Day 81 -- Need sleep

Fell asleep on the couch..........feeling quite achy.  Zumba didn't help.  Might've gone at it a little too hard tonight even though I didn't do all the arm movements.  Lymph nodes under my arms and in my neck are hurting the most.  Need sleep.........................

Day 80 -- Mindfulness

I was back at Mayo Clinic in Rochester today, this time for my younger daughter, who saw a dermatologist.  Yes, she saw my dermatologist.  And, yes, I set up the appointment.  I'm to the point where I know doctors in about a half dozen specialities at Mayo.  I'm thinking of writing a "Mayo for Dummies" book!!!  My daughter is fine, well, at least we know what we're dealing w/ and can treat it.  She has Dermatographism, which is a form of Urticaria also known as chronic hives.  Basically when she gets dry skin and scratches it, her body releases excessive histamines that result in hives.  Some prescribed antihistamines and thicker moisturizers should do the trick. 

After her appointment, we headed to the mall.  Browsing the shelves at Barnes and Noble, I found the book "The Miracle of Mindfulness" by Thich Nhat Hanh.  In it, he gives daily examples of how we need to be more mindful or conscious about our daily activities.  For example, he said if we're washing dishes then we need to only wash dishes.  It's not a time to be rushed through so that when we're done we can have a cup of tea.  Or, if we're eating a tangerine, we need to only eat the tangerine.  The man who absent-mindedly places one slice after another in his mouth misses the pleasure of its juices.  I understand this concept.  It's similar to the Be Here Now principle that I encourage my students to follow when they're giving their speeches.  No matter what's going on in their lives, I tell them, all that matters is the seven- or ten-minutes that they're in front of their audience.  So I decided to practice what I preach throughout the rest of my day.....to be mindful of what I was doing as I did it.  So as I was driving, I was completely aware of the bright, beautiful sunshine and my sleeping daughter smiling beside me.  Yes, she was smiling in her sleep.  That's true contentment.  I tried to be mindful while walking the down after we got home, but I found my mind wandering.....a lot.  Wandering to what needs to happen for the remaining three weeks of the semester.  What needs to happen for the two days that my other daughter will be in the hospital later this month for more tests regarding her Crohn's.  I got so lost in my thoughts of the future that I completely missed the clear night sky and all the Christmas decorations.  I wasn't walking the dog as I walked the dog, and as a result I missed the joy of everything around me.

I was mindful as I met Michael's family and viewed his body at his wake.  I was conscious of learning that I had one of his sister's in my class several years ago.  Strange that I wasn't aware of this before.  A unique, last name like Wichtendahl should've resonated w/ me.  I apparently wasn't very mindful when she was in my class, although as soon as I saw her in the church, I recognized her as a former student.  I was extremely mindful as I looked at Michael's sallow, sunken face with the deep gash in his forehead that three weeks of healing and excessive make-up couldn't erase.  He looked older than his 19 years and older than I remember him just three weeks ago.  I'm not sure going to the wake was a good idea b/c now, instead of his goofy grin, I see his stoic face.  They didn't even try to give him a smile.  I remember the mortician didn't give my mom a smile either.  People who smile all the time in life should be shown smiling in death.  I want to be cremated with my ashes thrown from a lighthouse. Anyone who needs to see my dead body for reality to sink in should get to me before the incinerator does.  Michael was wearing one of his favorite caps w/ sunglasses resting on the bill, just as I'd seen him wear three days a week for two months.  That made me smile.  They also had a video he made playing in the vestibule.  He was lip-singing to the song, "Don't Worry, Be Happy."  That made me laugh. 

Day 79 -- Michael

Enough already.  A student, Jacob, informed this morning that his friend, Michael, also a student in my class, died on Friday the 25th.  Michael had been in a serious car accident on 4 November and, according to his obituary, put up a helluva fight to overcome his injuries.  Okay, I added the profanity.  Michael would've appreciated it.  I knew the accident left him paralyzed, but this news of his death was completely unexpected.  I had no idea that he'd even been put on life support until Jacob told me Michael's family decided to take him off the machines.  I know their anguish, but then Mom never should've been intubated at all.  I hope they got a chance to say their good-bye's.  To be present at someone's death is powerful.

Shortly after Michael's accident, I made a goofy card for the rest of his classmates and myself to sign.  I have no idea if he was ever conscious enough to read it or have it read to him.  If he did, I hope it made him chuckle.  A few weeks ago, I received an email from the college's registrar that Michael's parents were petitioning for his grades to be finalized at that point in the semester.  It was completely my decision, and I'm especially glad now that I granted that petition.  I regret not checking w/ Jacob more often to find out about Michaels' progress, but the two of them were like peanut butter and jelly..........completely inseparable and an ooey, gooey mess.  I didn't want to put Jacob through the questioning.  Even today when he talked w/ me after class, he started the conversation by saying that he wouldn't be in class on Wednesday b/c he'd be at a funeral.  I had to then ask who had passed away.  I'm not sure he would've told me if I hadn't asked.  Maybe I shouldn't have; then I could keep imagining he was getting better.

I only knew Michael for about two months, but he was a charmer.  He had a smile that was devilish and impish and sweet.  The last image I have of him in my mind is him walking past my office and flashing that huge grin w/ Jacob two steps in front of him.  That was a just a day or two before his accident.  It was a cheesy grin that materialized quickly from a deadpan expression that somehow communicated sincerity.  The two of them had been best friends since they were in first grade.  Michael told us a story in his first speech about how he pulled down his pants and mooned his first grade class.  They were fast friends from that point on.  I regret having deleted the video of that speech.  I asked the IT department if they could retrieve it from our Shared Drive, but the trail was cold.  His family would've appreciated hearing what Michael had to say about his life up until this point.  Michael would've flashed me that grin and then promptly said, "Hell, no."

Day 78 -- Dying Past

Home from my holiday travels.  I'm always happy to return to my hometown, but each visit becomes a reminder that I have less and less in common with the places of my youth. And the connections became fewer w/ this visit as two women who I've known all my life passed away.  It didn't help matters when my dad announced that he'd be the third.  It's always been an "old wive's tale" that death comes in threes.  He's 86, and he's ready to go.  He's lonely.  The two-year anniversary of Mom's passing is quickly approaching, and I think he has it in his mind that he would only have to live two years after her death.    It's hard to be engaged in living when there's so much death, illness, homelessness, and poverty.  Perhaps getting lost in the superficiality of Christmas will cheer me...

Day 77 -- Another Thankful Thanksgiving Meal

A good night's sleep and good food helps smooth over hard feelings and ruffled feathers.  Chronic pain and illness can also be at the root of tempers flaring.  My brother has Fibromyalgia, giving him constant pain, especially after he's had the pressure-point injections, which he had just a few days ago.  My older daughter has Crohn's Disease and has recently been on a low-dosage of Prednisone to clear-up some mouth sores.  Part of her flaring temper was due to this flare-up of Crohn's and a small case of roid-rage.  I think we also understand that no matter how dysfunctional this family is, it's the only one we have.  Maybe that's how we got to this point of not discussing controversial topics b/c rather than spending our time together w/ a friendly debate, we'd spend it in different rooms.  Rather pointless to get together just to spend it apart. 

We managed to have a lovely day celebrating our Thanksgiving along w/ my other brother, his wife, and their youngest son.  We also put up a Christmas tree and other decorations for Dad. This will only be the second Christmas since Mom passed.  He said he didn't want a tree and teases that he'll have to get ready for bed five minutes earlier just to shut off all the decorative lights, but I think he appreciates the fuss.  Enough time has passed that he can look w/ less sadness at the decorations that Mom lovingly put out every Christmas.  I, however, was a little sad in going through all the decorations and finding some from my childhood.  The red, felt reindeer w/ plastic gold antlers and the white plastic sleigh.  Ah, they just don't make decorations like that anymore!!  Mom never threw anything away.  She was a pack-rat, but a very clean and organized one.

I said something today, I don't remember exactly what it was, but it involved the future....how old we'd be and what we'd be doing.  I was elusive and non-committal, and my older daughter said, "Mom, you'll still be around."  I tend to just smile at such comments.  None of us, cancer-free or not, has any idea of what the future holds.  I think that's why the time I spent w/ the group of homeless people resonated so.  They hold no stock for the future.  They live for today, from one moment to the next.  Thankful for a warm meal and a comfortable chair.  I'm going to continue to work hard at eating well, exercising frequently, and boosting my immune system, but the farthest into the future that I'm looking right now is about 30 days. Guess I don't fully have the homeless person's moment-to-moment philosophy yet, but then I'm not homeless and pray that is one trial God won't put me through.

Day 76 -- The Lost Art of Discussion

(NOTE:  I'm staying at my dad's, and he doesn't have Internet so I wrote this entry on the 25th of November and saved it on my laptop intending to post it when I returned home on the 27th.  I'm still at Dad's on the 26th, but the gusty wind must be blowing in the right direction tonight.)

This morning while driving over the 11^th Street bridge on my way from my brother’s to my dad’s, I thought of the homeless man I met yesterday and wondered if he slept under that bridge last night.  After listening to my daughters and brother argue just now, I’m wishing I was under that bridge right now.  My family has never been good at discussing issues.  Discussions become arguments that turn into shouting matches.  It comes from too many people thinking they’re right and not listening to others’ points-of-view.  They feel that by listening, they’re admitting defeat.  Of course, the root of tonight’s discussion-turned-argument is religion.  My younger daughter has strong convictions about her faith, but my older daughter feels she uses those convictions as an excuse to be “holier-than-thou” and thus above the typical rules and reproaches.  My brother then jumps in w/ sweeping generalizations meant to sting rather than advance any discussion.  I just want my children and my family to be unselfish, help others, and accept all people, regardless of race or religion. 

The typical pattern of argument in my family is to offer a jabbing remark and then walk away before anyone has the opportunity for cross examination or rebuttal.  Questions are asked with a tone a condensation, “Do you really think being a Christian is an excuse for everything?”  I’m not taking sides.  I just want all sides to listen.  Having a belief shouldn’t exile you from the group but should make the group stronger b/c you’re willing to state your beliefs.  Why does everyone in a family have to believe the same things?  I have friends w/ a wide variety of values and beliefs.  Why can’t my family?

I don’t need to sleep under a bridge.  My daughters and brother have all stomped off to different parts of the house.  My older daughter has actually left the house.  She’s 18.  I can’t force her to stay and talk this out.  Eleanor Roosevelt’s words are ringing in my ears, “Small minds discuss people. Average minds discuss events. Great minds discuss ideas.”  Just when we’re on the verge of greatness in discussing the ideals of religious beliefs, we revert to smallness by talking about specific actions of certain people.  Religion is about asking questions to get closer to the answers, not assuming you have all the answers so you don’t need to be questioned.

Day 75 -- Happy Thanksgiving

I spent my first Thanksgiving in 19 years w/o my daughters.  They continued the tradition I began w/ my ex-husband of going to his family so today I started what may become a new tradition of serving the homeless.  I helped to prepare Thanksgiving dinner for about 20 homeless individuals at the day shelter, Cedar Valley Hospitality House (CVHH).  It's a day shelter, which I learned today, is a place for the homeless to receive their mail, shower, use the phone, do their laundry, get a hot meal, and socialize.  At first I was a little disappointed at such a small shelter.  I had grandiose notions of serving hundreds of homeless, although why I would find it more satisfying to have more homeless people is perplexing.  I quickly overcame such thoughts upon entering the house at 1003 Mulberry Street.  The familiar smells of turkey and dressing greeted me along w/ new smells of loneliness and neglect.  I found my way back to the cramped kitchen where Joni Hansen, the director of Hospitality House, and Dan, a former transient who is the only full-time occupant of the house, were madly moving roasters to balance out the breaker usage.  The house has no stove or oven so all the food had to be prepared or warmed in roasters and crock pots.  The rhythm of the house quickly revealed itself as the people who drift in and out of it on a daily basis adapted to each other's habits.  A young woman asked if charging her cell phone would trip a breaker.  It didn't feel much different from my own home, with people filling and unfilling the bathroom as I stood at the kitchen sink washing serving trays.

When we took a coffee break, I had an opportunity to sit with some of the transients.  The first woman I talked w/ told me she had two children, 8 and 10, who live with her parents in a town about 20 miles away.  This woman is very, very thin like someone who has given her body to drugs and too many missed meals.  But her hands were beautiful.  Long, slender fingers that nervously touched her face as she talked about her children.  Later, just when we were about to eat, I noticed she was crying.  I hugged her and followed her out to the front porch.  She had just been on the phone w/ her father who said he only had six months to live.  At first we sat in silence, her b/c of this devastating news and me b/c of the memory of such devastating news.  I gave her silence, and then I gave her my story of being in a similar situation four years ago when we were told my mother only had two more years to live.  I told this homeless woman, estranged from her daughters and parents, that at least we have the chance to say our "Good bye's."  Victims of accidents have no such luxury.  I have no idea if I helped or hurt.  She left shortly after eating to visit her boyfriend at the psych ward in a local hospital.

Another young man I met who is bipolar has parents living 15 miles away.  He'll probably be spending tonight under a bridge.  He's been at the Salvation Army shelter for the last 10 days, and his time is up.  He won't be able to go back there to sleep now for the next 60 days.  He said under the bridge isn't so bad b/c you can climb up and sleep under the girders where you're out of the wind and rain, and the police don't bother you.  He has a sleeping bag, and CVHH gave him two new blankets today so he felt pretty optimistic for the evening.  He told me of the probation officer he first had ten years ago who is now retired and let's him keep his bags and backpack in her garage so he doesn't have to haul it around w/ him, and it's safe.  She also pays him to do odd jobs around her house occasionally.  Most of his meds are paid for through assistance programs, but two of them cost him $8.00 a month.  It will probably only drop down into the 40's tonight, but colder weather will be here before he can go back to the Salvation Army.  There's a Catholic shelter that allows people to stay for 21 days, but then they have to wait 90 days before they can go back.  Even after the 90 days, if there's no beds, he can't get in.  There's no waiting list.  He has to check back there every day after his time limit is up to see if he can spend the night.  Joni is a champion for the homeless. She tried several times to find a place for him to stay for the night, but alas there was no room at any inn.  I guess the bridge will be his stable for the night.

These people were all very willing to talk w/ me about their past and present lives, but no one talked about the future beyond this evening.  Futures don't exist.  A man who has a car has no where to sleep tonight so he'll be sleeping in his car again.  He once was a janitor in a factory, but he said he walked out after refusing to do something he felt was unsafe, and now they won't hire him back.  He has a friend who owns a shed w/ a heater in it so if it gets too cold in his car, he can sleep in the shed.  I think about all the walnuts the squirrels have stored in my shed.  I don't have a heater for them.

There was another man from New York who watched Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade and recognized the streets.  I asked if he'd ever like to move back.  He said, "No."  He has a factory job here that pays minimum wage.  I told him about a story I heard last night about the new gold rush happening in Nevada and a young man who was making $70,000.  The man who sleeps in his car used his cell phone to Google the current price of gold.....$1800 an ounce.  We all laughed in amazement, but Nevada is too far away and too far in the future.

The chief of police showed up, not to harass the homeless but to help serve them.  A very gentle and unassuming man, he brought his five children and one international exchange student to help.  His oldest son is a senior at University of Wisconsin; swims on the college team; has a bright future.  He was the only I told about my illness. 

As I waited on the front porch for my brother to pick me up, Gary, a man who said he was tricked by a friend to come here from Virginia, hit on me.  He asked if I was married, and when I told him I was divorced, he said he was looking for a good woman.  I asked him if he had a job, and he assured me that even though he didn't, he had a lot to offer.  I have to give him credit, Gary was the only transient I talked to who was looking farther into the future than just one night.  Well, I'm assuming he wanted more than a one-night stand.  I didn't feel even a twinge of guilt as I hopped into my brother's new Sebring.