Well, another Christmas has come and gone. It was a unique Christmas in my life in that it was the first white Christmas I had ever seen. The area around the Twin Cities received more snow on Christmas Day than had fallen in 25 years, and it truly looked like a greeting card as I gazed out my window. This could also be a very special holiday season because I'm in an application process to return to teaching. It could actually happen if everything goes well. For me, that's the most exciting thing to happen to me in a very long time. I miss teaching, and if I can return and be of some service, I'll be quite happy. It will also allow me an opportunity to contribute to our personal welfare, which I really need to do, as my wife continues to get sicker as time passes. I really don't know how much longer she can work, and I need to get something going. Please keep your fingers crossed for this to happen for me, as we need it so badly.
I hope each of you had the most wonderful holiday season ever. Many of my most wonderful memories are connected to this time of year. I hope it can continue. In the meantime, Happy New Year!
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Enough, Already!
On Sunday, December 2, 2007, I took my last antibiotics for the pneumonia I had contracted two weeks before. I was still quite tired and ready for some relief. But that was not to be.
On Monday, my wife wasn't feeling well so she slept late and dozed most of the day. Just after dark, I woke her up and was hugging her when I realized she was very warm. In fact, I learned that her temperature was 103. I tried to help her get up off the day bed, but she was unable to stand on her own. Because of our recent snow, I decided not to drive her to St. Frances Regional Medical Center, as I'm not accustomed to driving in Minnesota during winter weather. I called 911. Quickly the police and EMTs were here, and they confirmed her fever. She had to literally be lifted onto the wheeled carrier.
Even though I didn't even consider driving with her in the car, I felt confident enough to follow the ambulance to the hospital I had been in when I had pneumonia in November 2006. I know it's called the emergency room, but I've never been in one yet where the doctors and nurses moved as if there were an emergency. She, too, had pneumonia and is warmly ensconced in the the hospital as I write this on Tuesday night. I just talked to her on the phone, and she sounds profoundly exhausted. As I've said before in several postings, good health hasn't been our strength the last two years.
After my wife was tucked in for the night, I headed out to my car, having to walk through about a foot of snow, but when I got to the car, I couldn't find my keys. I can't tell you how frustrated I felt. The temperature was below 10 degrees, the wind was blowing, and I just wanted to cry. I assumed I had somehow locked my keys in the car, and I just wanted to cry. I returned to the ER waiting room, picked up the local yellow pages, and called a locksmith who agreed to come out within a half-hour. I learned, to my further frustration, that he didn't take credit cards and would need $75.00. Though I had no cash, I told him to come out anyway. I guess I thought a miracle would occur.
As I looked up, the man, a complete stranger who had been listening to my end of the conversation two seats down from me reached into his front pocket and pulled out $100 in twenties. He handed me 4 of the twenties, $80.00. For once, I was speechless. As we completed the exchange, a young woman walked up behind me and asked, "Are these your keys?" They were, and I quickly called the locksmith back to tell him not to come. He sounded almost as relieved as I was because it was truly cold. I thanked the young woman, turned and handed the money back to my benefactor and told him that I couldn't thank him enough. He just said that we just have to help other people sometime. I thanked him again, shook his hand, and told him that I would pass it along. And I will. It wasn't a miracle, but it was close enough for me.
On Monday, my wife wasn't feeling well so she slept late and dozed most of the day. Just after dark, I woke her up and was hugging her when I realized she was very warm. In fact, I learned that her temperature was 103. I tried to help her get up off the day bed, but she was unable to stand on her own. Because of our recent snow, I decided not to drive her to St. Frances Regional Medical Center, as I'm not accustomed to driving in Minnesota during winter weather. I called 911. Quickly the police and EMTs were here, and they confirmed her fever. She had to literally be lifted onto the wheeled carrier.
Even though I didn't even consider driving with her in the car, I felt confident enough to follow the ambulance to the hospital I had been in when I had pneumonia in November 2006. I know it's called the emergency room, but I've never been in one yet where the doctors and nurses moved as if there were an emergency. She, too, had pneumonia and is warmly ensconced in the the hospital as I write this on Tuesday night. I just talked to her on the phone, and she sounds profoundly exhausted. As I've said before in several postings, good health hasn't been our strength the last two years.
After my wife was tucked in for the night, I headed out to my car, having to walk through about a foot of snow, but when I got to the car, I couldn't find my keys. I can't tell you how frustrated I felt. The temperature was below 10 degrees, the wind was blowing, and I just wanted to cry. I assumed I had somehow locked my keys in the car, and I just wanted to cry. I returned to the ER waiting room, picked up the local yellow pages, and called a locksmith who agreed to come out within a half-hour. I learned, to my further frustration, that he didn't take credit cards and would need $75.00. Though I had no cash, I told him to come out anyway. I guess I thought a miracle would occur.
As I looked up, the man, a complete stranger who had been listening to my end of the conversation two seats down from me reached into his front pocket and pulled out $100 in twenties. He handed me 4 of the twenties, $80.00. For once, I was speechless. As we completed the exchange, a young woman walked up behind me and asked, "Are these your keys?" They were, and I quickly called the locksmith back to tell him not to come. He sounded almost as relieved as I was because it was truly cold. I thanked the young woman, turned and handed the money back to my benefactor and told him that I couldn't thank him enough. He just said that we just have to help other people sometime. I thanked him again, shook his hand, and told him that I would pass it along. And I will. It wasn't a miracle, but it was close enough for me.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Did I Tell You About Our First Date?
Twenty-seven years ago today, my wife and I went on our first date. We've been together ever since. This anniversary means a lot to us, as much or more than our wedding anniversary, as neither of us was looking for anything permanent back then. I, myself, just wanted to go out, have a nice dinner, laugh a little. Both of us were, in fact, coming off relationships that hadn't worked out. I was actually coming off an almost twenty-year marriage.
If truth be told, my wife actually asked me out that day, though in a round-about way. I had mentioned something about going out together, and before she left the office I was volunteering in, she asked me if I were serious. Trying to be cool, I replied."About what?" And she replied, "About going out." I replied in the affirmative, and we made a date for that evening after her work shift, a 3-11 P. M. at the Salvation Army Detox Unit. She's a nurse.
When we met at a mutually agreed on site, we took my car and went to T. G. I. Friday's. I remember clearly that I had a huge Cobb Salad, one of my favorites. I was a bit nervous because I had pretty much been out of the dating scene for years. But we ate, we talked, we laughed, and when I took her back to her car, she leaned over, kissed me on the cheek, and almost jumped out. It truly was a pleasant evening, and it began a partnership that has lasted until this day 27 years later.
Over the subsequent years, we've been through some difficult times, both with each other, and with the world at large. But one thing has always been constant -- no matter what we were going through, we loved each other and still do. Just as important, we like each other. She knows me like no other human being on earth, and that's just fine with me. By the way, when we decided to get married in April 1972, again it was she who asked, as I no longer used the "m" word because of her skittishness about it. I accepted, obviously.
I never thought I'd feel this way about another human being. Actually, I had begun to doubt if I was capable of accepting another human being exactly as she was. Through the principles I learned in the program of recovery in Alcoholics Anonymous, I found that I was capable if I could just get my ego out of the way. Once I realized this, I began to work on it, and I can honestly say that in my relationship with my loving wife, my ego plays very little part. And it's a much easier way to live than I have ever known. Besides, being right is hugely overrated. It's far better to be happy. Give it a try. You might even like it.
If truth be told, my wife actually asked me out that day, though in a round-about way. I had mentioned something about going out together, and before she left the office I was volunteering in, she asked me if I were serious. Trying to be cool, I replied."About what?" And she replied, "About going out." I replied in the affirmative, and we made a date for that evening after her work shift, a 3-11 P. M. at the Salvation Army Detox Unit. She's a nurse.
When we met at a mutually agreed on site, we took my car and went to T. G. I. Friday's. I remember clearly that I had a huge Cobb Salad, one of my favorites. I was a bit nervous because I had pretty much been out of the dating scene for years. But we ate, we talked, we laughed, and when I took her back to her car, she leaned over, kissed me on the cheek, and almost jumped out. It truly was a pleasant evening, and it began a partnership that has lasted until this day 27 years later.
Over the subsequent years, we've been through some difficult times, both with each other, and with the world at large. But one thing has always been constant -- no matter what we were going through, we loved each other and still do. Just as important, we like each other. She knows me like no other human being on earth, and that's just fine with me. By the way, when we decided to get married in April 1972, again it was she who asked, as I no longer used the "m" word because of her skittishness about it. I accepted, obviously.
I never thought I'd feel this way about another human being. Actually, I had begun to doubt if I was capable of accepting another human being exactly as she was. Through the principles I learned in the program of recovery in Alcoholics Anonymous, I found that I was capable if I could just get my ego out of the way. Once I realized this, I began to work on it, and I can honestly say that in my relationship with my loving wife, my ego plays very little part. And it's a much easier way to live than I have ever known. Besides, being right is hugely overrated. It's far better to be happy. Give it a try. You might even like it.
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