Here are some pics I have taken lately

So we get a massive up load of pictures:

This is a composite of a picture of Mom and some snow I got a picture of last year. The snow is the background.

Nova, the new princess of the house.

 We had a celebration for my mother the other day. Here is a picture of the Servanthood House at the Cathedral of all Souls.

 This one turned out to be a cider. I thought it was a beer before tasting it. SUPRIZE!!!

I'm gonna work this one a little, but I wanted to post it now. I think I'll photoshop the the background out and just have her pretty profile.

The Princess Nova

 The Langunita Dog. I just got this really nice lens and had to see what it could do. The dog is about the size of a quarter! 

So we get a massive up load of pictures

Lagunitas the Down Low Ale

Now this is a drinkable beer/ale. I guess it is a pale ale, (that is fun to say, Pale Ale, c’mon admit it) These beers and ales have been coming to our region lately, there are a bunch of different ones out there but this is the one I am looking at (read drinking) tonight.

So far, I have enjoyed all of the Lagunitas brews I have tried, even IPAs, though I am not much of an Imperil Pale Ale type of guy. At any rate, this one The DownLow Ale is a nice drinking beer. It looks fine with a clear golden(amber?) cast. It pours nicely with a controllable foam.

The taste is smooth with only a hint of hops at the end. I could drink this one all night long. Maybe I will.

So be prepared for some interesting pictures!

olc 

The last image is one that I sort of bumped into. I wanted to see what would happen if i bounced the light off of the red back ground. What do you think?

As always, your input is appreciated, so on off and let me know if this is a good picture!

OLC

I voted yesterday

Well, I did my civic duty yesterday. I Voted.

But this post is not going to be a riff about the politicians who are representing us in this Sham of a Popularity  contest we call an Election. Nope, I am going to say, "Thank you," to the ones who have volunteered their free time to help our democracy elect another set of people to represent the needs and desires of this wonderful country in which we live.

Truthfully, I really have no idea what it is that the volunteers have to go through in order to qualify to help at the polls, nor do I understand all of the technical details to run the election/polling stations. What I do know is this: I walked into the early polling station at 8:05 on a Saturday morning and walked out by 8:30 after having completed my voting responsibilities.

I walked in with a fist full of mail showing my new address, all the while expecting to have to prove my new living address even though I have not updated my driver's license. The very nice lady looked up at me and said, "No worries, just tell me how long have you been at your new address?" Two weeks was my reply. With that, she told me that nothing had to be changed and I was good to go for voting.

Despite all the confusion and North Carolina's voting regulations, and probably due the The Superior Court, I was able to vote with no problem. For the most part, I attribute that to a well educated volunteer staff which helps to make our democracy.

Thank you for your service, to all of volunteers at all of our polling stations.

olc

Loses

     Let me relate something that happened the other day.

     Yesterday and the day before were kinda ugly. Saturday started OK. I got over to the house to work on Lauren's room. I started doing my work, but after a minute I realized I needed to  go to the store for something. The bike died on the way.

     Trying to explain why the bike was not working is never an easy task. They do not accept it is not working and need details that are beyond my ability to explain. When I get into the technical stuff they get lost, maybe because I am not really sure what the real issue is. LOL.

     I went back to work on the basement. I accomplished a good bit of work down there. Yey! But the bike was still disabled.

     On Sunday morning I went back to the bike to get it going. I did a little research on the problem and felt confidant. Confidence like arrogance, in this case anyhow, is a false sense if security.

     The issues were more then a street side fix could deal with, so I began to make arrangements to get the bike to the house. It was time to get back to work on the basement. Five hours later I was tired and ready to go home. However, I needed to sit with the 'rents and talk a minute. Or I thought I should.

     We talked about the project. Then the issue of what to do about the bike came up.












     I will not quote the conversation here, but suffice it to say that I explained the situation clearly and what steps I planned to remedy it...Three times.

     After the fourth time I explained what was going to happen, I got the question, "Who is your daughters' boy friend?" I had hoped he could help me to move the bike to a safe place.

     I was too tired to suppress my frustration. I explained, one more time, the details of the problem and what I planned to do about it. Unfortunately my frustration came through and everyone on the room felt it.

     Now I feel really badly about my outburst.

     On the way home that night, I tried to deconstruct my feelings as inadequacy. Boy are there so many.

     I love my mother and have always admired her intelligence and her focus. To see her age  is difficult. Yet perhaps what I am seeing is the culmination of her lifelong tendency to question everything.

     She has always asked insightful questions, most of the time they could lead to a way of seeing an issue from a different point of view. Now however, her need to look out side-of-the box was getting in the way of her life.

     More importantly though, was my reaction to her need for detail. Even though I had given all of the data several times, she could not hold it in her fragile, yet fruitful brain.

     I lost my cool and took out some of my frustration on her. For this I feel tremendous guilt. But I took to it another level. Why did I react so strongly to her repeated questions?

      Well one reason was having to repeat the same info several times. There is no doubt that it is difficult to have to go back and reiterate the some information many times, especially when one has taken care to give every bit of information the first several times.

     There was more to it than that though. Fear. Fear of loosing her. And fear of my inability to rise above my petty weakness and weariness and inability to truly understand what this wonderful woman is going through.

     I cannot even imagine how she is dealing with her mental decline. For sure, she knows her ability to think things through is lessening. I have not ever been a mental giant, but to feel what little mental ability I have slip through my fingers never to be scooped up again from the beach of life, is a daunting thought, to say the least.

olc

Motivation-or the struggle to find it

     The other day I posted on FB, "I cannot even find motivation in my daughters eyes any more." There may have been some alcohol fuelling that statement, but I have found mind altering chemicals tend to augment, not create emotions.

     A good friend saw the post and expressed her concern. I told her that I was suffering from Diarrhea finger ... Just a bunch of shit flowing through my fingers onto the screen. She also suggested I might want to re-invent myself.

     Another friend suggested I spend more time writing. She said I might find my muse (not her words, but I took it that way).

     The best idea, and most undoable was to take a mini-vaca. Oh, that would be so nice, hop on The Grinner with only my camera and iPad...

     Well, the last one is most appealing because it encompasses the first two ideas and I get riding time! Unfortunately, the Grinner is broke down, and the daily grind will not allow me time to fix it.

     My friend Sheila, who is a writer/entertainer, had a great idea---write. All is takes is time and a little imagination. Well, I have the little imagination part down pat. Actually, I brought out an old story and restarted working it again, due to her suggestion. I plan on continuing it.

     About reinventing myself, you ask? I have tried that a few times and it never really works out well. Instead of evolving up, I seem to fall backward in the material world. Though my head, soul, or mind...whatever term you use to define ones' the essential being, has grown in very fulfilling ways.

     Fulfilling the material needs seems to get worse. The truth is, I have never really been finically solvent. But there was I time when I was able to pay all my debts and even have some left over for savings and A little fun.

     Nowadays, not so much.

     I just need to dig a little harder and find my muse---again.

olc

My View

     I saw someplace on Facebook some one saying something like, "You will never change a person's mind by posting on Facebook." Truer words may never have been said, or typed. Yet, we persist on posting all of our political views here. What is even worse, is some of the advertising, all of it political in nature, is taking over my feed! I cannot seem to find anything but, "Vote for me" on my feed any more. Where are the friend updates, and cute puppy videos, and silly fools doing stupid stuff? I joined FB to meet and be with friends, not be steered into a narrow political dogma!

     OK so as many of you have seen, I will repost politically relevant memes and even comment on them. Yep, I even embark in a conversation or two. One of my friends, we go way back to the bad-ol'-days, in particular will challenge me. It is stimulating and, sometimes I even question my beliefs --- a little.

     Our dialogs are enjoyable, yet I feel like I have not really made my point as well as I could. I know how I feel when I make my arguments. I also know that my opinions are based on facts. If I had time to, I could post links and articles substantiating the assertions. When someone puts up an obviously bogus statement, I ask for some kind of validation, and I should do no less.

     More importantly though, I just do not like donald trump. It is a visceral feeling which may, or may not be backed up by fact. The truth is, my opinion can never be changed by any amount of "facts" that could be "trumped-up" and put in front of me.

• I believe donald trump is a liar.
• I believe donald trump is a dishonest person.
• I believe donald trump is a dishonest business man.
• I believe donald trump will say anything he needs to in order to fulfill his need for power.
• I believe donald trump will make decisions that will only hurt our already  Great Country.

• I do not believe donald trump will be a good, much less great, President.
• I do not believe donald trump has the background, or ability to run our already Great Country.
• I do not believe donald trump is a good business man. (Honestly, if he was such a great business man, why can't he prove it by revealing his taxes?)
• I DO believe his businesses, which represent his profesional practices and personal beliefs cheat, discriminate against and rip-off people. People who trusted him with their money and in many cases their very life's savings are victims of his vicious methods.

     Most of these statements can be backed up with a quick internet search; try a simple keyword search like, "Trump credibility."

     My friend says that some of the sources are not credible. My reply is, "You may not like what they say, but that does not mean they are not accurate." The other statements are emotional but are grown from credible FACTS.

olc

Some call it Sacrifice

I had arrived at work about 15 minutes early as usual hoping to to make a pot of coffee and get settled in before the work day ahead. Usually the bookkeeper, now owner, was there to unlock the door for us. Today however, she was late. Sometimes this happens because she had to do a deposit and it takes time. Though it was a miner annoyance, we thought nothing of it until she was about ten minutes late. Now we were getting a little annoyed, my kitchen manager and I. Not only was our caffeine intake being inhibited, but minutes were being sacrificed to her tardiness.

Finally we got a call. It was Ellen telling us that she was gonna be a bit late. Dean said she was late because our country was under attack and every one close to a T.V. was glued to it.

We finally got into the kitchen and started our routine, but Dean went someplace and found a T.V. for us to monitor the news cast. I remember watching the first tower going down and after a little while seeing the same thing from a different angle, only it was the second tower imploding.

Dobbins Air Base was within site of Doc's and we had gotten used to the thunder of jets flying over head, but today, and many days after, the sky was silent. Lunch that day of tragedy was subdued, though there were lots of people in the bar talking about what had happened.

Of course we made lunch for lots of people, but I think they needed to be around each other more than stuffing their faces with food and booze.

Every year we hear about this time, we talk about the sacrifice made by those who were murdered by insane terrorists.

I will argue this is not the correct term to use here. Sacrifice implies knowledge of the deed by the victim and their trusted  confidants. When a virgin was slaughtered, she may have been terrified, her family may have rebelled against it, but they knew, or thought they knew, that it was best for their community. In war, a general may offer up some troops to sacrifice for the greater good. Even when pagans sacrificed a lamb, offering it to the gods, the people knew why it was being done. In all cases those being killed were offered not taken.

On September 11th, 2001, no one offered to be killed for the greater good they were MURDERED for. Murdered by zealots. I understand how some need to feel that all of those deaths served a purpose. They want all those deaths to have a meaning; one which some how meant the deaths of those innocents  served a cause that was engineered  to make our country, our way of life---better, more meaningful. I wish it were true.

The truth, in my humble opinion; those plaines were sent out to end our society as we know it to create one that, in their delusional view, fit into an extremists vision.

We may be talking about perspective here, but remember---we did not start this war. So maybe we need to look at it from their point of view and attack their logic, their ideology, with ours---one with a more equal outlook, one which uses our  Constitution, not  ideology, as a guide post to a moral and fulfilling way of life.

Those unfortunate souls who were murdered on September  11th, 2001, were not a sacrifice. There was nothing noble in their death. They were victims of extremists trying to make a religious point.

(Do you see any parallel here? (election 2016))

So now we get down to  an interesting point. Should we allow religion to govern our lives? Maybe we need to understand basic human morals and fight for them using our Constitution as a guide post.

olc

And the Road Continues

     My wonderful Runtyun has been helping Kyle out at the Cathedral during Music Camp for the past week. What a great way for her to start off her summer vacation! It has been a bit of a challenge getting her to and from Camp, mostly where to go after each day is complete. Her grandfather has been a tremendous amount of help. Thanks Dad.

     However, yesterday at 2:45 he called me and said he would not be able pick her up due to Mom's falling and not feeling so well. Well as you might expect, this bit of information started a whole bunch of balls rolling.

     As it turns out, Mom is OK. She was discharged from the ER around 10 last night. Being 92 we all were concerned for her health and safety, but it turns out we all overreacted.

     And now the complexity of our road to recovery and quality of life for Mother's remaining days is becoming more interesting.

olc

Doc's party pt. 1

There is a party coming up, one that is a flashback to my past...the good and bad old days. It comes down to whether or not to go. For some reason I am making this much more complicated than is necessary. Of course I want to go, yet Atlanta in general and Doc's in particular represents some of the most traumatic times of my tenure on this world.

I find myself staring off into the past while writing this, remembering the fun and the pain. Somehow the face of my beautiful Runtyun appears and pushes everything aside.

Why would I want to go back there? I think this the first question I need to address. As I tell my Runtyun, one can never have too many friends. And I truly have too few. So it would be nice to re-cultivate some old ones.

Apart from seeing some of my old Doc's buddies, I may spend some time with others whom I miss. Eric is one of my best oldest friends, he has helped me with some legal matters, and he can poor a mean slug of single malt! Of course there is Jennifer, with whom I have some kind of bond that is beyond explanation, yet I enjoy her company!

When ever I go down to Smyrna, it is always a test of my resolution to stay off drugs. For all those purest NA folks out there who read this, I do drink beer, which is technically a drug yet I feel that I have that under control.

I even thought about going to an NA meeting at the rehab that I attended before I got clean. Maybe that could be cathartic in some way.

Well, now we have an idea of the kind of posts I be doing in the near future. They will have to do with the process I am going through for attending the party.


olc

Mom's Journey

Wow, I have been focusing my energies on this new project recently and completely ignoring ones which were already going on!

As you know, because you the reader are so loyal to this blog, I have been working on a new blog centered around the Greenhouse Moto Cafe, go on over and have a look. Also, my mother took a fall awhile ago and had to spend a long time at Stone Creek Rehab.

She is a tough old bird, I only hope I am as strong as her when I get there. When she was admitted to Stone Creek, she was awake and could hold a conversation. However, we all knew something was not quite right with her ability to think a thought through to its logical end. Also physically, the bruise on her left temple was still pretty profound and her left arm and shoulder were and are still incredibly weak.

When Mom was released from Stone Creek, both her and Dad were emotionally ready for it. I wonder if their need to "get home where she belongs," may have been premature from a physical therapy point of view. She is so weak.

At any rate though, she is at home and seems to be happier. Their church community brings dinner over for the next little bit, thus letting the two of them get settled into a routine. And there are lots of people coming and going, trying to establish a health program to help maintain Mom's (wait for it!)...Health! 

However, Mom and Dad want to live a quiet life with little distraction. For the moment though, this is not happening.

Dad and I talked a little about his concerns. If the conversation had a title it would have been, Concerns of the Primary Care Giver. Mostly I think, he just needed to let off some steam. He let me know that the invasion of their house was taking a toll on him. I could see it on his face, feel it in his body. After we had talked it through some, a light bulb lit over my head.

The truth is, I was not sure if he just needed to vent, or if he was looking for solutions for his angst. Being a fixer, I took a leap and tried to help him to ease into the new life style they are shifting into. Dad has a number of concerns which he mentioned, but the most important seemed to be the constant, almost revolving door-like, flow of new people who need to come in and help Mom. The perceived demands of the care-givers; when could they come by and help; the fact that these care-givers were giving both Mom and Dad directions on how to live and so forth, was taking a severe  toll on Dad.

After some more conversation, I realized that maybe they needed one day off from the physical therapy, the constant visits from car-givers, the woman, Carol is her name, who is helping Mom with her day to day routine and so forth. They need a day off from it all. They need some predictability in their daily life. I suggested they tell the world that Thursday would be their day, no appointments, no visits, no nothing.

I'm hoping Dad will be able to enforce this.

I wish I was able to say all is well in House Turner. There have been some profound changes in their life, ones which will forever impact them and their style of life. Mom is weaker than I have ever seen her. And Dad will have to learn how to compensate. Saying that, Dad is not 70 any more and is beginning to feel the limitations of nearly 90 years of living on this Earth. It is hard for them to accept help from anyone. After all, they have been doing fine over these many years, right?

I will play my role, as will Martha, and assist in every way I can.

I love you Mom and respect your fortitude. Dad, your quiet strength is so understated that sometimes we just accept it without understanding the toll it takes on you.


olc

On our way home, but what about her?

Something just happened which I need to relate and get off my chest.

The Runtyun and I had just finished having lunch with the Grands and Martha. It was the first time Mother had been able to have lunch outside of her rehab facility since her accident. Lunch went well, the food was good and the family time will last in my memory for a long lasting and pleasant smile.

As all things must do, our time came to an end, Mom had to go back and relax, and the Runtyun and I found our way to a store for clothes. (Imagine that!) No luck on the buying front, but this is expected when we go clothes shopping.

However, as we were pulling into the store I noticed a lady going in with clothes to trade, she looked like she was carrying more weight on her shoulders then the pile in her arms. I thought nothing about it because the place accepts consignments. Well, after a few minutes of waiting for the Runtyun to find something, she came to me and no said there was nothing for her right now, so we left. 

I noticed the lady I just mentioned was out by her car too. Not paying much attention to her I kept walking. As I walked past her car though, I saw a sign that said "Victim of abuse." There was more printed on the sign, but my eye was drawn to the woman. She was crying.

I have to admit that I almost kept going.

But I turned around and called out to her. She turned to me balling her eyes out, her tears flowing from the release of emotion which she failed to control. After some time she was able to communicate that her boyfriend was going to hurt her and she had to leave. She was at this store trying to get some gas money.

It turns out this woman lives a ways from here. How she got to Asheville, I do not know. I think maybe, she just got in her car trying to save herself from another beating and is stranded here with no money or friends.

The woman was truly distraught and my heart needed to help in some way. I told her she was welcome to come over to our place for a minute until she felt strong enough to do something. I gave her my contact info in case she decided to take us up on the offer. Truly, I don't think I will ever hear from her, but I had to do something.

I wanted to do more than offer help. But she was running from a man and I feared my helping would only make things worse for her. I did not push anymore. 

She has my phone number and if she calls I will answer and give whatever aid I can. But some how, I feel I could have done more.

As the Runtyun and I were driving home, I could not stop thinking about this poor woman. I think though, when one offers to help, and genuinely wants to do the right thing, and the offer is declined, one should walk away and know they have done the right thing.

I just hate thinking that she will have no place safe go to tonight. Maybe I could have been more persuasive.

olc

Thoughts and Concerns

For the most part I have kept these posts positive yet the realistic. Yesterday though, I had a back-of-the-head slap from reality.

In truth, my mother is a strong woman, some might say headstrong and she is doing well in her physical recovery. We all are grateful for this. However, she seems to be lonely at Stone Creek. I guess I can understand her emotional state, after all she is used to having Dad around all of the time---at home. Now though, he can only be there a few hours at a time a couple times a day.

The rest of the time she is alone, or doing PT, or doing crosswords puzzles, or watching T.V., or whatever.

I have made an effort to stop by every day for a few minutes. I wish I could do more. However, my daughter, The Runtyun, needs me too. And my job is intruding on our time together.

Mom has had a string of visitors, but they can only visit for a moment. One can only guess at the void that is left when they leave---only to be filled with silence and the sounds of the facility for company.

olc

A bloggers lament

I have been writing on various blogs which I have created for a few years now. I enjoy writing, it helps to sort my disheveled mind. Generating ideas and finding ways to articulate those ideas in an orderly manner is fun. I gain a kind of satisfaction when I hit the publish key.

As much fun as writing and then posting is, a writer this writer anyhow, needs to have readers and feed back. I'm not getting any from any one. So I have to ask myself a couple of questions. Number one, Why? Why aren't people following me and Why am I not getting any comments. 

To get some kind of answer, I sat back and thought for a bit ( you should have seen the smoke pouring  out of my ears). Maybe I am not writing about things others find interesting. Maybe I'm not writing in an interesting way. Or maybe my writing is not getting to a large enough audience.

I don't know, I just wish I had some followers.

olc

And now for something a little different. My experience at the VA

I guess you could say it all started out back in the days of my youth. I thought that if I went into the Navy my life would magically be come better. 

Well, it has taken a few years, but that wish may have finally come true. Maybe a better start to this story would be with Obama care and the fact that everyone should get insurance. Well, I fell into the hole between getting subsidized insurance and anything else. You gotta love North Carolina!

At any rate, the VA stepped up and is giving me some health care! Yay! I filled out some forms and they called me and said I was good to go. All I had to do was show up and we could get started. 

I got there at 8 A.M. for an 8:30 appointment. I did the things they told me to and expected to have everything take a whole bunch of time. My nurse was calling my name at precisely 8:30. She was professional and very friendly and helpful. She had her things to do and say before I got to see the doctor, who was just was as accommodating.

I gotta say the layout of the building was a little difficult to figure out, but I think in the future my site memory will help me to get to the places I need to go. The idea of naming hallways like streets seemed a little funky, but the labels may help those like me to remember directions later.

I was given 3 different assignments, one to get blood work done, another for a couple of X-rays the last was for an EKG. All of the departments were ready for me when I arrived. While the wait for the blood work was a little longer than I wanted, they were pushing patients through at break neck speed---so many people ahead of me.

The other two places had a wait list of less then 5 minutes, not even enough time to pull out my iPhone to check out what was going on outside. Actually, that was just as well, because WIFI and Internet seemed to be nonexistent throughout.

While I waiting for the EKG, I received a call from another doctor at the VA who was notified by my main Doctor that I should have an appointment. We made arrangements for an hour from then.

This one was the longest appt. of all. Four hours after it started, we finally finished. I thought maybe I had done something wrong because it seemed like this guy was trying to execute me. At first he was prodding me with something like a stun gun and when that did not work he started injecting me with needles! Actually, he was trying to track some nerve system issues.Yep, I got them all right. 

Now because I went to these guys, I know about these issues. And now I have a team of medical people out there to help me find ways to fix them.

At the age of 18, I did not think about health care and how to take care of myself when I turned 50 and later. In all honesty, I was not thinking, yet that decision was prescient. The fact that our government has seen fit to create the Veteran's Administration to take care of those who were willing to die for our country may be one of the most telling and profound reasons to be an American.

olc

The road ahead

How does one put the thoughts and concerns screaming through the mind of a son whose mother is ending her run in this world? Whether it comes sooner or years down the road of life, we have seen the tunnel which we all must travel through.

During the travels which we go through in life there are many roads we follow, most of the time we know the direction to go. Other times the road ahead is under construction, or when we least expect it, it is in total destruction. Most of the time, we have control, we know where we are going and can control the outcome of the latest adventure and even the one ahead.

Sometimes though, life throws a blind curve at us, one which even though we should have seen coming at us, totally throws us out of  the lane we were traveling. We careen around trying to regain control, over steering and sometimes loosing control of our path. Sometimes we totally loose our way. This is when Family comes in to save the day, to help us regain control.

It is time now for our family to ride in like the Calvary, and help my Mother out of the trench she has fallen into. After all, she has done the same for her family countless times. We have all done our best to help and support her during her detour. We have done the natural thing and tried to minimise the trauma of her accident, to make it understandable. 

Now it is time to understand the severity of this course change.

olc

Monday's Musings

Now it is Saturday and Mom has had a night at her new, for the moment, home. Truthfully, she was still a little hazy about what was going on.

When the Runtyun and I arrived at Stone Creek, on Friday, we found her room and made our way to it. Guess what she was doing. Yup, trying to get out of bed! Can you say "stubborn?"

We got her settled and talked a while. She seemed to like her new digs. About that time, Dad arrived and we all had a nice conversation. 

Saturday rolled around, and again the Kid and I visited. The previous night seemed to go well for her. She was dressed and sitting up in her chair looking so pretty.

We decided to go for a little stroll. Stone Creek has a little protected area, a courtyard, outside where people can go to get some air. Mom and I explored, while the Runtyun stared at her phone. Mom seemed to soak in the fresh air and sun. There were moments of silence and I wondered what Mom was thinking about. Whatever it was, she had a slight smile. Me? You ask---I was wondering about the future, our future both near and distant.

Finally, we decided to go back inside and look around a little. We followed the corridor and found the dining room and a menu for dinner. Mom did not want to have a hamburger for supper. It turns out there was an alternative which worked better for her.

Back at her room, Mom was a little confused. She thought her room had changed. The Runtyun and I reassured her everything was OK. Finally, we got her settled on her bed.

We talked a little more and finally it was time for us to leave.

Sunday came around and I was home at my computer trying to edit a couple of photos to post when I got a call from Dad saying that Mom's bed had some kind of malfunction and she was worried for her safety.

The Runtyun and I arrived to find Mom all dressed and seated in her wheeled thrown. All was well in the world again. It runs out a bolt had worked its way out and the whole bed was tilting. This happened in the middle of the night. When it was fixed I commented that now she would not be sleeping with her feet hanging over the abyss. This elicited a smile.

Dad had brought a figurine of the terra-cotta cat I gaven her last year---a nice touch to make the room more comfortable.

Somehow, the conversation got around what happened and why she was not at home. Oh, how she wanted to be at home. She started to talk about it a little, but I could tell she was merely putting words out, so I explained what had happened and how she had fallen and hit her head. I went into detail explaining each day at the hospital and how she had ended up here.

The look of relief was profound and she finally had a little understanding of her circumstances. It occurred to me that no one had really explained to her what was going on. Maybe, they had at some point, but she may have been unable to process the details, I am not sure.

Here is a photo from my iPhone.

I went by today to see her. Both Dad and Mom had just finished dinner and they both seemed happy with life. Fat and happy right now is a good thing!

Their neighbor had sent along a very pretty iris for her room and here is an image of it along with one of only Mom. She was making a funny face for the flower shot, but I took it anyhow.

Every time I see my Mother, she seems to be doing better, but I know the road to recovery will be a long one. This is to be expected, I guess. She has not lost her sense of humor though and this is a good thing. I love to help her find her smile and even chuckle at a silly comment.

I think she understands that a very serious thing happened and is a little concerned about. We have talked about it a little, trying to fathom what's going on. I have told her that people who know more about this than me are all working on a way to get her home and she needs to be patient with everyone and listen to what they say.

I am hopeful she heard what I was trying to say.

I love you Mother, please let us help you.

olc

PS forgive any typos, It's been my  long day but I wanted to get this posted tonight.

 

Our next step

"We" moved Mom to Stone Creek and she seems to be doing well.

But before I start with that part of the saga, I want to talk about her stay at St. Joseph's.

Last Monday, when she got hurt-fell down-we were confident that everything would work itself out and life would return to our version of normal the next day. Reality began to set in on Tuesday.

When I was finally able to get to the hospital, I found out that she had been moved to another room and floor. The staff on the 8th floor handled my confusion well, I guess they had experience in this sort of thing. I found the 9th floor nursing station and made my way to Mom's room, she was struggling to get out of her bed. This is of course, was a bad thing.

About the time I got there Nancy Harrison, a very good friend of Mom and Dad's came 'a visitin'. Nancy and I were able to calm her down while I explained that maybe she should relax and let her body heal.

I tried explaining that she had been hurt recently and needed to get repaired. However, my mother is a very stubborn person and persisted in trying to get out of her bed. I did not want to force her stay in bed, so I struggled to convince her that very smart people thought she should remain in bed. It is difficult to convince some one to remain some place which they do not want to be and to them is not really.

With Nancy's help, Mom began to relax and we were able to get her settled again.

After all the excitement of getting her settled, Nancy had to go. It was nice to see her, and she was invaluable with her help. 

Mom and I talked some, though it was hard to follow her thread. She was very interested in letting me know her opinion on the coming election. She is not too fond of Donald Trump. And to my surprise she was very critical of President Obama. The points she was making all tracked in a logical way.

I had been there for a long time and needed to get home to my kid and feed her. I felt very fortunate when I saw Dad coming into the room. He and I talked a minute. I let him know about Mom's need to get out of bed. I also said that she was having a hard time realizing where she was.

Both Dad and I were concerned about this. It turns out that our fears were unfounded.

The reality of the situation was beginning to make itself know to me. This is not going to be a couple of days and back to status quo. We may never get back to our normal. 

Though she is struggling to understand what has happened, every day I see improvement. Mom is significantly stronger than Tuesday and Wednesday, both physically and mentally. Our road to recovery will be a long one, maybe to the end, but my mother is doing well. She is an emotionally strong person and an example which I hope to follow. 

olc

Mom's trip to the hospital

Dad cooked a roasted Boston Butt last Sunday and wanted the Runtyun and me to have half. Yummy, he does Boston Butt good! So, I called late in the afternoon on Monday to let him know I was coming over to collect my prize.

He had just gotten home from a short shopping trip but was ready or me to come by. We kept talking a minute, then I heard a thud and a whimpering groan. Though he does not remember it, Dad said, "Oh no, Mother has fallen," and hung up. 

Ten minutes later, I was at the door. Two Biltmore Police vehicles were outside. I walked into the house to be greeted by an officer who politely asked who I was. I identified myself. The officer enquired of my father if I was who I claimed, again with a smile, yet with an underlying sense of urgency.

Mom had tangled her feet while trying to get to the phone to say hi to me. She was lying on the floor, one shoe across the room the other tangled between her feet. Her arm was twisted in a funny way, but she did not complain of pain. 

She had hit her head and was bleeding a little from the gash. When I asked if she wanted a pillow top support her head, she said no. You wanna know why? Because she did not want to stain it! I got her one but protected it with a wad of tissues.

When the ambulance arrived, my mother was more interested in learning the guys names than her physical condition. "What are your names and why are you here?"

These two EMTs were gentle and understanding. When mom, or me interrupted them they patiently answered our questions, no matter how many times the same question was asked. This is one of the first times I have had dealings with professional emergency technicians and if these guys are any example of the quality of personnel, I think we are all in good hands.

I know a couple of people who work for the Mission Hospital system, most have little good to any about their employer, however every time I have any dealings with them, I am impressed with their skill and compassion.

Here is a picture of her in the ER

Though Mom was relegated to a hallway station in the Emergency Room, she was well taken care of. My only complaint was that Dad, The Runtyun and me could not sit with her. Dad and I had to play tag team in order to sit with her. Maybe it worked best for all, mostly because every half hour or so, Dad and I had to get up and move a little, thus braking the monotony of hospital waiting rooms. The Runtyun had to sit and endure though. She never complained at least not until her phone needed a charge.

After only a few hours, Mom was moved to a room where she would stay the night. She seemed to be handling it pretty well. She gashed her left orbital, right by her temple, pretty well and bruised her left shoulder nicely, but it looked like she had not gotten hurt too badly---no broken bones, what a relief!

More coming.

Good bye, My Friend

My head is all spinning around. I'm not even close to relapsing, yet every day I have to remind myself not to go out and get some crack and a stem and a screen. It has become a habit, almost a ritual mental dance. Kinda like the habit that changed my life so many years ago.

A friend failed to go through his ritual. I noticed his behavior was changing a little while ago, but I said nothing. This is a guilt I will have to reconcile. I think the most obvious clue was his restarting smoking cigarettes. Restarting smoking seems to be an indicator, to me at least, of a pending or current relapse. I will learn this lesson and maybe in the future...

There is so much flying around my head right now, my fingers cannot even keep up with the whirlwind. Sometimes I can catch a nugget and put words to the torrent swirling around my cavernous brain. Mostly though, I stare at this screen trying to figure it all out.

I am angry at this man for giving in to his desire. I am a little envious too.

WHAT!? You say. How can you possibly be envious for a fallen soul who resides in a very difficult place right now? 

It is hard to explain, but I'll try. There is something about the artificially, chemically produced euphoria that is so very compelling. One does not need to do anything to get there, merely light a match, or cut a line or what ever, to find it. It is a simple, quick rapture that transcends understanding. Yet its' siren song for some, cannot be blocked by blinders and earplugs. The ropes that bind the addict to the mast of abstinence provides little restraint. 

He gave in to that desire one time and it was on. His restricting ropes slipped and he gradually lost his center. How could he let that happen? He has so much going for him. He is smart and competent, good looking, has a girlfriend and kids to help guide him. Yet, he chose to poison it all. I ask again, "How could this happen?!" 

---Our society demands that a man take are of his weaknesses without complaining.---

Could he have been thinking he could handle it? His ego told him he could. Maybe, he thought he could do a little now and then and maintain, but he woke up one morning with a little left over from last night. He may have been proud of himself for not doing ALL of it. So naturally, he decided to celebrate by finishing the left-over poison .

This may have happened a couple of times...after all the boost first thing in the morning helped to take the edge off, right? After a bit, he could have bought more of it so he could have a little more in the morning---just to take the edge off, you know, right?

There probably was a moment or two when he saw what was happening, and tried to get it under control. Yet, the end was already written when he took that first hit and succumbed to the need for the second.

My friend has made a choice, yet it was one that gradually, compellingly grew. To some it was a logical step, one after another, leading to this inevitable place in his life. To others, the steps he took were totally the wrong road.

The thinking goes something like this, "I can handle this. Oh, just a little more will make everything better." Any one who is out there and gone through this process understands---it never does get better. We can convince ourselves other wise, yet the truth and circumstances ALWAYS prove otherwise.

When I first heard about this tragedy, I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. I almost fell to the ground with pain. It was in a text, informing us of an major upheaval in our world.

My first thought was, "Why didn't I do something about it? I could have stopped it in it's tracks." Then I realized that thinking was fallacy. In truth, we all go down our own road, no matter what influences we have. Lord knows, I took mine and there was no one going to tell me different.

His road has taken him down a far more difficult journey than mine. I hope he can find his way to a better end-location. I'll be there if he can accept me for the man I am. I'll still be there even if he doesn't understand my place and how I might help. 

Update: Last Monday, the people who know him best, realized the injuries he suffered were too profound for recovery. A very tough decision was made and the magical machines that were keeping his body functioning were disconnected. His body fought for nearly 15 hours. Finally, the inevitable  happened and his body expired.

You will be missed, my friend.

Neil.

olc