Memorials

This has been quite a week, and I can't even write about some of it. Suffice it to say that there was more tragic death in our community and I am going to a memorial service on Tuesday. I won't say anything more because everyone has been asked not to talk about it on social media. Maybe next week I'll be able to write more (or maybe not), but for now this is plenty. But it's been a sad week.

Rocket Boy is coming home on Tuesday, also -- he wanted to go to the service, but we just couldn't get him back in time. We originally bought him a ticket to come on Friday, July 2nd, but an important, non-Zoomable meeting scheduled for Tuesday was postponed, so he's coming earlier. This means that I have only a few days to get ready for him, but it's OK. This is the cleaning schedule:

• Saturday: I sorted through the papers that have been piled in boxes in our bedroom for months, getting them into reasonable shape so they could be moved out of the bedroom. (Maybe RB and I can put them in the files while he's home, fulfilling one of my New Year's resolutions.)
  
• Sunday: This was supposed to be general housecleaning day (bathroom, vacuuming, etc.), but is not going well, because I woke up with a stomach ache which transitioned into full gastrointestinal distress. Our usual Saturday night takeout was from Panera this week, and I thought I'd try their French onion soup. Seemed innocent enough, but that's the only weird thing I ate, so maybe? Anyway, I don't have the energy to do very much, but I've cleaned the kitchen (it wasn't very dirty). Whatever doesn't get done can either be done tomorrow or not at all.
  
• Monday: wash sheets and remake the bed, straighten the living room, make meal plans, pick up my prescription and get cat food and other groceries. Do what didn't get done today, maybe.
  
• Tuesday: attend the memorial service, clean the kitchen one last time (and the litter boxes, etc.), pick up Rocket Boy at the airport.
• Wednesday: have my bone scan, finally; call the scheduler to arrange next steps in the process. Get RB started on his honey-do list, or maybe he can just work from home and we'll save the list for the weekend.
  

If we get a break in the rain, I'd add "mow the lawn" to this list, but I don't think we're going to. I had just gotten my flowers planted in the front yard when the rain hit on Friday, including big chunks of hail. Not golf-ball sized, more like gumball sized. Still, quite large for us. Someone driving down our street stopped in front of our house and actually pulled onto the lawn, presumably blinded by the hail. (Once the hail lessened, they pulled back into the street and drove on.) You can see some smaller bits of it in the pot with the marigolds and fuchsia. Nonetheless, those flowers came through it pretty well.

The other flowers had a harder time of it, and are looking rather bedraggled today. But maybe they'll rally.

Speaking of weather, I'm blown away by what's happening in the Pacific Northwest right now. The predicted high in Portland today and tomorrow is 112! That's hotter than it ever got in Ridgecrest when we lived there -- 111 was the highest high, though it has been a few degrees hotter a few times since then. But 112 in Portland! At least in Ridgecrest everyone had a swamp cooler. And we were used to the heat and knew how to deal with it, more or less -- to the extent that anyone really knows how to deal with it. But people in Portland are not familiar with that kind of heat. I just checked and it's 111 at around 3pm (checked again, still 111 at around 5 pm). Poor Portland! And it's so cool and rainy here.

Desert heat in a cool and wet climate makes me think of end times, and so does the collapse of the condo building in Florida, even though that's quite different. I keep watching the news about it. Perhaps I shouldn't -- I can't help those people, and it's upsetting me. But I want to know about it. It sounds like corruption plus mismanagement plus climate change, a really terrible combination. I remember reading years ago about problems with buildings in Miami, sea water flooding streets. It didn't sound good. And now this. 

The month is ending, and with it the second quarter of the year. I should do a summing up, but I'm not really in the mood. Maybe next weekend.

Thinking about the memorial service coming up this week, I looked back in my list books to remind me of funerals I've been to in my life. The list might not be complete -- it gets sketchy as it goes along -- but I seem to have been to 24 memorial services/funerals in my 60 years. Does that seem like a lot or a little? I've had a lot of family die, but there were also other people, friends of family, parents of friends, relatives of people I worked with, that kind of thing. Here is the list:

1. My grandmother (mother's mother). I remember the terrifying sight of my Uncle Bob crying.
2. My little sister's ex-boyfriend, who was a cop, killed in the line of duty. Huge cop funeral at Frost Amphitheatre. I went with an ex-boyfriend, kicking off a last fling between us before he got married.
   
3. An old friend of my parents. I attended it with them.
4. My daddy. I remember the young woman who played the oboe.
   
5. My grandfather (father's father). I almost didn't make it, as my flight was diverted from Chicago to Milwaukee. I had to drive a rental car from Omaha to Lincoln at the speed of light the morning of the funeral, got there just in time.
6. My brother-in-law's father, less than a year after my brother-in-law's mother died.
7. The 16-year-old son of my graduate advisor's secretary. Heartbreaking. 
8. My syntax professor. He died of a Tylenol overdose.
   
9. My boss's son, another heartbreaker.
   
10. My Uncle John. Rocket Boy and I drove my little old Toyota to California because 9/11 had just happened and everybody was afraid to fly. When we got back we realized that my tires were almost bald.
    
11. Rocket Boy's dad.
12. Rocket Boy's uncle.
13. The partner of one of the secretaries at work.
14. The husband of a friend in the Boulder Bird Club.
15. The father of a friend at work. I need to call her -- haven't seen her since before the pandemic.
    
16. A member of the Boulder Bird Club. I was late, and spent the service standing in the lobby of the church, listening.
    
17. Someone who used to work with Rocket Boy's mom at CU.
18. My sister.
19. The president of the railroad club.
20. My mother.
21. My Uncle Bob.
22. My Aunt Esther.
23. A teacher at the twins' Baptist daycare in Ridgecrest.
24. Our next-door neighbor to the east.

I do feel as though I'm forgetting some, but it may just be that other people have died and for whatever reason I didn't go to their memorial services. Our next-door neighbor to the west also died, but his family didn't have any sort of service.

For everyone who lives, there will eventually be a death, and possibly a memorial service. I don't mind going to them. The person I'm going to this week's memorial service with wasn't sure she wanted to go, maybe it was better not to intrude on the family's grief, she said. I wanted to explain to her that it's the opposite -- I loved every single person who came to my father's memorial service, my mother's, my sister's. It's such a tribute. And there's so much time before and after to have that private grief. So much time.

And after it's over, Rocket Boy will come home. So grateful we didn't have to plan a memorial service for him this month, after what happened when we were in St. Louis. So grateful for every day.

The longest day

What a crazy weekend -- the new Juneteenth Federal holiday on Friday, followed by actual Juneteenth on Saturday, and then Father's Day and the longest day of the year on Sunday. I wonder how often the three days will coincide like this. Juneteenth is always on the 19th (though the Federal holiday will be on Friday or Monday if the 19th is a Saturday or Sunday) and the solstice can be on the 20th or the 21st, and Father's Day can be anywhere from the 15th to the 21st. So, many years all three special days will be intertwined. Guess we need to get used to this.

The kids and I didn't do anything to celebrate any of it. We'll have to figure out how to celebrate Juneteenth in future years -- this year there was just no time to plan. The Summer Solstice isn't a new holiday, of course, but I was likewise unprepared. Father's Day was muted because Rocket Boy is in St. Louis. Although we left a card for him when we visited, I should have sent him a present too, like the lovely gifts he sent me for Mother's Day. He reminded me of that when we talked, because he wanted to teach Teen B how to make spaetzle and gravy over Skype, and I threw a fit because spaetzle makes such a mess and I would have to clean it all up.

To soften the blow, I suggested he show the boys how to cut up and steam vegetables, which I could later add to fried rice for dinner. They did that, with much merriment, and the dinner turned out very tasty. Must remember how I did it this time: scramble three eggs in butter, set aside; briefly saute the steamed veggies (we had broccoli, zucchini, and yellow squash) in more butter or oil and soy sauce; add 1 small container of Chinese restaurant rice that's been sitting in the fridge for a week, saute with the veggies and some sesame sauce and/or oil for 3-4 minutes, add the eggs back in, stir it all up, and serve. It made a LOT and we ate every bit. So great to make something the twins actually enjoyed.

Last week went OK, though I seem to feel my energy levels dropping with each day, even though the heat has eased off a little. Is that possible? Can my calcium levels be going up so fast I can feel them? On Thursday I drove to UCHealth in Aurora to meet my future surgeon and he ordered a bunch more blood tests, the results of which I looked at online today. My calcium is now 11.2 (last test it was 10.6, I think) and my parathyroid is 111, but I think the lab used a different scale on that one. But I'm feeling so tired and weird all the time. I want to get the surgery over with.

Some of the other lab results puzzled me. My chloride level was high, though that's probably because I was dehydrated due to the extreme heat (it was 100 degrees in Denver). My glucose level was 154, even though I'd had my usual, rather high-carb breakfast about two hours before. Normal would be 140 or less, but "prediabetes" is supposed to be 141 to 199. Diabetes starts at 200, and 154 is a long way from that. I was pleased. But the CBC, which was broken down into more detail than I'd ever seen, showed that I had too many eosinophils and monocytes, plus some immature granulocytes, which aren't good. I don't know if that has anything to do with anything. Just more numbers to puzzle over.

My new phone arrived, but I can't figure out how to set it up, so it languishes. This can't actually be that hard, can it? Is this an example of the high calcium side effect that makes you feel like you have Alzheimer's? I have no idea what to do. How do I get the information from the old phone onto the new one? They have different SIM cards, run on different networks. One problem is that I really really hate the new phone. I am, as we know, not a phone person, but it wasn't until I had to buy a new phone that I realized that I like my old phone and I do not want this gigantic clunky thing that arrived in a FedEx box. It's like twice the size of the old one! Enormous! Also, it doesn't have the same buttons as the old one, so I don't know how to use it. They're both Samsung Galaxies, but the old one was state of the art (or nearly) when I got it, and the new one is a stupid cheapo thing that I don't like. Did I say that already?

The twins, on the other hand, are in love with their cheapo Motorola phones, which they are now 100% addicted to, after what -- three weeks? I just realized you can't actually see the phones in this photo, but that's what they're doing (at Noodles, last night), playing on their stupid phones.

Today we ordered phone cases for all three phones. Teen A (in hat) is getting a black one, Teen B is getting a turquoise and gray one, and I am getting one that claims to be "violet" but looks more like a dark red. Whatever. I still hate my phone. Which hasn't even been charged yet.

I've been ordering a lot of things online recently, to the point where I wonder if I'm starting to have a problem. There are just so many things that I need. Well, or want. I did order the kids some new pajamas today, as well as a week ago -- the success of the pj's from a week ago led to the additional order today. The little darlings are growing out of the Carters pj's they've worn since birth, but they're not ready to switch to boxers or whatever it is boys wear when they grow out of Carters. So I tried "adult extra small" pj's from Hanna Andersson and unfortunately those fit pretty well (unfortunately because they're so friggin' expensive).

Pajamas are needed, phone cases are needed, but some of my other purchases, hmm. I keep telling myself these are early birthday presents. I'm not spending a LOT of money, but all that nickel and diming does add up eventually. I've been working my way through the mystery novels of Eleanor Taylor Bland, and I've bought everything the Bookworm had and read what the library owns, and now I'm reduced to buying used copies of the other books online. I ordered #9, #10, and #11, and am waiting for them to arrive. 

In addition, I've been buying things for my Barbies. I ordered some more tiny clothes from Etsy and also some baby carriers that one seller was offering. In this picture, the pretty green dress on the Skipper doll is new, as is the baby sling she's wearing, and also the little baby backpack that the boy next to her is wearing. They're about to take the babies on a walk, practicing for a scene in the mystery I'm writing. I know, I should be sewing doll clothes, not buying them. If I could just get the new machine threaded. If I could just stop being afraid of it.

I also, this weekend, ordered some more Barbie dolls -- used ones, through eBay. I have two Asian-ish Barbies, young-looking ones, who I have felt for a while needed parental guidance. So this weekend I finally bit the bullet and ordered them some folks. I hope they appreciate the gesture. The doll I wanted to be the mom is hard to get -- I've seen her advertised for as much as $40, plus shipping, which is ridiculous since the dolls cost $10 or less new. So I did some research and finally found a naked version of her on eBay for $15. It means I won't get the outfit and shoes she came in originally, but that doesn't matter because I have lots of clothes and shoes for her to wear.

I'm planning to take a break from online shopping now. I don't need any more dolls, it will take me a while to read the three books, I don't think anybody in the family needs any more clothes (including the Barbies). Well, the kids might need shorts. Anyway, I'll try to keep it under control.

OK, it's getting late, let's make some plans for the week.

• Book group. I finished the book (Anthill by E. O. Wilson) last night. We meet at Sally's on Tuesday and then we'll choose the next book.
  
• Classics Challenge 2021. Finished the 4th book and blogged about it; planning to start the 5th after I read one other book.
  
• Take the twins somewhere fun. They want to go swimming, but I just haven't felt up to it. Maybe this week. Not promising anything.
  
• Donate $$ to some organization. Decide who gets my $50 this month (other than Etsy, eBay, and various booksellers on AbeBooks).
• Health: Teen B gets his braces put on tomorrow! Ack! Also call about my bone scan.
  
• Food: Need to plan some meals. Stovetop pasta dishes, pancakes, casseroles -- soft stuff that Teen B can eat. Grocery shop maybe Tuesday or Wednesday.
  
• Exercise: Take a walk each evening, as I've been doing. This is going well.
  

I'm finding that with my energy levels so low, I really can only get a few things done each day. Mostly it's laundry, cleaning the kitchen, making dinner, shopping. So let's plan one "extra" thing for each day.

• Monday: Realistically, the braces are the only thing that will get done this day. Will also need to make jello, etc., and do all the usual stuff, like dishes and litter boxes.
  
• Tuesday: I finally bought some flowers for the front yard! But now I need to plant them. I don't know if Tuesday will be the right day -- it's supposed to be hot and windy. We'll see.
  
• Wednesday: Try to spend a little time writing. Figure out a way to drown out the twins. If they're not fighting, they're listening to TikTok or a YouTube video. And we're all in the same room. Should I try taking my laptop to the dining room?
  
• Thursday: Maybe, if twins feel like it, try going swimming.
  
• Friday: Try to spend a little time sewing. Either cut out the pattern or thread the machine. You can do it!
  
• Weekend: I don't know, see what didn't get done during the week. Don't plan too much.
  

 And that's about it. I'm dead tired and it's past 11:30 and I still have to take a shower. But then I can go to bed. The litter boxes and the dishes can wait until tomorrow.

Reading post: Ogimawkwe Mitigwaki (Queen of the Woods)

I have finished my fourth book for the Classics Challenge: Ogimawkwe Mitigwaki (Queen of the Woods) by Simon Pokagon (Pokagon Band Potawatomi), originally published in 1899 and said to be the second novel written by a Native American. This fulfills category #1, "A 19th-century classic." It is an odd little book, but I enjoyed it. 

The edition I read was published in 2011 by the Michigan State University Press, and it includes a lot of "front" material: essays by a couple of graduate students at the University of Michigan (both now professors elsewhere -- I looked them up) as well as Margaret Noori (now Noodin) who was at the time teaching Anishinaabe Language and American Indian Literature at U of M but is now a professor at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. The grad students' essays were a little over my head, too English departmenty, but the essay by Noori was interesting, with lots of linguistic analysis. After those essays, there is introductory material that was present in the original edition, including a short grammar of what Pokagon called the Algonquin or Algaic language. Noori, in her essay, explains that Algonquin is a major North American language family and Anishinaabemowin is the currently accepted name of the language in that family that includes the dialects of Ojibwe, Odawa, and Potawatami. When Simon Pokagon was born, in 1830, the dialects would have been closer together and perhaps not even recognizably different (if I'm reading the essay correctly).

All that front material takes up almost 100 pages and the book itself is only about 90 pages long, divided into 12 chapters, and followed by two appendices (two addresses given by Pokagon in 1893 and 1898). Despite its brevity, the book is not a quick read, because many of the words are given in Anishinaabe, followed by an English translation in parentheses. It is not clear who decided which words would be given in both languages. The book is said to be a translation from Anishinaabe into English, and the translation may have been done by a Mrs. Cyrus Engle, wife of the publisher of the work. Pokagon knew English, but this text is said not to resemble the English in his letters. Pokagon may have dictated it to Mrs. Engle in Anishinaabe and they may have worked on the translation together. It was published not long after he died, so his health may have been a factor. It's not, as one of the contributors says, a "clean" text.

I could have skimmed over the Anishinaabe words, but it was fun trying to sound them out (silently), and that made the reading take a lot longer. Here is an example passage:

With some reluctance I now asked, "What did you tell your mother about me on your return home?" "Ekwaw, ekwaw! (Well, well!)" she said, with a curious smile, "I told her I met oshkinawe (a young man) agaming Sebe (near the river's shore) agwiwinondowan ogimaw (dressed like a chief), gigit mojagissinon igo (and he spoke kindly to me), makaw tchi minbim ibato (but that I ran away and left him); and after I had gotten away began to wish I had stayed longer, and learned more about him, for he could speak the Ottawa and Pottawattamie odawnawnaw (tongue)." (p. 118)

Although this book is called a novel, it is apparently quite autobiographical. Simon Pokagon was the youngest and only surviving son of Leopold Pokagon, chief of the Pokagon Band of Potawatami, and Simon was also at times a chief. He was sent to boarding school when he was 14, and this novel begins when the main character, also called Simon Pokagon, returns home to Michigan one summer, so that would be perhaps the late 1840s. He and his widowed mother take a sort of vacation in an abandoned wigwam up the river, "the wildest place that could be found within fifty miles," and there Simon observes and eventually meets a "little maiden" who captures his fancy. The young woman, who is called Lonidaw or Loda, has a special relationship with the creatures of the forest: she can summon birds by imitating their calls, and her closest companion is a very jealous white deer. 

Simon falls in love with his "Queen of the Woods," and after another year of school he seeks out Lonidaw and asks her to marry him. They eventually are married and have two children, but tragedy awaits in the form of alcohol abuse. Earlier in the book there are passages about the dangers of alcohol, but after the demise of Simon's family, the book becomes merely an anti-alcohol tract and the last two chapters are nothing but that. 

So it's an odd mix. Large sections of the book are very interesting and moving, full of descriptions of nature and Indian life and history. I was fascinated by the detailed descriptions of the now-extinct passenger pigeon, which Loda can call to her, but which the characters also hunt and cook and eat. 

Looking up, I saw high above the trees, multitudes falling like meteors from heaven with sky-rocket sound to the earth, until acres were blue with them. At some signal given by the watch-sentinels with a sharp clap of "ningwiganog" (the wings), the vast numbers would rise with the roar of "anamike" (thunder) and sweep in circles around us, hiding the sun from view, and continually increasing in numbers. (p. 141)

And then there are the temperance sections, which quickly become boring -- even though I realize that alcohol was (and to some extent still is) the scourge of the Native American population, encouraged by whites in order to destroy Indian cultures and exert control. It's just that this kind of thing seems so out of place in a novel.

I wonder what Pokagon intended: did he want to write a novel about his youth and his first marriage, about Indian life and customs, comparing them with the culture of white Americans, or did he want to write a tract condemning alcohol? Did he start out doing one thing and then switched to the other? Or did he think he could do both? And what was the influence of Mrs. Cyrus Engle? Did she nudge the book in one direction or the other?

Regardless, it was an interesting read, and I loved the descriptions of nature and culture, and the story of the courtship of Pokagon and Loda.

Home again

I'm starting this post kind of late in the day, so it won't be a long one. It's been eight days since my last post and we are back in Boulder. I flew back with both kids on Tuesday, June 8th, instead of just Teen B -- just couldn't leave Teen A there, not knowing whether Rocket Boy would end up back in the hospital, etc. So we left Rocket Boy behind, which made me feel terrible, but he wasn't in any state to travel, either. 

Now he's much better -- he's finished his antibiotics and his leg has gone back to its normal (lymphedemic) size and the cellulitis seems to be gone. He says he still feels kind of tired, but I don't think he's at death's door. The cellulitis was so scary, though. One of these days, that may be what takes him out. One of these days, the doctors may not be able to stop the infection. When I was watching him suffer, when his apartment was full of first responders, and later after he went to the hospital, I thought about how that could have been the end.

Two days ago was the end for someone else -- my sister's wonderful dog, Mason. He had a tumor in his jaw, and when they operated they found that it had spread too much to be treatable. I feel so sad for my sister and her family, but I also feel personally sad, even though it's not searing, like their grief. I loved Mason. And I hadn't seen him since 2018, the last time we were in California. Three years is a long time in dog years. Mason was the ur-dog, the original good dog. Everyone should be so lucky to have a Mason. When we were thinking of getting a dog -- last summer? the summer before? -- the kids wanted to get a Mason. They aren't easy to find.

It's been such an awful year, or 14 months I guess, for our family's pets! My little sister lost two dogs, we lost two cats. And now Mason. It reminds me of 2007 when our three pets all died. Or, more ominously, of 1989/90, when so many family members died. It's been over 30 years since then. I know we're going to have another year like that eventually. Please, not soon.

Mason's death feels like the end of an era: the Mason years. There will be many good years to come, of course, but the Mason years were special. Mason's death marks the end of the twins' childhood -- they were little boos when my sister's family acquired him, and now this year they are teenagers.

Well. It's hot here, like it was in St. Louis, but with lower humidity. The next three days it's supposed to be very hot: 97, 97, and 98. Even with low humidity that's pretty hot. I remember when we lived in Ridgecrest, of course it was nice that it was a very dry heat, but 111 is hot no matter how you look at it. In Ridgecrest this week it is supposed to be 115 on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. In Death Valley on those days it is supposed to be 123.

It's not that bad here, of course, but the humidity is higher. For example, right now in Boulder the humidity is 33%, but in Ridgecrest it's 10% and in Death Valley it's 4%. In St. Louis it's 42% (it was worse when we were there). 

I spend a lot of time obsessively checking the temperature and humidity and dewpoint and forecast in all these places -- also the Bay Area where my sisters are.

I'm looking ahead to the rest of the summer and feeling a little overwhelmed. The thought of watching the twins play video games from sunup to sundown, day in and day out, is depressing. I thought with one twin at a time at home, it would be easier to plan some activities. Now I have to get them to agree. It's easier not to plan things.

Teen B had two teeth pulled on Thursday, and he will get braces on Monday the 21st. Meanwhile, this week both boys will get their second dose of the Covid vaccine, and later in the week I have a consultation with a surgeon about my parathyroid, so that means driving to Aurora. Oh, sigh. One complication is that I managed to leave my Blue Cross card in St. Louis, so Rocket Boy is mailing it to me, but it probably won't arrive in time.

OK, how about some plans:

Checking up on Quarterly goals (2nd quarter):

• Read a presidential biography. I've read my two biographies of Andrew Johnson. Check.
  
• Work on a project. The sewing machine is out of the box but I have not yet sewn anything. I might try during these last couple of weeks.
  

Monthly goals (June):

• Contact with friends and/or family members. So far in June I have had another Zoom call with friends and the twins and I visited Rocket Boy. It's enough for now..
  
• Book group. I just picked up the book (Anthill by E. O. Wilson) at the library today. We meet at Sally's on the 22nd, so I'd better start reading.
  
• Classics Challenge 2021. I've only read three books so far (out of 12). Planning to start the 4th tonight; maybe can start the 5th by the end of the month.
  
• Take the twins somewhere fun. I'll try to get them to a swimming pool this month. Not promising anything else.
  
• Donate $$ to some organization. I completely blew off May. Not sure what to donate to in June. I'll figure that out later.
  
• Work on a goal on my master list. I did a little writing in May and it was fun. I might try to do a little more these last weeks of June, see if it's even possible with the twins home all the time.
  

And my weekly/daily plans:

• Health: The kids get their second Covid shots on Monday morning, so I will need to take care of them on Tuesday if they aren't feeling well. Teen B has four more antibiotic pills to get down. On Thursday I drive to Aurora for my consultation with the surgeon. Also call about my bone scan.
  
• Food: Saturday's leftovers might last for one more dinner, but after that I'll have to cook. Cooking with the twins is on hold for a little longer. Maybe stovetop pasta dishes, scrambled eggs, fried rice, that kind of thing. Shop on Tuesday? Maybe Trader Joe's too?
  
• Exercise: Try to take a walk each evening, even if it's still hot, even if I don't feel well. Even a 10-minute walk is better than nothing.
  
• Writing: Maybe try for Monday and Wednesday, even just half an hour. Make it fun.
  
• Sewing: Try for Tuesday and Friday, just get the project started. Could be fun.
• Garden: One of these days, maybe Friday/Saturday after the heat breaks just a little, buy flowers for the front yard. I'm so late on that, but the nurseries are still full of color. Sturtz & Copeland might still have some hanging baskets, and the place on Table Mesa probably has lots of stuff.
• Cleaning: Don't forget about it. Try to get the kitchen under control. Pace myself.
  

OK, that's enough for tonight. Maybe I'll come back tomorrow and add a few things, or pictures. Just so tired tonight, and it's 9:43 and I haven't cleaned the kitchen or put the twins to bed or taken my shower or anything. And it's hot. So be it. Enough.

The hard part

Oh, silly me. In my last post I wrote something about "now the hard part is over," meaning the long drive from Boulder to Columbia, Missouri. Silly, silly me. 

I'm typing this late Saturday afternoon, a very hot and humid Saturday afternoon, that I have mostly spent sitting around -- reading the paper, playing games and reading the news on the computer, washing tub after tub of dishes. I'm so tired and I don't feel up to taking the kids somewhere, even though I feel intensely guilty about that.

Rocket Boy is in the hospital.

Yesterday morning, Friday, which seems about a thousand years ago, I was reading the Friday "GO! Magazine" section of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. At the front they have a little section where some of the contributors say what they're going to do that weekend. Two people said they were going to go to Origami After Dark at the Missouri Botanical Garden. We had been planning to go to "MoBot" that afternoon and were wishing you could go later than 5 pm, after the heat breaks. And here I find out that you can, but only on Thursday or Friday! So I got online and bought us tickets for that evening from 6 to 9 pm. We arrived at the gardens right at 6 pm and spent a happy hour and a half exploring. So beautiful. It was still hot and humid, but not beastly as it would have been earlier.

Toward the end of our time there, RB said both his legs were hurting. I didn't think a lot of it. We had promised the kids we'd eat out, so he drove to the City Diner downtown. But while we were there he suddenly felt a lot worse. He wasn't hungry, always a very bad sign, and just ordered a Caesar salad, but then he could only eat a little. We took it to go and headed home -- oops, but first we needed to go to the grocery store. We were almost out of milk. I did the shopping by myself, and when I got back to the car, RB had switched seats -- he wanted me to drive us home. It was my first time driving his car and my first time driving in St. Louis. I got us home.

I did mention the possibility of going to an emergency room instead, but I had no idea where one was, nor whether that was the right thing to do.

He could barely climb the stairs to the apartment, and the twins and I had to carry up the groceries (usually RB does most of the carrying, while I struggle just to drag my body up the steep flight of steps). Once up there, he lay down on the sofa (where Teen A has been sleeping). He seemed only half conscious, and asked me if I could close all the windows so it could be warmer. I refused -- the apartment was stifling. "You can put on a long-sleeved shirt," I said firmly, still not realizing what we were dealing with. I left the room for a moment, but Teen A urged me back, telling me that Dad was going to throw up and needed a bucket. I found a big green bowl in the kitchen -- appropriately, RB used it to vomit up his salad from the City Diner.

Somewhere in there, the boys got into pajamas and Teen B went to bed in the little room off the kitchen. Rocket Boy also managed to get into bed and I covered him up with various blankets. His forehead was almost painful to touch, it was so hot, but the old thermometer I had in my toiletries bag registered at only 99.5. Should have bought a new one at the grocery store.

And then the delirium. He started calling me "Ma'am," as in "Thank you, ma'am," and "I'm sorry, ma'am." He started muttering, "Please help me." I tried putting a wet washcloth on his forehead but it disturbed him. "That's not good, ma'am," he said, still trying to be polite. Wide-eyed, he kicked off some of the blankets. I stood just a little farther away from him than I normally would, not trusting those eyes and those kicking feet, not totally sure he wouldn't get violent. His thoughts began to wander. He was trying to solve a math problem, probably something for work, counting up numbers and then asking me to "integrate" them. At one point he wanted a helicopter.

It was Teen A who finally convinced me to call 911. I kept thinking of the cost of an ambulance. I should drive him to an emergency room myself, but how would I get him back down the stairs? Should I get Blue Cross's approval before calling for help? I found my Blue Cross card and my phone, but couldn't get myself to dial the number. I have mentioned before that I am not good in emergencies. I just don't know how to make those crucial decisions. I overthink things, panic, and the world falls down around me.

I finally dialed 911 and immediately began crying. Help was coming, help was on the way. A very kind man spoke to me first and then transferred me to a very kind woman. I believe both of them were Black, but the three firefighters who showed up first were all white. I don't know why. 

The paramedics (also all white -- why?) eventually came and they got RB down the stairs and into their truck. They told me they would take him to South City Hospital, which was under new management and very nearby, like five minutes away. So I could have taken him to an emergency room. Maybe.

The kids and I (Teen B had awakened when all the men arrived) went back upstairs and sat around in the terribly hot apartment. I emailed my sisters and niece and they helped me get some clarity about what had just happened. Aunt Nonny called the hospital for me and then the doctor called me directly to tell me about RB's condition. Because he had an infection, they decided to admit him, so I didn't have to go to the hospital that night. This was good, since RB had unintentionally taken the car's key fob with him in a pocket of his jeans. His nurse drove it over to me today -- special Missouri service, I guess.

He may be coming home tomorrow. He may be fine by then. We may end up having a nice last full day of our visit (Monday) and going home Tuesday as planned. We may leave Teen A behind, as planned, to spend a couple weeks alone with Dad. I don't know. A little too soon to say.

I'm just struck by a couple of things.

1. Rocket Boy is so alone out here. He has a friend or two at work, but has never socialized with them. There is no one I feel I can call for help, other than professionals.
2. Rocket Boy is so alone in general. He has a dysfunctional brother, a few distant cousins, and me, the twins, and my family. My family was very helpful in this crisis. He has nothing like that, only through me.
3. I am (as I've said over and over) terrible in an emergency. I don't like to be the one in charge -- I like people to take care of me! I'm the one who's supposed to be having health problems right now, with the diabetes and the parathyroid issues. But oh, no. Rocket Boy is the fragile one -- he really is. I am the mom and the one who has to be strong. It's really really hard for me, but too bad, it's what it is.
4. You never know when a bad thing will happen, and they don't come in threes, they come in whatever number they feel like coming in.
5. Teen A is really growing up. Teen B is a little behind, as he is also in height and weight. It'll happen, just not there yet. But Teen A is beginning to think like a grown-up, not always such a little kid. It's appreciated. By me.
   

And with that, I must fix something for dinner. Leftovers, bits of this and that. It'll be fine. I wanted to go to the hospital again, but I guess I'll just go tomorrow. It's in a somewhat shady neighborhood. Don't want to be there on Saturday night. I hope I can sleep tonight. We've got windows open and ceiling fans running, anything to get some air circulating, even though it's still in the upper 80s. By bedtime I hope it will be bearable up here. If I can sleep, I can do what I need to do.