Sunday Paper

Last Sunday I had awakened early and, unusually for me, was out and about in the morning running errands. As I'm driving along one of my favorites routes - because the trees are rather lovely - I passed a property that has always held my curiosity. It's a nice property, fronted by an old stone wall - easily 1/2 an acre in size with a small, one-storied house up a gently rising driveway with what looks like a barn over on the side - and main benefit? It faces south with a view over the municipal golf course. Its grounds are decently maintained and the grass mown. Why my curiosity? Because I have never ever seen anyone there. Not in the five years I've been driving by.

As I came by the driveway last Sunday, movement caught my eye. There was an elderly woman in her nightgown with her long white hair in an unbrushed tangle flowing about her head. She was slowly, slowly making her way down her driveway with fixed purpose. In her hands was one of those ugly, cheap looking metal walkers. The thin arms would tense. Up, shuffle forward a few inches, plant the frame. Begin again. At the end of her journey, there was a Sunday paper in its tell-tale plastic bundle waiting to be picked up. The woman appeared frail, and her back was was bent into an angle so sharp it made me wince.

Down the driveway she steadily came heading for that paper. I thought "it must take her a good 1/2 hour or more to get the paper! Oy." I couldn't even figure out how she was planning on picking up said paper.

Mind you, all these thoughts and impressions are whipping through my mind faster than light. Somehow - in the space of my driving by - there was more than enough time "in there" for me to worry about the woman. To worry about her struggle with her physical age. Does she have enough food to eat? Is she living there all alone? Does anyone care about her? There was even enough time for me to wonder if I could - in the practical sense - do anything for her. I briefly considered stopping to get her paper for her - but then, I decided 'no' - maybe this was her one outing a week, and she might not appreciate it. I wondered if she felt abandoned by the world. I wondered if she felt lonely.

As I passed the end of the stone wall at the driveway's edge, I finally could see clearly up the driveway to the woman coming down. And there, one of my worried questions was answered. She was not alone. She had a companion.

Strolling along, looking as bright as a new penny with tail straight up, attention focused on the woman, was a young tortiseshell-colored cat. The cat's posture seemed to suggest that getting the paper was a grand adventure, and it wouldn't want to be anywhere else. The cat carefully paced the woman - step for step - down the driveway - never ahead or behind. I swear that cat was chaperoning the woman down to her paper. It was a wonderful sight.

Mind you.... Every time I've passed by that quiet house this week - the questions come back. And I worry. But you can't look after everyone. Can you???
To comfort myself, I think of the cat.

Breath Less

Hello all. Yes, I'm alive and somewhat kicking. My long absence has been due in part to a mystery illness that robbed me of energy, appetite and yes, breath for most of July and August.

It's amazing how much we take breathing for granted until we can't. I hear a few "duhs" coming my way. Seriously, assuming you are not on your deathbed, not allergic to something and not ill, breathing is automatic. You just do it. Just like Nike. But then, something creeps in, and when you go to take a breath - you can't. Your chest and lungs seemingly refuse to expand and they hurt. Everything else is fine - your sinuses, no cold, getting enough sleep, no sore throat and no icky stuff coming out of your nose. So I toddled off to see my doctor.

Let me pause here for a moment and say that I really didn't mind missing the hottest summer on record in my region. I was kind of grateful I had an excuse to stay away from the 90 and 100 degree temperatures. July, in our neck of the woods, had 28 days that were over 90 degrees. For a temperate creature like myself - biologically speaking - it was brutal! I would also like to bow down and salute the inventor of air conditioning and Edison or Tesla for electricity. Without my noble air conditioning units going almost 24/7, I sincerely believe my goose would have been cooked. I could easily have been one of those passing statistics of heat-related death. No. Thanks to modern technology I survived July and early August. The only injury was to my wallet, and it was a price I was all too happy to pay.

So, my doctor, at the end of June, having no external confirmation that anything was wrong, basically blew me off and told me to use my nasal spray. He happily ignored that fact that nothing he'd done was helping me breathe better. He refused to even consider a course of antibiotics. I was so appalled at his cavalier behavior that I didn't go back when it got so much worse. Suffice it to say, for about a week and a half in mid-summer, I was almost completely undone. My days consisted of sitting, trying to breathe sipping the air, and trying not to move much at all, because it would take too much energy. My nights were sweat-filled ones where sleep was a challenge. On the bright side, (the body is wonderful how it manages my attention) my old back injury didn't hurt at all. Hallelujah! If that had been in the mix, I probably wouldn't have lasted.

As it was, I made it through. Thankfully, I'm pretty robust. Now.... All I can say is I learned this summer that I really need to rely on myself for my health - not my doctor. AND, if my doctor blows me off, then I need to go out and find someone who'll take the time to listen to me. (Turns out the antibiotics he refused to give me - were what put my problem to bed. My dentist did a procedure on me at the end of August, and prescribed the usual 5-day amoxicillin as a preventative. I felt like a million bucks afterwards!) Course, in the beginning of the summer, I had absolutely no energy to pursue that course. I learned, too, that it's critical to have someone around who cares about your health too. I am now looking for possible candidates. :)

All in all, my breath-less summer was an interesting experience. One, which I hope I will never repeat. Talk about career change interruptus! "What did you do this past summer?" "Oh, I worked on breathing..."

That said, and assuming that I am now fully recovered, I plan on posting something here with a higher frequency than once a month! Hope you - all of you - are all well and thriving.