Tag Archives: love

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Welcome rain

We are having a little light rain this morning. It has been weeks. The grass is very brown, as you can see. I don’t water in the summer and my grass comes back and it has lots of weeds as well. I am encouraging herbs to take over. I have parsley, spicy oregano, pineapple sage and thyme all competing with the grass/weed ground cover.

The climate news has been fairly appalling. The sinkhole in Russia, people falling in Texas and ending up in the burn unit because the sidewalk and asphalt temperature reaches 130, and the northern Atlantic Ocean breaking temperature records. I have two friends who are moving from Portland, Oregon to New Mexico. They have health issues that do better in heat than rain, rain, rain, but I worry. My daughter wants me to travel with her and I would like a destination that is not on fire. We are negotiating.

I did water the roses yesterday. Most of my plants are used to there being a couple month dry spell in the summer. Perhaps they steal water from the morning mist. A rhododendron died this year. I think the temperature of over 100 was too much for it last summer.

Elwha in the dry grass.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: climate.

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Sol Duc sploot

Here is Sol Duc splooting as a kitten, in October 2021. It was not very hot, but she did like to lie that way.

She also did the opposite of splooting. Is there an unsploot?

Elwha is more of a “rub my belly” type. He means it and will not ambush you. He doesn’t bite but just does full throttle purring for belly rubs. He also is not supposed to be on the table.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: splooting.

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my current trolls

I am getting some Facebook trolls. My favorites right now are two who requested that I friend them, ostensibly guys, but both said how beautiful I am and charming and etc. The picture that they put the request on is the poster for the last concert. The picture is of a sea lion.

Heh. Guess they think she is beautiful. I replied, “Uh, guys, that’s a sea lion.” They do not acknowledge this.

I am also getting peculiar friend requests. Often there is one friend in common. I contact a friend in Virginia to ask about one. She doesn’t remember the name, so I don’t reply. I also take a look at their home page before replying. If there is nearly nothing there, I think it’s a fake account. Pretty weird.

I am not answering WordPress’s daily questions, either. I think that is feeding ChatGPT or Big Data or someone. Nope.

Ok, let’s feed something random to the algorithm: Al Gore rhythm! I hope that confuses things. How is Al Gore’s rhythm anyhow? Can he dance? Can he shake it? Does he twerk? Work the twerk, Al! As usual, I would like to thank my personal AI, whose initials are MM. She knows who I mean. Sending you love, MM.

Now I will get Al Gore and twerking in my Facebook ads. Are there YouTube videos on How To Twerk? Inquiring minds shy away with horror, though it’s probably decent exercise.

Have a lovely day, trolls! MM, would you go mess their feeds for me? Give them Al twerking!

The photographs are from a museum in Europe in March 2022. Which is a troll? Maybe neither.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: troll.

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Love tale

An older couple comes to me in clinic. She is losing her memory, they explain. They are looking for a doctor who will respect her wishes. Once she goes in the nursing home, no intervention. No antibiotics, no shots, no iv, no hospital.

Yes, I say.

It is about a year before she goes in to the nursing home. I do my regular visits.

After a number of years I happen to meet her husband in the hall. “She is talking about her twenties.” he says. “She lived in an apartment and ran errands for her uncles. I am hearing all sorts of stories I never heard! I go home and type them and send them to the family.”

“That is wonderful,” I say. He visits daily.

I go on to her room. She says, “That man comes to see me. He says he’s my husband. I don’t remember, but he is such a nice man!” I think she falls in love with him again daily. He visits and is where she is in her memory.

Some time later the nursing home calls me. “She has a fever of 101 and has not eaten for two days.” I go visit and call her husband. “Should I do anything?”

“No! She’d kill me!”

“Ok. She might die.”

“I know.”

She doesn’t die. The fever comes down and she gets out of bed and is thirsty.

There is a year between my years at the hospital and setting up my private clinic. We send out postcards, trying not to send them to anyone who has died.

Her husband comes to the clinic opening. “She died last year,” he says.

“I am so sorry! We tried not to send postcards if people had died!”

“It’s ok,” he says, “I wanted to come and thank you.”

He dies about a year after she does. I hope they are together again.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: true love.

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Volunteer

I wrote this thinking about the increasing number of homeless because of housing costs and that incomes aren’t keeping up. And even if the income has kept up, a lay-off and an illness can put people so far behind that they can end up homeless. In Denmark, they rent rooms to students in nursing homes. Part of the payment is that they have to spend time with some residents. When will we set that up here?

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Volunteer

A man I know slides into kidney failure.
He’s already there when I meet him,
care for him
for a number of years.
He’s a really nice man.
Over time a bit more disheveled
unkempt
dialysis twice a week.
Even so, once on dialysis,
people die younger
than the rest of us.
Over time he is in and out of the nursing home.
loses touch with friends,
in the home so much
that even when he isn’t there
he goes there
and volunteers.
They have become his family and home.
At last he is so tired
he stops dialysis
and goes to the nursing home for the last time.
The staff call me, crying.
“He is hurting,” they say, “Do something.”
He can’t swallow.
I see him and place a fentenyl patch.
He mostly sleeps then
but is no longer in pain
He dies a few days later.
I haven’t seen this before:
The nursing home staff cry
for this man
this volunteer
this friend
and I do too.

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One reason that he did well at the nursing home was that they understood how frail he was and that he couldn’t do very much. They gave him very gentle volunteer jobs and enjoyed his company. Sometimes when people are very frail or ill, others avoid them or just do not understand.