Simple Conversations

For us the Easter weekend passed unmarked but not unnoticed, there were no Easter eggs, bonnets, white gloves, church, or the Toccata. Marty did get some ham for lunch, on her sandwich. Instead of the usual Easter trappings we passed the weekend at the lake, fishing, talking, and to quote Marty, “just being present in the moment.” It was good.

It was a simple weekend with simple outcomes, nothing profound, nothing earth changing, simply living for the day. In our world simple times are often the very best of times. Simple lets you breathe, lets you listen, lets you feel your life and lets you be “present in the moment.”

The wind was blowing much too hard to get out on the boat so Marty and I found ourselves sitting on our boat dock fishing and talking and enjoying the sound of the water as it fought against the wind. Our kids gave Marty a rod and reel for her last birthday and we finally got to christen it. The rod and reel is pink, it’s small, it’s ultra-light, it’s pink, yes, it’s pink and Marty likes it just fine and as it turns out it’s a fish catching machine.

We caught white bass, black bass, crappie and catfish. We sat on our dock sheltered from the sun, with the wind blowing hard across the water. The wind kept the air from becoming too hot for April and pushed against the water creating waves which kept the fishing bobber bobbing constantly

Marty and I sat, fished and talked about life, about our life before and after the stroke, we talked about our kids, our grandson, our two expected grandchildren (I’m still shooting for one named Larry Bob) and how much we enjoyed being at the lake together. I was writing our last blog post about her 2nd stroke so I recounted to her all of the tales of both strokes. She’s heard them all before but she forgets which is okay because I repeat myself all of the time.

We moved from talking about life and living to death and dying and then to all of the things that have changed and what we have lost because of the strokes and even found some things we have gained because of our renewed need for each other.

While we were watching the waves move past, the tips of our fishing poles move up and down with the rhythm of the water and the wind Marty said, “I wish I could have a conversation again.”

This is not news to me, it’s a part of her she really misses, it’s a part of her I really miss, but it’s a part of her that’s not altogether gone.

“Like what we are doing right now?” I replied, trying to point out that we were having a great conversation.

“Well, you’re doing most of the talking,” she said, looking at me.

That’s the change, I never really carried our talks, I never really was the conversationalist in our partnership, Marty was.

“Okay, I got that,” I said, “But we are having a great conversation and you are a part of that and I love it.”

She paused, looked at me, checked the bobber on the end of her line and said, “Yes I am too.”

The conversation slowed as we sat and talked quietly as we watched the sinking sun slid just over the horizon and cast a colorful orange and blue hue across the sky. Simple moments often make life time memories. This was a memory for our life.

When Plans Come Together

For the most part, the plans of last week moved from theory to reality. We had to make a couple of minor adjustments, buts what life without some minor adjustments? In our life, minor adjustments are easy and frankly expected.

We went to the lake with our caregivers in tow and met daughter Erin and parents Larry and Bettye Lou at our house. On Friday Daddy Larry and I had the pleasure of catching a number of fish while in the company of an illustrious Richland Chambers guide, Cory Vinson, with nofishnocharge.com`. We caught a mess of sand bass, some big hybrid bass and a couple of catfish just to top off the morning. It was a fine morning followed by a big rain in the afternoon. This was a classically good Texas day.

Brother John's schedule and daughter Erin's migraine were the only hitches in this particular plan; they missed a regular fishapoolza; so sorry to you both. Marty was in good hands at our house in the company of Renae and my Mom, so Dad and I enjoyed a wonderful morning on the lake slaying dangerous fish.

The next plan was for pictures with our family and our extended family of caregivers. Our grandson, Noah, showed up right on time. He came in dragging along his parents and Lyle, Erin's boy. We rested Friday evening so we would all look chipper for the photography session. I'm not sure I could get enough sleep to bring beauty but I tried and to quote my mother, "you just aren't ever going to look better than you do right now." Once again Mama speaks truth.

I've been working with Marty on her picture smile. She actually kind of gets into it after a while and starts showing her pearly whites with a smile that's somewhere between laughter and a grimace. It's when her eyes smile, when her eye brows lift, when the corners of her mouth turn up just a bit at the corners that you really get to see Marty, that you get to see the Marty I know. I hope some of the pictures found her.

Lyle's sister and brother-in-law found the lake and, while very hot and sweaty for some of us, the picture taking was quick and painless. Unfortunately, we were sans Nikkie, who was felled by a migraine (a veritable migraine epidemic this weekend), but Renae and Erica were there and Renae almost smiled for one of the pictures. Marty's best smiles came when we started talking about breaking wind; she loves fart humor, but who doesn't?

Marty, as expected was a rock. She was a tired rock, but a solid, cooperating, agreeable rock. As it turns out she was, is a bit sick. Our last sputum sample indicated a pretty substantial upper respiratory strep infection. We knew she had an elevated white count (infection) and she had already started what we hope is the appropriate antibiotic before we got the strep diagnosis. So my rock, in addition to being a sold, cooperating, agreeable rock was a sick rock.

All in all our plans moved smoothly from the theory stage, to hypothesis, to reality. We got to do some things we enjoyed with people we enjoy, very cool. We had to adjust, we had to handle a couple of minor catastrophes, and Marty, as she so often does, pushed through her fog, pushed through her illness to enjoy some simple acts of living. If you watch her, if you understand what she does in spite of, you will learn; through her living, she really does have this amazing effect on you. At least she does on me.