Archive for May 2011
Good Bad
The good news is that the volatile spring weather calmed down enough to allow the asphalt company to seal our driveway as planned yesterday. Meanwhile, my car is in for service, and I’m using Cyndie’s, since she is out-of-town. I got home from work to find the promised ribbon across the entrance to our driveway. The asphalt looks practically brand new with that fresh coat of sealant. I parked the car in the street at the end of the drive. The bad news is that the volatile spring weather reared up and stormed hail down on Cyndie’s car about an hour later.
Tour de Prairie
I finally got myself on the bicycle on Saturday. It was nice to discover the bike remains in good shape. I added air to the tires, touched up the chain with a bit of lube, and it was ready to go. With minimal effort, I was able to find all my gear, although the helmet required a bit of adjustment to the straps in order to fit my head, sans dreadlocks.
I took my camera along and did a spontaneous tour of my community. The trees are just starting to pop. I meandered my way past Bryant Lake toward the place on Flying Cloud Drive where I worked for 18 years. Part of the building still remains, but much of it has been torn down and replaced by something different. I traveled among the buildings of the industrial park that replaced the farm of my earliest years. I rode past the Enblom’s place and then took a lap on the trail around Smetana lake. There were a lot of geese sitting on nests in the reeds along the shoreline.
Next, I traveled past the shopping mall where I worked at a record store for a year after I graduated from high school. Then south on Homeward Hills Road to Pioneer Trail where I ventured past Franlo Road to see if friends were out in their yard doing chores. Nobody home. Looked like they were away for the weekend.
Backtracking, I made my way to the sport fields by the airport where I coached soccer for so many years. I rode into the buzz of the Saturday afternoon activity to get a big dose of memories. I stood for a bit and watched a baseball team work on bunting defense. Repetition, repetition, repetition. It was fun to hear the kids shouting commands to each other, demonstrating they were aware of what they were doing.
The only thing left between that site and my destination of home was the neighborhood where I lived after the farm. I slowly pedaled on Cedar Ridge Road to the cul-de-sac where our house was located. They have changed the house numbers! Is nothing sacred? I tried and tried to see the trees of the neighborhood as 35 years older. It doesn’t look that different, except for the two trees right in front that have been planted since we left. The large number of cedar trees have hardly changed a bit. I’d be willing to bet there are few, if any, of the same families living in those houses.
As I passed the Picha farm spring plant sale, just before the street to my house, I saw that my odometer indicated 25 miles. I accomplished just enough distance, and exposed my unprotected limbs to just short of being burned by the sun, so I felt it was a good first-of-the-season ride.
Now, to somehow get myself to do it again before too long. Sunday, my neck muscles were tired and my seat was feeling tender. I have a lot of work to do to get into shape for my annual week of biking in June.
For Mom
What little boy doesn’t feel that Mom is everything? It is not so hard to understand why a person would believe that their mother is the best in the world. My mother invented food. She made my clothes. My mom was the rock in all situations; the calm in any storm. Elizabeth (Betty) Elliott Hays did not lecture me on who I should be, she enabled me to become who I am. She demonstrated to me how to be a good person by being a good person. Most of the time, she was oblivious to that fact. Not only was my mother the most wholesomely classy person imaginable, she was the best mother in the world. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.
Quiet Pause
.
then one day
it became silent
no, not silent
but quiet
like everything is done
or the pause
that can be awkward
after talking has stopped
there is something telling about
a person who is comfortably content
to remain at peace in a group
of people who’ve stopped talking
more so when it is one
who does so
while ensconced
in the quiet
of everything being done
.
Successful Pitch
I generally don’t like when some service provider solicits my business, uninvited. It always feels like they have an unfair advantage in the negotiations. As a result, my initial response is that I am not interested. If I wanted someone to do a particular chore for me, I would research businesses and request quotes before making a decision. When a stranger shows up at my door from out of nowhere, with an overly friendly attitude and an extremely enticing offer, my inclination is that there is something being omitted that I would want to know. In the immediate moment of the surprise visit, I can never figure out what question I should be asking. I tend to practice a prompt and terse expression to decline, whether or not it is something we really need.
Yesterday, when I arrived home from work, there was an envelope taped to the sidelight window of our front door. So much for my not being interested. Even though this goes against my disdain for such solicitation, I really like the principle of this offer. A driveway sealing company is marketing their services for a discounted group rate to entire neighborhoods. I like the idea of maximizing the efficiency by reducing the driving for the truck of asphalt sealant. I didn’t need to call and make an appointment for a quote. They left the measurements of my driveway and a price for the job. The day of application is already set, weather permitting, as long as I phone my interest and acceptance by Sunday night.
The discounted group rate they are offering is very enticing. They will ring the bell, in case anyone is home, to allow for moving cars to the street. If there is no answer, they just go to work, cleaning and preparing the surface, then applying the sealant. They place a ribbon across the end of the driveway and will send a bill by mail. I can leave for work in the morning, and come home in the evening to a freshly sealed driveway. I don’t have to buy all the chemicals and tools for doing it myself. I don’t have to research multiple bids. There will be a concentrated day of such activity in the neighborhood, which appeals to me for being practical. I like the whole concept for the convenience it offers me and for the efficiency of commerce in general.
Most importantly, my driveway is due for just such maintenance. I believe it is time to practice an exception to one of my usual modes of behavior.
Friend Blessings
I have been blessed with a true friend in Gary Larson, my trekking buddy and cycling comrade, who has welcomed Cyndie and me into his semi-annual gathering of long-time friends for their music parties. Last Saturday we joined the gala event for a fine dinner followed by some spontaneous music making. Dessert was so spectacular that Cyndie paused to capture it in a picture.
It is an interesting challenge for me because I never mastered the finer points of music theory which would allow me to actually know what chords to play for a given key. When attempting to play along with somebody in an unrehearsed performance, I am left to hunt and peck for something that sounds right. They have been polite to accommodate my shortcomings and we forge ahead together for a very enjoyable session.
Here I am with Peter on mandolin and Mike on banjo. We are performing the obligatory opening number… tuning. Since I rarely seem to know what chords to play, my first cheat is to look over at the finger position of the other players. However, if they aren’t playing a guitar tuned the same as mine, what I see doesn’t provide me with information I can use. It adds to the excitement.
One of my favorite things to do is harmonize when singing. It can be a bit tricky since I usually don’t know the words to the songs, and often find myself guessing about the intended melody.
I complicated things a bit on this occasion, since I was well into my little experiment of playing doctor with my asthma condition, and in its untreated state, I was suffering from a compromised lung capacity. (See yesterday’s post, if you haven’t already.)
In a beautiful demonstration of true friendship, Gary called me yesterday, after reading my post, to offer some perspective about treating an affliction like asthma. I was pretty uncomfortable all day long with pressure that felt like someone was sitting on my chest, and my persistent clearing my throat with a regular cough interval, was annoying me for how annoying it must be for everyone else. I decided that as soon as I got home from work, I was going to resume my regular full dose of control medicine that I have been prescribed.
I may not know what my ultimate un-medicated situation would be these days, but I do know that my asthma is treatable. Whether or not I am currently experiencing the worst it would get, I think my experiment has proved well-enough that I am a legitimate candidate for medication to control my condition.
Thank you, Gary, for taking the initiative to call and share your thoughts. It is what a friend would do.
Playing Doctor
Ever since I was positively diagnosed as having asthma by a pulmonary specialist in 2008, I have been at a loss to understand it. I had no clue that the physical reality I had been experiencing was not normal health. The test data showed that my below normal lung performance improved with a dose of medication. The doctor prescribed a daily control medicine.
I started taking it as prescribed, even though I wasn’t able to clearly detect a beneficial result. I was such an unconvinced patient that my clinic prescribed a device to measure my lung volume to help me gauge my status. I used my medication through the period I was trekking in the Himalayan mountains, yet still had breathing difficulties that forced me to depart from the main group I was traveling with and descend early. After I got home, I grew weary of maintaining the routine of twice-a-day inhaler doses. I went rogue and stopped using the control medication.
After a 4 or 5 months, I got a cold that settled in my chest and never seemed to release its grip. I checked in with my clinic and they renewed my prescription for the control medication.
In my mind, I only knew of asthma as an affliction that influences its victims by way of attacks; flare ups that caused a person to struggle for breath. That is not how it affects me. A flare up for me appears slowly over many days. My lungs become inflamed, giving me a wheeze and a cough. It is not something that requires a rescue inhaler.
I stayed on that dosage routine for a few months until I again grew weary of the routine. I made the (basically uninformed) decision to quit trying to remember to use the inhaler twice a day, and cut my dosage in half by only using it once a day. Eventually, my curiosity led me to stop altogether, despite warnings on the package against doing so without consulting my doctor.
My reason for stopping the medication is that I want to find out what condition my lungs are in without any treatment. Is it the same as when I was first diagnosed, back when I had no clue my lung function was not normal? Or is it worse, to the point that I need to maintain the daily medication to be free of a chronic wheeze and cough?
So far, I am experiencing an increasing level of obvious unhealthy lung symptoms. My self-diagnosis experiment does not offer much in the way of knowing if it will stop getting worse and reach a stasis. It has been three weeks now since I stopped, and I am beginning to wonder if I will be able to tell when I am at the new un-medicated normal. Is there a bottom point to be reached? Time will tell.
Relative Something 