Margm

Y'all have the best apple I ever ate up from the Northwest. I think it is called Pacific Rose. I cannot have apples anymore, but can have apple sauce and think I can wrap some kind of canned biscuit around it and make apple dumplings. I can eat them cooked, without peeling. That was the best apple I ever had, that Pacific Rose. Not sure of the name, but we very seldom got them down south. Huge and sweet.

No gown, no sheet, scared to death. Surgery by interventional radiologists and I retired from this Catholic Hospital (last of my two retirements). I was just a piece of meat. I know about complaining to officials, CEO, etc., but was semi-comatose and certainly not "me." I was going to complain about Billy's stay in the waiting room also, but he was gone, but it might have helped someone else. Something about it all took the fight out of me. I did fight for my mom's five hour stay in the ER here at this hospital in the town I live in and you are seen faster now than you would be if you went to your doc's office.. No wait. Still don't have my fight anymore though. I saw the John Hurt movie.

I worked in a teaching hospital for many years. My office was next to the ER and had occasion to speak to many nurses and physicians. Back in the "early days" it was common for party goers to bring their elderly, that they kept at home, off and drop them in the ER while they went to party. It was just common for the workers to know what they were doing. Holidays are/ were crowded in the ER. Remember the old time wheelchairs with the high wooden back. I kept seeing the same gentleman every time I had to go through, wheelchair was not moved. He looked comfortable. Guess he was, don't know how long he had been dead. He was not causing any problems, so his health was not noticed. I can still see him in his overalls, asleep, and it has been about 50 years ago. It was what was called, at one time, a charity hospital. My dad had his tonsils removed there probably in about 1927 and they put him on one end of the bed and someone else was at the other end.

So many doctors, so many years, and then the different dialects. I wondered how my little redneck friends from way out in the country were going to understand directions. Billy's chief of nephrology and I swapped back and forth the word "ten and tan" It was a tan pill. Finally his assistant explained it to me. We in the south, especially from small towns all our life took on the dialect of our neighbors, friends. Had to explain one time they were speaking a language they learned as English, but this old great-grandmother spoke an even older, more complicated (for them) language. The doctor that saved my life had to go into anger management. Not for me, but you learned, surgeons are not used to a bedside manner (some exceptions to every rule), but your family practice and internal medicine doctors needed a little personality, bed-side manner. You no longer had the GP that came to your home. If only we could have kept the "Doc Adams" variety of physician we would understand more. But medical science has branched into so many branches, and most insurances will only pay if your home physician (or whatever they are called) officially sends you. I have been asked who referred me and I say "me." I can do that. My friend waited and waited and never could get in to see a rheumatologist, although there was a medical school up interstate and a small city down interstate. Medicine is not what it once was. I have learned (and I keep my medical history, typed by a knowledgeable medical transcriptionist in the front of my purse. I drag it out, put it in front of them, say "read it" and have actually been thanked for doing this. But, where do you put pieces of paper when they use a computer trail for your medical history? The gurney in the hall is where they kept us in 1982, at MD Anderson, waiting in line for the treatment. I pulled the cover up to my nose and was crying. Doc stopped and asked what was wrong. I was scared to death. They had detected a heart murmur. He said "so what, I have one too" but he was not on the gurney. It seems there should be a teaching class with the doctor/resident/student being on the gurney awaiting some procedure lined up against a wall waiting their turn for whatever torture that we wait on. They really stripped this old great grandmother naked, put me on a cold table awaiting my turn for the MRI or CT scan and all I could picture was the half of a cow, skinned, waiting to have the different parts dissected (or quartered) and wrapped in packages and thrown in the freezer. I had to think, with people coming in and out, if it was your mother or grandmother, wouldn't you at least provide a sheet.

I was in Barnes and Noble today. Bri had received money from relatives and that is her first place to head. She loves to read poetry of some of the modern poets and I am still stuck in the past. I picked up some books. I didn't have the money to buy them, but the feel, the smell of a new book is something you cannot find on a Kindle. But, also, you cannot find the ease of reading without reading glasses. I love my Kindle and keep my Amazon in Billy's name. I have the 10 inch, but it does not have the weight, smell or feel of a real, live book. I know in what writing C.S. Lewis said this, but sometimes I pretend my life was a fairy tale, after all, he did say “Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” And, I am. So, I do. Addendum: And, I did not mean to add this to this post. Someone had mentioned Kindles. Sorry, thought I was answering that. Going to bed. Seems like I need to.

Dee, Billy had favorite pants and shirts and he kept them handy. One time his red pants (Arkansas Razorback pants) should have been breezy to him. The back side, right leg, down to his knee was waving in the wind. He did not notice. We got a new pair and he wore these out too.. He would only wear a navy blue pair that would zip at knees (he never unzipped them) and had side pockets. Elastic waist band. (He was never overweight, I was, he wasn't). They were just comfortable and worn thin. For going to town he had a pair that was like them but made out of a khaki color with the side pockets and a tan pullover comphy shirt. I even packed the red ones with the torn leg. I stuck them in a king sized (California king sized sham) and it sleeps beside me. I told the kids to just take his fly tying stuff and throw it in the hole with our box of ashes. I guess archaeologists 10,000 years from now will be surprised at the fly tying ability of this generation of people.

On Billy's urn I have a note he wrote with a red Sharpie. "LOVE YOU. BE BACK BY NOON" (He had gone to the river). Oh yes, I still have my pillow. It is a king sized one so I son't sleep on it, just beside it.

George, my family try to get me to go to doc, and I will when I have a head cold, anything I think a shot of antibiotics might help. I discovered Norman Cousins a whole bunch of years ago. He was a doctor and he really died too young. But he said “Each patient carries his own doctor inside him.” I have to agree in some cases. They have all let me know I cannot be "fixed." My insides will not hold a stitch or the glue they use either. Radiation and colon rupture into my female parts have fixed it where I can only hope and pray for just keeping status quo. The pills for antibiotics will kill me, pain pills will kill me, so I just putter on with Tylenol, all I can take. But, I drink my magic potion every night that has kept me alive this long. We bought our RV in 2015. I found Billy's notebook and he had places written down we (or he) would stay when we hit the road. I actually was not expected to live, but I handle things myself without the help of a doctor, they cannot help me. But, I would not advise people to do like me. Medical science can help some people. Please let us know how you are doing. I threw out the cape and clippers I used to keep Billy's hair cut a week or so ago. It hit me that I would not be cutting his hair anymore, they were helping no one. Yet it still hurt to put them in the trash. It felt like I was throwing my life away. We all have that feeling. I quote my mom all the time. You really cannot take it with you no more than they could take it with them. Harsh words, but true. Let us hear from you.

Oh Kay, I am so glad your daughter is coming. My granddaughter (the 36-year-old one) has had a tough life and has two children. We southern women sometimes have to be "steel magnolias" and I hope for a happy life for all my "steel magnolias." Sometimes they have to kiss a lot of frogs to find their prince. I hope I live long enough to see them all happy.

Four of us are going to make do with Taco's and Enchilada's, and Albert's hot sauce and homemade guacamole. We have three trees up in various sizes, not big. I'm going to leave them up all year, just because I can. Shirtsleeve weather. This is the south. Kelli is going to get Scott in Savannah on the 30th. He is ready to come home. He likes his own place. You all have as good as you can of these holidays. It will be the last one with my friend/classmate/cousin. It came on her fast, like it did Billy. Her brother will go before or right after her. But, none of us are promised tomorrow. Sometimes I think the 54-years with Billy were a fairy tale. Time seemed to go so fast and the book was not very long, but a longer story than most of you. We had many dragons to slay, and as long as we were together it was happily ever after.. Is George okay? Anyone heard from Cookie?

No, it did not lose the definition. We just made up a new one. My granddaughter has different DNA than I do. Heck, even my sister's and mine are not exact. I think I am kin to probably 3/4 the population of at least two counties, no make that three, and Billy is kin to another county (parishes in Louisiana). But the "kids" I get together with once every 20-30 years are so, even if they all are getting so old it embarrasses me to be seen with them, they are family too. The women I worked with and retired at two hospitals, they were family, and those people you go see at that nursing home, you are the only family they see sometimes. I'm hurting in places I am not supposed to hurt, cannot eat out unless my bathroom is within a couple of miles from where I eat, lots has changed but damned if I don't have a washer and dryer. It is so much more educated than I am, but it gets the clothes clean and dry and I don't have to use those big concrete steps again. My friend wrote me she has two months with no treatment, maybe six with treatment. It is in her esophagus and stomach and she can't hold anything down. This is my heart sister, and somewhere along the line she and I are kin and her husband was kin on the other side, but they are not really family. (How can I say that, of course they are if for no other reason than I have known her since first grade.) And, that's a long-long time. I will have my sister, daughter and granddaughter for taco's on Christmas day. They gave Billy six months, he lasted a little over a month. You know we did not talk about it other than my telling him it was not gonna happen, and he knew not to argue with me. And what are we? In the family of man we will not be at each other's table, but we will be in each other's heart. How can that be any more than family? You all are part of my family. You helped save me. It is 2:00 a.m. I got into a Netflix "Virgin River" series and I guess I gotta go to bed. Don't forget us Gwen, you know you are not forgotten but life sure can flip us up, turn us around and drop us on our head. (And Kay, you can get ear buds that attach to your Kindle or I-pad if you have it and go to sleep listening to the Bible. I don't think it will make you see any better, might not make you feel better), but it will put you to sleep.

I agree (I moved away from those 4-5 big concrete steps) that I knew one day I would fall down. Honeychiles, we are brave when we walk out that door. I drove off in the car today, probably two miles from the apartment, and I felt brave. My head said "remember those stop signs" and I felt brave. I climbed the stairs to feed and take care of my sister's cat (and I felt brave), but I hung onto the rail all the way up and down. And friends, well, true friends understand. Like the counselor told us about Bri "don't push her" and somehow that fits us exactly. My most daring deed is going to bed and reading (which I love) and all of a sudden it is 2:00 a.m. I am surprised at how daring I have become. And, I question myself all the time. Keys left pocket, phone right pocket, purse in chair by table, glasses next to computer screen. If any of these are not where they are supposed to be, then my mind clinches up and I get scared because I know I won't remember where I put them. We have a lot of important stuff to do.

I do not think we can have a truly happy Christmas again. I feel sorry for the woman. There will be many sad Christmases. My friend who lost her 2nd husband sounds angry again. I do not blame her. She was angry after losing the first. She said she was glad she had health problems to get her mind off losing last husband at Christmas. Another cousin lost her husband at Christmas and she scolds, begs friends to come around. My family is me, and I am them. That is what Billy said, he is me and I am him. I cannot be smug, my very best friend, my sister from another mother is dying at her children's home. Her dying brother (she took care of everyone in the family), is being taken care of by another sister, my friend is 77, this is the only way she quit work, unable to work. No, Christmas is not happy and it never will be again, but we are going to make the best of it and "get it over with." We have no small children anymore. Christmas is for children and we know the meaning of the season. I hope the woman makes friends with her being an adopted grandmother. Even old dogs need taken care of, a friend, a ham bone with meat still on it. The smallest of things, helping at a place that feeds homeless people. Then we can cry about no shoes and see the people with no feet.

My "spring chicken" days are long gone. Husband gone. Parents gone. (can you still be an orphan at 77?) So many of my friends have lost their links to family and this little woman has found a way to reach out. It is a novel idea and I hope a family that would otherwise not have a Christmas finds this lady in Tulsa. Everybody needs someone. (Especially those people at the NH you volunteer at "Gwen.") At our house, in our family, we all suffer from SAD (seasonal affective disorder), and especially now. Reach out, someone is there.

Oh, this girl is my heart, she can do no wrong. Now, if only we could get her through the big math test, we'd be okay. It is like she has a curse on the test. Does the same stuff in class just fine, knows it is the big test and knows she is going to fail it. She does. Freezes up completely. Counselor trying to help.. She is college level and has passed all the other tests, cannot get past the math. She does not give up. This is what Billy home schooled her in. He loved it. Kinda think it might have something to do with it.

Bri called me "Dude" the other day. Dude Mamol please..

I wanted to be like my sweet, beautiful in her 90's, Mammaw. She really was an Angel and her two daughters took such good care of her. She was tiny, and prettier at 90 than at 45. She doted on me her only grandchild for nine years. (Mama was jealous) and hated her mother-in-law. Grandma was fluffy, had a personality that was flat, but she was so unhappy after her husband passed she only had her country store and lived a country life. The rugs on the floor were hook rugs, and she had plaited (braided) so many different strips of cloth together, old clothes from many children and other family. If you have never plaited a hook rug, it is really is a lot of fun. They kept the cold wind from coming through the single wood floors. My other grandmother made quilt coverlets for all her grandchildren, each little square hand sewn. After all these years, I still have Scott's,, but won't use it. Lost the others in our many moves. My fluffy grandmother managed to leave money and land to each of her children and (I think I have written this before), had a will written out on a Big Chief tablet of paper (many will remember these), with a #2 pencil and in it she asked her children "please don't fight" and of course they did. They all argued and verbally fought until they were all gone and I imagine in Heaven my grandparents are saying "you handle it God, its your problem now."

No, after the one pill my temperature went very high and my bones and muscles could hardly move. I took the only thing I'm allowed to take (Tylenol), it was about 4:00 a.m., I figured I was semi-alone, no need to wake up Bri, lay back down, figured I was dying anyhow, and didn't care, went to sleep and was fine in the morning. Did not take any more pills (I had asked her not to give me an antidepressant,, I knew I was depressed, but it was situational depression a pill would not cure. (I used to believe a pill would cure anything). It was a new antidepressant and I saw it advertised on TV. It said if anyone had that symptom to go to ER immediately. Sometimes you cannot give pills to cure the word "elderly."

Gwen I "fired" my family practice doc two years ago. Her antidepressant (I only took 1) but old folks cannot take some things the younger ones can. Nurse called me to come have bone density test and I said "I'm firing her, she nearly killed me" and nurse/receptionist thought I was being funny. They called again for annual checkup and I told them again, I no longer see that doctor. I'll be darn if a recorded message didn't call this year for annual checkup. I just hung up.

I hurt a bunch of days afterward. My bedroom (I took the small one) is surrounded with big plastic boxes. I gave Bri the big one with the bath because she stays in her room a lot. I kinda feel safe with all that stuff around the king sized bed and all I do is sleep there. About to get the kinks out, but paying rent at two places kind of put us in a tight squeeze at Christmas. I have always been the Grinch anyhow, Billy was the Christmas boy, and I do not even care for gifts, and they all know it. I'm not that much fun. I take after my grandmother who would wrap and re-give presents, wrap with toilet paper when she ran out of wrapping paper. To give her credit though, she could not use all the presents they gave her so many holidays. More than once one of the girls would unwrap a present and say "I gave this to her for Mother's day." And, she did live at least 10 miles from any town. I hope y'all have as good a Christmas as you can.

My washroom space has no light. My sister gave me a home gift and it takes 3 AA batteries and is activated by motion. Really helped. Peel off back and put it where you want it and the motion of you walking down the hall makes it come on.

Kay, my two 2nd cousins had the same grandmother that I can never remember her out of a wheelchair. The arthritis was passed down to both girls. One has been in a wheelchair as long as I can remember and my closest one has had joint replacements and they had their grandchildren late in life (children later also) so she is too sweet to say no to babysitting. Husband is 80 now. I think when it is inherited like that age knows no boundary. I'm so sorry, they are in such pain. I know y'all are too.

When I typed the information on all the many patients I thought it strange they would make a no suicide pact with their doctors. Really, sometimes when you are so ill, you are fighting to live, not fighting to die. I had had thoughts during my worse times, before the cancer, of suicide, and of course after Billy left I wanted to let go, but somehow when your very ill you fight to keep living. Like you would not go to the ER if you were bent toward suicide. Sometimes though, you get tired of fighting so much to live. Still, and even if you do not have any religious convictions, that is the mind-set, to live. They cannot help us any more and Billy was the best nurse I ever had. I keep seeing my age in front of me though and wonder how hard I will fight. My kids have depression so bad that I have to fight to live. They are not old. They can have a life ahead of them. My daughter goes to get her "immune" shot today. Every Monday. She will be sick the rest of the day but yesterday she was so tired she slept all day. It happens like this. They will draw lab work before the shot. She gets to feeling better and all the Thanksgiving crowds and she had a party to go to for her Mardi Gras Krew . All of the busy stores and she was exposed to so much. I just talked to her and she is going to get her shot early this morning. And my son leaves today for a month. He has his regular bipolar holiday depression. He cannot help it and tries to fight it off but has had it for years. They say money cannot buy health and happiness, but sometimes I think if it was there, it might help. I know just letting go does not help, but how many of us have wanted to just let go? My sister's oxygen level goes down with this wet weather and I just wish she could have what she craves, but she still smokes constantly. I cannot judge her. I admire you for fighting. It is a lonely fight, but you have worked with some many volunteering that you know, it is just second nature to try to live. We don't know why, but we have to keep trying. I don't have my "nurse" and I cannot fight my son's depression, my granddaughter's listless pull for a life, my daughter's immune system fight and my sister's fight to breathe. But that is what we do, we just keep fighting, even when the results seem even more bleak. We fight because we have to.

I understand it totally. We always headed west and I won't go past the Texas line. Cannot travel without Billy. Will never fish again.

Gin, I have gone so far I do not like the state of Arkansas, the year 2015, I will not watch a movie made in that year or a book published. Autumn used to be the favorite time of year, picture taking of all the wilderness/forest roads and there were so many around us. The Ouachita National Forest was surrounding us. Would not go down those roads. If I have business to attend to in the little town I stay on the main highway and our house was just behind the museum in beautiful forests, streams, hills, valleys. Avoiding all that does not make it not have happened. Leaving the apartment complex that hid me for 3-1/2 years was traumatic and it is just less than half a mile away. I knew the steps were going to kill me and the laundromat was impossible and took way more energy than I have now. I don't know where anything is and I do have my own washer and dryer, no steps at all, and two bathrooms (necessity). Sometimes we just need a push to keep on living. I am lucky, I think, I have people that push me. My sister lives around the corner apartment and she cannot breathe in this humidity. My son will spend next month with his daughter and grandchildren in Savannah, Georgia, and I want him to. “We are not idealized wild things. We are imperfect mortal beings, aware of that mortality even as we push it away, failed by our very complication, so wired that when we mourn our losses we also mourn, for better or for worse, ourselves. As we were. As we are no longer. As we will one day not be at all.”― Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking She wrote lots of books, but I am not intellectual enough to have read them. Just this one writing about losing her husband. Talking to him at the table and he tragically passed away all of a sudden at the table, I don't think he had been sick. She lost her daughter soon after that. She was the wife of a Dominick Dunn's brother, John Dunn, who I think was a novelist also. When I was younger and my kids asked me "don't you remember, etc." I would try to remember. I do not try now. I don't want dementia or Alzheimer's, but sometimes I enjoy not remembering.