The Great Motor Scooter Debate

I have loved riding on two wheels since I was young. Dad had a Honda 90 step-through that was kept at "the lake place" near Church Lake. Dad acquired the property from his long-time business associate and dear friend, Tim McCartney, and used it as a recreational getaway for the family. It was mostly my brother and me who rode it, but I remember one time when my younger sister rode it. She knew how to make it go, but she didn't know how to make it stop. She ran it into a fence that we had to rebuild before we could ride it again that day. 

Even though my brother and I were upset for her not knowing how to stop, I now recognize that one of the hardest lessons we learn when we ride motorbikes is how to stop on them. My own first experience riding a scooter with a clutch was on Uncle Rudy's Lambretta 125. He told me how to let the clutch out and how to shift the gears, which was done by a slight twist on the clutch handle. The ride went really well, but the bike started jerking on me as I came back to where my uncle was. They didn't tell me that I needed to pull the clutch back in or to be in neutral when I stopped. 

My Diabetes Follow Up Visit

It was time for the follow up appointment with my doctor yesterday. It couldn't have come soon enough for some of my friends who seem to worry about my health because, they believe, I am reckless with it. For example, if I had taken my incessant coughing and dry heaving as seriously as they did, I might recognize that I could have a bleeding ulcer. 

I try to explain to them that throwing up is different than dry heaving, and I haven't been throwing up for six weeks either. I tell them that I threw up once six weeks ago and twice last week, but they always hear me coughing. I tell them that the most common time I cough is after a hit of weed or a dab, but what do I know compared to some app that diagnoses all types of terminal illnesses for exaggerated symptoms?

Anyway, I assured them that I would ask the doctor about it. 

Remembering Dad: Looking Back on the Night He Planned His Funeral

Dad was 58 years old when he was diagnosed with lung cancer. He was referred to an oncologist who told him that he had to quit smoking if he wanted an operation to remove the cancer, but that he should now get his final affairs in order regardless of his decision to quit smoking or not. Without the operation, his condition was terminal.

Mom immediately quit smoking cigarettes, and she enforced the non-smoking rule on Dad when she caught him smoking some old pipe tobacco that he had put on the shelves years before when smoking a pipe was his thing. Dad reluctantly cooperated, but he truly did quit smoking for the last two years of his life.

Remembering Mom: She Wanted to Live and Go Home the Last Time I Visited with Her

A memory came up in my Facebook feed today. It was the third anniversary of a post I made after visiting Mom for the last time. We did not know it was the last time at the time. My post was not about it being our last face-to-face visit. March 9, 2020 was also the date that more than 100 cases of COVID-19 were discovered at a nursing home in King County, which prompted an immediate halt to visiting patients in nursing homes and hospitals the next day. 

I don't recall if my older sister told me that Mom had been transferred to a nursing home the morning of the 9th or the day before, but it was the day Mom was transferred. I am thankful to this day for her keeping me advised about Mom and what was going on. I would not have liked visiting her in the hospital and finding an empty bed where I expected to see her. 

She also told me in that conversation that our sister who had "the plan" for Mom to live with her was probably going to have her move into a long-term care facility rather than accommodate her home for something as unpredictable as Mom was going to need accommodations for a wheelchair. 

Bugsy Says, "Hold My Milk Bowl"

I have lost two of my cat buddies in two of the past four years. Both Prancer and Mr. Grumpy died in 2019. I lost my cuddle-buddy grandkitten, Charlie Cakes, in January of last year. In August, I lost Jezebel, who was my best friend ever who was an animal. 

We are able to get new furry family members as we lose our pets, but they do not really replace our losses. For example, I got Kai Guy in 2020. He is nothing like Prancer or Mr. Grumpy. Kai has his own distinct personality. He likes to be brushed, but he does not like being held. His greatest sign of affection is when he will stand on my lap and let me brush him or pet him. He is gone the moment he is free from any coddling I try to give him. 

Late last year, a roommate had to rescue two of his adult cats from the home of a scorned ex. One of those cats is a seventeen-year-old guy named Bugsy. I call him Bugs Buddy. 

I'm On My Way to Wound Care

I was recently diagnosed as diabetic. Type II diabetes runs in my family. However, my predisposition to the disease is not because of genetically deficient pancreas in both family lines. The predisposition toward diabetes that I inherited from my parents is obesity. 

I can't do anything about the predisposition toward obesity, but I can control my diet and try to keep my weight down. I have lost 25 pounds since I was diagnosed with diabetes shortly before Christmas. When my doctor sees my weight, he may even congratulate me for going from morbidly obese to just really fat, but he will let me know that I have more weight to lose.

If Things are Different, What Changed?

After a nice twenty-minute visit with my nephew at the tattoo studio where he was working, we parted ways with a hug and the promise to get together more often. It seemed so sincere, and that is the way I took it. I meant what I said, and I believed he did, too. That is why it was quite a shock when he wrote to me over a family squabble contending, among other things, that I showed up that day just to start crap and cause problems. 

I wrote back to him that I had no idea that he felt our relationship was such that for years he had to pretend to be nice to me rather than feeling free to discuss problems or disagreements. I assured him that I would not bother him again, and that he was not to bother me again without first explaining why he wrote what he wrote.

All was well for a while, but then I was tagged in an invitation to his son's first birthday party. I tried to delete the tag so I could ignore it without responding, but he put the tag back on, which I took as a taunt. I responded with a reminder that we had agreed to stay out of each other's lives and inviting me without explaining why he said what he said violates that agreement. That resulted in me getting blasted in stereo, with his wife chiming in that she sees why her husband says the things he says about me.

My All-Time Mariners' Team, or How I Waste My Time

What I decided that most needed to be done before the year's end was to name my all-time Mariners' team. 

The first thing to do was to set the criteria for position players to qualify for the team. I was able to get at least three names for left field, DH, and utility positions by setting the minimum at 1,500 at bats or 500 games. 

Here are my first and second all-time Mariners' teams from those who qualified:

Dealing with Diabetes

My doctor warned me several years ago to watch my weight and diet because I was edging toward diabetes. I heeded his warning and got my A1C level under control by losing weight via a high protein, low carb diet. That was then.

As I suffered setbacks in my mental health, my attitude toward my physical health declined. It may have been consequential. It had to do with finding comfort by eating foods that were not on my diet. Potatoes and breads started working their way back into my diet. Desserts became more regular. Sugary snacks between meals also became more frequent. Finding something to eat or snack on became something to do. 

I don't know how much of neglecting my diet was part of prioritizing my care for others ahead of my own needs, but, regardless, I have crossed the line from pre-diabetic in July to diabetic in December. I may be able to reverse the diagnosis by putting my own needs first, but, until I do, I am measuring my glucose levels three times a day and taking Metformin twice a day. 

Elaine Hancock: My Perfect Godmother Died Last Night

Elaine Hancock, my beautiful, sweet, and loving godmother, died last night. She was a gentle and kind lady who always went out of her way to believe the best about other people. She honestly prayed for people to accomplish great things and to overcome great obstacles. If she had her way, everyone would win and everyone would care about other people. She was an ally to those who needed someone to care. 

Her life was not problem free, but she never allowed her problems to change how she felt about love, her family, or God. She was as steadfast in her love for her family and friends as she was devoted to God. She loved Christian fellowship whether it was a gathering for a special event or being the church mom at Loren's church in Larchmont. She never condemned people for having problems. She didn't talk bad about people. She shed tears and prayed for them.

Remembering Mom: Meeting Loren Hancock

Mom was quite active in the PTA when we were in school. She served several years as the president of the PTA at Fawcett elementary school. They would hold their regular meetings at the school, and she was often down at Central school attending school board meetings. However, for special events, planning committees would form and meet at the home of one of the members. It was probably 1968 that the Halloween party planning committee met at the home of Elaine Hancock. 

When Mom got home from the meeting, it was not the plans for the party she wanted to tell Dad about. What shocked her, and probably all the other mothers in attendance, was what Elaine's crazy husband, Loren, said. Mom told Dad that the meeting had pretty much ended, and the group had begun talking about costumes they were going to wear. Loren walked in on that discussion. 

"You'll never believe what he said," she told him. "He said you can all shove sticks up your asses and go as popsicles." 

Remembering Mom: Her First Mother's Day in Heaven

David was born in December of 1964 and died in March of 1965 at three-and-a-half months old. I cannot imagine how much pain Mom must have felt that first Mother's Day without him. She never lost the grief of losing him. Some of my most vivid memories of Mom are walking with her over the uneven ground in Lullaby Land so she could place flowers on his grave. 

At first, she would go on the anniversaries of his birth and death, plus Memorial Day, which is really close to her birthday. Dad honored and adopted the tradition until his death in 1992. 

Lying, Sabotaging, and Communicating Passively Aggressively, or How the Family Came Unglued

A memory from four years ago that popped up on Facebook today was a post I made in response to my younger sister's passive aggressive message that had been sent that morning.

To put it into perspective, Mom had moved in with her in March of that year. In addition to her realizing that I had been telling the truth that taking care of Mom was more of a job than it was a joy, she was also dealing with the "unforeseeable emergency" that everything that wasn't dealt with at Mom's house when it might have been, had to be dealt with then when there were other things that needed to also be dealt with, like taking care of Mom. 

Starting a Tradition of Self Care

Though I love the spirit of Dickens, I say bah, humbug to most holidays. It isn't because of an admiration for Scrooge that I utter the words he is famous for saying. In fact, I relate to Bob Cratchit more than I relate to Scrooge. Cratchit wasn't happy to be at home with his family because it was Christmas. He was always happy to be at home with his family even though his family had its problems. The family's biggest problem was a child with an incurable disease that would shorten his life.

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. It was the first one that I remember that I did what I wanted to do, which was to stay home, do some daily living, and watch football. I talked to both of my daughters on the phone to wish them happiness for the day, but I didn't go to the family function they both try to attend. Instead, I did what I wanted to do. It is part of what I must do to deal with my own healing, and it will be my new tradition for holidays.

Remembering Mom: She was Always 29

Mom wasn't vain or pretentious about her appearance or her apparel. She was a modest person who put more emphasis on getting ready quickly than she did on fashion. She was never unkempt. She liked her hair short, she wore no makeup, and she dressed modestly. Despite that, when it came to her age, she was always 29 years old. 

She wasn't vain about her age. She just needed to be younger than her mother, Dobie, who always claimed to be 39 years old.