Things That Never Go Away

We all have things in our past we would like to forget. Missteps. Poor choices. Fashion blunders. If you're like me, you also have friends to make sure that your past never truly goes away.

While at Pepperdine, I was beginning to dress like a young professional. But I didn't want to fall into the boring realm of only wearing white and blue oxfords. I like wearing vivid colors. They make me happy.....and I am really a happy guy!

On a certain shopping trip -- I honestly don't remember the details -- I decided to be a little more adventurous than normal and bought a "dusty rose" shirt. I must place that term in quotation marks because my housemates quickly informed me the color was more appropriately described as "pink." My conservative Southern roots at the time could not come to grips with the idea that a man could wear pink and maintain his manhood. I tried passing it off as "peach" -- but that didn't work since it hung near another shirt in my wardrobe that could only be described as the color of the fuzzy Georgia fruit. So...the harassment began because of my pink shirt.

It has been many years since that questionable shirt has hung in my closet -- although I am certain you could find other offending items there now. The harassment never ends. Like clockwork, my college friend will frequently make mention of THE shirt in our conversations. I still attempt to educate her on the fine line that exists between "rose" and "pink." My efforts fall on deaf ears and I find myself once again reliving the misguided mistake of my youth that seems to be destined to follow me for the rest of my life.

And the taunting reminds me that I am loved...and I wouldn't have it any other way!

 

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The Continuing Adventures of the Geriatric Ward

It's true that I am no longer physically living in the Geriatric Ward, but the adventures with the patients continue. Here's one of our latest episodes for your enjoyment.

Last Wednesday evening, I decided I needed to call home and assure my parents that I was okay and that I was getting settled in my apartment. Since a picture is sometimes worth a thousand words, I thought a video tour of my place might be most helpful.....so I decided to Skype with the Geriatrics.

Skype was not an entirely new concept for them.....I had installed the program on Dad's laptop shortly after learning I would be moving and had a couple of practice sessions with them while I was still home. I knew I would have to walk them through it a few more times to get them comfortable with the technology, but I had no idea how funny it would be.

I began with a phone call to help them get Skype running. It took everything in me not to laugh as I gave Mom directions on the phone and then listened to her LOUDLY CONVEY those instructions to Pop. It made it funnier to see how close they were in proximity to each other. Once we established a connection and confirmed that everyone could hear, we hung up the phone and continued the video chat. For the next hour, I saw half of Mom's face and the lower half of Dad's head. You should have seen the looks of surprise in their eyes when they saw the small box in the bottom corner showing them what was going out from their camera. Priceless!

Skype won't be the only way that we talk for sure, but it is a fun way to stay in touch with the Geriatrics with the added benefit of seeing each other face to face. I think it makes the difficulty of being apart for the first time in so long a little easier for everyone involved.

My Vacation Alarm Clock

When I take a vacation, one of the things I most look forward to is sleeping in past my normal alarm time. I'm not tethered to my regular schedule; I have no pressing commitments or appointments to keep. It's not always possible to avoid the annoying alarm clock entirely when visiting family.

Staying with family in another town is an easy way to vacation without breaking the bank. It's always important to remember that the family you are staying with still has their regular routine and responsibilities. This may mean that you may not get as much sleep as you had hoped.

On our recent trip to Texas, I crashed on a cot in the living room. Obviously, this area would be a major thoroughfare in the home. Located next to the kitchen, I could always expect at least one nighttime visit from the teenager who refuses to conform to traditional sleep habits. My Dad's sole purpose for heading to Texas each year is the fishing. In order to avoid the exorbitant heat, he and my cousin would head out around 5am each morning. Dad cannot walk quietly on the hardwood floor....it's simply impossible!

Just as I would finally drift again to the Land of Nod, I was greeted by numerous alarm clocks sounding at once. Literally! The sleeper in the bedroom off the kitchen cannot wake up! To solve this problem, she sets numerous bells, chimes, and songs that are intended to raise the dead. As the zombie begins to rise, the energetic grandson enters to greet his Nana while his mother packs his lunch for the day. As this is happening in the kitchen, there is a constant procession from the refrigerator to the bathroom. Most mornings I'm playing opossum to avoid early morning conversations with all of these "wide-awake" people. By the time everyone leaves for work, I'm wide awake and roll over to find Mom perched on the couch. In the early days of each vacation, this is the point where I attempt to grab a few more minutes of sleep by stealing away to Mom and Dad's room. However, it doesn't take many attempts to remember that I can rarely go back to sleep once I am fully awake. Thankfully, I'm on vacation and don't have to form any type of coherent thought....because Heaven knows that logical thought is one of the first things to go when I am sleep deprived.

Despite the early morning wake ups, this year's family vacation was a great time away, visiting with family and enjoying a little relaxation.

Unpleasant (But Necessary) Work

There are certain tasks we all despise. We will do anything to delay the unpleasant duty. We know that the work becomes more intense the longer we avoid it, but still we choose to enjoy our current decision to delay the inevitable. Why is it so easy to put off dealing with an unpleasant necessity? When will we learn that quick action will ultimately give us greater relief and rest?

I'm struggling with this right now. If there is one task I hate, it is the tediousness of packing. I'm excited to move and look forward to the adventures that await. I realize that I will want my belongings with me when I arrive. I'm certain that boxing things up gradually will make the process easier. Still, I would much rather watch paint dry than pack another box!

The issue is not one of laziness (although I can enjoy a lazy day with the best of them). I think my issue is one of control. What if I pack something and then realize that I need it again? Right now, I can easily lay my hands on things. Once things go into boxes, despite my best labeling efforts, they are essentially lost to me. The more things I pack, the more I feel completely out of control in my world until I arrive in Texas.

It's also due to the enormous size of the task. After packing things up for a week, it doesn't appear that I've made any progress. Truthfully, the added boxes just feel as though there is more to deal with and I question if I'll be ready for the move in time. Offers to help with the packing from family just make me more overwhelmed. In order to let them help, I have to be able to give instructions on what needs to go. In some ways, I think it would be easier to pack the entire house instead of gathering my belongings that are located throughout my parents' home.

Lastly, it's difficult to pack since I don't know where I'm going. I have not secured housing in Plainview yet. So I don't know how much room I will realistically have. How much furniture will I need? Will there be enough space or do I need to edit my belongings while packing? I am not terribly stressed about my Texas living options yet, but I know that finally having a new home waiting for me will give me a fire to get ready for the move. Until then, I had better get back to packing!

Want to Remember Something? WRITE IT DOWN!

Have you ever encountered someone who constantly asked you to repeat information? Maybe a student asks when that paper is due every time they see you. Perhaps a family member asks when their next doctor's visit is. You might be asked over and over for a mutual friend's phone number or email address. For the sanity of us all, I am going to yell it from the rooftop....IF YOU NEED TO REMEMBER IT, WRITE IT DOWN!!!!!

I'm all for being helpful. I don't mind providing information that I have to others. I despise repeating the same information over and over to the same person though....especially when they refuse to write anything down. In my life, my lovely mother is the worst culprit. Let me just give you a few examples from the recent past.

Mom enjoys cooking and likes to try new recipes on a fairly recent basis. After trying a new food item, we generally comment on what we would like to adjust the next time we make it. I have repeatedly advised Mom to make note of her planned changes on the recipe so she will remember the next time she makes it. Fast forward to the next time she starts to make the recipe. She remembers there was something she wanted to change, but since there is not a notation about it, she can't recall what she had proposed. What is her solution? She comes to my door and asks what we said we were going to change. I grin, tell her I don't remember, and ask if she now understands why I am constantly asking her to write things down.

Just before the beginning of an extremely busy week filled with doctor's appointments for both me and Dad, Mother informs me that she received a phone call from one of her doctors to remind her of an appointment in the coming week. She doesn't know what to do because she is CERTAIN the doctor's records are mistaken since she doesn't remember the appointment. I'm not surprised by this at all and tell her I'll check on things when I'm in the office the next day. Sure enough, Mom is due for a follow-up visit that she had forgotten about because she failed to write it down.

I have to admit that this is frustrating even though I shake my head in disbelief and try to roll with it. I catch myself sometimes wondering why it is so hard to simply write things down in a place where you can return to it later. I've come up with a few possible answers....some of which I don't like.

• First of all, Mom has become dependent on me to keep track of things. I tend to make note of doctor's appointments and other trips that are going to impact my schedule. It's how I maintain my personal sanity while providing transportation for three adults. Since I manage those things that effect me, Mom hasn't learned that I don't keep track of those things that aren't on my radar. 
• Secondly, Mom hasn't created a place to keep notes and appointments. I've tried to help by creating a binder for recipes and providing a magnetic calendar for the refrigerator. Since I developed the systems, however, the maintenance of them falls to me. This is not working.
• I suppose it really all comes down to the fact that she hasn't established a routine of writing things down and has not experienced the positive benefits of keeping track of it. For all of her life, Mom was able to manage our household without the aid of any organizational system. As she ages, her memory is not as strong and she is resistant to developing a new way to keep track of things.

What am I going to do? Keep doing exactly what I'm doing now....encourage Mom to write things down, offer suggestions that can make her life easier, and plug as many things into my personal  calendar so we don't get caught with our proverbial pants down again.

Buffets

My family knows that I despise eating at a buffet or cafeteria. Potluck dinners can be just as difficult for me. I find the food often becomes stale and unappetizing. My mind imagines the hands that have touched the serving utensils. I start to wonder when those hands were last washed. The scenario just goes downhill from there.

Imagine my surprise when I recently found myself visiting a buffet while traveling alone. I had heard about The Old Country Store in Jackson, Tennessee, and decided to check it out. I knew they were known for their breakfast buffet, but planned to order from the menu. Was I in for a shock when I learned there was NO menu from which to order!

Thankfully, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the breakfast buffet was actually quite satisfying. The biscuits were extremely light and fluffy, a perfect complement to the sausage gravy. The fried chicken was pretty good as well, but just not what I was expecting for breakfast. Luckily, I did not discover the pastry bar until the end of my meal. The blueberry bread was AH-MAH-ZING!!! A serving of that alone was worth the price of the buffet.

I haven't changed my mind about buffets, but I have discovered that it is possible to enjoy them occasionally. It's all a matter of atmosphere and my mindset at the moment.

Tattered Pants

When I come home from a long day of work, the first thing I want to do is get comfortable. Call them lounge pants, pajama bottoms, or sleep pants......putting these pants on is a highlight of my day. My body is comfortable, my mind is at rest, and I'm ready to enjoy the last few hours of my day. While I have several pairs of them, there is one pair that I always go back to......or at least that I always WENT back to......here's the story.

The pants are certainly not a fashion statement. They are beige with large blue stripes. I've worn them for several years now and they have begun to show their age. The fabric has thinned. The edges have begun to fray. The elastic waistband has started to peek through the cloth. Several holes have formed. Actually, "holes" is probably an inaccurate word choice. "Craters" would be a more truthful depiction of the tears.

Earlier this week, I was relaxing in my room wearing these favorite pajamas. I turned and heard fabric tearing. My heart sank, but I still didn't want to accept the inevitable. Another movement lead to a more pronounced ripping sound. This sound was accompanied by a breeze along my right leg though. Not only had the pajamas torn, the entire seam along the leg had come apart! Thank goodness there was no one around! I would have been petrified!

Alas, I had to say goodbye to my pajama pants. (For the record, there wasn't enough of the leg remaining to attempt turning them into shorts either!) They found their way into the trash heap. If a sanitation worker runs across them, I'm sure they will conjure some interesting story! Oh well, now I'll just have to start the process of finding a new favorite pair of sleep pants.

P.S. I plan to enjoy the Labor Day holiday with my family on Monday, so there will be no new post. Livin' Life will return on Wednesday with the latest edition of "Hits and Misses."

The Continuing Adventures of the Geriatric Ward

Living with senior citizens is always an adventure. There are moments of intense humor, challenging emotions, and undeniable love. Depending on the day, it is my pleasure or curse to live in my parents' home. Thankfully the good days outnumber the bad and most days are sprinkled with things we can all laugh about.

This week's adventure involved counting. While sitting in the living room, I overheard my parents discussing some missing capsules from a recently filled prescription. At first I thought we were talking about one or two pills and shook my head as I acknowledged their thriftiness. When I stepped into the kitchen, I saw Dad furiously "ciphering" and concluding that the pharmacy had failed to include over 50 doses of medicine.

Mom continued to look at the bottle and exclaimed that the pharmacist must have known that they had not filled the entire prescription since "2/3" was written on the label. I started to ask a few questions and learned that the medicine was picked up last week and was to be a three month supply. That's 90 pills! Even the most incompetent pharmacy tech would notice the absence of over 50 pills. I decided to dig a little deeper. When I asked if she had gotten any other meds on that trip, Mom excitedly told me that she was given two additional bottles of the same medicine. When I looked at the bottles, I could barely control my laughter. The other containers were labeled "1/3" and "3/3"! When was the last time you tried to explain to your parent that something was broken up into three parts for ease of packaging? When she asked if it mattered that she was taking the medicine in bottle #2 first, I nearly died!

The funny part? This wasn't an uncommon occurrence! It's just another example of my daily life in the geriatric ward.....and I'm having a blast.

Living Among the Crazies!

I'm convinced that I have surrounded myself with some truly sick people. Not those suffering from illnesses. No, I'm talking about people who are truly disturbed and have sick senses of humor. The sad part of this fact is that most of the sick people I'm talking about are members of my family.

I suppose it's probably true of every family. The same types of things are humorous to siblings.....and their humor comes from at least one of the parental units. The sick humor is passed to the next generation as well. Get my siblings and any of my nieces sparring in a battle of wits and we'll be rolling in the floor before too long.

Most people don't realize that we are truly this funny. Maybe it's because our humor is too high-brow for others. Maybe we're not as funny as we think. Perhaps we don't allow others to witness our unrestrained humor. (There's the most likely situation.....we have to maintain our reputation, after all!) Don't get me wrong, we're not filthy with our humor. Our jokes are never intended to hurt anyone. Most of the time, we're making fun of each other or some stupid family trait that we all share.

Humor has become part of our healing process. Over the years we've had much to recover from....and we've found that laughter brings us together and reminds us that joy comes after pain. Whether I find myself living among the Crazies or spending extended time in my personal Geriatric ward, one thing is certain: the roaring laughter indicates that there is love, hope, and joy just around the corner.

Tales from the Geriatric Ward: Thermostat Troubles

On Saturday night, I was pretty dead to the world. I had just driven home from the NATS regional competition in Bowling Green, Kentucky and desperately needed some sleep. I watched a little television while crawling in bed. As I began to doze, I found myself getting choked and sweating. Perfect, I'm getting sick! Then I realize that the air coming from the vent in my room is warm and not cutting off. In the Geriatric Ward, one always has to think outside the box and expect insanity!

 

I stumble into the dining room -- nearly falling through the rotting floor, but that's ANOTHER story from the GW. I grope about for the light switch, allow my eyes to adjust to the brightness, and begin to investigate the thermostat. The "fool proof" system is in hold mode....a common method of controling the thermostat favored by the Chief of the Crazies residing in the Geriatric Ward. The temperature is set at 79; the control switch is under the word "heat." OH MY GOD! THE CHIEF CRAZY HAS OFFICIALLY GONE CRA-CRA!!!! It's a lovely 61 degrees outside and the heat is blowing full blast in an effort to raise the interior temperature 18 degrees in early April! OH MY GOD!

 

Bleary-eyed, I attempt to lower the temperature on the console, but the heat will not kick off! Panic is starting to set in as I convince myself that the Chief of the Crazies has broken the thermostat and simply gone into his lair thinking no one will be the wiser! Now I'm frantically pushing buttons, moving switches from "heat" to "cool" to "off" in an effort to get the insanity to stop. After all, I just want to go to sleep! (When Kennith doesn't sleep, it's not a happy time to be around him!) I consider ripping the blasted control off the wall when the fan finally stops! I am so relieved that I am going to get to sleep after all. That's when I remember that the door to my tiny bedroom has been closed tight during this 20 minute ordeal. (Lest you think I'm exaggerating on the length of time.....I promise you, it's true!)

 

I walk into the rear sauna bedroom and accept the fact that I am going to lose a few pounds while I sleep lie on top of my sheets for a few hours. That's when I have the BRILLIANT idea to turn on the ceiling fan to cool things off a bit. Did you know that my hometown is also home to a rice mill that's located just a few hundred feet from our house? Dust is a constant resident in the Geriatric Ward. Now that we have central air, we rarely run the ceiling fans and they are a perfect landing spot for lots of those dust particles. The good news? It was late at night, so I didn't see the snow-like blanket covering the foot of my bed until the next morning. The bad news? The snowy mess was probably significantly smaller than it could have been since my sneezes throughout Sunday morning and afternoon suggest that I inhaled a large amount of the moving dust. Now I find myself wondering if the Geriatric patients' craziness is contagious. I fear that I may have been infected!

 

Ah well....it's just another adventure in the Geriatric Ward.

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