Days Four and Five

Fourth day and Home

Open heart surgery – cracked open my chest – the whole thing – has come a long way since Mom had it many years ago.

I woke up about 9pm after surgery on Friday. The breathing specialist took the plastic tube out of my mouth and lungs. A little one, two, three and its out. Wow I am hoping to never have that experience again. There were four other drain tubes still in. two around my lungs, two around my heart. And to keep with the twos I had a double bypass.

I could talk so the first thing I did was call Debbie when the night nurse whose name was Austin gave me the phone it was great to hear her voice and I knew she would sleep better knowing that I was still my annoying self. I thought she would spread the word that Paul was back.

What a long slog this will be. The nurses and physical therapy folks – Emma and Amy – don’t leave you alone. The first day was simply sit in a hospital recliner chair until its too much. And they talked about keeping my elbows near my body, move in the tube is phrase that they use to help you remember. When they cut your pectoral muscles and your breast bone apart, your body tells you. There is that little pulling sensation in your chest that says – hey, hey, hey we are are healing down here – that will remind you to be careful.

On the Fifth day

What a remarkable feeling it is to sleep in one’s own bed. There is the added bonus of not getting poked in the arm somewhere at 3:15AM because they need another blood test. The chest x-rays at 5AM were also reduced to none at home.

I am truly amazed at my own progress.

I think I will stop here but God taught me two things; exercise is good for all recovery and do not ignore chest pain. I do have a greater appreciation of life.

Carpe Diem.

In a Dream

I do not think I have told this story here before.

I have told it to others, just not here.

I am not a big believer in dream experiences but several months after Cheryl left this existence she visited me in an early morning dream. The dream was so vivid it stays with me as a memory something that I lived through. I did not but my brain did live through it and it is still with me many months later. I remember it upon occasion to reinforce the connections between the neurons.

Here is what happened.

There was a gathering at our church. My memory of why we were gathering is unclear even now but that is not the important part of this story. For this particular gathering, however, we had been instructed (requested?) to bring our own chairs. I remember thinking in the dream that this was an odd request because our church had just replaced all the pews. They were relatively new. Still shiny with new varnish there were few sticky spots where the small children had been. But that was the need expressed so we took our newish recliners with us to the church that night.

My memory of how they got there is foggy at best. It involves something about the car which I think morphed into a moving van just for this excursion.

The scene that is vivid in my experience is this one. The service and gathering was over and we sat up to go. We had been reclining which was why we brought the recliners with us. Many others had brought their recliners also. As we were organizing ourselves to leave, Cheryl announced, “I have to go!” which I took to mean – go to the ladies room. For the previous couple years every time we left a restaurant or any event she felt the need of a toilet. I had visited many public “Women” in many restaurants as she bumped her way into the restroom and stall and occasionally got stuck in one. It did not occur to me that “go” meant any other meaning to her. My response to my wife of five decades was, “okay I’ll wait here until you return.”

I stood and watched her mingle with the rest of the crowd who had by this time started to exit with their chairs. The crowd generally swirled around our spot as they made their way to the exit. The lady’s room was near the exit but out of my view. Cheryl was moving really good. She was moving without the aid of a walker or a cane. She was moving like her old self. She was moving with determination toward what I thought was the toilet. She was shuffling between people and chairs towards the exit. She was not touching anything and she did not hesitate.

Still in the back of my thoughts I was not certain she could find her way back. Sometimes she was unaware of her surroundings and lacked direction. In restaurants and stores I would hover near the restroom door and occasionally open it a crack and ask her if she was doing okay. She had been gone long enough that I thought she might be in that predicament.

I started to maneuver the chairs toward the exit and hang around near the restroom door. As I was beginning this process a young man that I had not met before approached me and asked if He could help me with the chairs. At first I thought to say no. I was sure Cheryl could help when she came back. She was moving really well that day. But He was persistent and I explained that I was waiting for Cheryl to return from the lady’s room and she might have difficulty finding me if I took the chairs all the way to the car. He looked at me with a face full of compassion and sympathy and responded with, “She is not coming back. She has left. She is doing okay. I will help you.”

This dreamy experience comes to me at odd times of the day, not every day but often. Today as I sit here in my office writing this post I can see this scene. She has just disappeared around the corner into the crowd and a small anxiety shows up to make me worry that she cannot find her way back to where I am. A young man with curly frizzy hair approaches to help me. Who is this guy?

Cheryl had been struggling with cognition and awareness for sometime before she eventually succumbed to dementia and disorientation. I helped her into and out of the car, into and out of church, into and out of the restroom, into and out of bed, into and out of the doctor’s office. Who was this young man? Over many recalls of this image at the end of whatever happened in church, I have come to believe that he was Cheryl’s guardian angel. She sent him back to me to tell me she was okay now. She was without any pain or disorientation or other encumberment. She was where she belonged. I did not need to worry or be anxious about her. I am not.

I awakened that morning in my lounger in the living area of my house. Sometime during the night I had trouble sleeping and had moved to the living room to read for a bit and await slumber to return. Most likely the shape of the lounger cradling my body triggered the dream but that image is very vivid. I could then and still can hear her voice. “I have to go!” she said. I have let her go. I do not see the young man except in this context but imagine angels differently. I see her angel in other people.

I have come to believe with conviction that she visited me to convince me that she is okay and happy where she is now. Why else would she visit me in a dream?

Carpe Diem.

Spring is coming

Harbingers of spring…

This forsythia bush easily viewable from my favorite chair is a joy to me when it blooms.

The cardinals usually show up in February. They are probably around earlier but I notice them then as I peer out the window and long for warmth.

The squirrels seem to have an easier time finding their nuts. The chip monks are busy doing what ever they do.

A coywolf passed by a few days ago. Sadly the battery was weak in my trail camera. It was moving too fast for me to get a picture. It was a beautiful animal.

No deer seem to be coming by yet. Perhaps they have kept themselves in the deep woods for now? The picture here is of a deer I call Fred from last summer. I am pretty sure he was a fawn about four or five years ago. He is skittish. His sibling, a doe, is not. They kept the honeysuckle trimmed that spring and summer.

It is close to springtime.

It is close to a joyous time of the year.

It is time to bike and walk and enjoy the change.

Carpe Diem

A Summer Day in Winter and other Thoughts

A Summer Day

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean —

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down —

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

These words by Mary Oliver send my thoughts in many directions. The last two lines seem to be very popular with the counted cross stitch and embroidery set. These are words of inspiration to the young.

The previous two lines “Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?” seem a lament for the old. We tell ourselves, we have lived life as best we thought at the time.

Do I have regrets? “Tell me, what else should I have done?” hides in the back of other thoughts. What could I have done different that would put me in a better place today? How would I define “better place”?

Grief, that missing another, that emptiness for love’s object, that restless lonely, that longing, is often with me at seemingly random times. It will always be there. It is smoother on some days. I noticed this past evening as I talked to my son that I could tell stories and talk about Cheryl without choking up. Cheryl and I had many great times.

In the now, my son and his wife are splitting. My girlfriend’s daughter is very ill. She is hospitalized with an undefined infection. My girlfriend’s youngest son has split with his significant other and that is a remarkable similarity to my son’s situation. He has snapped back to his savior and supporter, Mom. (She has pushed him out of the nest several times. It is hard (but time) for him to fly on his own.) I have interest and concern for all of these people in my life. They give me a place to send my love and support.

Tell me, what else couldI do?” is a question I ask of myself but it is an unfair question. Simply being present to other’s needs and being there as they sort through their difficulties is enough. I do not volunteer a solution if I have one. It would be my solution, not their solution. The same heartfelt commitment would not be there. (My mother would say, ‘Pull up your socks!’, which was her way of saying you have to be the designer of your own way out, otherwise you are not committed to it.)

My son is staying with me in the guest bedroom while he sorts through moving vehicles, furniture and just plain stuff accumulated over time to his new rental digs.

Debbie’s daughter is in the best hospital in town. They are committed to finding out what is wrong in her anatomy and doing their best to fix it or mitigate it.

Debbie’s son has a short term solution for housing and a wonderful employer that seems committed to his success. Maybe her consultation support is of greater value to him than monetary support. Maybe he will come to understand that. Maybe he will be able to move on from this former girlfriend who suddenly turned physically violent toward him. Maybe he will realize what he feels is grief of a sort for a lost relationship.

I do know how to pay attention, and listen and offer advice when asked and pray that God will provide a stable solution to the currently evolving dilemmas.

Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon? If not die, at least, stop?

Maybe not soon enough? Was that snarky?

I love them all.

Carpe Diem.

squirrel

Mister Squirrel is Back!

I thought of it as a trail camera and I was shopping for the deer that walk by but a squirrel apparently likes to sit on the stump of half of the tree that I attached my Moultrie camera to look at the path through the woods. I think of it now as “squirrel cam”.

I think it is the same squirrel that comes and goes from this stump but I have several pictures and I find it to be fun to examine its little body and any features that might distinguish it from other squirrels. I often see two scampering around the trees out of my living room windows.

It is windy today and later Debbie and I are going out. For now I am watching the squirrel cam.

Carpe Diem

Twas a good day to ride

It was a good day to ride.

This time of year mid to late February is the time of year that I become anxious maybe even restless to ride my bike outdoors on the Little Miami Trail.

It was a good day to ride.

It was chilly out. I asked Alexa and it reported that it was 48 degrees outside but I ignored that assessment because the sun was shining outside my windows.

It was a good day to ride.

I read with interest as MSN weather on my computer reported that there was little wind only a light breeze from the south. South is good I thought as I examined the leafless trees and bushes outside the window.

It was a good day to ride.

It is rare that in mid-February in Ohio the weather warms to Fahrenheit’s measurement of 60 and the sun is shining and there is little wind and the LMT macadam will be dry.

It was a good day to ride.

I said in my head, “Remember you haven’t sat on that for twelve weeks or so. Remember to ride with prudence. Remember to look down when you stop, if you stop, and do not put your foot into a hole where you stop.”

It was a good day to ride.

I put my bike and the rest of my equipment in the back of my Nissan Rogue and drove to the end of my road to park in the lot near where I ride on the LMT.

It was a good day to ride.

In the lot as I listened to the battery pump inflate the rear tire of my Trek to 60 pounds per square inch, I looked around the nearby field. No snow. A hawk was flying overhead searching for breakfast.

It was a good day to ride.

As I listened to the pump inflate the front tire, I looked through the rest of my bag to find my helmet and my gloves. Satisfied that I was not missing anything I put my water bottle into its holder on the frame.

It was a good day to ride.

The pump shut off automatically and I disconnected it from the stem, unplugged the battery and placed it back in the bag.

It was a good day to ride.

I clipped my cellphone to its holder on the handle bar, adjusted my little fanny pack with my wallet and keys, made one last check of the car and locked the doors.

It was a good day to ride.

I mounted my Trek and looked at the position of the derailleurs. I had garaged it with both in the proper position for an old man to ride off without straining a hamstring.

It was a good day to ride.

I spun the right pedal up to push off. I took one more look around at the weather, my surroundings and any unnoticed grid lock in the parking area on this beautiful great day to ride in February. I was alone.

It was a good day to ride.

I pushed off and reminded myself, five miles this time, feel the air, listen to your muscles, hear your heartbeat, stop and stretch if I need to do it.

It was a good day to ride.

There were a few walkers. There were a few dog walkers. I rode to 47.5 painted on the LMT surface near a good place for breakfast if I wanted it. I did not.

It was a good day to ride.

I made a U-turn and rode back past the horse paddocks and the lot where I had parked. I rode south to the 50 painted on the macadam. I rode past the portion of the trail trying to slide down the hill. It has needed repair for some time. It is well marked and I ride around the damage.

It was a good day to ride.

I made a U-turn just south of the 50 and on my return to the north I heard a friendly, “On your left!” I replied with, “Thanks” as he went by and thought to myself that he was not going much faster than I was at the time.

It was a great day to ride. And I felt I was home. I was proud of myself for sticking to my five miles today.

Back at the car I reversed the unload process and put all in the back of my Rogue. I started the car and lowered the windows. I ate a few peanuts that I had with me and reflected on how great it was that the universe put me here at this time and gave me the health to enjoy the now.

It was a great day to ride.

On the way home from my first jaunt on the trail, I saw two does by the side of the road chatting about what a great day it was… or simply socializing… or discussing ways to get rid of their winter coats… or hiding from the stags.

Back in my garage I left the bike in the back of the car. Another opportunity could present itself. I need to be present for it.

It is simply a great day.

Carpe Diem.

A Kettle of Fish (or Virus Incubator)

Well that’s a fine kettle of fish!

Today I have one of those annoying winter colds that come around once in a while. Stuffy runny nose and itchy eyes and general malaise are my symptoms.

I can whine but I will not. Maybe I will a little. I cannot recall when I have had a cold in winter.

This invasion by some wretched rhinovirus, this metabolic hijacker, this putrid pathogen has selected me for its replicative host. Damnation I say!

Come on T-cells! Help is needed now!

In other news, it is 42 degrees Fahrenheit outside today.

The snow is melting and the cardinals are excited.

Carpe Diem.

Morning News

Coffee

This morning on the CBS news they reported on a piece about an association with drinking coffee and a resistance to dementia. Good News! Us coffee drinkers will not be demented – later in life? Ever? Only in our nineties? Oh wait. She said association. That term has a very specific meaning to statistical studies.

This study was based on the female participants in the Nurses’ Health Study (NHS; n = 86 606 with data from 1980-2023) and male participants from the Health Professionals Follow-up Study (HPFS; n = 45 215 with data from 1986-2023) who did not have cancer, Parkinson disease, or dementia at study entry (baseline) in the US.

You have got to love those numbers. Health care workers have been drinking coffee for forty-three years. And recording it.

Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA): https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jama/fullarticle/2844764

From JAMA — Conclusions and Relevance:  Greater consumption of caffeinated coffee and tea was associated with lower risk of dementia and modestly better cognitive function, with the most pronounced association at moderate intake levels. (I want to say, “Hell yeah!” here.)

Association — Association refers to the general relationship and is normally used for studying relationship between two nominal/categorical/ordinal attributes;

Correlation — whereas correlation refers to a linear relationship between two quantitative attributes. It would not be out of context to mention here that the relationship between two quantitative variables can even be a nonlinear as well such as curvilinear or exponential.

[from https://journals.lww.com/cmre/fulltext/2021/11010/understanding_statistical_association_and.7.aspx%5D

Causation — Causation means that a change in one variable causes a change in another variable.

So, to conclude, not drinking coffee does not cause dementia. It might cause those sleepy “whaat?” looks that teens display in early morning classes but the WL study is incomplete at this time.

I am interested in statistical analysis. The math is attractive to me. I am deficient at recognizing patterns but I do recognize my wakefulness after coffee in the morning.

A shot of whiskey in the evening seems to aid in sleepiness at bedtime too.

Carpe coffee Diem.

Morning Routines

We all have morning routines. Mine centers around finding coffee and reading the news while I listen to the newsy shows on TV. When Tera comes on to tell me the weather of the past in the present and for the future, I listen. Her enthusiasm captures my interest for a moment. I turn my attention to the puzzles in the New York Times. Wordle solved I turn my attention to the Connections.

Lately the connections puzzle has me staring at the final category (purple) to discover the connection before I click submit.

This is Monday. The empty trash bin needs to return to its special place in the garage. I often return my neighbor’s bin to its special place.

While in the midst of this early routine I scan my emails and look at other bloggers that I follow. Proverbs27Flocks writes about a gluten free chocolate banana bread recipe. I have some bananas getting ready in the fruit bowl. I want to try his recipe later in the week.

Morning routine get me going.

Some use prayer and meditation. I use this time to write and think about what will come.

Today Debbie and I will visit the tow yard where her daughter’s car landed after going slippy slidey in the ice and snow one day while we were enjoying the Florida sunshine.

Right now, however, more coffee is required.

Carpe Diem.

Thoughts

I bought a cocotte from King Arthur’s baking. A few weeks ago I re-interested myself in sourdough bread and other similar recipes. Although I used my dutch oven for this in the past I felt the need to up my game.

The cocotte is red and made by Staub in France. Ou la la – but here is an intriguing thought – check out these definitions from and online dictionary and Merriam Webster’ online dictionary:

co·cotte – (/kōˈkät,kəˈkät/)

noun: cocotte; plural noun: cocottes; noun: en cocotte; plural noun: en cocottes — a small heatproof dish in which individual portions of food can be cooked and served; a Dutch oven.

And M-W

cocotte (kȯ-ˈkȯt)

noun: Definition of cocotte: as in prostitute; a woman who engages in sexual activities for money

Those are very different definitions. M-W gives examples of use in a sentence;

The skillets, cocottes, braisers, and baking dishes are all oven-safe and come in a uniform matte black finish. — Clint Davis, People.com, 15 Mar. 2025; The dishes available in the Gourmand collection include cocottes (with and without lids), mini braisers (with and without lids), oval bakers, rectangular bakers, and skillets. — Sophia Beams, Better Homes & Gardens, 27 Feb. 2025; Get some cute the itty-bitty pans, like GreenPan mini egg pan, or a tiny cocotte from the maker of our favorite Dutch ovens (these are perfect for baked eggs). — Wilder Davies, Bon Appétit, 16 July 2024; At under $100, this adorable cocotte set won’t break the bank. — Amber C. Snider, Peoplemag, 25 May 2024

Down the rabbit hole I went. One is a pot. The other is a word for the ladies that General Joe Hooker, coincidentally buried in Spring Grove Cemetery in Cincinnati, brought to his troops to be assured that his men were satisfied in every way. (You can laugh.)

From the American Heritage Dictionary – affectionately known by me as the big dic – a clue! The etymological entry writes – French – originally a baby’s word for hen.

AHA! The connection between available females and chicken pots. One of the recipe photos included with the pot shows a roasted chicken in the pot.

Off to find recipes for my new pot to christen its use, I found this one I had saved previously:

Old-Fashioned Beef Stew – By Molly O’Neill – Updated Sept. 30, 2024

Ingredients (Yield:4 servings)

  • • ¼ cup all-purpose flour
  • • ¼ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
  • • 1 pound beef stewing meat, trimmed and cut into inch cubes
  • • 5 teaspoons vegetable oil
  • • 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
  • • 1 cup red wine
  • • 3½ cups beef broth, homemade or low-sodium canned
  • • 2 bay leaves
  • • 1 medium onion, peeled and chopped
  • • 5 medium carrots, peeled and cut into ¼-inch rounds
  • • 2 large baking potatoes, peeled and cut into ¾-inch cubes
  • • 2 teaspoons salt

Step 1 – Combine the flour and pepper in a bowl, add the beef and toss to coat well. Heat 3 teaspoons of the oil in a large pot. Add the beef a few pieces at a time; do not overcrowd. Cook, turning the pieces until beef is browned on all sides, about 5 minutes per batch; add more oil as needed between batches.

Step 2 – Remove the beef from the pot and add the vinegar and wine. Cook over medium-high heat, scraping the pan with a wooden spoon to loosen any browned bits. Add the beef, beef broth and bay leaves. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a slow simmer.

Step 3 – Cover and cook, skimming broth from time to time, until the beef is tender, about 1½ hours. Add the onions and carrots and simmer, covered, for 10 minutes. Add the potatoes and simmer until vegetables are tender, about 30 minutes more. Add broth or water if the stew is dry. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Ladle among 4 bowls and serve.

Sadly, I am out of onions and potatoes. I purposely used them up before going to Florida two weeks ago. I will go shopping very soon. Stew seems like a good idea when it is cold outside.

This is fancier than my stew but it is my new cocotte.

Carpe Diem.