So long, Harvey

I went to a visitation today for the father of some longtime friends. 

Harvey's oldest daughter and I have been friends for nearly six decades, and I've known his other three daughters for almost as long. 

I didn't know their Daddy very well when we were growing up, but I was blessed to get to know him as an adult while I worked at the senior center. Most weekdays, Harvey would come in for lunch, and if I could, I would join him for a meal.

We visited about happenings in town and, of course, he caught me up on what his beloved daughters were up to. He was tremendously proud of the girls and their families. On occasion, when the out-of-town girls were home for a visit, Harvey would bring them in to the senior center for lunch and a visit with me. It was always good to see them. 

Despite the solemnity and sadness of the occasion, it was good to see them again today. 

Harvey was a good, hard-working man with a wonderful sense of humor. He usually teased me about something when he saw me. When he ate lunch with a certain humor-loving group of seniors, Harvey could hold his own and give back as good as he got. There were a few times I was nearly in tears from laughing so hard at their banter.

Sometimes, during special occasions, we would give away prizes to seniors during lunch. During one Earth Day celebration, Harvey won one of the specially made desserts. He so didn't want his photo taken, but, because I had asked him, he acquiesced, and posed with his prize and a smile on his face.

When my Mom died earlier this year, I immediately felt the aloneness of adult orphanhood. I'm still dealing with that, but it is getting a bit better. 

After visiting with the girls and a couple of their spouses, I learned that the girls and I are not the only ones who have suffered loss this year. It has been a helluva year for many of us. 

I came away from our visit with a bit of a different perspective about what has happened to us this year.

While we have lost loved ones and are transitioning to being the seniors in society, those of us who remain continue to move forward one step at a time. But we do so together with love, grace, and compassion. 

Remembering Christmases past

I've been thinking a lot about Christmas this year, partly because it will be my first year without both of my parents. I've also, however, been thinking about how much the Christmas season has changed over the years.

When I was a little one, the Christmas season was full of awe and wonder. The lights. The decorations. The music. It all created a wonderous time filled with joy. In Sunday school, we sang songs about the birth of Jesus. In school, we sang about Santa and Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. It seemed perfectly logical to have both, and both blended together to create one joyous, eagerly anticipated season.

The season was filled with a series of much anticipated events, starting with receiving the Sears Christmas catalog. Each year, I looked through the catalog multiple times, in awe of all the fun toys and Christmas gifts to be had. 

Once the Sears Christmas catalog was out, it was time to think about and then write my letter to Santa with what I would like for Christmas. 

When I was growing up, my folks didn't have a lot of money. I didn't realize until I was an adult that we weren't wealthy because they always made sure that the holidays and birthdays were special.

Many of my gifts were books, and I would spend hours in my room reading. 

I also, however, got a number of gifts that challenged my mind and sparked my creativity. Games such as Milton Bradley's Feeley Meeley in which players had to identify and retrieve from a covered box items shown on game cards. We had to determine the correct items by how they felt in our hands. The person who correctly retrieved the most items won. Today, I doubt that I would stick my hand in a hole in the side of a box to retrieve anything, but it was a great deal of fun then.

Another creativity sparking gift was Spirograph, which used a variety of hoops and disks, as well as multiple colored pens to create a plethora of geometric designs. The hoops and disks had teeth, which enabled them to work like gears, albeit on a flat surface. How the designs turned out depended on which pens and disks were used with which hoops. Another variable was where the pen was inserted into the disk as the disk was twirled around the hoop. I spent hours creating geometric designs and no two of my designs were the same.

One year, either my uncle or my grandparents got me a small reel to reel tape recorder. My friend, Laurie, and I spent hours recording a mixture of commentary and songs, many of which we made up as we went along. To this day, Laurie will remind me of a rewrite we did of the words to the theme song for Here Come the Brides, a late 1960s TV show that included my heartthrob, Bobby Sherman! 

Of course, there also were crayons and coloring books and other crafty type gifts that sparked creativity as well. To this day, I enjoy coloring and once this blog post is done, I think I will dig out my Christmas coloring book and gel pens and color a page or two. 

As I got older, but before I was old enough to be hired for a job, I used to do extra chores around the house to make money so I could buy my family Christmas presents. One year, Mom told me she would pay me five cents for every piece I ironed. Unfortunately, she didn't anticipate my ingenuity and drive. I ironed everything I could think of, including tablecloths that weren't being used and my Dad's shorts!

Another eagerly anticipated Christmastime event was baking and decorating Christmas-themed sugar cookies, or cutout cookies as we called them then. We had a variety of Christmas cookie cutters, including a star, a Santa, a Christmas tree, a snowman, a stocking, and a present. The cookies were decorated with a variety of colors of frosting and sprinkles.

Then there was the decorating of the Christmas tree. At the time, Dad insisted that we purchase a real tree. Back then, we had to wait a day or two for the tree to get rehydrated before we could decorate it. The wait seemed like an eternity. The house sure smelled good, though! Additionally, for a number of years, my grandparents had a tinsel tree with a rotating multi-colored light. When I was little, I spent a great deal of time in awe of the twinkling tree.

There also were the school and church Christmas programs and the class Christmas parties, filled with music, goodies, and the Christmas spirit.

I also eagerly anticipated riding around town with my parents to look at Christmas lights and decorations. Now keep in mind that this was before parks were decorated with drive-through light shows and an over abundance of inflatable decorations were created. A highlight of the excursion was stopping at a house that each year showed cartoons on its large front window. Cars could pull up and tune their radios to a special frequency to hear the audio from the cartoons. People were respectful and didn't stay too long so that others also would have the opportunity to watch the show.

And then there was the Christmas music! It was on the radio and in the stores from Thanksgiving to Christmas.  These were songs by Nat King Cole, Andy Williams, Brenda Lee, Burl Ives, Perry Como, Dean Martin, etc. We also played Christmas music at home. I would have played it for a longer period of time than we did, but I suppose it wouldn't have seemed as special then.

Because of family obligations and conflicting schedules, we had four gifting sessions. Christmas Eve was spent with my Dad's parents and brother, as well as my Great Aunt and Uncle. Christmas morning was for Mom, Dad, and I. Then we headed to Lincoln County to "have Christmas" with Mom's side of the family. Somehow, Santa managed to leave presents at all four locations!

As I have gotten older, some traditions have lost their luster or are no longer a part of my world.

I rarely bake cookies any more. Now that I no longer have a gallbladder, I suspect most Christmas cookies will be forbidden. And I'd rather eat no Christmas sweets than try the low-fat versions. They just wouldn't be the same. Sorry, but I am a Christmas sweets snob!

While I still try to listen to some of the Christmas music listed above, I prefer classical Christmas music. 

Jorgie guarding the presents while we wait for
Mom and Dad to get up.  This was several years
ago. © Leslie Eikleberry 2024

Our Christmas tree has changed to an artificial one that has remained in the box for the past several years, at my Dad's request, out of fear that our dog might damage it. Now that Jorgie is gone, I doubt I will put the tree up. It just seems like too much of a hassle. I did, however, hang the Santa on the front door and may even put the wreath on the porch!

Up until they died, I drove my folks around town to look at Christmas lights, but the fun wasn't in seeing the decorations. It was in being together at Christmastime. I don't plan to look at lights this year.

I am curious to see what future Christmas seasons hold for me. I don't want anyone feeling sorry for me because my immediate family is gone. I know there is something out there for me. I just need to work through the grief of losing my folks and my Jorgie before I can figure out what it is. 

In the meantime, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas. Hug your loved ones tight and eat a Christmas cookie and piece of fudge for me! (Those calories don't count!)

I am thankful

With Thanksgiving just around the corner, I have been reflecting on why I am thankful.

Now given the events of the past couple of years, I'm sure some of you are wondering what sorts of drugs the doctors have me on. Afterall, both my parents, my uncle, and my best buddy (dog) all died within the past two years. Additionally, I am still recovering from two major surgeries in October: removal of a large blood clot from my lungs and removal of my gallbladder.

Despite all of that, I remain thankful.

I am thankful that I still tear up when thinking of my departed family members. There was/is a great deal of love between us and I am holding on to it as tenaciously as I can. So what if I cry, even ugly cry, at the oddest or even most inopportune moments. It means that I care and that while my family members are gone, the love remains. 

Don't want to see me ugly cry? Then don't look because it is going to happen.

I am thankful for my good friends and family members who have continued to check on me through it all and help when needed. Despite sometimes feeling lost and lonely because my core family has departed, I have found a new sort of family, one partly of blood relatives and partly of those I have chosen to be in my family. I love you one and all!

I am thankful for the Apple Watch I purchased a few months ago so I would have a way to call should I have an emergency. (I think a life-threatening giant blood clot counts, don't you?) I used the watch to call for an ambulance when I had passed out on the hallway floor and was so weak and winded that I couldn't even crawl to the table by my chair where my cell phone was. An hour or so later, the ER doctor told me that if I hadn't come in when I did, I would have died.

I am thankful for the EMTs who broke into my house to get me and whisk me off to the hospital, where a few hours later, medical personnel were removing the blood clot. Thank you, fellas, for only busting out the locks and not totally destroying my front door! And thank you for securing the door until I could return home and replace the locks.

I also am thankful for the EMTs who came to my house a week later to take me back to the hospital, this time to have my gallbladder removed. There was no breaking in this time. Despite it being about 4:30 in the morning, I shut and locked the door and waited for them on Mom's glider out front.

I am thankful that while I was sitting on the glider, I got to see the neighborhood fox scurrying across the yard. I said hello to him, which caused him to pause. He seemed somewhat befuddled that a human was sitting outside at 4:30 in the morning and talking to him. He then went on his way, probably hunting food before returning to the safety of his den.

I am thankful for the medical personnel at Salina Regional Health Center who saved my life and helped me begin to recover from two surgeries in as many weeks.

I am thankful, despite its exorbitant price, for Eliquis, the blood thinner I now take to help dissolve the tiny bits of blood clot that were not able to be removed and to help keep new blood clots from forming. I don't ever want to feel again like I did that morning that the EMTs had to break into my house.

I am thankful for the people God has put into my life to help me navigate through selling my childhood home and getting Mom's estate settled. What a daunting task, especially with everything else going on.

I am thankful that I am able to find foods that I like that will not cause me digestive problems in my new gallbladderless world. Nearly all the foods I used to love are now out as I attempt to embrace a new, lower-fat diet. At first, I was devastated that I would no longer get to eat pepperoni pizza, tacos, cheeseburgers, all the stuff I shouldn't have been eating anyway. But you know what? I haven't had pizza in more than a month and I don't miss it a bit! And on the plus side, the new, lower-fat diet will help me to lose weight and will overall be more healthy for me.

I am thankful, of course, for a roof over my head and warm clothes to wear, and a car to get me around town.

I am thankful for those of you who bother to read my blog posts. While I write for me and to keep writing, I do appreciate hearing from those of you who read my digital chicken scratches!

Most importantly, I am thankful that with all the crap that is going on in the world, the good Lord is taking time to look after me.

What are you thankful for this holiday season?

Is there really a new normal?

Since early 2023, I have been working to establish a new normal for my life. I've come to the conclusion, however, that establishing a new normal isn't a real concept. 

When I first moved back to my hometown in 2003, my folks insisted that I move in with them. Then, as time passed, it became apparent that I needed to continue living with my aging parents to help out. That was our "normal" for nearly 20 years until my Dad died in early 2023.

At that point, I officially became the primary caregiver for my Mom, who had Parkinson's and the dementia that goes with it. Mom and I navigated a new life without Dad. All went fairly well until the fall of 2023, when our Shih Tzu developed irreversible kidney issues and had to be put down. 

Losing Jorgie like that was a gut punch that still prompts tears at times. Jorgie's kisses and snuggles had helped me work through my grief for losing Dad. Mom, through no fault of her own, was little help as her dementia had taken away her ability to empathize.

Nonetheless, we continued on until Mom died in August of this year. For the first time in my life, all of my immediate family members were gone and I was alone. 

I began to rely on my first cousins and my chosen family of close friends and neighbors as I once again tried to establish a new normal. 

A month after Mom died, my Uncle died. While I knew my cousins would still be there for me, I also knew that they now had even more on their plates.

Then, in October, my body rebelled and I was hospitalized twice in two consecutive weeks for two different health issues. In the first, I arrived at the hospital via ambulance mid morning and by 4 p.m. a surgeon was removing a giant blood clot from my lungs.

Shameless promotion: after passing out three times, I found myself on the hallway floor and unable to get up. I used my Apple watch to call the ambulance that first time. I had gotten the Apple watch after I shut the landline off in case I had an emergency and was not near my cell phone. It did its job well. If you have a smart watch synced to your cell phone, learn how to use it to call for help. It may save your life!

Nearly a week after I first went to the hospital, I rode an ambulance back to the hospital after a sharp pain in my lower chest/upper abdomen would not go away. 

I had been told the previous week that there were still some small pieces of the blood clot in my veins that were going to be treated with medication. I was concerned that the pain I was feeling was related to the blood clot pieces still in my system. The doctor had told me that if I had any issues, I needed to get back to the hospital quickly, so I called an ambulance a second time. 

As it turned out, the pain was caused by a bad gallbladder that needed to be removed. That surgery came a day after I arrived at the hospital the second time. 

Since then, I have been recovering from the two surgeries while working on issues related to Mom's estate. 

I've also been thinking about the concept of establishing a new normal. 

I've decided that establishing a new normal isn't real. It seems clear, as I have outlined the past couple of years above, that instead of establishing and living a new normal, we just continue to evolve, reacting and adapting to whatever life throws at us. 

And what if we don't? I suppose that either we die or go insane. 

As for me, it is a comfort to view the rest of my life in through this lens.

I choose to keep evolving. How about you?

And it was back to the hospital for me

Two trips in two consecutive weeks is enough!

Apparently my body had too much fun at the hospital last week and decided it wanted to visit again.

On Tuesday, I observed the Taco Tuesday ritual Mom and I had partaken in weekly for the last year of her life. A bit after eating, I started feeling unwell. I decided it was bad tacos. But when the pain in my stomach continued more than twelve hours after I ate, I became concerned that the pain was connected to the giant blood clot that was removed from my lungs last week. 

I called for an ambulance and took another ride to Salina Regional Health Center with Salina Fire's finest about 4:30 a.m. Wednesday.

I spent a good part of Wednesday in an ER room, partially waiting for a room to open up in the hospital. While there, I had blood tests and more CT scans. It was determined that there was a large stone blocking the duct in my gallbladder and that the gallbladder needed to go. 

So early on Thursday morning, I was in pre-surgery waiting for a very kind and upbeat Dr. Gray to remove the offending and somewhat useless organ from my body.

The procedure went well and I was sent back to my room on 5 Surgical West. 

Once again, the good folks at Salina Regional did a great job taking care of me. I especially appreciated the efforts of Lynnette and Miranda who went above and beyond to calm my fears and helped me through what turned into an emotional time for me.

Have you ever had to have someone wipe your butt because you were not able to? It was embarrassing and the last straw in what has been a tough couple of years for me. I lost it. Lynnette and Miranda got me through it with kind, upbeat attitudes.

I also appreciated the folks who showed up more often than I would have liked to draw blood. I have an aversion to being poked with needles that goes back to my youth. All of the Salina Regional folks who poked my arms were kind and understanding when I told my story about the blood draw long ago. They did their best to put me at ease and apologized each time I winced when they poked. 

Then there were the friends who picked up my mail and gave me a ride home, and the family and friends who knew I was in the hospital again and offered prayers and support from afar. 

Thank you all!

Aside from healing from the surgery, my immediate goal is to not need to go to the hospital for a third consecutive week. Please pray that I achieve that goal.

So, it wasn't COVID after all

 

About a week ago, I wrote that I thought I had COVID and that my illness was causing vivid dreams.

Well, it wasn't COVID.

I won't go into all the gory details, but after passing out on the toilet three times, I used my Apple watch on Wednesday to call 911. Salina Fire's finest broke into my house (though they left the door intact) and whisked me away to Salina Regional Health Center. Thanks, fellas!

After a CT scan, it was determined that I had a massive blood clot on my lungs. I also had whatever bug is currently going around. 

The ER doc told me that had I not come in when I did, I'd be dead. I got to the ER early afternoon and the procedure to remove the clot was scheduled for 4 p.m. that same day. 

The procedure was interesting. They wheeled me into an operating room where classic rock was playing in the background. I found myself singing along to some of the songs. 

They made an incision at the top of my leg and went up through an artery to the vessels in my lungs and sucked the clot out. I was too busy jammin' to realize when they finished. The whole procedure took maybe an hour.

They showed me the clot, which they had laid out on a card that had a line drawing of the vessels in my lungs. It was a massive, multi-tentacled monster that stretched seven to eight inches across and approximately five inches deep.

I was told that my clot set a record for the largest clot every removed at Salina Regional. I always thought It would be fun to be a record holder, but not like that!

They gave me a photo of the clot on the card. It was suggested by some at the hospital that I use the photo in my Christmas letter! We'll see.

I was sooo pretty in the hospital. ©

As they did with Mom, most of the people at Salina Regional took good care of me. A big shout-out to those who did and assisted with the procedure. You made it seem so easy. Also, a shout-out to the hospitalist, the nurses, and the aides/techs on 3SE. Your kindness and caring during a scary time is most appreciated. (And thanks for listening to and laughing at my goofy and probably not-as-funny-as-I-thought comments!)

Also, a big thank you to my longest-tenured friend, Laurie, who picked me up at the hospital this morning and took me to drag Fe before taking me home! Additionally, thank you to my friends and neighbors who picked up my mail and brought me freshly made chicken soup and a beautiful bouquet of roses.

Finally, thank you to my family and friends near and far for your support, prayers, and good wishes. Each one of you has played a part in helping me through this!

In looking back at the vivid dream I wrote about in my last blog post, I think it was a message from my Mom. As you may remember, in the dream I found myself in the ESU Memorial Union, eventually eating with my Mom, although I never saw her face. All I saw of her was when she was walking away down the long main hallway of the Memorial Union. 

I think she was trying to tell me it wasn't yet my time. 

I guess God still has plans for me here.

Dreaming in the time of COVID

 

I haven't been feeling well for the past few days. 

At first I thought it was the usual fall bug going around, as I was feeling a little out of sorts. But after I suddenly got winded walking to the bathroom and had surprise diarrhea, I decided to see what the symptoms of the latest version of COVID-19 were. I have had, over the course of the past few days, eight of the eleven symptoms.

Now before you start playing armchair doctor, as well-meaning and kind as it may be, I will be fine. The windedness has subsided a bit, as have the chills, and, thankfully, the diarrhea. I'm managing the congestion with Mucinex, and it seems to be easing a bit as well. The coughs are less frequent. And I promise, if things get worse, I will seek medical help.

I was fortunate that not all of the symptoms hit at the same time. One effect of the illness that has been consistent throughout the past few days is one that doesn't appear on the CDC's COVID-19 symptom list. My dreams have been incredibly vivid and weird as heck.

Most recently was one I had today. I had intended to watch the Lions-Vikings game at noon. I had sort of watched the New England-Jacksonville game from London earlier and turned the channel to the Lions-Vikings pregame as soon as NE-JAX concluded. Then I promptly fell asleep in my chair.

The part of the dream I remember was set along the main, long hallway of the Emporia State Memorial Union, a place I have not been in quite some time. As is true with many dreams, the Memorial Union in my dream, while resembling the real building, had a number of enhancements, most notably, a huge cafeteria to the east of the bookstore.

For those not familiar with the real Memorial Union, such a culinary enhancement in that location would have put the east entrance to the real Memorial Union in the parking lot across the street.

In the dream, Mom and I were going to have lunch in the cafeteria. Although neither of us lived in Emporia in the dream, we somehow managed to arrive in separate cars at different times. 

I went in search of Mom and was told that a friend was looking for me on Mom's behalf. (In reality, that friend is one from my days working at the Hays Daily News, not ESU.)

While looking for Mom, I encountered a number of people who, at least in my dream, were people I knew or knew of, though I couldn't remember their names. Whether they all were from ESU remains a mystery.

I approached the cafeteria and discovered that ESU staff members were there having a sit-down strike for better wages and better working conditions. Thinking that may have scared off Mom, I went to another part of the cafeteria (remember: it was huge) and apparently found Mom, though I don't recall ever sitting down with her and having a conversation while eating. During that time, not once did I see her face, yet she was there.

I do remember eating fried chicken. (Probably a KFC original chicken tenders commercial was on my TV during that part of the dream.) Then Mom got up and left, walking down the long hallway toward the west entrance to the Memorial Union, while I scrambled to figure out what to do with our trays while not disturbing the employees' sit-in.

I looked down the hall and could see Mom walking away. She was wearing the polo top that she wore in the photo I used for her obituary, though she had a coat over it. Ironically, in the dream, I said to myself, "Look! She's wearing the same polo shirt she wore in that photo I used for her obituary." Now keep in mind, in the dream Mom was not dead.

Part of me wonders whether it was Mom checking in with me because I was sick. I'd like to think that was the case. 

Nonetheless, that dream was weird as heck.