Pandemic 2020

 There is an image going around on Facebook that I feel best describes the trend of this year.  It is a row of porta potties at some event or another.  Behind the portable bathrooms rages a fire.  The caption read, "If 2020 were a scented candle."  There is no denying that this has been a miserable year.  There are record numbers of unemployed in the U.S.  Around 230,000 of our citizens have died from the mishandling by our leadership of Covid19.  

The closest thing to this pandemic was one hundred years ago.  This time the disease was called Spanish Influenza.  It devastated the world population.  It is very personal to me.  My great-grandmother went to Kansas to treat her son sickened with the disease.  He recovered.  She got the disease and died.  There weren't enough clinicans to treat the desperately ill people.  There weren't enough people to bury all of the dead.  Everyone was afraid, with good reason.

 What does one hundred year old history have to do with us in 2020?  Those people endured a horrendous health challenge.  The challenge did end eventually.  The people who survived kept moving through life.  We WILL see this pandemic go away.  We may have to make small sacrifices along the way, like wearing a mask anytime you are around another human other than your immediate family.  Like frequently washing your hands, and socially distancing.  Perhaps you will have to limit social gathering to groups of ten.  These are all very small sacrifices.  If doing these simple things can save lives, and they CAN, why would we hesitate?

 I am at serious risk of this infection.  I spend most of my time inside my residence.  When I do go outside, I faithfully wear a mask.  This is not a challenge for me.  Born with severe allergy asthma, and a puny immune system I have had to wear masks before in my life to protect me from the infections of others.  I've also had to wear scarves or masks on my face when the weather was very cold.  If I went from a cold outside to a warm inside, it was a guaranteed asthma attack.  If I kept my breathing warm with a scarf or a mask that would often ward off an attack.  This was before the advent of the wonderful modern medicines that currently are used to treat asthma.  

It amazes me when I do go outside for a walk, that virtually nobody is wearing a mask?  They are choosing to risk not only getting the infection, but sharing it with others in their sphere of living.  They also seem blithely unaware that they might have an asymptomatic case and they may be spreading it to anyone around them.  

I hear done woman explain, "I chose to live my life with faith not fear.  If I get it, I get.  That's just the way things work.  I totally agreed with her assertion that life should be lived with faith not fear.  The rest made my temper rise.  Somehow she had missed that if SHE gets it, she will then be spreading it to others anywhere within range of her, before she even has any symptoms.  I have faith...FAITH in the intelligence of the populace of the United States of America.  I have faith that my neighbors and fellow men and women are selfless enough to think not just about their protection when wearing a mask, but about protecting others around them.

 Partisan politics do NOT belong in a pandemic.  I don't care if you are Republican, Democrat, Independent, or  whatever party you choose to align with.  Wearing a mask is a sign of our respect for humanity.  That is a condition that we all share...humanity.  I don't know if anyone will read this.  Somehow I feel better having voiced my opinion.     . 

Still Socially Acceptable?

 Political correctness has become a wave sweeping the United States.  We try diligently in our speech and attitudes to not discriminate on basis of race or religion.  I understand the need for change.  As a child of the 1950's and 60's I heard moron jokes, Polish jokes, black jokes, etc. etc.  It seemed that it was even acceptable to joke at the expense of the mentally challenged.  My personal belief is that maligning others used to be an acceptable way of shifting our feelings of self doubt to others.  If somebody else is less than, it makes me more than, right?  (Completely and utterly wrong).

Prejudice is a divisive canker of the soul.  Judging another human being on a visual basis only is morally reprehensible.  This leads me to discuss one of the last largely socially acceptable prejudices.  I flinch when I see a Facebook or Instagram post that shows an obese person in a small scooter at a store.  The worst was a woman whose scooter had tipped over and nobody was coming to her aid.  Indeed, many seemed to feel that her dilemma was deserved and should contain her from eating too much.  

My husband was a very large man.  At six foot four inches he was not lean.  He once had a doctor tell him that he had the thickest muscle density of any human that he had treated in over twenty years of practice.  He told him that his perfect weight was two hundred and sixty pounds.  

Following multiple life threatening illnesses his weight ballooned upwards.  He developed type two diabetes.  He went to a doctor because his blood sugars were completely brittle.  They would soar up to six hundred, and then drop to sixty.  The doctor said, "Mr. Jones, I can't help you unless you lose weight.  Please don't come back until you do."

So....easy for the doctor to blame the patient for the disease, right?  My hubby was taking HUGE dosages of insulin daily to try and bring his uncontrollable blood sugars into control.  It was almost twenty years later, and many complications later that a doctor finally said to him, "At the dosages of insulin that you're taking it would be virtually impossible to lose weight.  Insulin acts as an appetite enhancer.  You are probably hungry ALL THE TIME!  In addition, another condition was finally diagnosed, insulin resistance.  Remarkable, twenty years before there had been treatment for insulin resistance, but none of the doctors that he saw during that time span bothered to look beyond his weight for a cause.  

Next case.  One of my friends was a slightly below average sized child.  When she became an adolescent, everything changed.  She started gaining weight.  This was not an inactive child.  She actually danced an hour to two hours five days a week.  During high school, in spite of her intense physical routine, she gained another twenty five pounds.  She went to doctor after doctor who gave no answer to this challenge.

In her twenties she finally received the diagnosis of Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome.  For some reason (cause still unknown) some women develop a condition that throws their hormones into frenzy.  In my friend's case the syndrome was responsible for the uncontrolled weight gain.  She took a required physical education class in college.  When her weight didn't budge no matter what she ate, and how much she moved her teacher gave her a poor grade.  WHAT?  By this point she knew about her medical condition.  She explained.  The teacher didn't give one inch.

What is the point of this post?  When a person can't lose weight, regardless of level of physical activities and diet, DO MORE DIAGNOSTIC TESTS!  Don't assume that the weight IS THE PROBLEM.  Instead, look more closely for a reason that is causing the weight gain!  In some people the weight gain was precipitated by a tragic event.  My children and I all gained weight after my husband's death at fifty four.  (If that doctor had only given him insulin resistance medication twenty years earlier, he might not have died that young.  At the least he would have had a healthier twenty years).  Eating sweets is not a healthy way to cope with loss, but when you understand the physiological reasons for craving sweets it makes more sense.  Sugared chocolate creates endorphins....the feel good chemicals that create feelings of euphoria or comfort.  Of course the quick rise of the feel good chemicals also drops suddenly.  This can lead to an endless cycle of sweet food bingeing.  For most people this might not even cause a hiccup in their weight gain.  It might also lead to a healthier method of coping, exercise.  If you have an underlying mental or physical medical challenge you crave food more and gain more.  

 The good news is that you CAN get help.  You may have to do lots of research on your own.  This is a marvelous time for research.  You can connect with sources on a global level.  I understand that doctors in the U.S. are often harassed by the number crunching management.  They want them to spend less time with patients to be able to create more billable hours.  I actually had a doctor tell me, "I can only deal with one or two of your medical conditions at an appointment.  I live with multiple medical conditions, each of them impacts the other conditions.  I would spend my lifetime at her office trying to get the best medical treatment for all of my conditions.  (NO, I'm NOT a hypochondriac, I have medical conditions that have all been diagnosed with empirical evidence).  If I WAS a hypochondriac a good doctor would arrange for a consult by a different medical clinician, a therapist.

The bad new is that people can be very cruel.  Posting pictures of obese individuals and then making rude comments is NOT helpful.  Do you have enough empathy to imagine yourself in the place of that person?  How would YOU feel if food was the only thing that made you feel alive?  What if  you live with such intense levels of pain that any movement guarantees you a consequence of severe pain?  Would you feel inspired to move and eat less if you could move less and you hurt more?

Doctors need to be more proactive with their patients.  Instead of automatically labeling a person of weight as lazy, or ignorant, they could check the medical conditions of a person to see if those were creating weight gain...insulin resistance, Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome are two such conditions.  There are many, many others.

How can we call ourselves politically correct when we still laugh at the misfortune of others.  Why is it OK to tell fat jokes?  It isn't acceptable to tell other types of jokes that poke fun at anybody, why is it still acceptable to label people and make fun of them because of weight?  

I used to be one of the offenders.  I simply dismissed obese people.  I would mentally think, eat less, exercise more, come on people!  I danced my way through my life, never concerned about weight gain....and then.  After my second child my weight stalled.  My baby weighed almost nine pounds.  I was horrified when I only lost five pounds?  How is that even possible?  My metabolism slowed further as I moved along through life.  After developing degenerative disc disease throughout my back I eventually piled on ninety pounds?  This forced me to understand that being overweight usually has a cause, a reason.  It is NEVER OK to look at someone with weight and make a snap judgement.

I end with a plea.  Doctors, look more diligently for a root reason that someone has weight, don't make a snap decision that all of their problems come from their weight.  Weight is often caused from underlying health problems.  Humans, develop some empathy.  Understand that weight can happen to ANYBODY!  You may be a slim trim human being, and THEN...remember that before you laugh at that picture of a woman tipped over in a small scooter.        

College to Cancer?

 Everything was set.  After forty-six years I was going back to college.  I was so excited!  I had a snazzy little red car.  I was looking for an apartment.  My registration (which involved the folks at the college going into the archives and brushing off almost fifty years of dust) had taken so very long.  The new adventure was calling me forward....AND THEN.

Why is is that in life curves are allowed to appear when the road before you seems straight and exciting?  Breast cancer was back!  This was my second bout.  I had faced it before when I was thirty-four.  If I had known then that it would return to haunt me and steal away my long delayed dreams I would have had it removed then!  Alas, none of us know what the future holds.  I was young and the cancer was very early.  So I opted for two lumpectomies and radiation.

I tried to reason that it wasn't going to take me very long to recover and then I would head off to college.  My recovery triggered a bunch of complications.  So like watching dominoes fall I witness my dreams crushed by other health issues.

 I mourned, oh how I mourned!  Tears wet my pillow at night, and I sobbed often to those that are my best support.  I did NOT waste any time asking, "Why me?" or just "Why?"  Life has taught me that those questions rarely have answers.  In addition they rob me of the precious energy I need to face the reality of my everyday.

Another question came forward.  "How?  How can I navigate this blow?  How can I move through the Valley of the Shadow of Death with hope and courage?  This question helped me to look inward for strengths that I was not aware of.  This question helped me to look at others and the way they navigated the hard and ruthless in life with grace and dignity.

It was NOT easy.  It indeed has been one of the hardest challenges of my life.  Yet there were gifts and lessons hidden in unlikely places as I traversed this curve in my life's road.  I even discovered joy as I laughed with women who had walked this same path.  

I had longed for a new/old challenge and adventure.  I wanted to go to college, to gain a Bachelor's degree.  I still believe in the power of education to unlock opportunities.  I now remember that education is not limited to brick and mortar buildings.  It is not only gained through hours and hours of classroom study.  Education comes to those that are open to it, in the unexpected curves in life.  Indeed, it is the very core of where the most important wisdom may be derived.  

Now?  Everyday is an adventure to find the best ways to walk through the curves. Sometimes fog that seems to hide any possibility can be blown away by the winds of lessons I've gained in this manner. 

Dot...the extraordinary comfort kitty!

 My husband was like the Pied Piper of Hamlin, only with cats....that he did not lead to drown in water.  Cats, literally walked off the street straight to him.  Dot, well she showed up one cold, rainy, wintry evening on our porch.  We already had THREE animals in a space where we were only supposed to have TWO.  What are you going to do when those animals march right off the street and into your heart?  I tried to be firm.  Make her a tent to get warm, give her food and water, BUT DON'T BRING HER IN THE HOUSE!  Why was I so adamant?  I knew that she would come inside and I would become attached and we would have double the amount of animals that we were supposed to have?!

I should put in the title, don't read if you are not absolutely madly, crazy in love with some sort of animal.  Anyway, Dot next was moved to our garage, which my husband used for a recording studio.  That gave he and Dot lots of bonding time.  

Then one day, one of my children's friends brazenly marched into the house with Dot in her hands...and that was that.  Her name?  My wise manipulative husband (well not really totally manipulative, just a little bit) knew that if I named this creature, I would be even further connected to her.  It was easy.  She was all gray, (I thought, but learned differently later...that is for another post) except for a tiny white dot of fur just below her chin.  Of course, later her name was elongated to Dotsy, Dotsy Doodle Doo and Dotsy Wotsy Doodle Doo.  (What? Her owner loves words).  

I did NOT like Dot much at first.  She came, brand new into an already established pecking order.  Rolly, our precious Poochan pooch was the alpha.  Spike, our orange tabby was next, and Katty Kaliko was lowest on the totem pole.  Dot came in determined to become the alpha...forget being a MALE alpha....from the first she was, "I am woman hear me roar!"  (Thanks to Helen Reddy for singing that lovely anthem).  Dot would stalk the two kitties and jump out at them.  

Rolly?  She seemed to think that Rolly was some sort of odd cat.  She was madly in love at first sight.  Sadly, that love was NOT reciprocated.  Rolly was, however tolerant (most of the time) of her loving nuzzles and sidles against him.  

I fed Dot, and put up with Dot but she was very much devoted to my husband and child.  He would often tell me, "She's a sweet kitty!"  I was not convinced.  Then my husband died.  Dot grieved with us.  At first she was a bit annoyed that I would actually sit in his recliner.  Eventually she accepted me as a worthwhile participant in the loyal order of Nyle and his creatures!  

I had never lived alone.  I was terrified.  Our children were grown up and gone.  The worst was nightimes.  My hubby and I were nocturnal for the last decade of our marriage.  I would usually go to bed earlier than him, but I felt completely safe knowing that my six foot four muscular honey was watching over me.  When he passed, I was lost.  I felt as though my feet went completely out from under me.  We had shared twenty seven years of living and three children together.  

This is when Dot and I bonded.  Both lost without him, she seemed drawn to me when I needed her most.  In the darkness of the night I would awaken myelf sobbing.  Often Dot would climb on my tummy and knead my chest, throat and face.  It was like having a personal grief crisis counselor that lived with me.  

After my husband's passing we moved....lots...and she moved on with me.  Along the way we said goodbye to Spike, Katty, and Rolly.  Dot continued on.  In the last few months she has been bravely battling lymphoma.  Her vet told me that she is the strongest animal that they ever worked with.  Strong in her desire to live in spite of chemo, shots, blood draws, pills, etc.  She was strong in her persistence at getting around, up and down, and wherever she needed to go.  I continued having nightly communal experiences with her purring, and kneading.  This last week, things changed drastically.  Her ability to fight the demon invading her body grew weaker.  She was down to nearly four pounds.  In her prime she weighed almost fifteen.  Even as her body weakened her spirit soared. During this time she received massive quantities of snuggles, treats, water from the bathroom faucet (she adored watching the water come out fuzzy and then drinking from my hand).

Finally it became obvious that it was time to release her.  It would not have been merciful to wait for this wasting disease to finish destroying her strong body.  Today I made the trip that every pet lover dreads.  She went to the vet's one last time.  The vet was AMAZING!  They had a beautiful outdoor space prepared with lavender growing to one side, and a charming gazebo.  It's a pandemic and I'm a prime candidate so they were willing to perform her release outside.  I sang to her and stroked her head as she relaxed and then leaped into her strong, healthy spirit self.  

I have no doubt that my sweety, her rescuer is holding her in his arms.  Rolly is putting up with her loving nuzzles, and she is once again trying to rule the roost.  Thank you my deliver Dot, who helped me cope with grief until I was strong enough to face it on my own. 

Still Crazy After All These Years

In one hour and seven minutes I will have lived on this planet for sixty-four years.  When I was born I had severe allergy asthma, and very little immune system.  I was in and out of the hospital often.  There was no treatment for asthma but to give oxygen and pray the attack would stop.  I remember at about the age of three or four being in an oxygen tent.  The doctor was speaking to a group of interns nearby.  I'm sure he thought that I couldn't hear him over the sound of the oxygen.  My ears were still pretty sharp then.  I heard him say, "This child will not live very long.  She is too severely allergic and sensitive."

Lying there I thought to myself, "HAH!  I'll show you Dr.!"  I HAVE, I've shown that doctor and then some.  Of course, the credit for keeping me alive long enough to reach some marvelous medical discoveries goes to my patient self-sacrificing parents.  They did everything in their power to keep me alive.  My attacks often started in the middle of the night, which meant one or both of my parents didn't get much sleep.  Mama started doing research and off we went to herbologists, naturopaths, chiropractors, nutrinists, and more.  Obviously something worked.

Then I began to see a new Dr.  He was a family practice doctor and he changed my life forever.  When he discovered my dismal past medical history he didn't just push a pill at me and tell me to come back in six weeks.  No, he got busy and did intensive research about the newest medical developments for my condition.  He got me involved in a medical trial.  I began to use a medication that helped to desensitize my bronchials.  It didn't cure me, but it lessened by hospital stays a great deal.  As my asthma lessened, I was able to strengthen my immune system.

I went to college, performed in summerstock theater, served an LDS mission, sang, danced, and acted in many productions.  I met the man of my dreams and we created family together.  He got his undergrad degree, and then his J.D.  We performed together with great joy. 

Now?  Now even though the pandemic has swept away most of the outside activity in my life, I am still filled with enthusiasm for the inside activity.  I sew, write, knit, do genealogy work, dance, sing, and sometimes play the piano.  I've watched fascinating documentaries that have increased my knowledge, and I'm currently taking an online Spanish class. 

One of my friends once told me (she was in her 80s at the time), you are only as old as your oldest cell.  Your body produces new cells every 5 seconds.  I have not verified the science of this with SNOPES but I like her vision.  In her nineties she needed to move into assisted living.  The last I heard, she was teaching aerobics there. 

Even if my body keeps getting older, and my health issues continue to pile up, I'm going to do my best to find joy.  There will always be something that I can do...even if it is lying in bed praying for those I love.  I AM praying right now.  I'm praying for this pandemic to stop.  I'm praying for a useful vaccine to be created.  I'm praying for a world where black lives DO matter, and we do NOT go around judging each other harshly.  I've seen a great deal of history in sixty-four years of living.  I want to see some more.  I wish to see our children make our earth safer, healthier, and much more loving. 

I'm happy that I've lived to reach my sixty-fourth birthday.  I'm blowing that doomsayer doctor a raspberry.  I imagine that he has passed on long since...and I'm still here...and still doing my best everyday.  (OK....I do not wish that doctor harm.  I just want him to see that I proved him wrong?) 

Happy birthday to me!

STOP THIS MADNESS!!!

I do my best to stay away from the divisiveness of politics. I can't be silent any longer. First of all...no haters please. I respect your right to your opinion. Please respect mine.

Portland, OR is a lovely town. The people are kind, they are tolerant of others, they even allow those that are down on their luck (the homeless) to put up a tent or tarp wherever it is not causing anyone harm. Unbelievably, even in heavy traffic they will allow your vehicle to merge into places that you need to merge.  

Since the horror of George Floyd's death there have been mostly peaceful protests about the use of extreme policing and racism. Enter federal troops who don't identify themselves, act as commandos, not peace officers (I believe most officers still swear to protect and defend...people?) and quickly prove that the very problem Black Lives Matter protestors are trying to address NEEDS TO BE ADDRESSED! This overreach of the Executive Branch of Government is completely unacceptable. The protests in Portland were lessening...enter the stormtroopers (they really do look like that) with unfettered use of tear gas, rubber bullets (which broke the skull of a man), billy clubs (regular policemen haven't been allowed to use those for years), flash bangs, and an authoritarian attitude that smacks of tyranny.

My beloved Papa served for three years as a paratrooper and infantry man during World War II. He was very proud of the service that he gave for his country. This action against our own citizens would sicken him. He believed in our country and the values that we are supposed to stand up for. 

Maybe this president could spend more time focusing on ridding our country once and for all of a pandemic that is increasing exponentially? Perhaps, he could see that our health care heroes have the supplies that they need without having to wrangle to get them. Maybe the money that is being spent to send federal troops into Democratic cities instead could be used to get our health care workers the supplies they need? Or perhaps that money could go toward the expense of creating the vaccine that we need to end the Covid19 virus once and for all!  

What about the record number of unemployed people that are scrambling in our country?  Remember those down on their luck folks that I mentioned above?  There may soon be much larger populations of tent cities as people are unable to pay for housing for themselves and their families.  Perhaps some money could be put into this effort?

Finally, in what world does it make sense to send our precious children back to school in the fall?  When I was a child we were encouraged never to swap hats because it increased the exposure to ringworm and lice from other children.  Can you imagine 7 years olds that continue to wear their masks all day long without swapping with another child?  What about children who are asymptomatic but bring home Covid19 to other family members, those immune compromised or elderly?  Who will pay for the health care that all of them will require?  How about the teachers, and the staff when they become sick and must be quarantined.  Who will care for their costs?  As usual our president makes decisions without a single thought about possible consequences for others. 

Remember when a certain current president made NOT wearing a mask in a pandemic a political statement?  Remember how sharply the Covid19 cases rose because people were NOT wearing masks in public?

Please, let's stop the madness.  Here are some reasoned ideas to consider.  
 1.  Quit sending federal troops to cities that have largely moderate protests.  If there is looting, let the city, county, and state officers who have been trained to deal with these actions without exacerbating violence, police them.  That will save a large quantity of money.  
2.  Let's use that money that we have saved to ensure that our health care workers have the appropriate equipment that they need to keep themselves safe in this pandemic.  Let's make certain that there are guaranteed lines of replacement for all of that medical equipment.  
3.  There needs to be a plan to fund some sort of employment for all of these people who have no income.  There must be work that needs doing that could be accomplished from homes.  
4.  Let's establish a stay at home school program for at least this school year to avoid causing the possible health consequences of children returning to school during a pandemic.  Teachers could teach more practically remotely, than trying to teach masked children in socially distanced classrooms.  
5.  Let's require people to wear masks in any situations where they can't stay six feet from others.  We must close down places or situations that can expose us to this virus.

My Other Mother

I have been blessed in my life by the mothering influence of many, many women.  Some have been the age of my mother, some have been my age, and some have been younger than me.  To me, mother energy defies age.  It is the powerful gift of loving beyond your own selfish wishes.

My mom-in law was one of the best examples of powerful love, and nurturing.  She raised five tremendous sons.  She did this even after a painful divorce, and having to return to the work force after twenty-five years as a stay at home mother.  At first she cooked delicious foodstuffs and had her sons sell them in the neighborhood.  When this failed to adequately support her family, she went to work as a secretary/receptionist.  She barely earned enough to pay the rent.  My husband remembers times when he slept in the kitchen because they could only afford a one bedroom apartment.

Within a few years she went from a secretary/receptionist to the first woman detective for consumer fraud in the state where she lived.  She was brilliant.  Unfortunately, she was never paid as much as her mail peers.  The reason she was told is, "They had families to support."  I've often wondered at the hubris of someone telling her this when it was common knowledge that she was the sole breadwinner in her family of five sons.  Her retirement was lessened substantially by this foolishness.

She raised five strong boys to become five strong men.  She did this while working to support them.  One of my favorite stories about her creativity was the traveling circus that she would develop.  She wanted the boys to receive an allowance.  She could not afford to give them an allowance.  A circus would have games to be played (all for a small fee, of course), hot dogs and lemonade to be eaten (again at a small fee) and my husband's personal favorite was fishing.  He would receive a small prize if he managed to hook one of the fishes.

Penny poker was a game played close to allowance day.  She mindfully cheated, but was never caught, and never confessed.  By the end of the circus, or after the poker game, she would have won back the allowance.  The boys never felt cheated.  She gave them their money's worth.
When she would visit us, my husband would tease her that he expected her to pay for her supper.  He also offered to let her play fish to see if she could snag any prizes.  She graciously laughed away his teasing.

When I married her baby boy she opened her arms and heart to me.  She never had a daughter.  That didn't stop her from being a loving gracious mother to me, and to my sisters in law.  We had lots of fun together.  She could make me laugh on a regular basis.

Having lived through the great depression, World War II (her husband was stationed on the Isle of Tinian.  He saw the plane leave that dropped an atomic bomb on Japan).  She had mastered the art of being happy even when the world was not a happy place.  I always rejoiced in her visits.  I loved and respected her with all of my heart.

I loved her so much that I honored her by naming my daughter after her.  My daughter reminds me a lot of her namesake's combination of caring people skills, and brilliance of brain.

Thank you my beloved mom!