Winding Down

In fewer than 2 days, a new year will have arrived, 2009. That number looks like something out of science fiction, but I can remember when 1984 sounded just as futuristic. I don't remember much that's memorable about the new year holiday, except that I was married for the first time on 12/31/59. I suppose that makes it memorable on a permanent basis, though that marriage ended many years ago.

I do remember taking notice of 1950 coming in as I listened to the radio (yes, radio) as the grownups talked and, I'm sure, drank. But other than 1950 and 1959, I've met the arrival of a
new year with little notice, much less excitement. Since I'm a recovering alcoholic, I'm sure I was blitzed more than once on that auspicious eve. But I'm taking notice of this one more than usual because it could very well be my last one. And I say that without self-pity, more with a matter-of-fact.

Back in February 2006, I spent a month in hospital at Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles. I entered through the emergency room, as I was having a difficult time breathing. I wasn't there long before I went into respiratory failure and was put on a respiratore, life-support for those of you who follow "ER." I stayed hooked up for 15 days, and I feared that I might not survive. Dr Schroeder promised I would leave the hospital under my own power, and I did. The lung infection was finally diminished, and I went home to a life of oxygen use for the remainder of my time on earth.

Well, just a few weeks ago, I came down with another lung infection and was admitted to The University of Minnesota Hospital, though this time without the respirator. While I was being treated with antibiotics, a 70% occlusion in my Main Coronary Artery was discovered, and I underwent an angioplasty and received a third stent. I suffer from what is called Interstitial Lung Disease, and I will use oxygen for the rest of my life. But what I've noticed from this last infection is that my lung capacity has diminished, and it will never get back up to where it was.

In other words, each time my lungs get sick, my breathing will be affected on a permanent basis, so "getting well" takes on a whole new meaning. This will continue until there's no breath left. My particular condition just doesn't "improve." Of course, I brought this on myself with 44 years of smoking cigarettes. But that doesn't make it any more acceptable or any less scary.

Maybe I'm luckier than most in that I at least know what will kill me; I just don't know when. I don't dwell on all this, but it helps to write about it. Maybe there are others out there who are similarly afflicted. If so, drop me a line at giddocliff@yahoo.com. Happy New Year!

How Do You LIke Your Blue Eyed Boy Now, Mr. Death?

December has been, and it's only 2/3 over, a difficult month. I returned home Wednesday after 8 days in hospital, a locale at which too much of my life has played out over the last few years. On 12/9/08 I felt myself short of breath beyond normal, so my wife took me to the ER at the University of Minnesota Medical Center, as the memory of my complete respiratory failure in 2006 is yet quite fresh. I was admitted after 9 long hours, and I was soon put on a regimen of powerful antibiotics for a lung infection. Tests were run, blood was drawn, EKGs and Echo Cardiograms were performed. The medical professionals feared that my heart condition had worsened, and they were right.

An angioplasty was performed, and a stent put into a 70% occluded artery. I now have 3 stents, of which I'm justly proud, as they saved my life, a procedure that wasn't even available just a few years ago. I picked up a load of prescriptions on my way out of the hospital, and I now take what seems like dozens of pills every day. A good friend back in Los Angeles helped me out with some cash relief, and I was able to purchase them all. It's really a shame what outrageous prices the pharmaceutical companies charge for medicine that one really needs. Part D of Medicare was not our lawmakers' finest hour. But I'm alive.

This time I'm truly going to have to alter my eating habits, cut down on salt and fats. I was told that the site of the new stent must remain open. The alternative is simple: death. Although my many years of smoking brought all this on, there's nothing scarier than being short of breath and not be able to do anything about it. I'm grateful to all the medical folks and also to those who make the machines that help me maintain an acceptable level of oxygen. I wish Santa could bring me a new pair of lungs. One of my children told me that if I had made better "life choices" that I wouldn't be in this pickle. Hell, if I had made better "life choices," she wouldn't be around to criticize me.

In any case, I'm home and looking forward to a quiet Christmas. We'll dine with the other seniors here, and I'll say thank you one more time. Merry Christmas.

Almost As Bad As The Day After Christmas

You remember that, don't you? Every possible package has been opened, colorful paper and ribbons are strewn all about the common areas, and everybody seems to have sunk a little deeper down in their chairs. It happens each time we have a family holiday involving gifts. It's just a riff on the old theme, "what have you done for me lately?" You can't get rid of it. Don't try. Ignore it. Eat more. Get sick. Take a nap. But don't let the letdown let you down. Happy Thanksgiving!

Give Thanks

Here it is Thanksgiving Day about 4 A. M., and I'm temporarily awake. Today we share our first Thanksgiving meal with our new community here at Ebenezer Tower Apartments; I hope there are many more to come.

On Wednesday I received news that I had been approved for Minnesota Medical Assistance, which means that I'll be covered even better than I was with Medicare. It also allows me to choose a new prescription drug plan better than anything Medicare offers. This is truly a big deal for us, as we're now living solely on our social security income, though my wife is going to try to work here in the senior building helping set up meds, cleaning, and taking non-drivers shopping.

For so long, we've had a run of lousy luck, mainly health problems, which resulted in extreme financial problems. Since 1999 I've had two heart attacks, two stents put in my heart, spinal surgery, and a near deadly lung infection, which left me using oxygen in order to have any quality of life. And because of the spinal surgery, I walk with a cane and can walk only short distances. As I have, my wife has also suffered clinical depression, fell on her face with an acute kidney failure attack, and undergone emergency dialysis. While in hospital, she was discovered to have congenital heart failure and underwent robotic heart bypass surgery.

During none of this have we been offered any real or lasting assistance by our children, so living in a community as we do now makes such a difference. Because of contacts we've made at both senior group therapy and in the senior tower, I wound up with the aforementioned aid from the State of Minnesota. I must say that Minnesota treats its seniors better than most places, and my wife and I are very grateful. The case workers have been tireless and unrelenting in getting all the paperwork done, and I've expressed my appreciation to them.

Of course, the ideal is not to have to use any of these wonderful services, but that's not realistic. At a certain age, one's health generally declines, even if it's just a little. Mine and my wife's has jumped and begun rolling down a hill. But fortunately we're in a location that doesn't abandon its old folks. It feels funny when I say "old folks," as I just don't feel old. My mind feels much the same as it did 30 or 40 years ago. Well, that's enough pre-holiday blather. All of you have a wonderful time with food and family. And be well.

The Smoke Starts to Settle

Nothing yet seems different, but it's very, very early. The whirlwind of activities around President-Elect Obama are surely going on, and we learn about them through intermediaries and assorted aides who tell only that part of the story they want us to hear. Of course, news streams day and night, and we have to then decide what to cut off or what to listen to. Even still, some of the relentlessness of the campaign has settled, and some of us entertain some questions of how things will be. I'm certain that they'll be better! How could they get much worse!? We, of course, think about how much better things will be specifically? Will more people get to live in a 1 family dwelling? Will the economy return to even a portion of what it once was? Will we make progress in the War on Terror? Will we be able to send our children to the many fine but expensive colleges and unversities in our nation? Yes, we are wondering.

We know that dedicated people are working very hard right now to bring these positive change about. They come from a wide range of education, a wide range of competence, and a wide range of intelligence. Let us hope that Barack Obama wants around him the best and brightest he can get, not just cronies and college chums. And I also hope that these people will see public service as an honor, a chance to serve, a chance to give back to this country some of what it has given to them. Let's hope. I believe that Barack Obama wants these good things for us. So, in addition to hope, let us do what we can to bring about this better society that he talked about during this longest campaign in history.

As far as I'm concerned, one's political preferences say as much about him as anything. I know, without hesitation, that I couldn't live with a conservative, as their basic attitudes have everything to say about their attitude toward people. And it's not an attitude I could live around, much less live. I used to joke that I won't fly on an airplance if it doesn't have two left wings. While that elicited chuckles, even laughter, it's not far from the truth. I know that the television show, The West Wing, was fiction, but I could hope. And depending on what happens in real time politics over the next few years, I just might find my policitical life totally satisfied.

As Thanksgiving approaches, we can all be satisfied enough to give thanks that our government will no longer be run by unprincipled thugs and hacks and know-nothings. If nothing else, Barack Obama can bring intellect and intelligence and curiosity back into the White House and the working of government. He will surround himself with very capable people, all of whom have minds of their own. And this President will encourage their use, rather than hide from an answer he either disagrees with or from a question he doesn't understand. This is going to be a thinking man's government. It's about time.

Mr. President

Barack Obama's election this week to the highest office in the land and the most powerful office in the world was near earth-shattering. It just hasn't been that long ago when such a proposition was unthinkable, even laughable to some. But it happened, and we are so much the better for it. I was born in 1940 in Alabama and grew up (some would allege otherwise) there. The living conditions for black people was abysmal, and I don't hesitate to compare the Alabama I grew up in to South Africa and its system of apartheid. Whites in much of the American South simply had the power of life and death over black people.

I was fortunate to have had a role model, my grandfather, who never judged a human being by any measure but the content of his character. He taught me that people are pretty much the same all over, and he treated everybody with respect. But I never could have wildly imagined that a man of African descent would be elected president in my lifetime. Unless you know how horrible life could be for a black person back then, you can't know what a wondrous thing has taken place. It feels like my beloved country is getting its soul back.

Halloween Nightmare

Here it is Halloween, and I don't have the money to purchase the medications that my wife and I need. These aren't recreational drugs; these are prescribed drugs for specific conditions. I used to wonder what older people did when they couldn't afford their medications. Now I know. They don't take them. They do without, and risk their health. Of course I have Medicare Part D, but that doesn't help but a small part of the year. Then you're back to paying retail.

We now live totally on our two Social Security checks. I know that we should've planned better, but we didn't. But that doesn't mean that we're undeserving of a thoughtful, balanced, and affordable health care system, including prescriptions. The politicians of our great nation have failed us miserably as regards health care. Barack Obama says he will change this, and I hope he has the guts to push hard because greedy pharmaceutical companies and greedy doctors will be pushing back by buying more Senators and Representatives.

If we give our mandate to Obama, and it's a mandate we'll need, we then must hold his feet to the fire until we get Universal Health Care in this rich nation. Go out and VOTE! on Tuesday next.

It's That Time Again.

It's late Semptember when it begins, when one feels that first nip of cool weather. Then tree leaves turn red, yellow, orange, brown, oftentimes creating a gloriuosly bright surrounding in which we go about our daily tasks. Even though this is a season of "dying," autumn strikes me as very much alive. The colorful leaves we see every day will soon fall, one by one, to the earth below. The death will have been completed. Until that time, there's a changing, daily show for us, as no tree stays the same. And until this "lying down to rest" is completed, the show will go on.

A phenomenon which is a part of this process for me almost every year is the slight surprise I feel when all the leaves are down. In my busy life, I probably didn't stop to see the kaleidescope of colors, at least as not often as I should have. Then, poof! It's all gone. And we're left with the starkness -- which has its own beauty. But it seems as if one day I'm driving down the street admiring the lovely colors, and the next day I'm looking at bare limbs, limbs being held out to cradle the coming snow.

And soon after, I'll awaken one morning to see the serene beauty brought by the soft, white snow on those stark tree limbs which just a few weeks ago had been blazing with color.

How About the Brother?

How 'bout that brother!? The brother who's so smooth and unflappable in a pressure situation. Yes, the brother, too, who's intelligent and widely read and who walked tall through the doors of two of the finest universities in our nation based only on his own merit, not the merit of his father or grandfather or any other relative. Yes, yes, that brother, the one who's running for President of the United States, our United States, the country that we love so much and want so much good for, the country that's floundering a bit as some of our precious freedoms are being chipped away and not enough good men are saying no. Yes, that brother, the one who's going to take the country back from the greedy men who've been looting our riches as we've slept in our beds at night. Yes, yes, that brother, that good man from Illinois who's going to mend and restore the respect we once held in all parts of the globe and assign competent people to help him. That brother, yes. It's coming soon.

Who Would've Thought It? Certainly Not Me!

My wife and I are now living in senior housing. Though I barely think of myself as a senior, here I am, in senior housing. This is a 23 story building with apartments for ages 55 or over. And I actually like it.

First of all, there's a built-in community. Just walk out of your apartment door! Oh, I know that the true meaning of community is more than just a number of people hanging around together. Community implies commonality. And we have just that. There are activities which tenants can engage in as a group, such as art classes, a far cry from the isolation we endured in Bloomington. There are movie nights, bingo nights, and other things. Hey! Bingo's not lame! It's fun. And finally, there are interdenominational worship services. In our sister building about a block away, one can also attend a 12-step meeting.

A tenant can also have a pet if he or she is so inclinced. As long as the pet has had proper immunizations, it's welcome to join us. At this point in my life, I can't imagine not having a cat, and we do have one whose name is Claudia. Obtained by my wife from a Beverly Hills animal rescuer, she's an affectionate ball of fur whose company we both enjoy.

Although neither of us needs it right now, there's also an assisted living/nursing home connected to our building by an underground tunnel. Since we never know when our health can take a sudden and debillitating turn for the worse, that's some comfort. I feel so grateful right now, as we had had two years of the worst "luck" of our married lives until we moved here. Could it be that our "luck" is turning? Could it be that "fortune" is beginning to smile on us at last? I certainly hope so. We deserve it, no questions asked!

The feelings one has after a long stretch of very difficult problems is a kind of relief that's hard for me to describe. The constant knot in my stomach is gone. The nearly overwhelming fear is gone. I'm much more able to help my wife with any difficulty she might have. The closest I can come to describing it is that it's like getting out of prison. I see sunlight. I feel the breeze. I hear laughter. And I sleep.

It's About Time!

Good Grief! It's been two months almost to the day since I last made entry in my blog, an undertaking I meant to assiduously compile at least once a week. But as they so often do in our irregular lives, something else happened. Actually, somethings else happened. Although it's only about 20 miles from where we used to live, our new digs are light years away from there.

We now live in a building specifically for seniors, in this case, men and women over 55, though there are several who passed 55 during the last millenium. This is an interesting state of being for me, as I never thought much about being a "senior." But I am one. I had my 68th birthday on 9/27/08, but my mind, that magical place inside our skulls, doesn't feel a day over 30.

There are some advantages to living in a place like this. First of all, there's an ongoing community with activities scheduled throughout the week, and the activities are varied enough so that one can find something to interest him or her. On the wall facing the elevators are the works of tenants who've taken advantage of an ongoing art class here. And I must say that some of the work is of high quality, and none of it is bad.

As most young people (when I was one), I had absolutely no concept of aging. Old folks were just there, wrinkly, grousing, spitting, smelly old people. They were hardly people as I viewed them through the selfish lenses of a teen or a twenty-something. They could never have been as young and hopeful and smart as I was. But they had been. Add to that the years and years of experiencing this old world, and you've got yourself a walking, talking history lesson if you'll take the time to ask about someone besides yourself.

Back in the mid-80s, I drove a taxi during the autumn of the year. I was in Florida, which certainly doesn't lack its share of seniors. And I made it a point to ask them about themselves, and they were only happy to reply and tell me of a different, often better, sometimes worse, time. What could I have known about going to theatre on the Broadway of the 30s and 40s? Some of these seniors had seen legends before they became legends, magical names I had only read about. It was always fun to get them to talk about their lives, and they needed only to be asked.

One important aspect of living as we do now is that we have a built-in community, at least as far as people in proximity. Of course, community requires human interaction and activity, and we have that in spades. We are also privy to a monthly newsletter which contains a calendar of events for the month, events varied enough for different tastes and interests. And I've always liked it when I've been in an area long enough for people to recognize my face, possibly even remember my name. This could very well be the last place I live; if it is, that's okay.

We're on the 18th floor of a 23 floor building, and we have a Minneapolis city skyline view, especially pretty as the daylight wanes and the city lights come up. We're very close to the city, which pleases me, as I've always delighted in city life. And I'm giving some thought to developing a course, too, on reading and/or writing poetry. Who knows what kind of fun I could stir up? For a saner person than I, it's difficult to explain just how relieved I feel to have this place to live. I had a terror of winter coming and our not having anywhere to go when the foreclosure on our condo was complete. It's as if a huge boulder was lifted off my shoulders and somebody smiled right at me. I like that.

There's one gross inequity here, however. Isn't that always the case? You think you've found the perfect place and WHAM! There it is. In the basement. A CANDY MACHINE! I'm powerless. . .and I succumb.

High School Class of 1958

My oldest friend celebrated his 70th birthday in July. I met him at Birmingham-Southern College in Alabama in the summer of 1964, and I felt an instant connection. He was active in the college theatre and later moved to Los Angeles to pursue an acting career. He succeeded, and he's now retired on a Screen Actor's Guild pension and Social Security, living a relatively quiet life in Sherman Oaks, CA. Some time last year, he had his Medicare card tatooed on his arm, which actually looks quite good and has elicited several comments. I've enjoyed watching him in films and various television shows over the years, and my son and I even watched him shoot some scenes in Florida for a Jerry Lewis movie. I say all this because I can't get my head around the fact that I've known someone for 44 years. It's an all too accurate reminder that I'm an old guy, too. I'm officially a senior citizen and have been for some time.

But neither of us feels like a senior in our minds. It was only yesterday that I was a physically healthy, mentally sharp 35 year old working full time while earning a Master's Degree. When I think of the hours of reading, study, research, I can hardly believe how I did it all. Back then being tired was what old people did, But now I am one, and I can hardly believe it. Remember when the age of even college athletes seemed so far, far away? And now I tune in to a game and see children playing for USC or Alabama. Those big, tough football players look so young now, from my present vantage point.

My high school alma mater recently sent me some material on the 50th anniversary of the Class of 1958. My friend of 44 years attended his Class of 1956 high school reunion in 2006, but I won't be at mine, for several reasons, the most immediate of which is that I attended that school for only about a year and a half, and I really didn't get to know many people. It never felt like "my school." Also, my health weighs heavily against such a trip. But even if I were healthy, had remained at Bessemer High School in Alabama for 4 years, and had received 50th anniversary material from them, I still wouldn't attend. I have memories of the "kids" I knew then, most of those memories fond or funny or bittersweet, and I choose to leave the "kids" in the memories as they were: young, hopeful, with their whole lives ahead of them. That was me, too, back then, a long time ago.

Summer Lightning

It seems that summer here in Minnesota goes faster than it does elsewhere, maybe because everybody is dreading the return of the nasty winter that is guaranteed to follow. And this year, the late arrival of spring is contributing to this seeming rapid passing of summer. In any case, I'm certainly not looking forward to another bleak 6 months that are a trademark of of life near the Canadian border.

My last post was far too long ago, back in the latter part of June. It was a remembrance of an old friend from Los Angeles, and my depressions, coupled with the sorrow of losing him, have made it difficult for me to write, to even believe I have anything worth saying, or even if I do, to even believe I can do it well. Which brings me to this day's musings. Isn't it strange how one "aw shit" can wipe out at least one hundred "attaboys?" How difficult it is for so many of us to believe anything good about ourselves, and when we finally struggle our way to some positive feeling, just one little negative or hurtful moment or situation can wipe it all out.

After I turned in my M. A. thesis lo these 24 years ago, one of my thesis readers, a former Chair of the English Department, telephoned my house and left the message with my wife that it was probably the best thesis he had read in 25 years in the Department. You'd think that such praise would be enough to convince me that I was a decent writer, but no, not me. People such as I are so used to self-loathing that it's nearly impossible to get us to feel positive about ourselves, accept to good in us. Let me present a recent situation that might illustrate.

I am now attending a Senior Outpatient Program, which is group therapy 3 times per week for people who suffer from mental problems, mine being clinical depression. One of the group members is a retired corporate executive who earned an MFA in Creative Writing while he was serving in his capacity in the corporate world. When he asked me what my thesis topic was, I told him that it was E. E. Cummings, a groundbreaking poet of the first half of the 20th Century. His eyes lit up, and he quoted a Cummings poem verbatim, finishing with a big smile. He said he'd like to read my thesis, so I brought it to him.

Then I couldn't believe the praise he later gave, such "strong" and "muscular prose," an "excellent writer." How I enjoyed hearing that! But two days later I was in the emotional dumps again, having nothing to do with writing, poetry, creativity, or anything I could put my finger on, just in the emotional dumps. What in the world happened to us that we have such a difficult time just accepting ourselves, not to mention feeling the least bit good about ourselves? I wish I could pinpoint what happened; then maybe I could finally erase it all. But probably not. There are some candidates for the events I'm looking for, but I doubt if it's any one of them, probably all of them in combination, mixed with whatever chemical imbalance contributes to depression.

This near life-long depression, which has ebbed and flowed, will probably never completely disappear. At this point, I'll be grateful if the depression can just be corralled and I can feel some happiness, however small, however brief. Maybe when our bankruptcy is over we can feel some relief, if not happiness. For the time being, we can just put one foot in front of the other and move slowly forward. I hope.

However,

Since I am utterly human, I reserve the right to change my mind. Writing in my blog today is an example of changing my mind. About 2 months ago, I got the silly idea that I needed to "move on," whatever in hell that means, so I decided to abandon "Above Sunset Boulevard" and create a new blog. However, as I see it today, I was simply full of crap, as I've so often been. I did live 2 blocks above Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles for almost twenty years. And I have accepted that Los Angeles was, is, and always will be my spiritual home. Even if I never return to L. A., it is my spiritual home. Therefore, "Above Sunset Boulevard" will continue after its recent absence.

I am truly weary. I don't know if I've ever been so tired. Having my wife almost die twice this year has been a terribly trying and tiring experience. I doubt if you can know how I feel unless you're hit with one disaster after another in such short order. First she attempted suicide, and spent ten days in a psych ward. Soon she suffered acute kidney failure and underwent emergency dialysis. And while she was in hospital for her kidneys, congestive heart failure was discovered, which required heart bypass surgery. Add to this that I'm also experiencing clinical depression and recently spent seven days of my own in the psych ward, and you might possibly understand just how difficult life has been for a while. Add to all this that I had spinal surgery for a degenerative condition in December 2005 and that I spent fifteen days on a respirator in February 2006 for a near fatal lung infection, and you might just begin to understand why I feel as I do. Whew! Oh, and I had two heart attacks in 1999.

I admit to good fortune, however, in one or two areas. I now attend a senior outpatient program for old nuts like me on 3 days of the week. It's the first time I've ever voluntarily connected myself with anything that included the word "senior" in its title. I always thought that I wouldn't be comfortable with a bunch of old people. But I am one! And I've fit in quite well, thank you. It has made my life somewhat more pleasant over the past few weeks. I'm just hoping that this isn't just a temporary palliative but a sea change in my emotional life. I want to feel better all the time, or at least most of the time. This program has allowed me to feel better at least 3 days per week.

I also visited my new therapist for the first time this week, and it was a generally pleasant experience. He was visibly affected by what has happened to us in the last few years, as it does sound awful when I detail our lives over that time. In fact, going over all of it again wore me out. The therapist saw it happen before his eyes and cut our session a little short, and I had to come home and lie down.

Finally, if you come upon this blog, please put my wife and me in your good thoughts. We have nobody to help us, and we could use your good energy, prayers even, if that's what you do. I have little choice but to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward, no matter how slowly. I can't let myself despair again. Help us with your good thoughts and prayers.
Thanks.

Not Quite Crazy

I came home from the psych ward today, and I'm quite tired. But it was nearly a week of much needed isolation (to a point) and protection. One of the questions that staff members ask patients on a regular basis at this hospital is, "Do you feel safe?" And I did. I also benefitted from the group therapy sessions, and I'll begin outpatient therapy very soon. All in all, I feel better.

Although I plan to continue blogging, I'm going to blog from another space. "Above Sunset Boulevard" will be retired. I've been away from Los Angeles from almost two years now, and I think it's time I move on -- in many ways -- though I'd still love to live in L. A. My blogging efforts will, more than likely, increase, and anyone who truly wants to read my future stuff, just send a comment to this posting, and I'll send you the name of my new blog.

Until then, take good care.

And So It Goes (thank you, Kurt)

I write this from the psych ward at a major hospital in Minneapolis, MN, about 20 minutes from my current home in Bloomington, MN. Of all ironies, I'm in the same psych ward where my wife recently spent 10 days after a serious attempt to take her life. I didn't intend to admit myself to the hospital; rather, I came into the family aftercare program as a result of her recent unsuccessful try at easing her pain. And I just simply couldn't stop crying. The therapist took me to the E. R., and the psychiatrist on duty decided to admit me to the hospital. So here I am.

I feel a bit of relief from facing the storms in our lives, though I know I'll have to face them later. I hope to have a few more tools to work with. But for today, I feel almost safe. Now that the houseslipper is on the other foot, my wife is bringing me some clean clothes, and while she's here, I'll have a large chocolate shake at the in-hospital McDonald's, open 24/7.

A couple of oddities, and then I'll sign off for now. One young woman patient on the ward is from San Diego and truly dislikes the Twin Cities. She, too, came here at the invitation of a relative who later decided that she wasn't so welcome after all. And I just learned that another female patient worked for Eastern Airlines from 1967-1972 as a "Stewardess" and came through the Birmingham, Alabama, airport many, many times during my two years as an Eastern gate agent.

And as Vonnegut said so many times, "And so it goes."

March Madness

The title refers to basketball, though it could just as well refer to our lives here in cold, unfriendly Minnesota. My wife is home from the hospital after spending 10 days in the psych ward of a large hospital downtown. Her suicide attempt failed, but it wasn't from a lack of trying. She thought 30 prescription sleeping pills would end the pain, but we both learned that those particular pills, even though prescribed by a physician, aren't fatal, even if you take 30, which she did. So now she's attending daily therapy from 9 AM to 6 PM at that same large hospital downtown.

She'll never be able to return to the horribly stressful job she had, so our fortunes are definitely taking a turn for the worse. At least today, we're okay. And I'm taking life less than one day at a time. Sometimes I'm taking it a few minutes, an hour at a time. We have no friends in this very odd place called The Twin Cities. Neither of us find the people here very warm, pardon the pun. And almost every native I was able to bring this up to agrees with me. The people here are extremely reserved and wouldn't say hello if it brought them eternal life.

Again, think good thoughts of us as you go through your daily routines. We're both frightened about the future. And we're alone.

However

I reported in my last posting how much a little increase in confidence and hope means to one's view of life and to one's attitude toward life itself. I had been making progress from those dark days when I considered terminating my stay on earth. However, I chose to live, to keep trying, and it began to feel better and better.

But while I was progressing, I failed to notice how much my wife was going in the other direction. Both of us take anti-depressants, and she's been aware of her tendency toward depression since she was very young. Well, with the pressures of an inordinate amount of debt (which is our own doing) and a very stressful and difficult job (it's a job for someone 20-30 years younger), she decided last weekend that she simply couldn't cope anymore.

My wife ingested a month's worth of prescription sleep medication and lay down to die. Of course, I didn't know what she had done, as I had gone to bed early. But to her surprise, she awoke about the same time I did the next day, and groggily told me what she'd done. She said that she couldn't apologize, as she didn't expect to wake up. I called 911, and followed the ambulance to a major hospital in Minneapolis which has a psych ward, and that's where she is as I write, safe for now.

As if attempting suicide wasn't enough, she then came down with such a bad case of influenza that she had to be put on an IV, and the family session that we were to begin with has been postponed twice, probably until next Monday. When I delivered her glasses and some clean clothes to her today, she was still attached to the IV and looked so tired. There aren't words to describe how lousy I felt, but I was able to return a blown kiss and state my continued love for her. I probably will take a little break now, plan little or nothing, and wait for our uncertain future to begin unfolding. And yes, I am afraid.

We welcome all good thoughts.

As Spring Approaches

When I try to recall how poorly and nearly hopeless I felt just a few months back, I hardly feel like the same person. It's amazing what a little success, a little encouragement can do for a person. I've just been invited to fill out and complete the hiring package for online teaching at the U. of Pheonix, which I'll do quite before the deadline. When one has hope, one has almost all he needs. Almost.

This weekend we push our clocks forward and slide into Daylight Savings Time. But before the clocks move, the two of us will have the joy of hearing the Minnesota Orchestra again. This is a preview concert of the 2008-2009 season, and the menu is delightful: Haydn; Mozart; Beethoven; Tchaikovsky; Sibelius; Elgar; and others. It should be quite a night. And before we go to the concert, we're going to break bread together using one of several restaurant gift certificates we received over the holidays. As much as I really don't like Daylight Savings Time, I'm looking forward to Saturday evening.

As for location, location, location, I do think it matters in more than in sales. Living in this foreign atmosphere we find ourselves in puts an additional stress on us that otherwise wouldn't exist. So, while we have to face day-to-day living problems, we also carry that stress with us 24/7. We had found our home, but we just weren't sure enough, and the energy that brought us here was nothing but negative, bordering on evil, and we were blinded to the truth until it was too late to turn around. Put a good thought up for us to return to our true home, where the nearest snow is at least two hours away!

Movin' On

As my wife works in South Dakota today, I learn by email that I passed the last phase of training for U. of Phoenix. Actually, I did more than pass. My work was "top notch." Yes, I'm quite pleased, quite! The next phase is actually teaching two classes with a mentor guiding me along. Oh, how this creates possibilities, as every penny I earn can be placed against our debt structure, and we can get out of this frozen hell hole, and back to our spiritual home, Southern California. How I pray that I live long enough for this to come to fruition. Nothing can ruin this day. As most good alcoholics, I spent a lot of time worrying about failing when there was little or no chance that I would. Whew! What a relief!

My wife was working in San Diego last weekend, and it served to remind her of how much she loves the place, how beautiful it is. She and I spent many a long weekend in Pacific Beach in the San Diego area, and it cleansed us each and every time. It's interesting that no matter how difficult things seemed to us in Southern California, we thrived spiritually. Looking back, it was a huge mistake for us to leave, and it took coming here for us to realize this.

While we're here, however, we at least have sense enough to feed our spirits, so I scheduled three more trips to hear the Minnesota Orchestra. For those lovely two hours or so, we can exist in a world of beauty, our cares far away, unable to touch us. It's interesting that refreshments are served before curtain time, and some of the best chocolate chip cookies I've ever eaten are available. Who would have thought it? However, I'll happily trade a short stack of DuPar's pancakes and crispy bacon for all the chocolate chip cookies in Minnesota.

To change the subject again, the online training I've experienced in the last month has taught me truly that it's not what you say that matters, it's how you say it. Your tone comes through every time, and I'm sure that's why U. of Phoenix emphasizes care in communicating with your students. In any case, the training was fun, my classmates were highly educated, and I held my own with them. It's a loverly day today!

Blah!

Over the years, I've heard some people refer to the month of February as the "Blah Month." They assert that nothing happens in February and that nothing of note has ever happened. Well, I can't review every February in history, but I can claim that February 2008 has been an active and somewhat successful month for me and my wife.

First of all, I'm halfway through the second phase of training to teach in a major online university. So far, I've received good response from my postings in training and from my comments about others' work. I'm moving slowly toward being employed again, something I've missed terribly. Most people, including me, need some structure in their lives, something to participate in, and something to look forward to. The training and the possibility of teaching again give me all three. And it all began to truly take shape in the month of February.

As for my wife, though she, as I, must use an inhaler for our respective lung conditions, February has brought her continued recovery, such that she may be back to work on a full-time basis very soon. She also received news that she will have to go to San Diego (horrors!) to help get a new pharmaceutical study off the ground. I'm happy for her. My only twinge about it is that I can't go with her.

In this cold, cold February here in Minnesota, I also received an invitation to a wedding. The groom in this case is a former student of mine at California State University, Los Angeles, and he is now serving in Afghanistan as a Captain in the U. S. Marine Corps. He and his lovely fiance will be married on the island of Oahu, Hawaii. I hope with all my strength that I am able to participate in their celebration. This is an exceptional young man, and I'm prouder of him than of any student I ever had in almost 20 years of teaching.

Finally, I've finally properly adjusted my pain medication, and I can spend the necessary time at my pc for my current training and the teaching I hope to be doing online soon. So, this month, whose length changes every fourth year and now slightly over halfway completed, has been filled with good stuff. I'll take a few more months like the "Blah Month."

Oh, and I almost forgot. Our Valentine's Day was one of the best in a long time. I'll try not to be gone so long again. Hurrah!

Is It Ever Too Late?

I just finished another phase of training in the application process for an online university. It's been some time since I felt a sense of accomplishment, and even though this is a comparatively small accomplishment, it really, really feels good. As most of you know, I'm 67 years old (though I look much younger!), and I still need those "warm fuzzies." Do we ever get over our need for recognition and accomplishment? Well, I haven't yet, and I don't believe that others do, either.

I was lucky to have lived in a household in which I was encouraged and given opportunities to do things like play the piano, take dancing lessions, go to a prestigious camp each summer. This wonderful environment lasted until I was almost 14, and I looked at the world with anticipation for the future. That changed when my mother remarried, but I had it for a while. If you had an encouraging environment, you know exactly what it feels like to receive praise for the things you do well.

For the first time in many, many months, I'm looking forward to what's coming next. I'm looking forward to my new adventure in teaching. I'm looking forward to meeting new people, educated and thoughtful people to learn from. Unless one is truly debillitated, I don't believe it's ever too late to want and enjoy the next journey, to continue, to take the first step on a new path. And as much as anything else, I'm looking forward to helping my wife with our expenses and with getting us out of debt.

In a few words, I feel useful again. And for an old fart such as I, there's no better feeling. Underneath all these feelings is the hope that. debt free, I will once again drive the streets of Los Angeles, have a hot dog at Pink's, savor my pancakes at DuPar's, see a first-run movie at the Cinerama Dome. Hope is the thing with feathers.

You Forget How Feeling Good Feels Until You Don't Feel Good Anymore

Until, that is, you feel better, which, as you know if you've been reading my postings, has been my wife's experience for the last few weeks. Her visit to her pulmonologist revealed that she has begun a slow recovery, though her breathing still isn't at 100%. And I had my scheduled visit to my pulmonologist at the University of Minnesota Clinics which revealed that I haven't gone backwards, though I haven't lept far forward either

It appears that my wife has a touch of emphysema, as do I. So I suppose that the pneumonia was a tiny blessing, as it revealed the emphysema, and she's now using an inhaler with steroids every day. As you probably know, this condition is permanent, and her shortness of breath is now a part of her everyday life. Now we both have to be careful about what we're exposed to and also keep ourselves well covered in this freezer chamber of a city!

I just received an email from a former student who was commissioned an officer in the U. S. Marine Corps just after he finished working himself through college. He sent it from Afghanistan. Being a former Marine, I'm particularly proud of him, as he attained the rank of Captain in less than 4 years. Even more important than that, he's a man of good values. He's a solid human being, the kind our country needs more of. This is his second tour in Afghanistan; between those 2 tours, he also served a tour in Iraq. I'd say he's fulfilled the obligations he took on when he became an officer in the Corps. I'll add only that he's also a proud Mexican-American.

Oh! One more addition. My student serves in danger zones; he could easily be killed. But when his Commander-in-Chief, our pitiful president, faced the possibility of serving in combat, his daddy got him into the Texas Air National Guard over others on the waiting list. And he spent the war hiding behind the National Guard and engaging in dereliction of duty. That was still a time when National Guard service almost guaranteed that you wouldn't serve in Vietnam. This cowardly president now has the temerity to send others to their deaths, others to return wounded and maimed beyond recognition.

Being someone who loves to put words on paper, I'm disturbed by the strike of the Writers Guild of America - West. Actually, I'm disturbed by the avarice of the producers, who refuse to pay the writers a fair share for material which winds up on the web and other technological outlets. It's insulting what the producers are offering. I just spent 20 years in Hollywood, and I have an idea how difficult it is to make a living writing for television, movies and other outlets controlled by the producers. I don't mind if the entire fall tv season is cancelled because of this strike. The writers deserve their share of this gold mine.

In the past, my wife and I made popcorn and settled in for the night to watch the Academy Awards on television. In the last few years of our lives in Hollywood, we were only about 2 miles from the Kodak Theater, now the permanent home of the Oscar ceremony. Though I never attended the Oscars, I knew it was coming when Hollywood Blvd just east of us was closed down and seats were erected. Don't most of us enjoy all that glitz even though few of us have anything to do with the entertainment industry? I think so. And I make the best popcorn you can find anywhere.

Well, this wasn't a particularly sharp installment, but you'll allow me the freedom to occasionally just ramble a bit and keep the "old" brain sharp. Think of us with warmth as the snow returns and the temperature falls below zero for 10 nights in a row. Brrrrrr!

Breath of Life

Well, friends, my wife had another follow-up visit yesterday with her physician following her recent pneumonia, and the news is not good. Her lung capacity continues to fall, even since last week's visit. So the good doctor scheduled a full pulmonary evaluation for this coming Monday. I'm sure that lack of oxygen is responsible for her continuing fatigue, and it's scary as far as I'm concerned, as I almost died from lack of oxygen back in early 2006, going into respiratory failure and living on a respirator for 15 days. She's keeping up a good front, but I know she's a bit afraid. She recently visited with her sister in Cape Cod for the first time in a long time. After that she visited her oldest friend in Florida. Fortunately, she was able to work the visits in with her work, and the cost to us was minimal, though money was really not a consideration. She needed these visits in her present state of health.

It's been obvious to me that she's thinking about her own mortality, which she finally admitted to me today. It certainly gives me serious pause, as she's the person who knows me best and who loves me most. And she knows I love her more than anyone in the world. I can't imagine my world without her, though I know than none of us gets out of this alive. If you pray, I would appreciate your prayers for her complete recovery. If you don't pray, keep her in your good thoughts. We're both taking this one day at a time, at least most of the time.

Actually, she's been having problems with her breathing for some time as many former smokers do, but she pushed on simply because we need the income. The pneumonia put an end to pushing on, as it exacerbated her existing problem. How I wish I could make her well. She's been so important to me, and I love her dearly. All good thoughts and prayers will be appreciated.

Welcome 2008

This year could just possibly be better than the last two, as I've completed the second phase of the application/hiring process to teach again. I will be scheduled for training very soon. I'm very happy about this turn of events, as it will give me more to do, and it will help us eventually leave this snow-bound hell hole. If my wife's health can be maintained, possibly improved, we could get out of debt relatively soon and move one last time.

One of the things that came out of all this recent uncertainty is that one's life is certainly more easily managed if one has hope, something to look forward to, something to plan for. Now that I'll be working again, I again have that hope. I very grateful for this opportunity at my age. And I'm truly pleased to help remove some of the burden from my wife's shoulders. Her doctor's visit last Friday kept her off work for at least another week, but she's slowly coming around. So, even if she has to work less (if the company will allow it), I'll have income to make up for it.

Don't let anybody every tell you that age doesn't make everything in your life more difficult. It does, and nobody understands that until he or she experiences it. It's like the constant pain I've carried since my spinal surgery. Nobody understands constant pain until it hits him or her. I'm grateful that it's under control now, managed by medication.

Since this is an eclectic commentary about the arrival of 2008, I have to comment on all the bowl games that college football teams participate after the regular season. There are now 31 of them, and many of them are between teams that won only half their games. When I was younger, a bowl game was a reward for a good season but not any more, and I'm sure it's all about money, money from television. There was a time when there were only 5 bowl games. It's obvious that with so few games, each one meant something, as only the best teams were selected. I've watched very few on tv in the last few years because they're meaningless games between mediocre teams., If you're a real sports fan, you know exactly what I mean.

Probably the most wonderful Christmas gift that we received this year was a $100.00 gift certificate from Manny's Steak House, given to us by my son and his wife. I may have mentioned it before, but there's such a fantastic meal to look forward to that I had to mention it again. I'm going to alter my habit and order a rib eye this time, medium. And with the exquisite mashed potatoes that are served there, I look forward to being a pig again for a very brief time. I probably won't have another steak again for at least 6 months, but I'm going to enjoy this indulgence and certainly think of my son as I chew the tender fare served at Manny's.

I don't make New Year's resolutions any more. Hell, I never kept them more than a week or two anyway. But I am going to try to keep looking forward, anticipating, planning, living each day as it comes and letting life unfold as it will. And if I keep a better attitude, I'm sure I'll post more enjoyable blogs. I'm certainly going to give it a try.

Again, Happy New Year.