Blew That Popsicle Stand

On day five of our Providence Hospital occupation our collective decided to accept the offer of Great and Wise and take ourselves home.  It was time.  After five days of IV antibiotics, fluids, breathing treatments, meds, and blood, we blew that Popsicle stand for the friendly confines of our home. 

Marty is much better, she is weak, she is tired, she is not all the way back but I am confident she will be soon.  Tonight she has a clean head, a clean body and her own clean bed; it’s been a good day.

When we went into the hospital last Thursday night Marty had a raging urinary tract infection.  Keep in mind the urinary tract is not just a hose, it’s a kidney, a bladder and has some names Great and Wise used that I can’t remember because I can’t pronounce them and if I can’t pronounce them I can’t visualize them and if I can’t visualize them I can’t remember the words….so there.

Suffice it to say, she was sick, 103 degree temp sick, a whole body sick.  Her white blood count was sky high and it affected her body in ways we don’t like.

We used fluids to flush the yuck out and eventually had to pull back on the fluids because she was getting too much and she started to really wheeze.  Once the fluids were minimized the wheezing improved; with the infection tamed by the miracle of modern drugs Marty started to feel better. 

Feeling better really started yesterday, Sunday.  You can always see it first in her eyes and the way she holds her head; if Marty holds her head up, looks around and makes eye contact with the people in the room I know we are headed in the right direction.  That started yesterday afternoon.  Until then she had worn the sick, I need to lay down in a hospital look.

We passed a couple of other blips yesterday and we talked with Great and Wise this morning when he came to Marty’s room this morning (Monday).  Yes, he comes to Marty’s room, in the hospital, doing rounds, healing people.  How cool is that?

He came in and said he didn’t see any reason we needed to stay unless we just felt too uneasy to leave.  Marty had her leaving face on even at 7:30 a.m...  We opted to leave.

The suddenness and the depth of this illness are troubling to me because it plays right into my obsessive anxiety ridden approach to watching my charge.  I hover, we all know I hover, and I watch Marty’s every movement to make sure it’s not odd or out of synch or different.  My hyper vigilance has now been reinforced with this latest illness.   

I’m probably going to be worse for a while, until I can get some time and distance between us and this most recent event.  It usually takes several weeks of normal life for me to relax my ears and get off point, to get past always being on edge waiting for disaster, looking for the next weird thing.

My fretting drives Marty a little nuts, it drives the caregivers bit nuts, and it really drives me crazy.  Tough shit, can’t help it, it’s why we were in the ER before her blood pressure crashed.

Hey, we’re home.  Marty is safe, she is as well as one can be given the circumstances of the last few days.  We are grateful because we know we are one infection away from very bad outcomes, but really, so is everyone else, we just practice more.  

Right now, today, tonight, we’re good.

Finding Myself at Home

I asked Marty, with just a tinge of guilt and remorse, “Do you mind if I go this weekend?”

She looked at me and immediately said, “Not at all.”

“Does it make you mad, does it bother you that I’m not taking you?” I probed, trying to assuage my ever present guilt.

“Yes, but only because I’m not well enough to go.” she replied, letting me off the hook just a bit.

As I drove through central Texas to west Texas that brief innocuous conversation played in my mind repeatedly. Going to my high school reunion has always been a great trip, with Marty. I was going alone, flying solo and I wasn’t too sure how that would feel, I wasn’t too sure if I would be too sad, too melancholy, too lonesome to enjoy my return to my home town.

As the hue of the soil around me began to change from dark brown to red, as the oak trees began to shrink and diminish and the mesquite trees began to take over I got a little antsier, a little bit more anxious. “Yes, but only because I’m not well enough to go”, kept playing in my brain. I already felt a little lonesome; I already felt like I had left my wife behind and alone, I was building to a great pity party for myself.

I’m not a solo kind of guy. Marty and I have been married most of our lives and she was always a great security blanket and name rememberer at social functions. She was an anchor for me keeping my grounded. One of my best buds in school, Skip was going to be there so I designated him my weekend date to avoid the potential feelings of insecurity and loneliness. I didn’t consult him about the whole date thing, but what’s a best friend for anyway?

I discovered a couple of things at this reunion. No massive revelations, but a couple of things became clearer to me and made this past weekend almost an epiphany. I came to understand, by sitting and talking with old friends, where so many of my thoughts, feelings and opinions were born. I remembered, as we relived old days and talked of current days, how we would spend hours talking about life, about people, about God, about nonsense. I remembered how we wanted to reshape our world. I realized in this talking, in this arguing, in this exploring we were really developing our own thoughts and personalities; we were starting to become real people.

It wasn’t what we talked about so many years ago that was important, it was that we talked. It wasn’t what we argued about, it’s that we argued, it wasn’t what we discovered as we explored it’s that we explored. These people, these same people from 40 years ago helped me develop a way of thinking, a way of exploring and the freedom to think outrageous thoughts. This is where the parts of me I most value started.

I also discovered that it’s really hard to feel alone when you are with and around the people who helped shape you who know your foundations. I realized that regardless of the years and time this town, these people, has had a permanent, indelible effect on me. While feelings of loneliness are an inevitable part of all of our lives and certainly more present in mine than ever before; while I did miss Marty, while I often thought of how she would have enjoyed herself, I was with friends and felt a sense of community and common bond I have not felt in years. Personally, I had a great time.  In fact we had such a good time, just like years ago, our hostess with the mostess had to ask us to leave, both nights, it was worth it.

I lived in Colorado City for 12 years, for my first grade to graduation. I haven’t lived in this remote, dusty west Texas town in almost 40 years. I hadn’t been there for any time at all for 20 years. It’s a long way away, a long time ago, it’s in the middle of sage, cactus and mesquite trees and I have very little reason to visit. I lived there only 12 years of my life almost 40 years ago, but somehow this remote outpost of Texas is still my home, I’m from west Texas.

There and Back Again*

We didn't conquer Smaug or find any "Lord of the Rings" but we did go, there and back again -- to Dalhart, that is. We had a good, uneventful, but full trip. For us, uneventful is a really good thing. Did I say it's a long drive to Dalhart from Waco?

We made it to Dalhart Friday evening, Marty riding in the back of the van the whole way. When we pulled into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn Express I pointed out to Marty the addition of two life size palomino horse statues in the front of the motel. They are really quite striking with their gold color and their raised chests and front legs high in the air. Marty, as is her custom, pointed out the obvious, "they don't have any genitalia." What a great way to start our visit.

We always have to eat at least one of our meals at a local steakhouse called Bar H. It used to be really up town, it was a K-Bobs. Now, it's got a great salad bar inside a Conestoga wagon, has a really big chicken fried steak, and soft-serve ice cream. We met some really good friends there for supper and Marty, as she normally does, had the small version of the chicken fried steak.

The next day we introduced Noah to Great Gran Jean at Coon Memorial Nursing Home. I think GG Jean was a tad bit over stimulated by the Noah and the Lyle and the regular grandkids all barging in on her perfectly good nap. She met Noah, she met Lyle and that was that. We left with promises to return before supper.

For lunch we went with another set of friends and our whole clan to another local restaurant. Marty rarely even looks at a menu but did this time. When I asked if she wanted a sandwich, she said, "No, I want a chicken fried steak."

I tried to talk her out of that, "How about a hamburger?"

"No, I want chicken fried steak."

"How about a grilled cheese? You ate a chicken fried steak last night."

"No, I want a chicken fried steak," she insisted.

This went on for a couple more tries on my part; Marty would not relent. Chicken fried steak it was, again.

That afternoon we made it to the cemetery to see Marty's Father's plot. Marty really likes wind chimes and she once told me when she hears a wind chime she hears the voice of her Dad. This visit we hung a small chime on a shepherd's hook at Arty's grave. It's a little bit odd to have a wind chime at a west Texas cemetery but I think Arty would like it; Marty does and I like that.

We went back to see Marty's Mom right before supper. She was more alert and much more engaged for the afternoon visit. We all crowded around her room and just talked, visited and watched the baby crawl on the floor and get rug burns on his sweet knees.

I asked Jean what she wanted to be called, now that she was a great grandmother. We tried great grand this and great grand that, offering her alternatives. Our kids always called her Nanny and thought we she go with Great Grand Nan, she thought and puzzled on this for a while before saying, "I don't feel like a grand or great anything, I think I want to be Less Nanny." She kind of giggled as 85 year old women do and we all laughed and enjoyed her joke.

That night we went back to the Bar H for supper so the kids could get their genuine taste of Dalhart meat. As we sat down at our table and looked at menus I looked at Marty and said, "Not chicken fried steak again?"

She looked at me, smiled, and said, "Yes, I want chicken fried steak."

I looked at her, started to argue with her, my kids looked at me and as a chorus said, "let her have what she wants."

Of course I relented, there are so few times we splurge with what we eat and even fewer times where Marty says, this is what I want. Her insistence, her stubbornness about the chicken fried steak was the old Marty and we always like it when the old Marty rears her head, like when she points out the sexless horses at the Holiday Inn.

The next day we left for the back part of our journey, back to Waco. Nine hours in the van, again, we were there and back again. It's a long, flat drive interspersed with very typical small Texas towns and the object is to make good time without getting a speeding ticket. We made good time.

When we pulled into our driveway in Waco I had road fatigue and was glad to be home. I crawled into the back of the van to move Marty into her wheelchair and I asked her if she had a good time. She said, "Yes, but get me out of this car." I couldn't agree with her more. Didn’t I say it was long way there and back again?


*with credit to Bilbo Baggins, one of my favorite Hobbits