I realize that tractable is not about tractors, but I still am thinking about tractors and the Farm Tour. I went to five farms and it was really fun. Not many tractors at the farms I went to. Beautiful Arabian horses at one.
The pig farm is quite wonderful. Lots of piglets. This mom maybe is having a nursing break.
These were only five days old.
And there were sheep and flowers and chickens. And skulls, too.
I’m not sure what was going on with the skulls. I did not get any pictures of tractors. I don’t think the large pigs are very tractable, but they are interested in their visitors.
My daughter and I hike in Cinque Terre, Italy. There are five villages along the coast and a trail from the first to the last. Lots of stairs! And look at the terraces, built to farm the area. They grow mostly grapes and olives.
No cars in the towns.
Here is a map.
Here is a stairway from the path to a terrace.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: waste. No waste here.
The recent trip to Italy is the first vacation trip where I have packed a Life Straw. I have three water filter systems in my camping gear and used one on the Hoh River last summer.
A Life Straw is not on the usual tourist packing lists, but the disasters are feeling too close. Not that a life straw would have helped when dams burst or with an earthquake. If one is lucky enough to survive, then the Life Straw might be helpful.
I also had an emergency blanket, my medical license and band-aids. I should have brought adhesive tape, which is much better for blisters, but I didn’t. I bought some. I put the adhesive tape over a blister and then left it. It stays nicely through showers.
I had a mini tool on my key chain and wanted a knife, but that’s tricky with all those airplanes. My daughter had medicines, including benadryl and acetaminophen and ibuprofen. She is in Europe for a while yet.
My son and a friend were once sent home from Sunday church group for lighting a sock on fire. Except that they had failed. “They should not have matches.” said the director. “They have matches and jack knives.” “Emergency preparedness.” I said. “After all, we may have that earthquake some day.” “No,” said the director. I told my son he could walk, since it’s about half a mile. It was raining. “Bored with the church group?” I said, when he got home. “Mom, we were trying to light a wet sock on fire in the old fountain that doesn’t work. Outside in the rain. We couldn’t even light it.” “Adults are a bit sensitive about teens with matches since the local store burned.” “Yeah,” said my son. “Tell me about it. We were bored.”
We are in an earthquake zone. I wouldn’t need the Life Straw if I am down on the beach under the cliffs, because they are sand and mud and they will come down. There is some luck involved, but it doesn’t stop me from walking the beaches.
Prayers for all of the disaster zones and everyone who has lost friends and family and homes and community.
Our Rotary groups buy a Shelterbox every year, which are sent all over the world with kits to help 20 people. A tent, cooking supplies for the area, water filter and even a few crayons and coloring for kids.
When my (now ex) husband and I were first married, we bought two gold chains. I was just starting medical school. Third year we hit the wards. This meant that I was often running around the hospital wearing scrubs, rings off. I wanted a chain to put my wedding ring on. Some people tied them to their scrub pants, but they can get lost.
I go home from Richmond, Virginia to Alexandria. We show the chains to my parents, both used ones, but gold.
My sister reports to me later. “Our mom said, why are they buying gold chains? That’s dumb. They don’t have any money!”
“Maybe they want them,” says my sister.
“Well, I think it’s a waste.”
“You bought more paper the other day.”
“Oh. Hmmm, yes I did.”
“You aren’t using that paper yet and you have an entire vault of paper.”
“Yes, but I am an artist. I need supplies.”
“Katy wants the chain for work to put her ring on. How is that different?”
“Oh, well. Maybe you’re right.”
I am very pleased that my sister defends me but it also was very funny. My mother had a stack with one by ones with thin 24 by 30 boards, on them, stacked five feet high to put paper in. Cheap shelves, though it would be totally unstable in an earthquake. She bought paper that she loved and used it too. She did watercolors, etchings, carried a sketchbook everywhere, oils, scorned acrylics, woodblocks, clay, colored pencils, chalk pastels, oil pastels and then she loved crafts as well. She was a master of paper mache. Artists need supplies, but everyone has something like that. My daughter did not get the pack rat gene and is a minimalist, but even she has some things she really likes. Real stationary, for one.
I wore that chain for more than 14 years. We were divorced at 14 years but are still good friends. My ex went on the nursing school and has been a Covid-19 hero, much to some people’s surprise.
My mother was inconsistent, as we all are. She prided herself on being frugal and not spending money, but when it came to art supplies, she wanted them. She still could be frugal but she certainly had the supplies and she would stock up when beautiful paper was on sale! And pencils and pastels and watercolors and oils. My father would quote Ralph Waldo Emerson, “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.” Both he and my mother would call each other out when one was being inconsistent. They could be very very funny.
The lead photograph is from winter 1991-92. Mark Warren Wilson, Helen Burling Ottaway, Christine Robbins Ottaway, me and Malcolm Kenyon Ottaway. Taken by Joel F., my sister’s first husband, with my camera. This next was taken by my father and there is Joel F. We went to Colorado and all stayed in a condo and skiied. My father found out that he really did not like heights, either driving or the ski lifts. Joel and Mark staged a pretend dramatic argument making fun of Chris and my arguments, and they were right on. We were quite embarassed and annoyed, but not instantly cured. And the skiing was delightful.
My mother, father and sister have all died. I do miss them. Hugs for all the recent losses of people.
The Ragtag Daily Prompt is change. Lots of that here, since I was gone for two weeks!
The evil squirrel has destroyed the third bird feeder. I was not home to chase it out of the yard yelling and it shredded the latest feeder. I am going to try one of those feeders that shuts when the squirrels weight lands on it. More expensive, but nearly equal to the three I’ve had chewed up!
I left in summer and return to fall. Leaves are down, colors are turning, it is cooler in the morning and evening. We had a high of 64 F yesterday. That feels cool after northern Italy.
I am stronger and slimmer. Carrying a loaded pack daily or every other day really made a difference! I was not sure my right shoulder would hold out, but it did, just. I went through PT earlier this year. I am doing my exercises again.
I had some wonderful time with my daughter. Not that that’s a change, but she is stronger too!
I have been wondering whether to try to work again. It’s risky.
I asked the pulmonologist from Swedish Hospital if there was any way to keep from getting pneumonia number five. “We don’t know.” Is it safe for me to return to work? “We don’t know.” I like the plural in the answer, is he speaking for pulmonologists or Swedish or what? Anyhow, the risk is pneumonia number five and death or ending up permanently on oxygen or needing a lung transplant or something stupid like that.
It’s not raining yet and I promised not to even attempt to return to work until it rains.
I saw my cardiologist yesterday. He thinks I should return to work. Early on he said that I am smart, “like one of those old fashioned internists who read everything.” I laughed, because yes, I am a science geek. At the next visit he said, “The family doctors aren’t always as thorough as they could be.” I replied, “I don’t know, after all, I’m a Family Practice Doctor.” “Oh.” he said, “I thought you were an internist.” Which made me laugh because it’s a sort of back handed compliment. Cardiologists do a three year internal medicine training and then more years of sub specialty to become a cardiologist. Most specialists seem to scorn Family Practice a bit, though not all. And I have definitely had specialists ask me for help. A perinatologist: “How do I help people stop smoking?” I laughed at that, too, and replied, “Do you want the five minute , the ten minute, the thirty minute or the one hour lecture?” A med-peds doc asks me to put a cast on a child’s arm because even though she is board certified in internal medicine and pediatrics, she has almost no orthopedic training. I was at that clinic to see obstetric patients that day, but was happy to do the cast too. I love the broad training and the infinite variety of rural Family Practice. It is SO INTERESTING and OFTEN FUN THOUGH NOT ALWAYS. Sometimes it’s sad.
Here is an article about a physician doing what I want to do: https://nymag.com/intelligencer/article/long-covid-treatment-lisa-sanders.html. She thrives on complexity, she thrives on diagnostic puzzles and she writes the column that the television series “House” was based on. When I watched House, what I noticed was the nearly all of the patients on the show were either leaving something out or lying. In reality, I think it’s just that sometimes we need a lot of time to pull together the complex picture and clues. I always pay attention to the pieces of the puzzle that do not fit and sometimes those are the key to finding a diagnosis that is unexpected. Dr. Sanders spends an hour with a new patient. That is what I did in my clinic for the last decade, because that hour gave me so much information and it allows people to feel heard. A ten or fifteen minute visit doesn’t let people speak. It’s slam bam here is your prescription ma’am. What I see in the multitude of notes from all the doctors I’ve seen since 2014 is that they leave most of the conversation out of the note. Things I think are important. I think most of the clinic notes about me are crap and the physician is not listening and doesn’t know what to do. I include the stuff that doesn’t fit and doesn’t seem to make sense in the notes I write. Patient appreciated, when I gave them their note at the end of the visit. “You got all that?” Oh, yes, I tried.
One of the Long Covid symptoms that Dr. Sanders mentions is people “feeling like they are trembling inside.” I’ve seen that before Covid-19. That was a symptom that I did not pin down in a particular patient, but now there is more than one person complaining of the same thing. Really, why don’t physicians include those complaints? It’s egotism to cut out anything you don’t understand and most patients want help so are motivated not to lie. Ok, they might admit that they’ve been out of their blood pressure medicine for two weeks and that’s why their blood pressure is too high, or they’ve been drinking mochas and that’s why their blood sugar is way too high, but they are really in to get help. I think it is a terrible disservice not to document what they say, even if it’s not understood and the physician thinks it’s unrelated to their specialty and they don’t know what to do.
So: I want to do a Long Covid Clinic, with an hour for the first visit, and longer than usual follow ups. Part time because of my lungs and the fatigue. We shall see, right? I am going to look for grants to help set this up.
Think of how much work went in to this statue and this church. The Basilica di San Marco took at least 400 years to build and decorate!
I am thinking about monsters That I am comfortable with the monsters in my dreams but terrified by the angels. Though I type angles.
But I also dream that all the angels fall
all are made to fall
they fall down then back up
when they fall down they burn
if they fall here
burn in the atmosphere
then they are red or black and burnt
and we think they are devils: monsters.
If angels are monsters
and monsters are angels
and they go back and forth
and I type angles
because everyone makes mistakes
even angels
and to make something perfect
is an offense to the Beloved
because only the Beloved is perfect
and ineffable.
Still the angels.
I am afraid.
So was Mary, sore afraid.
Monsters are easy: at worst they can kill me
and they never have
in my dreams.
And they are sad and alone and weep.
I comfort them.
Which makes them afraid,
because they are not used to being loved.
I wonder if I frighten them
like the angels frighten me.
And then I can understand a little of why the angels frighten me so much. I too am not used to feeling loved.
written September 13, 2023
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: bread winner. But I can’t eat gluten any more and my lungs are too vulnerable for the work I love. So how bread and how winner? Maybe the angels and angles and monsters will tell me.
We wandered Rome today, to the Pantheon first and the through layers of ruins to the Colosseum. It is so amazing to see and read about buildings from 2000 years ago or 1000 years ago. It appears itβs peculiarly difficult to dig the new metro line without unearthing more ruins.
Discover and re-discover Mexicoβs cuisine, culture and history through the recipes, backyard stories and other interesting findings of an expatriate in Canada
Engaging in some lyrical athletics whilst painting pictures with words and pounding the pavement. I run; blog; write poetry; chase after my kids & drink coffee.
Refugees welcome - FlΓΌchtlinge willkommen I am teaching German to refugees. Ich unterrichte geflΓΌchtete Menschen in der deutschen Sprache. I am writing this blog in English and German because my friends speak English and German. Ich schreibe auf Deutsch und Englisch, weil meine Freunde Deutsch und Englisch sprechen.
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