More update

I gave up the car about a year ago. It needed new brakes and "front end work". I drove it longer than was safe, but when it scared me I passed it on to Dale, my honorary son-in-law. He still riggles under cars to change oil and install new brakes. 

For a while I hired rides to my infrequent doctor appointments. Then I seriously fell. Not the first time, but the first one I could not bail out of. Flat on my back with a seriously broken hip. Painful ride to the hospital where they decided my blood chemistry was to wacky to risk surgery. Bla, bla, bla.

Eventually a handsome young orthopedic surgeon proudly described his repair. A rod down my femur and another across my hip to repair the damage. An extra week in the hospital to tranfuse blood and iron and stuff, off the rehab, finally home. 

It turned out I still had a lot of bones left to break. I'll spare you the details. I already wrote they consumed half a year or more of my life and Beth's, who squoze me in with work and her return to school to earn her CPA. 

Beth is still lugging me to various doctor appointments, with no complaint to me, though I know the cost to her. However, she is focused and determined and will not let me slide. On the one hand, she makes me crazy. But arguing simply ends in fights, and the couple of those we've had are worse to me than breaking bones. Now I just give in, lips zipped.

We have one last problem to solve. I finally gave in to a full spinal study, which Beth has advocated for some time. It involved MRI's, which I have declined for years. My last MRI was over ten years ago, and I emerged close to unconscious.

Well, those have changed since then! Or I have. I do have hearing aids now, and taking them out quiets my world considerably. Add ear plugs and music and it simply was an uncomfortable hour or so on a hard table with underlying construction noise in the background.

In a subsequent visit to a spine specialist I mentioned the surgery twenty years ago and the neurologist showing me the x-ray with the nerves of my neck squeezed to the size of Scarlet O'Hara's waist, comparatetivly. "Oh, yes. That's why you're falling again!" said the spine specialist. Two new disc collapses. So, a visit to a neurologist is in my near future.

I didn't open this blog to whine, by the way, but have done plenty of that. I really wanted to show you what's become of Mr. Yesberger's trees. I linked the story of the day Emily and I went to photograph those trees I found so fascinating. There's a lovely set of photos of "my tree" by the pond (my header photo!) in all four seasons here.

My sister had opportunity to drive down Truxell Road recently and told me my tree and the pond are in rough shape these days. I asked for pictures and the other day I got them.

Yes, that's my tree. The pond, foreground, is choked with rushes and covered with scum. The Conservancy, to whom Mr. Yesberger's acreage now belongs, is returning the golf course to meadow by neglect. 

That's my sad update for today.

Extraordinarily tough year

Been a long time, hasn't it! Though not for you, I hope. I haven't read any blogs for a year. It's my next undertaking. 

I celebrated every holiday, and my birthday, and family birthdays and events from a hospital room or a rehab facility. Now I'm home, and intend this to be my last time returning. No more falls, no more broken bones, no more surgeries.

Nothing is woven in all this time. Once Shelly was here and volunteered to weave a bit on the towel warp languishing on the loom. She's an excellent weaver and I agreed. 

I watched her for a minute, then sat on the other side of the loom and watched. After a bit I realized one harness was not rising. One treadle had detached from its corresponding lamms. Inches needed unweaving. Dale lowered himself to the floor, scooted under the loom and made the repair. A two hundred pound hero.

Shelly, and later Beth, tried to convince me to simply carry on and cut out the bad section in finishing. I cannot bring myself to do that. Bad enough I'll have two or three knots in the thread because of all the yards coming out. I'm not done yet; a few more inches to go.

On the family front, the last of the grands are graduating. France from his Colorado college a year ago. I watched him graduate on streaming YouTube. He is the business manager for a small start up company he joined while still in high school. It manufactures gluten and dairy free ice cream. This weekend he's moving to Boston to be with his girlfriend.

Caroline graduated a week ago from Macalester College in Saint Paul, Minnesota. She graduated Phi Beta Kappa, and will remain there to continue her work with autistic children. Another streaming graduation.

Laura must finish two summer classes at Akron U and will join the December graduating class. Her major is geology and she has a rock collection to match my dads'. She hopes to join the atmosphere group at Davey Tree.

And finally, on my homefront, "we" are working in the garden. I'm doing almost nothing except carrying plants on my lap out to the gardens (I have an electric chair!). Here's a selection:

Here's the flowering dogwood:

And finally, the diplandia, the closest I could come to a mandevilla three years ago. We need to add a lot of fertalizer. Maddy has over wintered it the last two years, lugged it water, trimmed it. I tell her it really is a Maddy-villa. 

OK, that's it. Thanks for waiting and watching. I'm off to unweave some more and hope it will not be so long for the future. 

One thing I did try to mention earlier and kept deleting every sentence: every time I came back from rehab I was greeted with a new list of departees. I've come to grips with the realization that really is our last job to do, here. In blogville, I know about Sue. She did it her way, and we all love her for it. As I read through the list of bloggers I admire, I hope to encounter no more. Namaste.

I spy

Weaving this afternoon, I glanced over at one of the cubbies and saw the missing bag of towel labels. I knew I had a partial bag on hand, but could not locate it in one of my feeble searches. This is good news; I only need to order cards now. I thought I would be ordering both, which is a pricey undertaking. Not to mention, I can never remember the name of my label vendor.

Bending is a problem, which limited my search. It's also limited my weaving. One of my treadle pins worked loose and there is no longer any way I can repair that save getting on the floor. That is way outside my ability set. Fortunately one of the housekeeping staff got down and slipped it back in.

Weaving the other day, I noticed a nut on the floor. Spying around, I saw it is from the treadle assembly. Again, won't be me getting down there. Fortunately, Beth is coming next week and she already knows replacing the nut is on her list. Now to hope the bolt doesn't fall through, though at least it cannot go far; the floor will stop it. Then I will be responsible for tracking the washer. Oh, maintenance!

As for my personal maintenance status, the new strength of buprenorphine helps, though there is little doubt in my mind I will be asking for the next level at my next visit, early in August. It remains quite painful to stand up, like from the toilet, as well as any chair. Most of all, I hate pulling up pants; my arms ache. But, I will get to the other side of this. Hanging around is a pain.

Precious little is going on. Dog days of summer, you know. I hope you all are safe from the weather.

I do have occasional pleasure in seeing the granddaughters of one resident. The children visit once or twice a month, and stay for supper. I think it is a highlight of the week when they come, if for no more than their grandma.

The girls are what I always called Irish twins, though I think they are far from Irish. They were born in the same year, the requisite number of months apart. 

I'm so grateful

Last summer I set about plumbing the political depths of people aroud me, for the purpose of organizing some troups to the cause. In this big sea of fellow old faces I was encouraged by finally falling into a compatible dining table group. I got a kick in the butt from a fellow oldster. We were in line for dinner and I brought up a political topic. "Oh, I don't vote!" I was informed. "They're all crooks!"

"If you don't vote, you don't count," I replied. My standard put-down. "Oh, I know that." she reponded.

There still was time to register for the November election then, so I decided to do something. I enlisted our new activities director, who knows everyone and who is a vocal liberal, to put up posters encouraging voter registration and giving registrations to interested people. They must be returned by mail, but old folks tend to have stamps.

Then I tackled my table on several state issues that seemed (and were) hopeless, but consitituent opinions needed recording. I started with a comment on the campus protests against Palestinian violence.

"Do you think they do any good?" asked timid Marcia, a retired nurse. I went into a discourse on the Vietnam protests long ago, and later on campus protests against some administration policies. I explained how we linked arms and blocked Euclid Avenue running through the center of campus. "Hey! Hey! LBJ! How many boys did you kill today?"

There was a lively discourse around the table that night and most every night since. Plenty of organizing has been planned and implemented. At the end of supper that night Marcia stopped me and said "I am so grateful to know a real protester from back then!"

More personal stories have been shared around the table since then. One night we talked about international travel. Marcia has been to Africa and Latin America. "What did you see!" She had no idea. She'd spent several months administering vaccines for smallpox and measles, sleeping between shifts.

I am so grateful to know a humanitarian health care provider. I am so grateful to know all of you, who have been so kind in this trying time. Thank you. I am working with my doctor to get past this, and will succeed. I'm about to go weave another bobbin of olive.

Hello

 I'm here to let you know I'm here. Finally I hope I am on the proper path. I've begun week three of a four week protocol. It is an abject failure, which is not all bad. It is a quantifiable result and shows a direction to a better end.

For pain relief I am back on buprenorphine, which is the chemical name of the Belbuca I used to take. This time I'm using a transdermal system, a patch. I began this drug and method years ago. It became rapidly apparent my skin could not tolerate the patch adhesive and my pain doctor switched me to Belbuca, a sublingual method.

The sublingual worked beautifully, it's only drawback, the cost. In the beginning and for years I could afford it. I had a job. When I did retire, I had savings. My drug copays were managable, even after I retired ten years ago.

But the perfect storm of Covid, lockdown, the opiod scandle, moving house and rising costs made Belbuca impossible. My pain doctor was forty five minutes away, impossible when I no longer had a car, and cost climbed to a $300 a month copay, more than I could afford.

My year of ibuprohpen has become a failure. My personal opinion is I did not augment my pain by quitting Belbuca. I am a classic chronic pain syndrome patient and as additional bones and vertebrae disintigrate, pain increases. So I am back to my original pain management doctor and buprenorphine patches. $13 per month at my lowest dose. It will increase as the dose increases, but probably will remaine "reasonable".

I am at the lowest dose, and it is not effective. Every three weeks it can be increased. That will be next week. I believe I am on a better path, and eventually will be as good as a year ago.

In the meantime, I miss living. In the last six months I have finished one color of towels. Just off the loom last week and on the web today, purple. I've increased the price to $34, the same as most woven towels my size on the internet today. The chief difference is they charge additional postage and I include postage in that $34. It's a charge I hate, and I'm sure you do too. Of course I think mine are better! I explain all that on my web page.

I don't expect to have more towels soon, and my thread is getting way down.

Lavendar, grey, lime, scarlet, peacock. What do you suggest? This may be the last rosepath towel; it's time to find a new pattern with an affinity for water and other things that need soaking up.

That pretty much summarizes my last several months. I remain the in-house organizer. Old folks make a fine cadre of rear guard. We keep elected officials' phones busy and we buy porta-potties for events. Use your rights to prove you have them!