Category Archives: change

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On order

Back in 2002, our private clinic became part of the hospital. The biggest local insurer had quit paying for everyone’s work for 9 months and then was taken over by the state. We were still not getting paid.

One day the employees were very tickled and happy. I cornered the office manager at lunch and asked what was going on.

“We have to use the hospital to order everything,” she said. The nurses and staff at lunch had expectant grins. “We asked them to procure a henway. The order was put in. Yesterday we got a call from someone in the ordering department. She said, “We’ve searched the medical catalogs, but we can’t find it. What’s a henway?” She got transferred a few times and reached the office manager. Reply: “About the same as a rooster.” The clinic staff broke up again. My office manager said, “Well, that person was pretty new, so we hope they’ll get over it.”

I am sure that the hospital loved having us on board.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: procure.

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Envy

I am supposed to write about envy
but what I am feeling is grief
I walked five miles yesterday
and it was fun, talking, a group
but then a nap from 2 to 5, three hours
and to bed at seven pm and up at five
so 13 hours sleep in response to exercise

It is time to downsize what I think I can do
I still have my mind, but the energy is halved
I can’t work full time as a physician
and I am not sure I can work half time
Do I try it? The risk that I crash again?
Pneumonia and death? Or do I curl into the grief
and find something else to do.

Even the thought makes me tired.

Not envy of other doctors, oh, maybe a little
but the truth is, my survival to date is something
of a miracle. Babies with mothers with active tuberculosis
usually die very quickly, infected, overshelmed.
My mother kindly coughed blood so the doctors knew
before I was born, from the protection of the womb
to the protection of the family, away from my mother.
She is dead, my father is dead, my sister is dead
so even if I cannot work half time
it’s still miraculous to be here at all.

I hope that each and every one of you
feels the miracle of not being dead and gone
some days. And that you do not envy
your dead.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: envy.

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Difficult?

With Cee’s Flower of the Day on hiatus, I am casting around. Here, a weekly prompt: divorce.

My ex and I did a year of couples counseling and then another year of hammering out the details. I felt like a terrible failure and did simultaneous solo counseling to figure out why I was failing. It took me two years to make the decision and I was anxious the entire time. And then once I decided, the anxiety evaporated like morning mist.

One thing that I realized is that we each had a blind spot. I love working and am a hard worker and even to the point of working until I get sick. My ex did not want to work, partly because his father seemed to hate it so much. My ex was dedicated to doing something fun every day and that was a revelation to me: were we allowed to have fun? So it was all lots of fun for a decade. He was in charge of play: bicycling, swing dance, going to music, golf (golf did not take with me), tennis. I was in charge of work and practical things. This started to fall apart with kids, because I wanted to have fun with the kids and he said, “Kids aren’t fun.” As I moved into defining fun, he refused to move into work.

At some point during the prolonged divorce process, I realized that some of it was not about me at all. He knew at some level that he had to go work, because his son was reaching his teens. My ex looked at me one day and said, “I’m going to have to thank you for this, aren’t I?” “Damn straight,” I replied. I wished he could deal with the work thing in the marriage, but he couldn’t. He went off and went to nursing school and has an RN. I talked to him yesterday on the phone. He said, “I decided when I was young that I was going to do tons outdoors until I got old and then I would work. And look how it’s working out!” A little hard on me, I think. Meanwhile the kids got bored with the whole thing so they were reassured that it was not about them.

Anyhow, I think it was the right thing to do though difficult. During one argument my ex said, “I have avoided doing anything hard.” I was annoyed and said, “What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done?” “Marry YOU.” That made me laugh: a perfect snappy comeback and probably true.

This is The Yes Yes Boys, doing Make it Easy. I bought the CD when they played live at the Upstage here. I love this song. It’s not on You tube, but you can download the music for free here: https://hobemianrecords.com/product/why-say-no/.

“If you still can’t make it easy, get you a job and go to work
Don’t be hanging round here and there, miss your meals, wear a raggedy shirt
Cause when you’re missing your meals and you’re missing your bed
That’ll give you the pneumonia that will kill you dead
If you can’t make it easy, get you a job and go to work“

Highly recommended and very funny!

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We change

In clinic, a very common complaint was, “My body has changed!” This was often with shock or annoyance or betrayal. Weight up, a knee hurting, headaches, menses behaving badly as menopause approached, gentlemen with their own problems.

My muscles are getting stronger but are really grumpy. I am starting to rebuild muscle and endurance but my muscles and joint complain. I think that pain is the pain of wisdom. I am clearly very very wise, if that pain is wisdom pain. It feels better to frame it as wisdom than as “Oh, I am old.” Also it’s fun to watch people when I say, “My wisdom is really acting up today.” They get a funny look on their faces.

Medicine changes all the time too. Isn’t that a little unsettling? Science changes, ideas change, frames change. A treatment that I used 15 years ago would not be done for the same problem now. And we can treat hepatitis B and C! Hepatitis C was still named “Non A, non B hepatitis” back when I was in residency in the early 1990s. Hoorah for some things getting better.

It’s been interesting watching the changing ideas about Long Covid. Over the last year they’ve said, “Better in nine months.” “Mostly better by a year.” “Better by two years, mostly.” Also the estimates of people affected in the US have ranged from 3% to 7.4%. There is not even agreement about the definition, with the CDC talking about symptoms staying present after four weeks. Meanwhile the World Health Organization says, “It is defined as the continuation or development of new symptoms 3 months after the initial SARS-CoV-2 infection, with these symptoms lasting for at least 2 months with no other explanation.” Here: https://www.who.int/europe/news-room/fact-sheets/item/post-covid-19-condition. CDC here: https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/long-term-effects/index.html.

I hope that we vote grown ups into office. I hope we aren’t tempted by the childish want to be dictators who say, “I can fix anything, I can do what I want, I am so great. I can make YOU great too.” I think the pandemic was very frightening and the temptation is to try to hide in an imaginary past or freeze the future or think that if we make everyone behave a certain way, no further pandemics will come. I do not think that will work, people. Vote for adults.

The photograph is from the US Botanic Gardens. Here is the model, inside:

The sculpture faces are over each arch. Here is a close up.

I think the carved face will last the longest, then probably me, then the one on the model. The model looks like it would be delicious for various smaller creatures.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: change.

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Feeling our way

It’s nice to handle emotions with fantasy. “No it’s not,” you shout, “that’s horrid! We should think nice thoughts and feel nice feels!”

I do not agree. I think that we feel what we feel. Emotions are a rainbow and a sunny day and a huge storm and a tornado. Let them all through. However, we do not have to share them or inflict them on others or act them out in person. We can satisfy that anger, that grief, that hurt, that wound, with fantasy. And let the hurt heal through fantasy by acknowledging it.

There is tons of stuff on the internets/books/magazines about how we have to think nice thoughts, we are what we think, and on and on and on. But now wait a minute. Our Creator thinks up some really really horrible things which play out, right? The world has the full range of emotions from really really dark to beautiful and kind. I am like the world, like the ocean, like the Creator. I have the full range too. It is not the feeling that is evil. It is the acting it out in the world. If it’s acted out in fantasy, does that truly harm others?

Perhaps if it’s PTSD, there is harm. But PTSD is not acting out a fantasy, it’s being unable to deal with something terrible, terrible events, horror, war and violence. Those feelings must be dealt with too and it is no shame to need help, to need a listener, to need a safe place. The same with depression and anxiety: sometimes feelings are overwhelming and we are afraid, afraid, afraid. There is help.

I think that Jalāl ad-DΔ«n Muhammad RΕ«mΔ«’s Guesthouse poem gives a path.

The Guesthouse

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

translation by Coleman Barks

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I read this poem as being about our feelings. A meanness, a dark thought, malice. I think that there is a translation that says that we want each guest to take a good report back to the Beloved, so we must treat each with kindness and hospitality. When a friend dreams of a bear attacking his brother, I ask, “Did you invite the bear in?” “No,” he says, “It’s a bear! They are dangerous!” “But it’s a dream bear,” I say, “I would invite the bear in and listen to it.” “You don’t understand bears,” he says. “It is a dream bear, not a real bear. I always invite the dream monsters to talk to me.” Don’t you? There is a story about a dreamer who dreams about being chased by a monster, a horrible monster, over and over. He runs and runs. Finally he is sick of it and stops. “What do you want!” he shouts at the monster. “Oh, I am so glad you stopped. I was so scared and hoped that you would help me,” says the monster. And the man wakes up.

The giant fruit bat is part of the outdoor pollinator exhibit this holiday season at the US Botanical Gardens.

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Decorated stick

Elwha watched me decorate my stick with soft ornaments and paper ornaments.

Both cats helped, removing ornaments when they were not pleased with the placement. Including ones near the top.

I think the decoration will continue to change and evolve right through Christmas.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: stick.

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Lichen and web

It is almost the solstice and there are fewer flowers, but there are still plants that are thriving. The lichens love my old board fence. It was there when I moved in 23 years ago and is weathering and weathering and supporting moss and lichen. Apparently there are still spiders who are building webs in a hopeful manner too.

For Cee’s Flower of the Day.

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Growing in spite of challenges

This tree is in Fish Park in Poulsbo. I was down there for an appointment last week and had some extra time, so walked through part of the park.

Did this tree get cut early, leaving the base? Or blown down by a wind storm or hit by lightning? It is growing anyhow and is a wonderful home for moss and lichens in the winter. Quite beautiful.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: off-kilter.

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The women don’t see

A man I know is writing about retirement. He says that he has made excuses for years, that he has to travel for work, and not participated with family or entertaining activities.

That work is the only thing he is good at.

I don’t see the problem.

He has four people who have given him accolades for his write up. All men.

The women don’t see the problem.

In college I play soccer. I am not good, but adequate. None of us are really good. We have 12 people. Men and women. I ask a friend to join us.

“No.” he says.

“Why not?” I ask. “You’ve been saying you need exercise.”

“I am not good at it.”

“So what?”

“People expect men to be good at things. You don’t know what it’s like to have that expectation.”

I glare at him. “You don’t know what it’s like to be a woman and have people expect you to be bad at things.”

I knew a veteran. He complained to me about women. “I want a woman who is interested in cars and guns. That’s what I’m interested in.”

“Um,” I say. “Maybe you could develop some other interests? Join a club?”

“No.” he says. “Cars and guns. Why aren’t women interested?”

I am sure that some are. I am also sure that they are expected to know nothing about cars or guns and then are hazed and finally celebrated for being an amazing woman who is interested in cars and guns and has skills and knowledge. How amazing.

The women don’t see the problem with being good at work and not having developed anything else. We often are treated as if we are morons and have a man explain things to us. I have a skill that I have been developing and practicing for decades. Yet a man about 15 years younger than me who is in his first year of practicing, explains it all to me. I look at him and think, you are an idiot. Really. You KNOW I have years and years of experience. I offer to show him another way to do part of it and he soundly rejects and scolds me. “You’ll confuse me! I do it the way I was taught!” I clam up and just think, well, he’s over 30 and still stupid. Bummer. He talks about his amazing development and tells me what he has learned and advises me. Snort. I am ready to take a restroom break the next time he explains what I should be doing. The toilet is more fun than he is.

The women and the single fathers don’t see the problem. If you are raising the kids while working and keeping track of all the stuff: laundry, soccer practice, dentist appointments, helping your 8 year old pick a present for another kid, when is the party and where? Oh, the same day as the parent teacher conferences. Your child may want to do a sport that you know damn-all about or play an instrument that sounds like a rabbit is being strangled or join the young Rotary group. You are not a joiner and view this with an awed horror. But an involved parent will extend themselves into this new unknown alien arena and learn with the child.

And the people who do not have children but are trying to take care of an aging parent or disabled sibling or a long time friend. They too have to learn the systems and the medical one is a deteriorating nightmare labyrinth.

So to say one is good only at work and afraid of retirement: We don’t see it. What are you talking about? We are doing stuff we know nothing about initially as fast as the darn children grow. This month they want their own laptop and are installing linux and “Mom, we need faster wi-fi.” “I am making dinner.” “But mom, the game is timing out.” Huh. Ok, time to call the woman who we know who will explain wi-fi. “Figure out how much it costs, you’ll have to earn part of it if it’s more expensive.” “Mo-ommmm!”

Retirement: begin again. What have you wished to learn, to do, to explore? Be a beginner. Join us. We begin again daily.