place in the summer, cool and shaded on the hottest of days and my friends and I could stand upright underneath, it was our not so secret hideaway.  It was a place to relax and cool down after playing ball or a bike ride.  It was a gathering place for the kids in the neighborhood.  And it was as good a place as any to get out of the rain, because it offered so much shelter.  But not someplace you wanted to be during a thunderstorm.  I was surprised where a thunderstorm could come from.

I am sure each of you can remember the roles yours parents play in your ongoing discipline.  Maybe some of you reading this were never a problem, thus never requiring discipline. Most of you most likely experienced some level of discipline as a child. Myself, well, I was one of those children that tested every nerve, every civil bone, and each shred of patience of a parent. As long as I can remember, my parent’s roles were quite defined.  Mom was the disciplinarian, and my Dad was the enforcer, that’s not the saying Mom couldn’t enforce, oh she really could/would when needed.  Sometimes when I really screwed up, my parents would double up on me both fighting for the role of enforcer.

Mom was a career Nurse.  It is the only work she did after she left the farm in south central Kentucky.  She studied nursing at John Hopkins University School of Nursing. She completed her years of study and training and graduated before I was born. With her education and training she could get a job no matter when the family needed to move. This is served her well several times over the years, and also when the family moved to Easton Maryland.  During this period Mom worked 2^nd shift (3pm to 11pm).

I had been bad (surprise surprise).  Today I don’t have the faintest clue what my crime had been, but apparently it warranted corporal punishment.  Mom was home, I don’t remember the circumstances, but it was clearly before 3pm, or my mom had the day off, doesn’t matter.  After mom had sustained her role as disciplinarian, she decided that today would be a good day to be the enforcer as well. Mom told me to get a switch from the weeping willow tree in our backyard.  In the best reasoning I could muster (as a 3^rd grader) I found the smallest switch I could and gave it to mom. The switch itself as about 2 foot long, as thin as a single strand of spaghetti, it had little tiny branches with a single leafs the entire length, and could have weighed no more than an ounce or two at the most. Mom was not the least bit happy with my choice, but she looked me dead in the eye and said, “You’ll be sorry!” She then used that switch to beat me within an inch of my life. The first time she cracked that switch, and leafs flew from it, I realized I may have made a mistake.  Even before I felt that switch strike my butt that 1^st time, the sound of it whistling through the air scared me beyond words. I have never felt anything that provided that level of intense pain since. Hearing and feeling that switch were two entirely separate processes.  After that first strike I immediately went into begging mode, MOM! MOM! MOM! no more! PLEASE NO MORE!! MmmmOooooMmmmmm I’m sorry ! ! ! I will never do it again ! ! !  and I stayed in begging pleading mode throughout the entire beating.  Yes! kids got beating back in the old days. And while I was getting that beating, as my heart raced, as the tears flowed from my eyes like Niagara Falls, I was quite sincere that I wouldn’t do “IT” again, whatever “IT” was. Finally the beating was over (probably less than 10 swats) life went back to normal.  Mom was cool in that she got over anger quickly, and she didn’t hold a grudge (at least not with us kids).

Throughout my blog I have admitted to being dumb, sometimes ignorant, even dim-witted, but I have never claimed or taken credit for being stupid.  I learned my lesson that 1^st beating about tiny little switches.   The next time this happened (and yes it happened often) I went out to that Weeping Willy and got the biggest damn stick I could carry, and presented this to mom.  Mom laughed, made me go get a different branch, and still gave me a good beating.  I grew up during the period were spankings and switches were a part of growing up.  Dad was much more physical and I really hated it when Mom was so mad she would say “wait until your Father gets’ home.”

I would like to say that lightning struck that tree, or a tornado came thru and ripped it from the earth, but I can’t.  Most likely, 54 years later, that friggin tree is probably still standing.

Thank you for taking the time to read my post.  If you have any questions, concerns or comments please share them.  Take care, Bill

 

How I Feel Today 04.12.13

I am impressed with myself. I have gone almost 2 full weeks (as promised) without writing a “How I Feel Today…“post.  Unless something dramatic happens (which we don’t want) I think I will try to stay on this schedule.

Since my last post on this subject 03.30.13, I have had my INR checked twice (2.3 and 2.5) and it appears that is once again under control.  I have also had 3 appointments with my Infectious Disease office, and I continue to improve.  It appears that besides asking me “how am I doing,” their single biggest measurement on my health is what my lab workups say.  And apparently they are saying good things.  My current white blood count is 10.9 which puts me just a tiny bit outside high normal. As stated by my NP this is a good thing.  It means my body, in conjunction with the medicines, is winning the battle against the crap in my lungs. Understand this is a single battle, not the war.  But smiling, it is nice to win one from time to time. My doctors (both Pulmonary and Infectious) believe I won’t be getting much of my wind back.  If getting the white blood count back to normal is a victory, then not getting my breath back after hospitalization is a lost.

Still addressing the breathing issue, it really is my hope that I gain enough wind back to at least resume my 3 times a week walk on the treadmill.  Right now my walks are around the local Publix and Costco as I do some of the necessary shopping.  Granted I have to stop often to catch my breath, but I am doing it. Like I said, it my hope that soon I will be walking a couple of miles a week.

The NP and my Doctor will be keeping me on my current drug program (IV infused antibiotics 3 times day and 1 antibiotic nebulized 1 once a day) thru the end of the weekend.  I was told to come to the office on Monday April 15 to have the pic line removed.  The removal of the pic line my friends, is how I gauge if I am winning or not. Continuing with news from Infectious Disease Office, it appears the list of drugs that my body, in particular my lungs no longer respond to is growing.  So as future pulmonary episodes occur the doctors will have fewer weapons to use in the fight.  But on the bright side, if I don’t use a particular drug for a period, there is chance that in the future that drug may be available to the doctors.

One of the gauges I have begun using to determine “how I feel” on a given day is my desire to write, to share stories of myself and family.  Since my hospitalization, with the exception of weekly How I Feel Today’s, and some bitching about aspects of being in the hospital, I really haven’t felt like
writing.  But for those that follow my blog I seemed to have come out of my shell this past week. My writing has picked up significantly, and it has been relatively creative considering the subject matter. This is to say that while I still feel physically weak and not together.  My mind seems to be engaging in the things I like.

As always your comments, thoughts, suggestions are always welcome. Please take care — Bill