Learning the Ropes

I'm dipping a tentative toe into the blog world with these first few words. I have not always tagged behind people, so this is really rather different for me. However, it's only one part not having the know-how and equal parts wondering if I have anything to say that might be of interest to anyone else besides myself. But then, I guess that really doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things because primarily, I'm doing this for one person anyway, and that's myself. If I can help anyone along the way, that's a bonus. As I peek in and read other blogs I see it all comes down to that end anyway, so here goes! It's cheaper than going into therapy and we really want to stay away from those drugs now, right? Or hey! Worse..."natural supplements". They aren't even regulated. Ephedrine...or Ephedra is a supplement and not considered a drug.

As I ponder and contemplate the things that have occurred to me the last five years, I realized I needed a place that I could lay it all out to examine and analyze it's nuances. So many times, when something medically immense has taken place in a person's life, we don't know how to deal with it. Because it's brand new and because it's not usually something we get the chance to practice on, we so often flounder and get it wrong.

 We are also 'directed' on how to deal with it by others who have no clue how to deal with it themselves, yet feel that they are because they have that medical degree and are armed with all kinds of textbooks and journals.
 
Or because they love you, they feel they're expert advisers for you. Right up front I have to say, until you've worn the moccasins, (as the saying goes) stick to suggesting, but don't try to tell me how I feel - or should feel. I already know that. And it's not even close to the way you might imagine.

Five years ago, in May of 2001 I had an aneurysm. It ruptured. And it was heavy duty! Pre to that, I had been an extremely active person; I ran daily, biked and hiked weekends, climbed mountains twice a year...or as often as I could get to them.

I ate healthy and stayed fit in my own complete home gym. I didn't smoke and rarely drank but for the few special occasions such as weddings or the holidays. There never seemed to be enough time in my days for the things I wanted to do, but I crammed as much as possible into every 24 hours and loved it that way!
My life was generally full and not complicated with health issues of any kind.

Then May 29th 2001 arrived. I found I wasn't as energetic as I wanted to be in prepping for a busy Memorial marathon weekend. I needed something to keep me going without lagging. I knew with all the things we had planned, that I needed an energy boost. So I bought some Metabolife to balance my metabolism. Yesirree! I was going to get it done. Much the way Steve Bechler must have felt that day in 2003 as he was getting ready to pitch his game for the Baltimore Orioles. Steve was the 23-year-old pitcher who wanted to combat fatigue & decided to try Metabolife to revitalize himself. But like Steve, that wasn't in my future either.

I say "like" Steve, but not quite, because I lived, Steve died.

At that time, Metabolife contained the Big E. For those who still haven't heard about this wonder herb, that's Ephedrine. The herb that people are trying to get put back on store shelves because they want to 'look good'. Gambling with their own lives for vanity. Russian Roulette for the buff body. All of which could be viewed very prettily laid out in a casket.

I took my first little pill in the morning of that first day, another in the afternoon and pill three before bed. I was feeling pretty good about all this; I was doing something healthy for myself and doing it "naturally" and not paying out money for prescription drugs.
So! The following morning, I took my fourth pill and went outside to do a little gardening. That was the last thing I remember until I 'woke up' in hospital seven weeks later totally paralyzed on the left side. My good fortune and what probably saved my life was that I had two doctors living right next door to me and they were tending their garden as well, when I hit the ground. They ran to where I was laying on the ground and made an immediate evaluation. They had me medi-vaced to the hospital downtown in eight minutes.

That was to be the first day of my second life. The one where you find out you're incredibly more resilient than you ever thought possible; the one where you find out through sheer determination that you can amaze yourself as well as the medical world. The one where, if you look at things as a challenge instead of a disability, they are surmountable. And the one where you find out who your friends are and sadder, just how very weak your family structure is. Those people who 'love you' were all of a sudden way too busy to call or lend a hand. The ones who will 'try to get around' or if they find the time, they will pick up that item you're needing but can't get yourself. Have they always been that self-involved or have you just been too self-involved yourself to notice? New life; new questions.

Counter that however, with those you never noticed in your life before. They come forward and quietly sustain you as you plod along in your new life. Supportive, helpful, not just given to lip service as surprisingly, family members only seem to manage. These quiet friends are there to bring you out of the hospital for the day and take you for long peaceful drives and/or to a wheelchair-friendly restaurant for lunch. They run all the little errands for you that your loved ones are (sic) too busy to run and they sit and listen as you try to figure out what happened in your life literally overnight.

I am learning so many valuable lessons in my second life. Some I wish I hadn't ever needed to learn; others I am eternally grateful for learning.

As Maya Angelou so eloquently stated:
"Courage allows the successful woman to fail and learn powerful lessons from the failure...so that in the end, she really hasn't failed at all!"

At any rate...bear with me here...I'm still learning. Now there's this blog thing! ~*wink*~

Ideology 101

There was a request made when I wrote on Facebook about the genesis and affect of ideology to be put in one blog piece so that it could be shared by those who don't visit Facebook. That made sense to me so this is that piece. It’s long, I make no apologies for that. If I’m going to lay out my thoughts, that is usually what happens. I think long.

Ideology is always a blinder - it limits vision to what fits the reality tunnel dictated by the ideology's worldview. That's how the Nazis believed they were building a "master race" while degrading Germany to unthinkable depravity, how Mao called wholesale extermination of intellectuals a "Cultural Revolution," and how Stalin killed without conscience, millions of working class people to build the "Worker's Paradise."

The nature of ideology is that it defines the world by the theory, it doesn't create the theory by comparing it to the world. In the case of Trumpism, the central beliefs - that the Government is evil and corrupt, that only Trump can "drain the swamp," and that those who support him are the only real, loyal Americans - are the operative realities; the first principles. Anything that questions those tenets is by definition, false.

In the case of Libertarianism, the operative first principle is that all government (except, conveniently, that which protects private property) is illegitimate. Therefore, anything the government does that is beneficial is inherently corruptive. It cannot be otherwise. Therefore, voting for a Libertarian is, to an observer outside their reality tunnel, much like hiring someone to run a nuclear plant that believes that physics is an evil conspiracy.

I hasten to add here, that ideologies of the left are not exempt from this phenomenon. Any set of beliefs that operates as a "first principle," that is to say a moral axiom that must be held if you are to be considered a "good person" will have the same reality-excluding affect.

Now assuming that you are not operating from a position of omniscience, that is to say, you're not G-d, you live in a tunnel. You can only observe so much, know so much, process so much in a moment, or in a lifetime. The vast majority of "the real" is, and must be outside of your knowledge. But certain axioms and habits of thought narrow the reality tunnel to reject anything that doesn't accommodate them, while others expand the reality tunnel - they admit the possibility of new information, and expand perception and understanding to accommodate it.

Ideology is a set of rules that purport to explain how the world "really" works. Ideologies are not organic, they are artificially constructed and propagated. Their genesis comes when some segment of the middle class is suddenly economically displaced. Suddenly, their old, inherited answers and folkways are rendered inoperable, and they search, often desperately, for a new explanation.

Invariably, there is a demagogue to provide them with one - usually self-serving, but always flattering to those who adopt it - you, oh downtrodden one, are the vanguard of the future, the true patriots, the moral folk who will tear down the old order and create the new...

...by doing, and thinking, exactly as I tell you.

The visit of Pope Francis 2015...

Pope Francis holds his hand out over masses of people

So far the papal visit & Pope Francis' tour have been a very refreshing & yes, so far, a joyous experience for me, a non religious person. To watch & listen as he makes his way around Washington, speaking with the people & to the people in an intelligent & supremely caring manner.

Pope Francis Skips Lunch With Politicians To Be With Homeless In Washington, D.C.

Let's be honest here - this is not just a man of God, this is a man of the people...a man of the ages. A man who truly loves the people he sees, who truly holds compassion & caring for all of them, above everything else! He does not just lend lip service or the church dogma with each stop, but shows he wants the best for all people...& he is calling for the best from all of us as well!

He doesn't have to be a man of God...a man of faith, for me to listen to him. He had me with intelligent dialogue.

All I have to know is how important his messages are to the masses & how important his station is on a global level. Perhaps in his loving & humble way, he will achieve the things we all need to have happen! And many who feel as he does, want to have happen.  Will those in high places, those who hold important positions listen to him? Take to heart what he is saying? 

Or will they again tell him to 'butt out' when he doesn't come in line with their agenda like he's already been told pre to this visit? The line they've been 'preaching' in God's name is being contradicted by his speeches & sermons...so how do they deal with this? Or will they bother? It seems to me that the people they speak to don't really care what the church says, or what the bible & Jesus said. They only care about what their 'party' says...those politicians wishing to hold on to support with the use of religion & discredit each other by using the same.

We are all the same in Francis' eyes. All equal. And all too often that is not what is seen in this country. Oh, we can deny that, but actions speak so much louder than words & Christians themselves might want to take a closer look in the mirror, as well as at their actions & stop hiding behind God's name.

In his soft spoken way, Pope Francis asked us to not trample peoples equality...women's as well as everyone else. He reminds people, politicians specifically that the country is founded on immigrants & some, like himself achieve greatness if allowed to prosper without being shut out, sent away or persecuted. He also reminded us that 'all' religions should enjoy freedom of worship, not just the one you follow. And if you choose to follow none, that's fine too...you aren't a heathen nor should you be hated or called some of the names that I have been called.

Some of us follow a God, some of us follow a philosophy. But as long as we care about one another, for one another & hold out a helping hand to the needy, to those who are crushed under events that have taken place in their lives, leaving them with little to nothing, we will be doing what he wishes. He reminds people that nowhere in their bible does it say 'you earned that money so you get to keep it all & forsake those in need'. In fact, your Jesus taught quite the opposite...

Other good men...as well as women, have preceded this man & after the spin put on their words by politicians & those who wish to minimize them, we are left with not a lot of what they tried to teach us actually getting accomplished. Do we stand a chance that this good man has reached the right people where heretofore no one else seems to have?

I guess we stay tuned now & do whatever we can to promote his words.

Misplaced pride, Ignorance is unbecoming...

Vintage 1887 patchwork quilt

In this day of environmental awareness and looking after our planet, it has resulted in many people doing their part to assure the earth is hurt no more than it already has been and with each of us making our own contribution to that cause, we should be able to, if not turn things around, at least halt much of the pollution that's seen today growing worse. So many of the people born into this generation are thinking this way and it becomes second nature to them to recycle and pick up bits of trash and litter as they see it laying around the streets and wilderness. But as good as they are, they have one thing terribly, terribly wrong!
 
This became abundantly clear while standing in line at checkout one afternoon when the young woman at the register peered at the woman in front of me and told the elder lady that she 'should be doing her part'. That that she should bring her own grocery bags, because plastic bags are not good for the environment!

The woman apologized to the young girl, saying she'd remember this for next trip to the store and explained, "We didn't have this 'green thing' back in my earlier days."

The young clerk responded, "And that's our problem today. Your generation did not care enough to save our environment for future generations to come."

The older lady said that she was right -- our generation didn't have the "green thing" in its day. The older lady then went on to explain:

"Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over.
So they really were recycled...but we didn't have the "green thing" back in our day.

Grocery stores bagged our groceries in brown paper bags that we reused for numerous things. Most memorable, besides household garbage bags was the use of brown paper bags as book covers for our school books. This was to ensure that public property (the books provided for our use by the school) was not defaced by our scribblings. Then we were able to personalize our books on the brown paper bags. But, too bad, we didn't do the "green thing" back then.

And if we had a cat, the shredded bags were placed in a pan and provided kitty a place to pee if she had to go. No expensive litters or fancy mechanical self cleaning litter pans using electricity back then.

We walked up stairs because we didn't have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks. And very few of us had weight problems for these same reasons."

  And she was right. We didn't have the "green thing" in our day.

Back then we washed the baby's diapers because we didn't have the throw away kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy-gobbling machine burning up 220 volts. Wind and solar power really did dry our clothes back in our early days. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing.
But that young lady is right; we didn't have the "green thing" back in our day.

Back then we had one TV, or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?), not a screen the size of the state of Montana.

After the dishes are done...by hand...

In the kitchen we blended and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us either. 

When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used wadded up old newspapers to cushion it, not 'purchased for the purpose' Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap. Back then, we didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.
But she's right - we didn't have the "green thing" back then.

We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or carrying around a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water. We refilled writing pens with ink instead of throwing them away and buying a new pen...and we replaced the razor blade in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull.
But we didn't have the "green thing" back then.

Back then we did recycle our outgrown or out of fashion clothing much as they do today, but we also made use of those clothes that weren't fit for wearing any longer. They became patchwork quilts! No buying brand new cotton when there was so much good usable cotton in the shirt with the blown collar or elbows. Or the dress with the stain or the blouse with irreparable seams...or sheets with too many patches became the quilt backs of the 'new' patchwork quilt. 
But she was right, we didn't have the "green thing" back then.

Your ride to and from school everyday...

Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service in the family's $45,000 SUV or van, which cost what a whole house did before the "green thing." We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 23,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest burger joint.
But isn't it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn't have the "green thing" back then?

Please feel free to share this with another selfish old person who needs a lesson in conservation from a smart ass young person.

We don't like being old in the first place, so it doesn't really take much to piss us off... Especially from a tattooed, multiple pierced, spiky haired smart ass who can't even make change without the cash register telling them how much to hand us back.

Evgeni does English

We've waited for Evgeni Malkin to do his first English interview and here it is. While not a sit-down talk with a reporter, it is a conversation all in English without the aid of an interpretor. Very good Geno! The confidence you show on the ice has obviously given you the confidence to tackle your first statement to the press alone and you handled it like you do the puck - with aplomb.

It all began this way...

A person had to suspect that something special was taking form when they sat rink side and watched a 14 year old Sidney Crosby making older players look silly. Not only that, but the maturity to hold an interview which also could make some older players today look pretty silly too.

Now I don't see much difference in listening to him then as he is today...okay, a couple of octaves lower now maybe, but still with that same focus and knowledge he needs to do what he does in the game of hockey. If I'm going to touch on hockey, then it just seemed the right thing to do to add infant Sidney to my blog.
No further buildup needed - enjoy.

Making others listen to your inner self

As I sit here this morning thinking about the busy day, nay, weeks ahead and having to make yet another big move, I realize my six & a half year anniversary is nearing – the anniversary of my brain pop, my blow-out, my vascular paroxysm...my near death experience. I have called it many things, most unprintable – the medical professions terminology is brain aneurysms. But, like the rose, by any other name, it still stinks. You won't find that in any medical journal you can bet.

I think about where I am today and where I was the many weeks after May 29^th, 2001. First, laying unconscious in a hospital, totally paralyzed on my left side and everyone ready to write me off.

I was told I would likely not have the use of my left arm and hand again, or walk without a full leg brace and quad cane, never mind hike, climb or do something like drive a car. But today, I can do all of those things.

I was told that the hole was in my brain was placed immediately where the brain operates eyesight and I would likely lose mine. I don’t even wear glasses. I was told that since my brain was flooded with blood and sustained damage, I shouldn't expect to do any of the things I used to do. The bloody barrage that soaked the right side of my brain was going to render me disabled. Handicapped. Crippled. No longer able to do anything, so I shouldn't waste my time trying. Oh sure, I needed to do my therapy so I could see small gains - do my therapy so that I wouldn’t worsen. But don’t set my goals too high or expect to regain my abilities 100% because I would just be disappointed. It wasn't going to happen.

Thing is, I never approached my life like that before this event, so I certainly wasn’t about to cave and start doing things that way now. Not when there was so much at stake! Were they crazy? I would sit in my hospital bed in rehab and wait for someone to come around and wheel me to therapy, wishing all the while that I could do something…ANYTHING, while waiting for my hour at the gym room. I was so eager to get started and since I worked out everyday before being hospitalized, this was unbearable! I asked them if I could bring the dumb bells back to my room from the therapy room and the answer was no because they were needed in the gym. Besides, they didn’t want me to tire myself…~*sigh*~.
I was tiring alright! Tired of the inactivity I had to endure.

So I embarked on my own path back.

Out of desperation, I had my husband bring my dumbbells in from home and I'd sit in my chair in the corner of my room and work my arm. There was also Debi, an aide/friend/confidante who would bring me the mop from behind the janitors’ door at night and I did lifts with that while sitting on my bed. I got my fingers moving and gripping and then my hand working. Before long, my arm.
My doctors were astounded! My therapists weren’t. They said they knew if anyone was going to be able to come back from something like this, I was, because I didn’t accept no for an answer. I never believed the doctors and I never believed I wasn’t going to get better. That’s not a brag – that’s simply a fact. And it’s also the point of my post.

The medical profession continues to make one large mistake over and over again. They treat patients as case histories or tend to try and fit them into what they believe is how it should go, based on what has gone before. The textbook case. ‘Let’s see…kinda like case 732b and a little like case 81c with a dash of F459 thrown in, so I guess we can’t expect anything different from this person, even though she’s an entirely different human being in entirely different circumstances and with a major kick ass attitude!’

My main doctor, Dr. Howard Yonas, is a very highly respected neurosurgeon [and all round cool guy] not just in the US, but internationally, would kid with me from time to time, saying he was going to have my picture put on the side of buses in Pittsburgh as his poster person for recovery. I'd kid back telling him to throw away all his books and write his own books based on observations of his patients like me and he would have plenty of poster persons.

In the end, the lesson here is we should never limit ourselves, nor should we allow others to limit us - least of all our doctors and physical therapists. I lived all by myself in Vegas for nearly a year and today I still spend a lot of time on my own. I doubt I'd be able to do this had I listened to the naysayers. I was so fortunate to have good, understanding therapists that understood my mindset. Thanks guys and girls, you know who you are. Because of your support, I'm continuing to have an active life, and while maybe not 100%, I do a pretty nasty 95%.

Never ask what else can happen next...

Nothing will remove the focus from yourself faster than finding out a much loved family member has been diagnosed with cancer - unless it’s two family members getting the same news and one is inoperable and therefore terminal. Now, there’s a big ol’ bomb with a capital ‘C’ on the side if it!

All of a sudden you find yourself not knowing what to say. To say you’re at a loss for words is like saying the Pacific is damp. What do you say? “Hope you get better soon”? “I know you’re going to beat this”? Because you know that, barring a miracle, they’re not. Or, “You’re a fighter and you’re strong; you’ll be fine!” No pressure there, huh?

Within the last two months I found out both my sister-in-law and my step-Dad have cancer. My sis-in-law has had her surgery and her prognosis is guardedly good. She is still having to go through the chemo and deal with the assorted side effects of ‘getting better,’ but at least she has that light at the end of the tunnel. She is scrappy as well; I don’t need to even remind her of that. Hell, she’s surviving living with my brother. After that, she’s prepared for anything.

My Dad, though - well, I adore this man! I talk (email) with him every day and he’s my “best Dad” (inside joke) and my hockey buddy, my link back to my Mom who’s passed away now, and just a terrific guy. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do to fill the void he will leave. Of course, I say none of this to him, either. The last thing he needs right now is to know that I’m struggling with his disease.

I ask him what I can do to help him; he says 'give me the lowdown on Crosby.' I ask him if there's anything else...he says "Sure! Can you find out who's going to be put on waivers in the next couple of weeks.' He has an insatiable thirst for everything to do with hockey. He says he just wants to talk hockey. Well, I can do that in spades.
But finally he says he’d like to know if there are any books on living with cancer that don’t make him sicker just by dint of reading them. He's a retired Air Force guy, an ex-boxer. He doesn't want to hear how to survive, with a bunch of existential drivel all written in pink flourishes. He doesn't want to be 'New-Aged' to death before his time! Sure, his picture looks like he has a halo, but rest assured, he's a down to earth kinda guy. That halo is caused by backlighting through his golden red hair.
So I’ve been gathering suggestions for him as well as sending him a few. I came upon three I felt were ideal and he's confirmed that.


I'd Rather Do Chemo Than Clean Out the Garage was the first
and
Cancer Made Me a Shallower Person
by Miriam Engelberg was the second.

Another he has read already & loved...

Not Now, I'm Having a No Hair Day



Though Dad has refused chemo and is trying an eastern treatment right now, he really loved Not Now I'm Having A No Hair Day by Christine Clifford. He especially loved this book because the cartooning is very much what the average person would draw in a letter to better explain a procedure. I guess there's no better review than from someone who's living the book jacket.

He loves to laugh & is pretty good at laying me out with laughter as well. He has one of the most unique ways of looking at the world of any person I know. He should be writing the book for others to read.

Hmmm - I think I just found out what to say to him. Stay tuned for my Dad’s wonderful survival book.

Click here to be taken to Now my Dad is gone...