January 31st, 2021

Hiya,

Need to share a success story.  A thing I took away from working at Nordstrom was the habit and importance of writing thank you notes.  I could and should do it more, but do send them a lot and have tried to encourage my kids to do the same.  They're a tough nut to crack in this regard as technology has rendered letters and such obsolete in their minds, but I'm gonna keep pushing this one cause I think it is important in maintaining the fabric of society.

The success story comes from badminton practice and I was filling in to coach the Sophomore girls.  That isn't my usual batch and am not great with names in any case, so as I'm working them, I'd be constantly asking their names.  Am hitting with one of the girls and say 'tell me your name again?" She tells me her name and then says, 'you wrote a note to my teacher in the 5th grade'.  For years I helmed the Hot Dog booth at the school fairs and the lower school 5th graders would have kids "volunteer" to help booths to satisfy their community service hours and would typically get a handful to help.  The vast majority were worse than worthless cause they couldn't give a crap, but occasionally would get a star.  I had to fill out a form for each of them to confirm they showed up, and while I never ran a kid into the ground for crappy attitude cause they are 11 and most 11 year olds that are forced to do work have crappy attitudes, did write long notes about a couple of them and this girl must have been one of them.  When she told me I wrote a note, had to ask if it was a positive one and she smiled that smile and said it was really good.  That she remembered that clearly 5 years later filled me up with so much joy.  I'm sure that most of the notes I write maybe get looked at, tossed and forgotten, but on the occasion that you see a result, know there are more where that came from?  It makes a difference in peoples lives and is a free way to do something good.  Take a minute to show appreciation for a job that just isn't well done, cause everyone should do their job well, but above and beyond.

I read a story in The Atlantic by a guy talking about being honest all the time.  It's called What I Learned About Loved When I Stopped Being Honest".  It's a bit weird and kinda long, but if you're looking for a diversion...  Briefly, the author came from a family that was blunt and honest to everyone they met and how he had to learn that people don't want honesty thrown in their face at every interaction, how small talk with acquaintances is necessary to develop them into people you want to be friends with and how honesty is to be shared with the people close in your life.  Am nowhere near as neurotic as this author was, but found myself nodding at some of the frustrations he had when people recoiled from his candor.  I think I do this by hiding the honesty in "humor", but definitely feel it when people don't like it.  Not entirely sure where I'm going with this, but wanted to get this train of thought out of my brain, which is partly what this space is about.

Rehab update time.  The Boy called the other day just to chat.  Smell that he was prompted by mom to call cause I have just been sitting around without a ton of adult interaction and she was sick of me talking to her about the nothing going on in my day.  He's a decent dude and enjoy chatting with him.  When he was visiting with us, he confessed that he let one of his buddies borrow his car while he was gone and that it ended up getting totaled.  There is some family history on that topic previously shared here, but long story short, the guy that hit his car was totally at fault, admitted to being so and was a doctor with good insurance, so his settlement ended up being for what he paid for his ride in the first place.  He was happy about that and said he was gonna tack his stimulus check on top of it to get something nicer.  Once he got back to the States, since he already had recent experience in buying a car and knowing what he wanted, it took all of 2 days for him to be behind the wheel of a new rig newer and cheaper than his last one.   I hate that that kid always falls up...not that he is lucky, but rather fear he won't know what to do when real adversity hits.

On our chat, he tells me that he got his new plates but had some issues with the screws to put them on the car, so he and his buddies went to the auto part store.  He tells me he that the auto parts guy made a joke about putting new plates on a stolen car that he thought was odd.  Then they are in the parking lot messing with the plates and a random guy is eyeballing them and then comes up and says that a car exactly like his was just involved in a bank robbery.  I have to think he assessed them to not be bank robbers cause why would you just walk up to people like that (although this is Charlottesville and he was probably heavily armed himself).  Come to think of it, this was Charlottesville and if Paul wasn't a white (looking) man along with whiter looking friends, he probably would have called the cops and they would have mobilized the troops to come "check them out".

We let the caregiver (Enez) go home on Friday.  She was with me for 10 days.  I learned a lot about the caregiving industry both from an economic and moral standpoint.  I miss her in some ways, like no one runs to me whenever the walker rattles to help me do whatever, or to get the ice bags (or whatever else my heart desired) and them move them around my wound, or to empty my pee bottle.  Yes, I used a bottle to pee when I was in bed.  They don't want you getting up unattended on medication in the middle of the night for obvious reasons.  I probably used if for a couple days longer than I needed to cause I can maneuver pretty well, but just rolling over in the middle of the night and evacuating the bladder is pretty damn awesome.  And ladies, I can only imagine the mechanics that you have to go through and it doesn't sound nearly as nice as it is for us fellas.  It is nice not having someone on top of you at all waking hours, and I no longer have to close the bathroom door to take care of my business, so while I miss her, need to get on with my life.

While our conversations weren't deep due to language barriers, I will miss her company next week when both my girls are at work/school, and there is one time of day I will miss her the most, and that is exercise time.  It isn't that I need her to do them, but if the sun is out or it's warm, I like to do them on the balcony cause I get some essential vitamin D and it overlooks the park across the street.  Every time we'd go out there, we would look to see who was doing what in the park.  In the mornings, we'd marvel at the dozen or so older ladies doing their synchronized disco dancing and were sad when they weren't there the day it was too cold.  We would watch the kids learning to ride/crash their bikes, skates unicycles in the middle of the day, and in the late afternoon, would watch the drama of the old people/caregivers.

We go out there one day and as we look down, we see one of these caregivers angrily push an old guy in a wheelchair away from the group into this flat area where the kids usually play.  Even from 16 floors up, we could tell she was mad (and also from this height, my Filipina friend could tell this caregiver cohort were Indonesians).  The old guy sits there for a while while the caregiver goes and sits with the other three old people and their caregivers.  Slowly, old guy starts to move back.  He wouldn't go far, maybe a wheel rotation or two at a time.  He gets closer to the group, then moves a little bit further away, then closer still to the point he is now at arms length of the caregiver.  And then he reaches out to grab her and she slaps his arm away.  He then moved off and repeated the cycle, always two wheel rotations at a time, circling like a big cat around its wounded but still dangerous prey, until he was back within range.  This time she stood up, took her shoe off and looked like she was gonna pound him with it.  A few minutes later, all the caregiver/old folks get up (including the old guy/perv who has one and had been sitting there the whole time) and walk down the street together.  We were so entertained and I couldn't wait to tell my girls about it at dinner that night.

Warning, the next paragraph is poopy talk, so skip if you find that disturbing (at your own risk of course cause I am gonna speak some colon health truth)

Lastly on rehab for now, mentioned prune juice as an elixir for constipation last time.  In subsequent conversations with friends where I have tried to tout its healing properties, the reply boils down to 'whatever you say old man'.  You'll listen to me one day you young whippersnappers!  Anyhoo, I got back to normal gastrointestinally about a week after surgery and if you know me even a little bit, you know that consistency in that area is prized.  But Betty bought a bunch of prune juice for me online (Costco naturally) and I am not one that likes to waste stuff, so came up with a new regimen where the first thing I do in the morning, even before I start the coffee, is take the prune juice bottle from the fridge and guzzle 3-5 ounces.  My usual pre-surgery routine was to have a BM and hour or two after I wake up (as all healthy homo sapiens should), and that is still the case.  But now, they are freaking perfect.  I thought I had really healthy BMs before, but these are now not only perfect in mass and consistency, but they are now smooth in a way like a Maserati running on high octane fuel.  There is a saying that goes 'you can't polish a turd', but you wouldn't need to polish these.  Encase them in gold or bury them for future archaeologists maybe.

Alrighty then...my sister has been digging through mom's stuff an emailed a couple of photos of us when we were young.

Awww.

And damn, my mom was pretty hot.  She had to be 42 years old in that snap.

January 27th, 2021

Hey there,

So rehab continues.  It is now day 8.  There was a part of me that thought I'd be walking normally, little pain, etc. by the end of the first week, but of course that is insane as they removed freaking bones and sliced a foot long gash into one of my supporting limbs.  Don't think I mentioned it last time, but the Friday after I came home from the previous Tuesday's surgery, I was at home with the caregiver Enez and thought I could make it to the local veggie market 3 blocks away to get stuff.  Of course Betty/B-doll coulda done it, but I'm a tough guy so off we went.  Next morning, they look at my foot and it is all swollen and bruised.  I feel hot so they take my temperature and am over 101.  I don't feel any worse for wear, but since they freaked me out with facts that white boys clot easier, I am more amenable to their instructions of RICE (Rest/Ice/Compression/Elevation).  Was over 102 for a while and if it stayed that way woulda have had to go back to hospital, but we've managed to get the swelling/fever down, so all good?  

Pain after one week isn't piercing, but more of a constant throb. There is no position I can get in where it goes away so am constantly shuffling, which knocks off the ice packs and is just annoying.  Also leads to frustration for not being able to do stuff like go to the store or drive the car.  Stir crazy is something we all understand in this era.  I do try not to turn on the TV and waste the day watching shows, but do settle in after dinner to watch stuff and the one I've been enamored by this week is Cobra Kai.  It's the Karate Kid set in the present.  Have two episodes left in season one and cannot wait till after dinner tonite  to watch.  Really clever how they mix Daniel and Johnny's present lives and that of their kids.  Love it and highly recommend if you remotely like the original Karate Kid.

Couple of tips/observations on caregivers and rehab.  First, anesthesia is constipating.  Haven't had a normal BM in a week and the gas buildup is like the San Andreas after decades without an earthquake.  Had never tasted prune juice before cause the word on the playground was that it tasted awful, but was desperate and got a bottle.  As advertised, it certainly got things moving, but the revelation is that it tastes really good.  As people in my circle are of similar ages and you start getting these kinda procedures done, invest in some.  Or just experiment with it.  Relatedly, these caregivers entire job is to make sure you don't hurt yourself and so are at your back every step of the way.  Have already mentioned that feeling of always being watched is disconcerting, but what also happens is that they get to experience every emission up close.  There were a bunch of times the pressure was building so I thought I'd be able to poo-poo (with language barriers, poo-poo and pee-pee are medical terms)., so she'd get me to the bathroom and while I could get up and down off the toilet without her, she would close the door so I could do my business.  But she waits right outside.  More often than not, all I had to do was let out some gas, but it would be those high decibel sustained kind.  They would be ones you'd record for funny noise makers or morning zoo radio shows.  Knowing she was right outside the door is humiliating, but again, have just got to let that kind of feeling go.  Caregivers are amazing people.  I remember how they would come into wash and cleanup my mom but did so with such grace and would let her keep her dignity.  We can't pay these people enough and it is a crime they get paid so little.  

A couple of my baseball heroes passed this week to note.  Hank Aaron was always the greatest in my early life.  The first book report I ever wrote (3rd/4th grade) was on a biography of him.  Wish I could see what I wrote then, but I'm sure I didn't comprehend the racial crap he went through at the time and that he weathered it so elegantly I only learned as an adult.  If you're a baseball fan, a reading of some of his stats is my evidence as to why I still think he is the greatest there ever was.

And Tommy Lasorda.  I quote him all the time. The dude I coach with will sometimes say I am like Coach Buttermaker from Bad News Bears, but my coaching style is unquestionably influenced most by Tommy.  I was a bit saddened that almost every eulogy to him focused on his relationship with his son, who was gay and died of AIDS, and how Tommy could never wrap his mind around that fact.  I don't like to be one of those excuse types that dismiss it as being a different generation, but it was different then.  Tommy always loved the kid, but his mind wasn't programmed to know how to process it and there wasn't anything like being woke in those days that was mainstream at all.  There'd be no excuse for it today in America, but in some/far too many parts of the world they effin' kill gays just because.  Mention it, learn from it, call pieces of shit that are homophobic pieces of shit, but damn, was kinda pissed that they only saw that as Tommy's legacy.  Not gonna rehash all of his funny quotes or times his tributes to baseball and people made me choke up, cause there are easily dozens, but I did hear a quote of his that I hadn't heard before (and I thought I'd heard them all) that I have already adopted and incorporate in my teachings.  Talking about one of his own players (Danny Heep from the immortal '88 team) and why he took him out of a game for defensive purposes, Tommy goes, "Heep's so slow, he could race a pregnant woman and finish third."  

To finish off today, three items from the local news for your enjoyment.  

It gets cold here for a few days over the winter.  Cold in this place means the low 50's, but in the mountains it gets cold enough for a dusting of snow.  It might as well be Antarctica for the locals when that happens.  Saw this article titled Taiwanses police fight cold weather with unusual method and had to click.  The cops in the mountains are wrapping their socks with menstrual pads to help insulate their boots from the cold.  What else can you say but 'well played sir'.

Second story was one that made the rounds here but then got picked up by US news sites, so you may have seen it.  The headline describes her as a 'foreign woman', but she is obviously American.  It is a video of her being scolded by fellow passengers for not wearing a mask on the local subway, then losing her shit in that uniquely American patriotic way.  At first viewing, it is obvious this lady has some mental issues going on and further reports confirm that she is widely know to be mentally unstable.  I understand the stink eyes I get from some of the locals and know that it could be worse.

That was probably a bigger story than it normally woulda been now because there has been a local Covid cluster outbreak that originated in a hospital.  We're talking a handful or two of cases all related, but there are maps and times of where all these people went, the entire area went into a lockdown that affected 13,000 people, and all kinds of Chinese New Year celebrations (Feb.12) are already cancelled.  The scuttlebutt at the schools is that we're all gonna remote learn for a couple weeks after the CNY break in fear that people will spread it at family gatherings.  They do not mess around here and I love 'em for it.  But what does worry me is what I saw today in The Taiwan News.  The headline...Beijing mulls anal swabs as COVID cases surge.  It is the accompanying tagline that makes Taiwan News the absolute best..."Beijing authorities may roll out anal swabs to seal cracks in epidemic prevention system".  Apparently, the Covid survives longer in the anus and feces, so science.  Swab the deck and shiver me timbers.

January 26th, 2021

 Hey there,

So this week was knee replacement week.  Have had a bunch of leg surgeries in the States, most of which were at lovely Swedish hospital in downtown Seattle, so doing it here was obviously a new experience.

In telling people about the surgery, they all asked who the doctor was and where was it gonna be done.  I would only need to give you one guess that his name was Dr Chen, and the facility it happened was downtown at the Postal Hospital.  A lot of raised eyebrows and comments like, "where?" and "that place is old."  Betty had her work team look it up and Dr Chen is the knee replacement guy in town, having done hundreds of them, and the Postal Hospital is like his personal big top.  He is the only doctor/surgeon in the two floor facility and while it is old, it functions like he needs.

Surgery was Tuesday but they make you check in the night before to get all the tests and make sure you don't eat. Got all the tests you'd expect with the funniest (for Betty) being the EKG.  I went into the EKG "room" and it is basically their coat closet with a cot in it.  I'm lying there looking up at all of the nurses jackets and bags.  The poor girl administering the EKG kept putting the nodes on me, but do to the ample Mediterranean hair on my chest, they wouldn't stick, so she laughed and said she was going to use stickers.  That worked for the purposes of the test but she said at the end that she would let me remove the stickers myself.  I got back to my room and started to remove them.  Not sure what they use for adhesive, but it ripped every hair off my chest like the 40 year old virgin.

To all you Ken dolls out there, this effin kills.  I appreciate you girls doing the bikini wax thing more so today.  Betty thought the sticker removal process was hilarious and rarely see her with so much joy on her face.

For my entire life, I had in my mind that I was type O blood, but they took a test and said I was A.  When they asked if I was sure I was O, had to say no cause I cannot remember where I had that understanding, so got sent back down to the desk where they did the test in front of me.  Not just the phlebotomist, but the entire office was standing there watching.  And as this is a weird old hospital, the seat is in a hallway with all the other patients waiting for their tests, so about 15 people are standing around watching the white guy get schooled on math and science by the Chinese.  Racism?  Perhaps.

Let's get this out and over with.  Betty has some amazing qualities.  Of course she does or we wouldn't have been together for 26 years.  What she doesn't possess is that gene that makes her an empathetic nurse.  She fakes it OK for a while, but she is no Florence Nightingale.  Not Nurse Ratchet either, but somewhere in between.  I bag on Betty a lot cause I bag on everything, but one thing I know to my core is that if she even thought someone was messing with me or the kids, she wouldn't tear them a new asshole, but rather would take the asshole they already have and stuff their own severed head up it in a quantum beat down.  

At least we are both self aware of this and at hospitals here, the nurses don't do shit and they literally require family members stay with their patients to help them with food, get them to the toilet, etc.  That was a bit of a surprise, but luckily we have a friend that is versed in these matters and she hooked us up with a girl that took care of her after he knee surgery.  Eves (pronounced E-vez) came the afternoon of the surgery.  Quiet girl of 25 from (one guess) The Philippines.  Effin' Philippines and their caregivers man...amazing the niches places go to survive.  

She came home with me and is hanging around for a few days to make sure I don't crash while Betty goes to work.  I think caregivers are amazing souls and to my core appreciate her being here, but I saw this with my mom and that is that people that are independent souls get annoyed with others do stuff for them.  I know I know I know it is her job and that she would get sent home if something happened, but she takes me to the bathroom every single time and waits right outside the door until I'm done.  I don't have a problem farting in front of people, but on my own terms.  And here is info that they don't highlight in the brochures...anesthesia constipates you.  So I have been struggling with that and built up gas for days, and Evez gets to hear that symphony all day.  Thank god I can wipe my own ass cause I might just have to end it all if I couldn't.   It's been several days with her and part of me wants her gone, but I know it is best for all that she be around.  It really sucks to know you are an asshole, but at least I know it and try to do better.  Finding out a little bit about her, she works for an agency and when she isn't with a patient, lives in a dormitory with 20 other ladies, all of which are Indonesian.  The Indonesian caregiver contingent is massive in this country, more so than the Philippines, cause they teach their kids Mandarin in school rather than the English typically done in The Philippines..  Kinda sucks for her and she says that the boss is kind of a dick.  She has been here two years and is supposed to go home in May but hopes to stay on cause even though half of her salary goes to the agency (salary is NT2200 per day or about 70 bucks), it is still better money than she can make at home.  She comes from a small town an hour or so north of Manila and told me yesterday that this was the second time she went home with a patient. Happen to know the other patient she went home with and 'kook' is the most apt description.  I think she likes it here cause she has her own bedroom, a nice shower and she eats food with us, which has got to be better than the garbage she gets from the Taiwanese.  Last night, Betty brought home Bulgogi bakes from Costco for dinner.  They have some weird shit at the Costco deli here, like seafood pizza, but the Bulgogi bakes are yummy.  Just like a chicken bake but with Korean bulgogi meat inside.  A winner on any night.  Evez is eating hers and we ask her how she likes it..."delicious!"  It reminded her of shawarma, which I can see, but we could tell she just wasn't saying it was delicious to be polite.  I was doing one of my exercises on the balcony and it was a lovely afternoon with the sun setting in all the colors of orange, and she says to me that she has never been on the 16th floor of any building before.  It is currently Sunday and is her day off.  She took off this morning to do whatever and she was telling us that when she isn't working, they make her stay in the dormitory and isn't allowed to be free.  When she left, the smile on her face was priceless and was literally glowing about her day walking around town when she came home.  Simultaneously heartbreaking and warming.

Have bitched about Taiwanese food for the last 10 years, but was forced to eat it at the hospital.  Abomination is an appropriate word.  Breakfast each day was this flavorless rice porridge with some wet other stuff, I guessed tofu as one of the items but have no clue what the other stuff was.  Zero flavor and a texture of tile caulking.  The Taiwanese are really clever at technology and think they have somehow figured out how to chemically remove any spice from their food.  A couple days before the hospital visit, we went with the kids and our cousins family to hotpot.  They revere hot pot like it is some fountain of youth extract, but it is just wet meat and vegetables.  You're supposed to drown it in their sauces, which is just soy sauce and some green onions.  It is fun to cook together, but I know for a fact they can do better.  When we did our family roadtrip a couple weeks ago, we unexpectedly got shut out of the restaurant we were booked at so I agreed to go to a hot pot joint.  At this place, they split the pot juice into two sides: one the normal wet dog drippings, and the other was this beautiful Szechwan broth that was spicy in all the right ways.  I was blown away and kept asking Betty and Babydoll where this has been my whole life as it is a game changer.  They say it is very common and the locals eat it all the time, which I know is total bullshit cause there is no way these folks could deal with the heat.

Surgery was at 9:30 on Tuesday and went as you'd expect.  Wheeled in, got the anesthesia injected and woke up a couple hours later.  Process took 45 minutes they say.  I was totally numb from the waist down for a couple hours but once that wore off, the pain that first night was exquisite.  The locals here are notoriously stingy with the meds and as everything is pay to play, when I begged for more, she comes in with a syringe and says this'll cost you NT700 ($21). Of course I am gonna say yes, but whatever juice it was did very little.  I asked what it was and she said something, but this is where the fear of having surgery here manifests itself as only the doctor spoke good English while the rest of the staff spoke very little.  The PT lady would speak into her translator app and show me the exercises I needed to do going forward.  Was kinda lonely, perhaps I sent you a note just for some interaction, but I did get to watch CNN and all the Inaugural stuff.  Totally cheesy but it felt so good.  Tom Hanks was perfect as the MC and while it shouldn't be, just watching capable people say coherent things was a revelation.

Surgery was Tuesday and was supposed to go home Friday, but the doc took a look at me a few times, was satisfied with what he saw and said I could go home Thursday if I wanted.  Being in my own space was appealing so home we went.  Not gonna detail pain levels, but that first night was pure misery.  Night two way better and everyday since better still.  On the Friday after I came home, thought I could fight through whatever and was determined to walk to our local ShiDong veggie market, ostensibly to get fresh produce for the weekend but really just to prove I could do it.  It's only 3 blocks away and it was tiring and hard, but made it.  Next morning, the girls look at my ankle at is has gotten all puffy and swollen.  They take my temperature and it is pretty high.  Am finishing this section up on Tuesday morning and the swelling/temperature has been slowing getting back to normal.  Point is, don't screw around with your rehab.  Don't wuss out on it either, but being a tough guy/gal is pretty pointless cause few people admire it and most folks think you're an idiot, which I was.  

I'm not editing this much and it was scribbled in spurts so try to read through the incoherence.  Can't sit at a table too long cause it starts to feel swollen, and my attention span isn't great.  I wrote last entry about mom in a far worse condition and hope it was OK.  Yesterday during my afternoon nap, at the end I had a dream that my cellphone was ringing and I picked it up, and it was my mom.  All she said was "John...John are you there?" before it woke me up.  Don't consider myself too metaphysical, but know what the word means.  Send this dream sequence to Betty and my sister/brother-in-law in our group chat and there is some talk about how relatives have visited them from the beyond, and of course Betty shares that this is an omen in Chinese.  Side note, the Chinese have an omen for everything:, don't build a house facing North, don't point at the moon or your ears will rot, women that eat goat meat will get facial hair, etc.  

I say that this could not be Mary Lou calling from the beyond cause she knew how much I cherish my afternoon naps and she was a creature of habit and routine so why would she wake me from my precious slumber?  Then it occurred that maybe she got on the down elevator instead of the one going up and this is her way of messing with me?  Who knows how the beyond really works, but if I'm right, know that mom is tidying up the warm place.

OK...for the record, I know share with you pictures of the knee inside and out.  First is the x-ray and second is the scar.  It's about 12 in/30 cm long but don't think it looks too gross.  If that kinda thing weirds you out, don't scroll down.

January 16th, 2021

Hey there,

So the thing this week is that mom passed.  She went out around 6pm on Saturday January 16th.  I was lucky to have a mom that was always on my side, even when I did the occasional dumb ass move and also to have one that was always ready to laugh.   She'd scold me, or warn me in advance of some event to please not make what she called my "little comments", but could always get a laugh out of her.  She made it to 94, and even though the last 4 years had been tough physically, from having a head injury and then a broken shoulder, she was pretty with it.  The last month or so was bad with her still remembering family, but little else and was starting to become angry and irate.  When she stopped eating a few weeks ago, that is always the sign.  She was unconscious the last week of her life and was told she passed quietly.  She hung on for a few days longer than expected and the nurses and doctor thought she might be waiting for someone, so they wanted me to call and tell her it was OK to let go.  Talk about a punch in the gut.  Talked to her just before a baseball practice and told her how I always appreciated that she came to every game and would be one of the loudest fans.  Her go-to cheer, no matter if we were playing defense or were up to bat, was "Double-Double".  Was pretty sure she meant a double play or hit a double, but could also mean that we'd get In-N-Out Burger after the game too.  I can clearly hear her yelling Double Double now and forever.  Of course I am sad that I couldn't be there for a final squeeze, but that is fast outweighed knowing she lived a long life, saw a bunch of things in the world and was genuinely a good soul.  

That is Tony Bennet

and Barbara Streisand

No question I was a Momma's boy and as the youngest, always her baby.  It was always a bit of a family joke, much like it is in our house, but that shit is so true.  I know that it must sting Babydoll a bit, but we try to laugh through it and I also do my best to develop our Daddy's girl relationship, cause that is what good people do.  You want to think that that is the norm in society but I also know that isn't the case for a lot of people.  Not all parents should be, and that it totally fucks up kids minds for their lives is in my opinion the cause for most of the world's ills.  My sister found her the great community she lived in and was there for her for everything, especially in this effin Covid lockdown.  She brought her home cooked food all the time, dealt with the caregivers and made sure she was protected, and spent the last week sitting by her side.  I cannot express my gratitude more for all she did and as I was raised in the Catholic tradition, will carry some guilt that I wasn't there to do any of the heavy lifting.  When she was coming out of her brain surgery or when the dementia started to really set in, mom would make comments about her that had to hurt her to the core, yet she blew past them and took care of her flawlessly to the end.  I like to think that I coulda done it but know that I probably couldn't.  Thank you.

 

January 15th, 2021

Hey there,

Am still on schedule to get my knee replacement surgery next Tuesday so this is the last installment before that.  After, I will always be able to say that I am part Taiwanese.  If you do talk to me before then, here is a tip...don't ask me if I'm nervous about the surgery.  I'm having a major procedure done in a foreign country that is stingy with the opioids, why would I be nervous.  My sister, who has the sheepskin on the wall to prove she is a psychologist, who is apparently well respected in that community and has worked with major sports institutions asked me that exact question. 

Here are some questions/comments that I do find acceptable:

- I hope you get a cute nurse and how many sponge baths do you get?

- How much ass will you be kicking post-op and when will you be able to do so?

- Is there anything you need after surgery...like some potent painkillers?

That is about it.  

I was gonna give my sister crap for asking the dumbest question you can ask a person doing something out of their comfort zone, like going up on stage or getting surgery, but I am cutting her a break this week cause she is dealing with mom stuff.  Haven't given many updates about her since Covid cause it is sad.  She hasn't been allowed out of her facility since March, and no one from our family has been allowed in to see her.  My sister sees her at a window periodically and drops off food, and we call on Skype all the time, but no in person contact.  She has caregivers in all day and was decent for most of the summer, which was surprising since I thought the isolation would have sapped the life out of her.  What has been consistent throughout, and had become worse over the months was that she refused to acknowledge that she was in her own apartment.  She'd ask when she was going home or would tell me that she stayed in (her caregiver) Arlene's apartment last night or her childhood home almost every time we'd talk.  Side note...she also had trouble remember her caregiver's names and never saying it correctly even after 8 hours a day together for months.  The funniest name she called Arlene was Praline, which we loved and I called her that ever since.  Lately, the only thing she would talk about and was why she was in this strange place and who put her there.

There have been some other signs of decline that are embarrassing to share, but a few weeks ago she stopped eating and started having seizures.  The ones she had would make her unable to move or talk.  They weren't frequent at first, but then they were and a few days ago she had a couple in a row so they took her to the hospital.  They diagnosed her with a urinary tract infection and were about to discharge her when she had another seizure and kept her overnight.  Apparently, she was agitated and lashing out, so they restrained her to the bed and gave her sedatives.  By the next morning, she was calm but unresponsive.  Tests showed some brain infection and the choices were to drill into her head for exploratory something or other, heavy psychotropic meds, or just to make her comfortable.  She's 94 and already had brain surgery, so surgery seemed cruel.  She has been adamant throughout her life that she wants no tubes, so heavy meds were out, and so we are left with making her comfortable.  She is unable to drink, and since no tubes means no IV to hydrate, it has become a matter of time thing.  

Today, they moved her back to her place and the hospice people came in to set up her room.  Am told that this hospice service is part of Medicare.  My sister tells me she is peaceful and does not appear to be in any pain, but that she is unconscious and does not seem to respond to anything she says.  Spent this morning debating whether to get on a plane cause obviously would be there to say goodbye, but in this moment of history?  First, would risk getting the virus just by getting on the plane, and coming back, would have to isolate in quarantine for 3+ weeks.  And they thought she wouldn't make it through last night, so not being able to get there for 48 more hours...have decided for now to stay put.  I don't feel guilty, but that I can't squeeze her one more time is a feeling that profoundly has no words.  We Imbros are not an openly emotional bunch, but we do feel and hurt, so know that people grieve in their own ways.  I have no sadness other than for the suffering she is going through right now.  She is 94 and had a really healthy and happy run.  No one ever had a bad thing to say about her.  She is to be celebrated today.

My sister asked if I wanted to say anything to her.  I said "Thanks for everything, Babydoll, The Boy, Betty and I love you, and I promise to always take my shoes off before going into the house.'

I wrote the above two days ago but forgot to hit 'post'.  I am gonna share a picture of her below and it is terribly sad, so log off before you get to it if you don't want to see that. 

Mom is still alive but has not regained consciousness to this point.  Basically, without water, if her body doesn't give up, she will die of dehydration, which makes me shudder every time I think of it.  I hope to all hopes that she isn't aware of what's happening and that there is no pain.  

Here is a photo from the room...I include it only for the permanent record.