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When Jan told us about her essay being published in "Story Circle Network: Real Women Write" I immediately ordered a copy! it was such fun to see an essay by a real person I know in a real book! But then as I read other women's stories, poems and experiences of the Pandemic I was surprised. It brought home to me, in a new way, the magnitude of this event. I thought I'd write about my experience of the Pandemic. I really wanted to write about the Pandemic; but it wasn't the major shift in my world. The shift for me was Chris's slide into dementia. Early in 2020 the VA outpatient clinics shut down to contain the virus and protect the hospital and patients. So, while I could see changes in Chris I could not find an answer to the "why" of it. A friend encouraged me to get in touch with a hospice group to at least have a nurse coming to check vitals once a week. That weekly visit gave me a base line to keep up with Chris's health. When the VA started seeing patients in the outpatient clinics again, Chris was on their list because of the hospice affiliation. Then he was given practically every test known to medicine to look for the root cause of his decline. In the Spring of 2021, he had a Zoom appointment with a neurology psychologist who gave him an hour and a half testing session. We were both in the session, and at the end she gave us her diagnosis: Vascular Dementia. According to the PA who is acting as Chris's primary care provider, it all links back to Agent Orange in Viet Nam. That means that we have thousands of vets dealing with the same issues. And caregivers/spouses like me, trying to care for these guys at home. The ongoing fallout of the Pandemic (masks, social distancing, wiping down my shopping carts, etc.) are still very much a part of my life, but not what concerns me. What concerns me is how long I can continue to care for Chris in our home safely. And how do I let him go to someone else's care? --donna
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I've been considering tackling a second memoir lately. The first is so...DONE. I'm working on a few essays about teaching pregnant and parenting teen girls at the Margaret Hudson Program in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. Meanwhile, I'll assess whether I have enough material for a book-length collection. One topic popped up lately, and while I'm not sure there's enough for a full essay, I think it's worth noting. Having taught hundreds of students during that eight-year period, I've heard a lot of excuses or reasons for getting pregnant at 12 or 14 or 16. Here are some of the most common:
--Janice Three months ago, we adopted a cat we named Ollie. We didn't start out to adopt a cat, not really. I'd read a plea in the local newspaper from the county animal shelter for foster families to help overcrowding at the shelter. They had taken in 150 animals in the previous week. I was astounded! I first simply mentioned this amazing fact to my husband, who didn't respond. The next day, I suggested that we should help. Still no response. It took a couple more mentions for him to finally agree to my completing the foster application--It was complete within hours. That Saturday we took a trip out to the Williamson County shelter "just to look" at the kitties. After taking three adult cats to the meet and greet room for a few minutes, we zeroed in on a gray male tabby about two years old, which the shelter staff had named "Ronnie" (Shudder! What an awful name for a cat!). We completed the foster agreement and left with our temporary charge and a two-week commitment. We faithfully discharged our contract but refused to call him Ronnie. We didn't let him go outside; we fed him the dry food they provided. Nearly two weeks in, we finally allowed ourselves to think of more fitting names, and when I called the shelter to say we'd decided to keep Ollie, they weren't really surprised. I suspect the whole "foster" (wink, wink) thing is a front for their adoption program. Needless to say, having a cat in the house again presents some logistical challenges, especially where our dog Bella is concerned. When we brought Bella home from Chouteau Pound Pals in 2015, she was joyously welcomed by our cat Zelda, who just loved her. I suspect when we lost Zelda in 2019 Bella expected to live out her life as an only pet. A feline treat and affection competitor wasn't on her agenda. She's a sweet girl, though, and she yields to Ollie in many ways. When he noses up to her bowl of kibble, she simply tries to get it all down faster (as if that were possible), but she doesn't growl. When he positions himself at her side to beg for scraps in the kitchen, she waits patiently for the chance to clean up his leavings. She tolerates his licking her paws, her face, and her ears--but only for so long! A dog has her standards, and being bathed by a pesky cat is a no-no. But oooh, right there, under my ear flap, yeah, that's okay... For the most part, we've settled into the new routine and Ollie has wormed his way into two (and a half) hearts at our house. Ollie and Bella keep us both exercised and entertained; we, in turn, keep them well fed and well loved. A peaceable kingdom in the time of Covid. --Janice Oh, ye jigs and julips, daffodils and tulips, Evening stars and brilliant nights! Oh, ye Angels and other creatures of light! Sing with me, Celebrate the safe passing of another day! The Blue Fish are fed, their night has begun and they are happy. The dog is fed, treated man times and now settled and happy. The canary, Mario, is quiet, tucked in for the night and happy. The cockatiel, Bubba, is finally whistled out, finally quiet, tucked in for the night and happy. The Husband is comfortably settled and tucked in for the night with his CPAP in place and happy. Now the tv is off, and the silence is better than golden. Now I sit with a cup of hot tea, a slice of fruitcake and I am happy. --donna These are words that have been paraphrased, ridiculed and prayed with great hope by many people. "God, grant me the Serenity to accept things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can and the Wisdom to know the difference." Reinhold Niebuhr, the author, then continued with: "living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time. Accepting hardship as a path to peace; taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; trusting that You will make things right if I surrender to Your will; so that I may be reasonable happy in this life and supremely happy with You forever in the next. Amen" In 1984 I was gifted with a beautiful calligraphy of this poem for Christmas. The friend who wrote this poem/prayer out for me was making his decision to go into an Episcopal monastery as a monk. I was in the throes of a divorce. We both felt that life was in an upheaval that we were a bit frightened of how it would turn out. Actually, we have both landed on our feet and in good places. This prayer has hung in my home (usually in the bathroom) where I see it daily, a reminder that so much is not in my control, and I need to trust the path in front of me. Reinhold Niebuhr also reminds me that Courage and Wisdom can be mine if I ask and wait for answers. Being my impulsive self, asking and waiting are not my strong suits so I struggle daily to stay my course and control the one thing I actually can: my attitude. I would like to say I have aged into a sweet, kindly old lady, but no point in lying to you all. I manage to keep my façade up for strangers, deal kindly with store clerks (when I can find one) and treat our neighbors to Southern friendliness, but I do let my hair down in the car on occasion and have a good old screaming fit, with profanity if needed. It kind of cleans out my spleen and gives me room for a fresh start. Then I go back to the basics and request my share of wisdom, courage and serenity with faith that my needs will be met. donna |
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