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The Good, the Bad, and the Scary

5/17/2020

I usually write these posts while camping but for some reason Lake Darling State Park is a Black Hole for Verizon. We asked a young Verizon employee in nearby Washington once why that was the case and he insisted it was because it contained a "body of water." I assume that means if you live on the coast or a river or have a birdbath, you can't get Verizon service. Whatever.

Anyway, as I explained yesterday, this was my first solo adventure with my new (to me) camper. It was a mixed experience. First of all, you have the Covid restrictions. You are supposed to practice social distancing and most people did. We had decided ahead of time that we would not do our usual shared meals. We had one group campfire. We took walks in pairs or threes. We wore masks when out. The four chairs pictured above in my campsite were never used by anyone other than me.

The good news was that the weather forecast was not completely right. Wednesday and Thursday--our two full days there--were supposed to be very rainy. Wednesday was cool but lovely and Thursday only produced one small shower during the day. Wednesday, I went for a walk first by myself and then later in the morning on a mushroom hunt with Letha. We didn't find anything but enjoyed the spring greenery and flowers. We spotted red trillium several times.

However, on my early walk, I received a text (texting was the only outside communication I had) that my very close friend of 40 years had lost her fight with Alzheimers and pneumonia. The next day, I got notice that I had a message from a cousin but was unable to open it. Her mother--my mother's youngest sister--was not well and I suspected the worst. That was confirmed when I got home and was able to get to the message. Carol Dean (I called her Aunt Deanie) was more like a big sister when I was little, since she was only eleven years older than me. Two huge losses.

There were the usual glitches when one travels in a new rig, minor in comparison. I had loaded the coach in such a short time that I couldn't find anything without an extensive search. The outside compartments are in need of major reorganization. For example, the power cords and hoses are on the opposite sides that they should be. But those things can be easily remedied. There is the more serious battery issue to be addressed.

Meanwhile, back on the weather front. Wednesday night late, we had a loud and fast moving storm that woke us all up. However there was no wind to speak of. Thursday night was a different story. A deluge moved in after supper with 70mph wind gusts and several inches of rain. And it went on for hours. In normal times, the shower house would have been available as a storm shelter but it is locked up due to Covid 19. I rocked and rolled with the camper but she kept her footing and had no leaks.

The next morning the lake level was up at least 6 inches. Picnic tables on the lakeshore had become islands and docks were inaccessible. Packing up for the trip home required drying chairs and rugs out first. But all in all it was a welcome respite and I weathered--literally--my first trip.

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It Takes a Village...

5/15/2020

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...to get an old lady out camping by herself. I bought a 2014 Thor Vegas--a small motor home--a week ago, and did not have to drive it two-and-a-half hours home for my first foray. Brother-in-law Ken did the honors, as well as prompting me on good questions to ask. When the Iowa Campgrounds opened the next day, I couldn't resist an impromptu trip with our old camping group. We planning for social distancing, no communal meals, and masks.

I cleaned the rig, disinfecting surfaces, and stocked it with much (but not everything!) that I had taken out of the travel trailer before selling it. By noon Tuesday, I thought I was ready to go. The battery was deader than a door nail. Ken came and tried to jump it with no luck. A call to a local repair shop produced successful results, and by 4:00 I was ready to hit the road. Now, I should point out that I have no experience driving something that size (25 ft), although I have driven a Suburban (20 ft.) I relied on the backup camera, side view cameras, and mirrors a lot.

Neighbor Joy came over the help direct my back up to avoid destroying the neighbor's fence across the alley or the light pole by our drive. I made it out of the alley and through town. I had mapped out a route in my head to avoid any four lanes. I should have used a map.

The route I envisioned took me over the four lane on paved roads to Highway One, a nice smooth highway with much less traffic. That route does exist but about 7 or 8 miles further south. The one I took changes into a winding, hilly, twisty gravel road a couple of miles beyond the four lane. I finally made it before dark, but was so stressed that Ken agreed to park it for me. He also helped with some other first-time glitches. Vince and Ken helped me tune the TV in so I could get weather warnings of the severe storm that moved in later in the stay.

So I'm feeling pretty pleased with myself but obviously can't take all of the credit. Even my first supper was leftover meatloaf (a recipe from Joy) on homemade bread from another neighbor Colleen. I did roast the beets that I had as a side dish myself. The evening finished with a lovely sunset.

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Uneven Lanes and Sinkholes

4/3/2020

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I started this post a couple of weeks ago and then didn't get back to it. At the time, I had driven to Dallas to visit family and encountered several road work areas, including areas where one lane had been resurfaced and the other not, resulting in sometimes a slight bump when changing lanes and other times a jolt enough to cause a little heart skip and moment of fear. It seemed to me symbolic of my world at the time. My son and daughter-in-law were working from home, as were many others, and my grandson was finishing his first year of college online. In the last week, my routine and conveniences at home were upset by a needed repair to the floor in the main bathroom. My youngest grandson was scheduled to get his braces off and his driver's license in the same week. Both were cancelled due to shutdowns--a major upset when you're sixteen.

But at the end of the day, as I would sit down to watch the national and world news, it became obvious that the uneven lane scenario was not a good analogy. The road is full of sinkholes, sometimes opening up on people just when they think they are on solid ground.

I am very lucky. Yes, it's a lonely existence and difficult to plan much beyond a day. But I have plenty of food and supplies. Friends check on me and offer assistance. I am on a fixed income, which in normal times is considered a detriment but in this upheaval is a blessing. Most of all I have no health issues.

Yesterday I heard about 1300 people in a refugee camp in Greece with one water tap and no soap. New York and many other 'hot spots' of the virus are facing shortages of medical personnel and supplies. Unemployment is skyrocketing.

Closer to home, old friends/neighbors lost their son to pancreatic cancer. Another old friend and classmate lost her younger brother to a stroke. These families and many others face dealing with one of life's greatest tragedies without the personal support of friends and family that makes the grieving process more bearable. Local churches and organizations have had to cancel fund-raisers, which will hurt their causes in the long run. Decisions have to be made about reopening schools.

You know all of this. You can't avoid it. No one knows how long it will last. I have no words of wisdom or panaceas to fix this. All we are left with is sharing, caring, and preparing as best we can. And hope. There's always hope.

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Poems, Prayers, and Promises

3/22/2020

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More John Denver. Except I really have no poems to offer. However, most of us are offering prayers in this trying time. The changes since my last post two weeks ago are jolting. At that time, there were no confirmed cases of corona virus in Iowa. I had made plans to drive to Dallas ten days later to visit son Pat and wife Jill.

By Monday, the first cases were showing up but all connected with a cruise to Egypt. Basic precautionary measures were being touted online as well as on the local news. The crazy run on toilet paper began, causing those of us who were charged with educating many of the now adults to wonder where we fell down on imparting common sense.

As the week wore on, I began to reconsider my travel plans. But by the weekend, I could not see anything in my plan that would violate the guidelines. I would drive myself, take along my lunch, stay one night at Jill's parents lake house, and spend my time only with family. I figured there was no more risk than staying home for a week and doing necessary errands there.

I planned to leave on Wednesday, but when I looked at the weather forecast on Monday and saw the words severe weather for late Wednesday and Thursday all up and down my travel route, I decided to up my departure to Tuesday. Guidelines for avoiding the virus still focused on six-foot distances, washing your hands, and avoiding large gatherings.

As I headed south on Tuesday, I began hearing things like 'Elderly stay put!' and 'No discretionary travel.' I debated turning around but couldn't see any real gain so kept going. I arrived without a hitch on Wednesday afternoon.

Like many people, we found some distractions. A thousand-piece puzzle of 70s junk food kept us busy for several hours. Saturday afternoon, we took a ride around the area to look for stands of bluebonnets. Unsuccessful but certainly distracting. A drive through the marina where Pat keeps his boat inspired a search for You Tube videos on new boats and campers. And on Wednesday night we were treated to the incredible rainbow pictured above after a storm--a reminder of promises and not to lose hope.

But reality was never far away. Pat maintained his work connections through his computer and teleconferencing. Jill faced challenges of planning online lessons for her fourth-graders and learning new technical skills to execute them. She also helped Jack, a freshman at UTDallas, to move all of his belongings home to finish out the year online. My brother-in-law spent a night in a small Georgia hospital with heart problems, with the accompanying threats of of infection. Other family members and friends were changing plans almost hourly to return home from winter residences.

Tomorrow I will begin my trek back home with an overnight stop again at the lake house. It's been a welcome respite, but I think there are things I can do there that may be helpful to others. It's frightening to consider what the next weeks may bring. But I will remember the rainbow.

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Some Days Are Diamonds

3/8/2020

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We have always been huge fans of John Denver and the lyrics of his songs seem especially apropos to me at this time with the loss of my husband. I have been a member of a group of crazy, strong, amazing women called the Midwest Glampers for several years, although I've only attended one or two of their events each year. They hail mostly from Iowa, Nebraska, Missouri, Kansas, and Illinois. These women love to camp, and many have rebuilt and refurbished vintage campers (sometimes more than one). Others have teardrops or smaller class Cs. Some camp with their husbands, as I did, in larger units. Some bring their children ad/or pets to events. Many have suffered profound losses and challenges, but they are all tough.

The weekends involve games, murder mysteries, crafts, shopping, eating, and a lot of talking. This past weekend, we had a gathering to plan Iowa events for the year. Since the time of year was iffy for camping, the event was held at Camp Quaker Heights near Eldora, Iowa in a lodge type building with at least ten bedrooms, large dining room, great kitchen, TV room and wonderful deck. We even had a campfire on the deck...in a propane gas ring.

The day and a half was definitely a diamond for me. I realized on my way home that it was partly a respite because it was an event that Butch wouldn't have been at anyway--this was just women. It wasn't that I never thought or talked about him. Several of us who have dealt with this kind of loss or caring for a sick loved one shared our experiences and supported one another. And we also had wonderful meals, laughed, took walks in the chilly but bright blue weather, laughed more, and, along the way, even planned a few events. It was a very renewing and--although I think the word is overused--empowering. It will help me weather those days that are stones.

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Grief, Gratitude, and Gripes

3/5/2020

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Butch Nortman, 1943-2020

The title may seem an odd combination of feelings, but in a way, it sums up life. About a month ago, I lost my best friend. He was also my husband. Butch was diagnosed about a year and a half ago with cancer, which had metastasized to the brain. For a year, he had very few symptoms--no pain, weight loss, etc, but we spent most of our time at appointments, radiology, and chemotherapy.

GRIEF: I expected when the end came that grief would be an all-consuming dark chasm. Instead, it has been more of a constant imbalance. I feel like a three-legged dog. I think that may be because the last several months, he was not the person I spent the previous 56 years with. He had mobility and balance issues requiring constant assistance. His difficulty swallowing made meal decisions and eating a challenge. His personality changed, and although there were occasional glimpses of the old Butch and his sense of humor, most of the time I felt like I hardly knew him. Worst of all, his speech became almost indecipherable. Our conversations were a combination of him making wild and random gestures, me making guesses, him shaking his head in frustration and trying to form words, me writing down words that he could point to, and so on. Those months were the dark chasm, partly because I felt there should be something I could do to make it better, but I didn't know what it was.

Now I know there is nothing I can do to change things. Instead, I find myself absently getting two sets of silverware out for supper and then putting one back, not turning on lights when I get up early and tiptoeing around, and reminding myself when something funny or disgusting happens to tell him about it. I think in most marriages, certain tasks become the domain of one partner or the other because of skills, interests, convenience, and/or just habit. He took care of the vehicles (skill and interest), changed the light bulbs and smoke alarm batteries (convenience--he was taller), did most of the driving (he loved to drive), and took care of retrieving things from the lockbox and recycling cans. (habit) So I am learning new skills and habits. For example, I used a car wash a week ago for the first time in my life. But I'm still a three legged dog.

The handsome grandsons

GRATITUDE: I am so thankful for the amazing outpouring of love and support. First of all, our three kids stepped up over the last few months and came frequently from West Virginia, Texas, and Illinois to help with the care giving tasks. They were instrumental in planning the funeral as well. I put together photos for a slide show at the visitation while they worked on the music. Butch whistled constantly and also loved to sing. He sang whenever we slow danced and he whistled when he was working on something. It was wonderful to hear the kids talk about what songs they connected with their dad, each one triggering a memory. All three spoke at the funeral and I couldn't have been prouder. Our grandsons served as pallbearers besides helping with everything.

The food and visits from family and friends both before and after his death were incredible. Other women friends who have been through the same thing have been especially supportive. And I am thankful for the years we had together. We took such wonderful trips in the three years that we were both fully retired. But we also enjoyed the years the kids were growing up (most of the time!) He was a nice man, a great friend, a loving father and grandfather, and a very special husband.

GRIPES: The amount of paperwork, phone calls, and trips to offices in even a simple estate is astounding. In over half of the required contacts that I had to make, the company or agency representative expressed sincere sounding condolences and then proceeded to explain how they were going to royally screw up my life. In at least two instances, I have filled out paperwork twice for the same request. One fifteen page document that I completed only had three pages that I needed to answer--even though one of the pages that I didn't need to do (according to the person on the help line) said MANDATORY SECTION at the top. I asked the representative "You know what mandatory means, right?" I had to close our joint bank account and open a new one in my name only. That would not be a big deal except for automatic deposits and withdrawals. All new numbers. But I think it is finally winding down and I have most things handled.

The only thing I am having a hard time with is that he isn't here. And he isn't coming back.

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Changing Preferences

1/12/2020

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In today's technical world, one is supposed to be able to tailor electronic devices to one's own preferences and style. But I find that on my devices, after I adjust the settings and preferences to my liking, the Gadget Gremlins get in there and change things. On my browser, at random times my preference for a search engine (Google) suddenly changes to one I don't like (Yahoo!) I open the book I'm currently reading on my Kindle to find the font size has changed to one so large that only about three words fit on the page and instead of page numbers, I have location numbers which mean nothing to me. My preferred temperature on the washer defaults to one I don't like and after a power failure, my microwave no longer has the beeper silenced. My phone brings up home pages I don't want. Autocorrect changes words to alter the message.

So in light of the lack of control that I have over these devices, it should not surprise me that the more nebulous parts of life don't respond to my preferences either. I grew up in a large family with no money, a hard working mother but a dad who did not support the family financially. We moved almost every year and frequently had power, gas, and phones turned off for non-payment. Turmoil and uncertainty was the rule of every day. In my youthful naivete, I determined that if a person had a job, worked hard, and took advantage of any education available, all of the other crises in life would disappear. If we got good jobs that we liked and worked hard, we were set for life. In a stable environment, our children would be accomplished, delightful, happy teenagers and successful adults. They have become successful and wonderful adults, but the teenage years were not the smooth road I envisioned.

Jobs disappear and after a certain age, it becomes difficult to find another. Furnaces break down in the dead of winter and new vehicles break down on the road. Illness and tragedy strikes our loved ones and cakes fall. Because of course, what my plan for life left out, was that there is a lot we don't control. Our preferences rarely matter.

So while my preference at this time would be to be to be researching a route with my husband for our spring camping trip and planning meals that will travel easily, I am researching keeping a cancer patient comfortable and planning meals that are easily digestible. We are second-guessing earlier decisions: was this or that treatment a mistake? Should we have sought a second opinion? The amount of information is astounding and confusing.

I am reading a book that I highly recommend: Being Mortal by Dr. Atul Gawande. He discusses goals to get the most out of our later years. One chapter covers his father's struggle with a tumor on the spine. At one point, after radiation and surgery failed to stem the disease, he and his parents are meeting with the oncologist to discuss chemotherapy. The oncologist presents a plethora of drugs that could be used, all with varying effectiveness and side effects. Dr. Gawande and his parents (also both doctors) are overwhelmed with the choices and decisions. No wonder we are confused and frustrated if the process stumps three doctors.

It boils down to advice given by many wise people through the ages: we can only control our own actions and reactions. We can't control the wind; we can only take shelter from it.

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When Luck Runs Out

11/22/2019

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Two years ago we had just finished a wonderful camping trip through the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, celebrated a 90th birthday with my amazing Aunt Lil, and shared in three nieces' fun weddings. We winterized our camper and planned and executed a Christmas gathering of our family in the cabins at Lake Darling. It turned out great, complete with a little Christmas Eve snowfall and we had a memorable time.

After the holidays, we started planning our spring trip. My sister and her husband had recently bought a property in the North Georgia Mountains with plans to build a house, so our itinerary would take us south to son Pat's home north of Dallas, along the Gulf and up to Blue Ridge, Georgia. Then things started to go wrong. After a trip south fraught with nasty weather, when we reached Dallas one of the camper slides gave up the ghost. We were able to open it and complete a weekend visit, but once we closed it to leave, it was done. After no luck getting local repairs, we returned home.

Two weeks later, repairs made, we decided to try again and headed through Tennessee to Georgia. We visited friends and neat parks, had a great visit with my sister and started back home. After an Easter visit with granddaughter Jessi in Tuscaloosa, we stopped in a north Mississippi campground only to have the other slide go wacky. We made it home, thinking we had encountered the worst luck with our two year old travel trailer. Fortunately, it was still under warranty, but we were leery of what the future would hold for that camper.

We didn't know at the time, and would find out a few months later, that my husband was already being attacked by lung cancer. Soon, possible difficulties with the camper were the least of our worries. Our camping season ended in August.

The diagnosis should not have been a surprise. He was a long time heavy smoker. He had never had a job where he couldn't smoke. But his health had always been incredibly good. In spite of favoring high-fat, high salt foods and having a genetic predisposition to high blood pressure and cholesterol, his had always been excellent. I don't remember him ever having the flu, and he rarely missed work. Neither of us took medications and we seldom visited the doctors other than routine physicals.

After the diagnosis, all of that changed. Our schedule revolved around doctor visits and treatments. The cancer metastasized to the brain. His luck still held in some respects. He had no pain, no loss of appetite, --basically no symptoms. But after whole brain radiation last spring, movement, speech, and cognition began to be affected. The last two months have seen a dramatic decline in those areas.

In spite of that, we have had some high moments since the diagnosis. Two grandchildren were married, and three graduated from high school. We also have a second great-granddaughter. We did make some short camping trips this year with the help of our friends.

Despite efforts in the last two years to downsize to a one floor house, we are still in our old two-story with no bath or bedroom on the main floor. Earlier this week, an early morning trip upstairs nearly resulted in disaster, and we decided it was time to take up his sister's offer of their ranch house while they are gone for the winter. We made a rapid, haphazard move the next day.

It is a lovely home and there are no steps, but it's difficult giving up everything that is familiar. We don't want to move anything we don't need but every day I make a new list of things to get from our house. Instead of worrying about whether the camper slides will go out, I wonder each morning what new difficulty will present itself in the most mundane daily tasks. Physical therapy has helped some in his movement, but everything is an effort. His walker requires careful negotiating and constant supervision. His speech is often hard to understand and I can't always discern his wants. Falls are a constant fear. Most of all, his personality has changed and his sense of humor is about gone.

Family and friends have been wonderful with offers of help but there is little anyone can do. Our kids, currently living in Texas, West Virginia, and Illinois, have made visits to give much appreciated help. One grandson came to help with the move, and another grandson helped to rebuild a rotting step at our home. A former student of mine who recently lost her husband to lung cancer reached out this week with advice and a sympathetic ear. The student becomes the teacher.

So we plug away. My writing gives me some escape early in the morning. I'm not sure where I was going when I started this blog entry, except to say appreciate what you have when you have it. I look at photos of my husband from two or even one year ago and can't believe the changes. We have wonderful memories to cling to. I don't know what else to say.

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Raw Camping

10/22/2019

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No, not in the raw, but as in raw wind. And more wind. One of the things campers learn early is that perfect conditions rarely exist. When we planned this trip a little over a week ago, the weather did not look great. Cool temps and rain every day. Then as the week wore on, the weather guys took most of the rain out of the forecast, until we were down to a slight chance late Sunday night or early Monday morning. How did that work out? Torrential rain, a little hail, and wind Sunday night until about 10 Monday morning; a couple of hours of cool sunshine; then clouds, wind and cold. Last night, more rain moved through and winds have reached gale force.

So yesterday afternoon, it was time to rethink the plan to have the soup potluck outside in the shelter of one of the campers. Because nothing except the Pentagon would have been shelter against that wind. So we hauled our soups and desserts over to Ken and Harriet's fifth wheel, and managed to seat eleven for supper. The soups were the perfect antidote to the fall weather.

Despite the weather, there is some fall color and has been wildlife to watch. Because of the weather, there has been time for reading, visiting, and napping. It is still my favorite season.

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One More Chapter

10/21/2019

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In one of the three books I have in progress that don't seem to be getting anywhere? Nope. But with the help of our friends, we decided to try one more camping trip this fall. Saturday was our anniversary so it was perfect timing. Six couples are spending a few days at West Overlook campground on the Coralville Reservoir. It has the special quality of being about half an hour from our house, so yesterday afternoon, brother-in-law Ken ferried our trailer up here before going back to get his own. Despite beautiful weather and emerging color on the trees, it was an afternoon fraught with mishaps and difficulties one would not expect with experienced campers.

First, we put water in the wrong tank, as did another couple in our group. That necessitated more time to fill the right tank as well as time to dump the wrong. We got to our spot and parking was achieved fairly painlessly, but another couple in the group were in the wrong spot and had to move. Ken and Harriet left to get their camper while we continued our set-up. Things were pretty well done inside, and I was retrieving the lawn chairs from the back of the truck when I heard my husband yell. The water on the toilet stuck on and water was running all over the camper. Turning off the water pump stopped the flow and three-fourths of our towel supply mopped up the flood but now what to do?

It's always a good idea to camp with a farmer. They can fix anything with anything, Ron "happened to have" a couple of fittings that he cobbled together to shut off the water to the toilet. Flushing will be accomplished with a jug of water and we can have the water back on in the sinks and the shower. Things settled down for awhile and I began to piece together a simple supper when Ken and Harriet returned. Harriet was holding her arm in pain. She had fallen and jammed her elbow. Butch tried to tune in the TV with no luck and forgot to bring his Kindle so he didn't have a book to read. (This is a situation I cannot comprehend. Under no circumstances do I forget a book.) And as the evening chilled, we turned on the furnace only to find it not working. Fortunately, we have a space heater as well. I mean, what kind of camping do you think we do? Roughing it? Ha!

So a good night's sleep was welcome. Even the crashing thunder and lightning in the middle of the night couldn't steal that. We shall see what today brings. The menus for the rest of the stay are a definite plus. Tonight we are having a soup potluck: ham and bean, chicken noodle, potato and cheese, and autumn vegetable, plus bread and dessert. Tomorrow, Ken is smoking a couple of roasts and the rest will provide sides. With hashed brown casserole, green bean casserole, salads, and desserts, it will be the ultimate in comfort food. Camp on!

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The Good, the Bad, and the Scary

It Takes a Village...

Uneven Lanes and Sinkholes

Poems, Prayers, and Promises

Some Days Are Diamonds

Grief, Gratitude, and Gripes

Changing Preferences

When Luck Runs Out

Raw Camping

One More Chapter

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