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Showing posts from March, 2015

Notes from the Home - March 19, 2015

Al has looked healthier this week than he has in a month. Whether he is or not is hard to say, but he has the aura of a livelier, more alert man. He has been coughing up blood once in a while but has pooh-poohed the idea of seeing a doctor or going to the hospital. He says he's "ready to get out of here." Then again, he's been saying that ever since I met him, nearly three years ago.
    The last six months have been tough on him. When people ask Al about his life, he invariably tells them, "I was a nomad. I've been all over the world. It's been a great life." Last night after dinner, we were talking to Amy and Myka, two of the servers, and Al was complaining about America's sexual mores. "We have all these hang-ups. They don't have them in other countries. I've been around the world three times, and I tried it all. Now look at me, I haven't had an erection in twenty-five years."
     While Al often complains about his…

Notes from the Home - March 10, 2015

On the last Friday of February, Russ picked up his old man and carted me off to see Dr. Verson, the neurologist. "How's the Lexapro [the antidepressant he'd prescribed] working?" the doc asked. "The cure was worse than the disease. I took the stuff for three days and quit. It made my legs and feet stiffer and less cooperative than they already are."
     "Why don't we try Adderall?"
     "Let's."
     "There are a few other things we could try, but Adderall is less expensive. Insurance companies sometimes make a fuss about the other ones."
     "OK, I'll try Adderall."
     "Two things: take it first thing in the morning, it sometimes causes sleep problems; and watch your blood pressure."
     From there, Russ and I went to the checkout desk and on to the drug store. I started popping the pills Saturday and took one each morning.The effect was immediate. It didn't lift my spirits so much…

A Visit from Spring

This afternoon, the world outside my sliding glass door is bathed in sunshine. Two children, a boy and a girl, grade-school age, run down the sidewalk, on their way to visit their great-grandparents, probably. From behind them, a voice rings out, "You kids slow down. Watch where you're going." The kids stop, look back and take off again. A couple, the kids' parents, walk by, the mother yells, the kids keep running. Mom and Dad smile.
     A wood bee hovers blimp-like just outside the window. It starts this way, then that way before buzzing over to the wooden railing along the porch. As if he has been here before, he lands on the railing and walks in the small hole his ancestors bored in it, and the bees have been using as long as I've lived here.
     A small lizard skitters on to the porch and stops. He basks in the sunlight for a minute or two and skitters on.
     This morning, the windshields were shrouded in frost. This afternoon it is spring.     

Notes from the Home - March 1, 2015

Crankiness was rampant at Covenant Woods last week. Tuesday, when I rolled up to the table in the dining room, Jim and Al had already ordered. After Cici, our server, took my order, she turned and made her way across the room. As she did, Jim put his hand up and said, "What about my coffee?" Cici couldn't see the hand, she was walking away from us, and probably couldn't hear him. It's doubtful the folks at the next table heard him, and Cici was halfway across the room.
     A few minutes later, Jim watched Cici put a glass of water in front of me and didn't say a word about his coffee until she was well on her way to another table. And when he did speak, only Al and I heard him. Correction:I was the only one who heard him; Al isn't hearing much of anything these days. When Cici came back with the soup, she asked each of us if we wanted some before setting a bowl at each place. Again, Jim never asked about his coffee until Cici was on her way to anoth…