AN EVENTFUL YEAR

As I sat down at my computer to share thoughts of 2018, I couldn't think of a simple adjective that would adequately describe this past year. To say this year was a roller coaster ride of really high "ups" & really low "downs" would be a total understatement. As I searched for a title adjective I considered "exceptional", "unforeseen", "extraordinary", "unpredictable" to name a few & finally settled on "eventful".

"Eventful" seemed to convey that some damn big things occurred both good & bad. One thing I know for sure is that I will remember this past year for everything that happened which affected & changed my life in so many ways. Here are the highlights (& lowlights) of my 2018 "ups" & "downs":

The 2018 roller coaster started up the first big hill with a huge trip that literally took us around the world. We learned of a 14 day cruise that sounded intriguing. Great deal after great deal fell into place & we had a 21 day trip booked to Singapore, Thailand, Sri Lanka, India, Oman & Dubai with an extension to Delhi, Agra & The Taj Mahal in April. A definite "up"!

My hip had been giving me grief since October 2017. I was diagnosed with bursitis & a hip flexor muscle strain before being sent to physical therapy & a specialist. Exactly two days after making final payment on our "trip of a lifetime", I was told I needed a total hip replacement! Shit! Lou agreed to push me around as many places as possible in his dad's small transport wheelchair which we took on our trip. I postponed the surgery knowing I wouldn't do any more damage. A discouraging "down"!

Three days into our trip on our Thailand excursion I was able to check my phone messages since both Lou & I had elderly fathers at home. Never in a million years did I expect to find out that my son was in surgery as I read the message. He had an accident while on vacation necessitating hip reduction surgery. That was one of the most helpless & traumatic events of my life knowing my son was in surgery half way around the world. His girlfriend & his dad were with him, thank God. And someone gave him their phone to call me from recovery which had me in tears on the tender but I was so thankful to hear his voice. A big "down" followed by a relieved "up"!

He was doing great & we detoured to see him on our way home from SFO. We did a 9 day trip to Texas in May that we had planned before the India one. I just limped around & did what I could do. We spent lots of fun pool time with Charley during the summer. I had scheduled my surgery for the week after Charley left. I wasn't missing any time with my granddaughter to recuperate. All "ups"!

On July 17, I had the first major surgery of my 68 year life. It all went well but I have since learned that it takes 4-6 months to heal physically & a full year to feel "normal" again. I'm getting there but it is difficult not to get impatient. Kind of a frightening "down" but ultimately an "up"!

The lowest point of my roller coaster year occurred 11 days after my surgery. My 89 year old father had a massive heart attack at home. The paramedics got his heart beating & put him on a ventilator to keep him alive until we got to the hospital. I was able to hold his hand & talk to him but with no response. After about 15 minutes we removed the breathing tube & 10 minutes later he passed. An unbelievable "down"!

Although my dad was "just an auto worker" his whole life, he managed to leave a substantial amount of money to my sister & me. She bought a pickup truck & I bought a 2018 red Honda Civic. We both paid cash for our cars (with plenty left over!) for the first time in our lives thanks to our dad. It was bittersweet not to be able to tell him & show him our new cars which he would have loved. Both "up" & "down"!

I used some of my inheritance to treat Darrin, Charley & Lou to a Disneyland trip over Thanksgiving vacation. That was a wonderful experience that I will cherish forever. Since Lou has treated me to travel for the last few years, I splurged on a fancy cruise to Cuba for him & me just a few weeks ago. Another wonderful "up"!

My son, my sister, my partner & my granddaughter have been my rocks through this crazy year. I have several friends who have been there for me for years & years & years. Their support & love were crucial to me. I couldn't have made it through without the countless, & I do mean countless, hours of phone conversations. Plus I reconnected with an "old friend" who I met as a teenager & she has become a great "new friend" in my life. All amazing "ups"!

This eventful year has involved some of our most amazing travel destinations, incredible time with my son & granddaughter, scary health issues for my son & me - & the death of my father who I had been caring for over the past 13 years. I'm really hoping that 2019 will be just a little less eventful - at least the "downs".

Have a safe & Happy New Year!

HAVANA, OOH GA-GA

Hopefully some of you are familiar with the pop song "Havana" by Camila Cabello. If not check it out on You Tube. It is one of the few catchy, fun, newer songs that you can actually sing along with. Darrin told me that when he told Charley I was in Havana, she knew the song & started singing it. BUT Charley & Darrin changed the lyrics.

From:  Havana, ooh na-na
Half of my heart is in Havana, ooh-na-na

To:  Havana, ooh ga-ga

Gaga is in Havana, ooh ga-ga

I love it!          

Some snippets & thoughts regarding Cuba:                                         

We had a wonderful lecturer on our ship. I don't think I have ever said "wonderful" & "lecturer" in the same sentence in my lifetime. Normally, the person who stands at the podium reciting tedious facts while clicking through slides bores me to tears or puts me to sleep in nothing flat.

But, Sandy Cares, had a wonderful delivery style. She paced the stage, using comedy, honesty & genuine excitement to tell us that in Cuba we need to take our own toilet paper & there are no toilet seats in the country. She was absolutely correct! Or she told us how cruisers always want to cut across rather than follow the right angle of the blue line in Cienfuegos to direct you to immigration. She reiterated, "Follow the blue line or they will round you up & we'll never hear from you again." People were immediately herded back to the blue line when they tried to cut the corner.

Her passion for & knowledge of this part of the world came through loud & clear. I actually retained some of what she shared remembering quite a few things. She used an inverted pyramid photo to explain how doctors, lawyers or teachers made about 30 CUCs (pronounced "kooks") per month. But tour guides could make that or more in one day in tips. The exchange rate is 1 USD=1 CUC but the Cubans add a 13% exchange fee. With the pyramid balancing on its point, it could topple at any moment. Who wants to be a doctor or lawyer at that salary when you can pick up a microphone, talk to tourists & make way more money?

The classic old cars that are an iconic symbol of Cuba were born out of necessity. I never realized that in 1959 when Fidel Castro over threw Fulgencio Batista as dictator, the United States stopped sending cars to Cuba. The embargo imposed by the U.S. stopped all exports of anything to Cuba. Since then they have made do with small Russian cars. The old cars seem beautifully restored but in reality they now have Russian engines in them & many are painted with house paint. They look great from a distance & earn a good living for those who use them to sell tours of the cities - far more than a doctor makes in a month.

I've never understood the draw of smoking a cigar that costs 10 to 20 dollars or CUCs but they are sold everywhere in Cuba. Most people were buying some of each at the obligatory cigar & rum stop on each tour. I bought Darrin a half liter of Havana Club rum, supposedly one of their best, for five U.S. dollars. Lou did the cigar buying for one of our friends. It is big business now that tourism is opening back up. The Cuban people want us there & want our tourist dollars.

U.S. citizens are only allowed to do "people to people" exchanges through an authorized tour company or cruise line excursions. President Obama relaxed the regulations on U.S. citizens traveling to Cuba allowing for easier access. But Trump is doing his best to put more restrictions on traveling within Cuba. We overheard a cruise line employee explaining to a cruiser, "It is the U.S. government who says you can't go out on your own in Havana. But the Cubans aren't going to stop you & we aren't going to stop you." That effectively told us to go for it & wander around to our hearts delight.

In all of our travels around the world, including third world countries, we have discovered that people are people. Everyone just wants to take care of their families & live their lives. Cubans were no different. They were friendly, helpful & much less pushy about selling their wares or offering their services than many countries.

NEVER AGAIN!

By most accounts I am considered a fairly adventurous person. I have jumped out of an airplane 18 times, hiked up a few mountains & enjoyed the great outdoors (as long as I can sleep inside at night). I have traveled the world visiting 50 states, 66 countries & 6 continents.  I love roller coasters & wild rides. Years ago, we rode the tallest roller coaster in the world at the time at Cedar Point amusement park in Ohio. Lou & I drove 130 MPH in his Mitsubishi Eclipse out on Highway 50 in Nevada..

Speed is a fun thing as long as I am strapped into something solid & secure. A metal car around me with air bags & a tight seat belt - crank it up! Or if I'm held firmly in place, I'm happy to go fast & inverted on a roller coaster. My chance of dying seems minimal to me in these situations.

Disclaimer: If you are easily offended by colorful language you may want to stop here. This is probably my most profanity-laced post so far.

I was reminded last Sunday of the time I was scared shitless way back in the past. I was in my early twenties & a friend at the drop zone had ridden his motorcycle out to skydive. Having never been on a motorcycle, I cautiously accepted his offer to take me to the airport (about 4 miles) on the back of his bike.

With a full helmet & coveralls protecting all my extremities, I hopped on the back & was never so fucking scared in my life! He was going about 60 MPH on the deserted two lane road. All I could see was me, rolling & skidding along the asphalt as it streaked by inches away. I was sure I would die if I fell off or at least be hurt really, really badly. Remember I was only maybe 21 or 22, young & stupid. But I was also smart enough to realize I did NOT want to end up dead or maimed. When I survived those five fucking minutes of sheer terror, I stepped off the motorcycle on shaky legs with a stressed mind, & have never been on one since - NEVER.

Now, fast forward about 46 or 47 years to Great Stirrup Cay in the Bahamas a few days ago. Lou had been on a jet ski once 27 years ago in Cancun. His recollection was that they gave you a briefing & sent you out in a fairly small roped off area. There was a Wave Runner excursion on this final day of our cruise. Lou signed up & I agreed to ride along with him. What the hell, I like a little speed. How bad can it be?

This tour had a several minute video of instruction that also described every way possible to kill yourself on these "personal watercraft" machines. Because Lou had done this before we were placed in the "fast group". One guide led us after explaining the hand signals & imploring us to stay 100 yards apart while another guide brought up the rear. I discovered the only thing I had to hold onto was Lou & all he had to hang onto were the handlebars. As the group increased speed, I thought, "What the fuck am I doing?"

At speeds of 50-60 MPH & doing "S" turns across the water, I was instantly back on that fucking motorcycle speeding along inches from the water. Maybe hitting water at 60 MPH isn't quite as bad as hitting asphalt BUT remember all I had on was a bathing suit & a life jacket - & I am now 68 years old. Not to mention that I was berating myself royally for doing this after hip replacement surgery five months prior. Honestly, I was afraid I'd have a fucking heart attack.

I have a 7 year old granddaughter with whom I want to spend a lot more time. If this damned thing crashes that probably ain't gonna happen.

It was terrifying bouncing along at those speeds, absolutely terrifying. I understand why kids cry when they are scared. Lou was doing a good job of driving the thing & I trust him to be careful BUT anything could happen completely out of his control. I tried shutting my eyes or watching ahead of me but all I could see was my broken, lifeless body in the Atlantic Ocean. The engine drowned out my screams of, "This is scaring the shit out of me!", "I can't do this anymore!" & "I have to go back!". When we finally stopped for a brief rest & I discovered there was still half of the 45 minutes remaining, I told the guide, "I'm done. Take me back."

One of the guides pulled along side & I transferred to his Wave Runner. He drove like a bat out of hell but it was in a straight line & I was back on the dock in about two minutes - shaking & stressed & swearing like a longshoreman. And the damn bar was closed - where is a beer or a pina colada when you need one?

Lou told me the other guide told him now that I was gone he could keep up. Normally, I would be pissed off at that comment, but I couldn't care less once I was back on land. You all go as fast as you fucking want to go. I have reached an age where I just don't need that shit anymore. And I am perfectly fine with that!

I was reminded of a friend who said that a "Bucket List" is things you want to do before you die & a "Fuck It List" is things you have no desire to do before you die. 

NEVER AGAIN!

CAFE DE'CAY

Looking at scary decorations today I was reminded of some of my son's epic Halloween creations. Darrin always loved the costumes & makeup part of Halloween. That was probably the artist in him emerging. Too old to Trick or Treat when he was about 13 or 14 he decided to dress up as Freddy Krueger from "Nightmare on Elm Street". He had an old hat that resembled the one Freddy wore that inspired him. Darrin loved being the one who dressed up to give out the candy.

Of course, Mom got in on it by perusing the thrift stores until I found a red & gray striped sweater that was perfect for Freddy. Darrin got to work on his makeup using smudged eyeliner all over his face to create the scars & added some fake blood to finish the look. He had a toy glove from Toys R Us that had the long razor fingers (plastic ones) Freddy was famous for to complete his outfit.

Darrin still wore eyeglasses & unfortunately he couldn't see well enough without them to enjoy his evening. He solved that problem by putting a beach chair on the porch surrounded by a plastic bucket & shovel, a tropical drink, an umbrella, even a bit of sand & wore his prescription sunglasses.

The following year was probably our best Halloween extravaganza! Darrin & I came up with the idea of Cafe De'Cay. We had a carport on the side of our house with a gate at the end that led to the backyard. Under the carport we set up a small table with a black tablecloth. In the two chairs we sat a skeleton & a grim reaper. A vase with black roses rested on the table. Spider webs adorned the entire gruesome scene. Rubber bats & plastic spiders dangled from the ceiling. A large poster board Cafe De'Cay sign in the front attracted our "customers".

But the real attraction was the tour of the Cafe De'Cay kitchen which we offered those brave enough to enter. In the dark backyard with some eerie lighting & music playing we set up a couple of folding tables covered in white sheets adorned with fake blood, fake fingers, plastic knives & cleavers along with other assorted bizarre, creepy items.

I made aprons for our chefs, Darrin, his best friend & his dad, from old white sheets. Another trip to the thrift store for long sleeve white shirts made a good background for our bottles of more fake blood. My creative juices were flowing as I had the great idea to make chef hats using a strip of white poster board wrapped around their heads & stapled (to itself, not their heads). Tissue paper bunched up on the top made the ballooned tops. They all looked pretty good if I do say so myself.

A day or two before Halloween we went to a few supermarkets & bought several kidneys, livers & a few hearts of something or other. It was pretty gross in our fridge for a couple days. Darrin & his friend made a disgusting soup of god only knows what. They spread out all the internal organs on dishes placed on the tables, drizzled blood all over & made a gag worthy concoction of meals.

The guys made up their faces to look really scary & manned the tables to gross out the kids willing to tour the kitchen. Donning my witch costume I stayed out front to give candy to the little kids & ask the older ones if they would like a complimentary tour of the backyard kitchen. I only let a few back at a time while the others listened to the screams from the yard.

One poor little girl wouldn't even come up to the carport so I walked out to the sidewalk with some candy for her. She tentatively asked, "Is Freddy back there?" I replied, "No, Freddy isn't here." She skeptically said, "He was here last year." Guess Darrin made quite an impression.

That was great fun back in the day. Lately it seems that we are reduced to handing out candy to teenagers carrying pillowcases who aren't really dressed as anything. It is fun interacting with the little kids but they seem to be fewer & fewer. Two years ago we ran out of candy pretty early so last year I bought a lot more. There were less kids than usual which meant we were munching on candy until Christmas.

I told Lou I think I'd prefer a year off from all the Trick or Treaters. So, maybe we'll go out to dinner & a movie or just hide in the back of the house with the lights off.

Happy Halloween! Enjoy!

AIRPORT SECURITY

Most of you know that as of July 17, 2018, I have a new, rather large piece of surgically implanted metal where my right hip used to be. I have flown to New Mexico twice since my artificial hip joint has been in place. In years past doctors used to give you a card stating that you had a metal joint & would set off the metal detectors. With today's technology they no longer issue those cards since anyone can print one up on their computer then theoretically hide a weapon where their hip should be. I haven't a clue how you would do that without looking like you had strapped a gun to your side.

Both times they directed me toward the x-ray/scanner machine. You know the drill, hands above your head, feet apart & don't breathe. Every single time the screen shows that my right knee has metal but nothing shows up on my right hip - which is metal. This makes no sense whatsoever. Then a woman TSA agent has to come feel my knee & tell me, "You're fine. Go ahead." If I happen to have on a top with some sparkles on it those show up, too. A quick swipe of my shoulder also has them telling me to go ahead.

This is nuts but I know the drill - how else are we going to keep the friendly skies safe? Okay, this past trip I had to change planes in San Diego. We arrived at Gate 3 & my next flight left from Gate 1. Score! It's a simple, quick, close by walk. Since I left in the early, early morning, I was starving when I arrived & found a couple of breakfast options. I chose the $17 eggs, bacon & potatoes. Airport prices are ridiculous!

With a full tummy, I saw that Gate 4 was to my left  & Gate 3 in front of me, so I headed right looking for Gate 1. There was a small sign with an arrow pointing down a hallway for Gates 1, 1A & 2. I asked a gate agent where Gate 1 was located & was told I needed to go out through security, walk past the ticket counters & go back through security to Gate 1. What the hell?

I had about half an hour before my flight boarded. As I approached the security line, I saw that it was fairly long. But I had "TSA Pre". If you travel you know that means you are expedited through security & don't have to remove your shoes, your jacket, your quart bag of liquids, your electronics & Lord know what else from your carry on bag. BUT there was no sign for the TSA Pre line. Knowing the answer, I asked anyway, "Do you have a TSA Pre line?" The agent replied, "No, but here is a card that will help." The bright pink card read, "You may keep your shoes on during the screening."

Finally reaching the x-ray machine, I was told that I had to remove all my electronics. my quart bag & anything else that might set off the metal detector.....BUT I could keep my shoes on! Not at all prepared I found my phone, my Kindle, my quart bag, my other Kindle & put them in a bin to be screened. Then I remembered to tell them I have an artificial hip. I was told to step over to the x-ray scanning machine. I waited & I waited for a female agent to appear.

Once again, the machine said my knee had metal, not my hip. Trying to keep an eye on my belongings off to the side I told the male agent, "I don't care if you feel my knee," to which he replied, "I can't by law. It has to be a woman." Finally the woman arrives, does her cursory feeling of my knee, which is fine, but she also says that my right foot shows metal. WTF??? I remove my right shoe & she feels my foot. She declares it is fine but my shoe has to go back through the metal detector.

At this point, the agent working the machine says, "Whose bag is this?" It was my carry on, of course. He opens it & finds my full reusable water bottle. Having already gone through security in Sacramento, I filled up my water bottle & forgot about it. He says, "You have to go back through security & empty it." I replied, "I only have one shoe since she is checking the other one. And my flight is boarding in like five minutes." I considered playing the hip replacement card & limping laboriously toward him but decided against it. My patience was wearing thin but I know better than to argue with them. I asked if he could just go empty it for me but he said I had to be with him.

By now, I'm trying to gather my electronics, my quart bag, my carry on bag, find my shoe & make sure I still have everything I started with. Suddenly I spotted my shoe on the conveyor belt, apparently it had passed inspection & wasn't equipped with God knows what to take down the plane. I turned & the agent had apparently taken pity on me & emptied my water bottle since he returned the empty bottle to me & said, "Have a nice flight."

I took a deep breath, put my shoe back on, took inventory of all my stuff & sat down. Two minutes later they started boarding my flight. I think I will avoid changing planes in San Diego from now on.

PUNCHLINES

Back in my old skydiver days, telling dirty jokes was a favorite past time over beer at the local pizza place. A good joke teller with some new material always elicited a laugh. Here are some of my favorites that I've continued to tell over the past 50 years or so. Most of them are better if you've had a few drinks so go grab yourself a glass of wine or a beer. Here we go!

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A guy walks into a bar & says to the bartender, "Hey, give me a bubble dourbon." "A what?" asks the bartender. "A bubble dourbon" replies the guy. "Oh, you mean a double bourbon", says the bartender. "That's what I said, a bubble dourbon," answers the guy.

Making small talk the bartender asks, "Where are you from?" "I'm from Collar Denverado," replies the man. "Where," queries the bartender. "Collar Denverado," repeats the man. "Oh, you mean Denver, Colorado," explains the bartender. "That's what I said, Collar Denverado," says the guy.

"What brings you here?" the bartender asks. "I'm here for the shurkey toot," the guy answers. "The what?" says the bartender. "The shurkey toot," says the guy again. "Oh, you're here for the turkey shoot," the bartender exclaims. "That's what I said, the shurkey toot," the man replied.

About this time there is shift change & a new bartender comes on duty. The off duty bartender walks down to the new bartender & says, "If you get a chance, go talk to that guy at the end of the bar. It will shickle the tit out of you!"

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Two guys are in court before the judge. One is beat all to hell with bandages, bruises & black eyes. The other doesn't have a scratch on him. The judge asks the beat up guy what happened & he replies, "I was just walking along minding my own business & this guy jumps out of the bushes & beats the shit out of me!"

The judge asks the guy without a scratch for his version of what happened. "Your honor, I was walking in the park & met this woman who asked if I was looking for some fun. I replied that I was & asked how much "fun" cost. She told me it was $2.50 an inch. I told her I'd take $7.50 worth of fun. So, we are in the bushes having some "fun" when this guy comes along, steps on my ass & pushes my bill up to $15.50!"

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A man, a genie & a one foot tall piano player walk into a bar. Seeing the odd trio, the bartender strikes up a conversation. The man says, "This genie grants wishes. I suppose I could let him grant you one wish. What will it be?"

The bartender thinks for a minute, then says, "I wish for a million bucks!" Suddenly, a million ducks are flying all over the room knocking things over & wreaking havoc. "What the hell?" the bartender asks. The man replies, "I forgot to mention the genie is a little hard of hearing. Do you really think I asked for a twelve inch pianist?"

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Telling these jokes, particularly the first one, requires just enough alcohol to be able to get into telling it but not too much too screw it up. Usually, I can still tell them with enough flair to get a laugh or two. Please feel free to share your favorite dirty jokes with me! I'd love to add a few more to my repertoire.

THE CATCH

If you lived in the Bay Area or were a football fan back in the 1980s, you most likely remember "The Catch". The San Francisco Forty-Niners were on the verge of playing in their first Super Bowl in 1982. Only the despised Dallas Cowboys stood in the way of that milestone. Dwight Clark, number 87, vaulted higher in the end zone than anyone (even him) thought possible as he caught the touchdown pass from quarterback, Joe Montana.

That leaping grab is permanently etched in the minds of Niner fans the world over. And it will forever be known simply as "The Catch". More thoughts on wide receiver Dwight Clark a bit later.

First, my father & I watched that game together. My son was only 5 years old so I'm guessing my mom took him somewhere fun leaving us diehard fans to watch that momentous game with no distractions. Years before my father had made up a ritual believing that his knit 49er hat had special powers that helped his cherished team win big games. We always laid our hats reverently beside us since we didn't want to waste their limited abilities unless it was absolutely necessary. Over the years we all purchased Niner ski caps to continue the tradition.

That Sunday, January 10, 1982, will live forever in 49er fanatics memories. Dwight Clark came down in the back of the end zone with the ball putting the Niners ahead! The defense held the Cowboys scoreless & our beloved team went on to win the first of five Super Bowl victories! We yelled, screamed, jumped up & down while wearing our enchanted hats. It was truly magical & sharing it with my father was a moment that I will always treasure.

We have been blessed in the Bay Area to have extremely successful professional sports teams - the Oakland Athletics, the Oakland Raiders (Boo, I hate them!), the San Francisco Giants & currently the Golden State Warriors. But I think if there was one iconic image of Bay Area sports, it would be Dwight Clark stretching toward the heavens to gracefully grasp that football known as "The Catch".

Dwight Clark was a regular guy. During his 49er career, we had the pleasure of attending autograph sessions featuring Dwight three times. He always smiled & graciously signed each autograph as he interacted with the fans. The final session was at a local Wendy's hamburger joint where he signed my copy of Sports Illustrated that showcased Dwight Clark on the cover just as his hands enveloped the football. It is probably my most prized possession.

About three years ago Dwight Clark was diagnosed with ALS, Lou Gehrig's Disease. That is a debilitating disease that took his ability to walk & otherwise ravished his body but it didn't dampen his spirit. On June 4, 2018, Dwight Clark died at his home in Montana at age 61.

There is a documentary titled "Letters to 87" now showing on our local sports networks. It includes letters from fans who reminisce about "The Catch" & comments from his teammates who all gathered at his bedside about a month prior to his death to share their memories & tell stories about this San Francisco legend. You can probably find it online, too, but be warned & have lots of tissues handy. It's a tearjerker.

Watching "Letters to 87" brought back so many football memories that I shared with my father but none was more memorable than that iconic moment in history forever known as "The Catch". Joe Montana said that Dwight was always fond of reminding him they don't call it "The Throw".

My recollections are bittersweet right now. Dwight Clark was my favorite Forty-Niner ever but he died way too young from a terrible disease. He was an unlikely star receiver on a championship team. He always had time for the fans & seemed genuinely happy to have enjoyed the success that he did.

My father died not quite 8 weeks after Dwight. Although my dad was almost 90 & we knew his health was far from great, there just doesn't seem to be a good time to lose your last parent. I remember mentioning Dwight Clark's passing to my dad & we briefly discussed "The Catch" one last time. Now, they are both gone but rest assured they will live on in my memories for the remainder of my life.

THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES

Humor was the way my dad coped with most things in life. Two ER visits ago, the doctor walked into the room & noticing my dad's half foot asked, "Why did you have your foot amputated?" My father replied, "For fun." I giggled & the nurse laughed out loud saying, "Mine is scheduled for next week." The doctor just semi-glared at all of us. That gives you an idea of my father's off beat sense of humor.

Over the years with all his health issues that I described in my last post, we always said if he ever stops eating & loses his sense of humor, we are in trouble. He would be in ICU throwing up blood & the nurse asked how he was doing. He always answered "I'm fine." Over, over & over, "I'm fine" no matter what was happening. My dad was never one to complain. We joked that we we're putting that on his tombstone, "I'm fine." But, alas, there will be no tombstone. His ashes will be scattered with my mother's in Sea Ranch according to his wishes.

My sister & I had numerous adventures with our dad - most I assume were to get us out of the house so my mother didn't kill us. Late afternoon bike rides were common. One day the three of us decided to play polo on our bikes taking some croquet mallets & a softball to the local school. About two minutes into the first chukker, I peddled furiously & swung my mallet which lodged in the spokes of the bike! My bike stopped instantly & I flew over the handlebars scraping the hell out of myself but no lasting damage was done. That ended our polo career.

Another day while hiking in the Hayward hills long before organized trails we were chased by a cow with a calf. I'm guessing I was about 9 or 10 & my sister 4 or 5. My dad scooped up my sister & yelled "Run!" We made it to the fence with the cow in hot pursuit. My dad dropped my sister on the other side & boosted me over before climbing it himself as the cow angrily approached. Just another funny story to laugh at years later.

As we all gathered at my dad's house last weekend my sister brought up another memory. Our dad was deathly afraid of snakes. He couldn't even look at one on TV without freaking out. One day as kids we were having a family picnic at a park in the hills. While my mother set up the meal, my dad, Karen & I went for a walk in the woods. Apparently, my dad saw a snake & took off running abandoning his kids! We followed suit running after him. My recollection is that my mom was none too pleased at his "save myself" actions.

My dad spent hours teaching me to throw, catch & hit a ball. I can't remember a time when I didn't know the rules of baseball. I still smile when I recall bundling up to attend a Giants night game in chilly Candlestick Park with my dad.  As adults he & I could flick between three channels with the TV remote watching football or basketball games. Our biggest connection was always sports. Several years ago, Lou took me to the Indy 500 auto race. That was the one sporting event my dad always wanted to attend & he was able to live vicariously through me.

I learned to drive on his four speed 1960 MG sports car. Cars were always my dad's pride & joy. At age 13 or 14 I recall sitting in the MG in the garage on weekend mornings practicing shifting. My dad was a great driving instructor patiently enduring the hours as I jerked & killed the car perfecting the ability to operate the clutch & gear shift. Darrin credits my dad with ultimately teaching him the fine art of shifting smoothly.

Along with kind & caring, the word that comes up over & over when people talk about my dad is "generous". My father was indeed a generous man always saying "put lunch on my card" or "take the money out of my account." He was also generous with his time & convictions. I don't ever remember my dad saying "no" to anything. As we spoke about what do with all his stuff, we decided to simply give it all away in his honor.

His 20 year old Pontiac Grand Prix went to the couple who cared for him full time a couple years ago & currently spent every other weekend with him. They were blown away by our father's generosity manifested through his daughters & grandson. His 42" flat screen TV went to his new caregiver. Darrin put his furniture on Facebook Marketplace for free & by the afternoon he had found a deserving woman who pulled up in a pickup truck & happily took it all assuring us it would have a good home.

We went through our pecking order - daughters, grandson, caregivers - as we divvied up most of his possessions. I loved when someone would say, "Is this table spoken for?" & I could answer, "It's yours." The little bit of money we gave up not selling things was more than made up for by the warm, wonderful feeling of continuing my father's legacy of generosity. Yes, we will miss him but our fond memories will carry on for our lifetimes.

A LIFE WELL LIVED

My father, Ronald Bray, passed away a week ago just a couple months shy of his 90th birthday. Everyone loved my father & no one had a bad word to say about him. He had a wonderful sense of humor, was an avid sports fan & a genuinely good person. He was a great fast pitch softball pitcher, a self taught golfer, a tennis player &, boy, did he love his cars!

His health had suffered in the past 20 years beginning with a brain stem stroke at age 69. Most people die from those but my dad recovered, drove again & accepted his limitations. Five years later he had back surgery & contracted MRSA. I remember the surgeon telling him, "Worst case we will stop your problem where it is." That wasn't the worst case at all, after the second surgery to combat the MRSA, he never walked without a walker again. But he never complained.

A few years later he was diagnosed with Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus necessitating brain surgery to insert a shunt into his brain that drained into his abdomen. Not long after that a cellulitis infection ultimately caused his left foot to be partially amputated. That was a three year ordeal that finally healed thanks to a wonderful podiatrist with faith. All this time my father accepted his limited abilities & the fact that he needed live in care. His brain still functioned well & he was pretty sharp until this past year. Even then he wasn't really bad just not himself anymore.

The final thing that got him somewhat down was needing a catheter all the time. He really didn't like that but it was a fact of his life. I was always amazed at what he went through & just kept plugging along. He was always willing to share a glass of wine with me & watch some sports. I called him the Energizer Bunny - he kept going & going. With similar limitations, I would have likely been throwing things & screaming but he never once seemed to let it get to him.

The interesting thing is that what ultimately got him was a massive heart attack. There was never a hint of heart disease until about a year ago & it was really minor. We had been to a cardiologist twice & both times he said it looks good, come back in six months.

Last Sunday afternoon his caregivers stepped out for 20 minutes (which was perfectly fine) & returned to find him on the floor not breathing. The caregiver & paramedics performed CPR & got him to the ER. Lou & I headed out immediately. When we arrived he was being kept alive with machines which we knew my father did not want at all. I was able to spend about 15 minutes holding his hand & talking to him. There was no indication that he knew I was there BUT I am choosing to believe on some level he knew. I then told the doctor to remove the tube & he breathed for another 10 minutes before leaving this world.

I was so grateful to be with him during his last minutes on earth. We visited him that morning & he seemed perfectly fine. It is comforting to know that he only suffered maybe a minute or two at most & then was unconscious. Yes, it was shocking that it happened so quickly but, honestly, what better way to leave this life?

He knew that I was okay after my hip replacement surgery. I had seen him three times in the ten days since surgery - I made a point of letting him see that I was making progress & starting to recover. I understood that I was HIS kid having surgery & I knew how I felt when MY kid was having surgery just a few months ago.

I can honestly say, I don't have a single regret - not one. I did everything I could for my father these past 15 years. I kept my promise to do everything in my power to keep him out of a nursing home. I was there for him up until the end. On the drive back home, literally only two hours after the initial phone call, I felt a real sense of relief & peace that he was no longer suffering. Of course, I have had my moments when something will trigger some tears through the smiles, but it is all good stuff. Sure, I miss him. Not a day goes by that I don't think, "Oh, I need to remember to tell my dad that."

In a few days I will share what my sister, my son & I came up with as bit of a tribute & maybe a sort of legacy to honor the type of man my father was in this world. He was a special man & I am honored to be his daughter.

MIND BODY CONNECTION

My total hip replacement surgery is just two days away now - Tuesday morning at 8:15 AM to be exact. It's a little freaky to accept that my doctor will cut into me, saw off parts of my bones & replace them with metal parts. While I work on calmly resigning myself to this fact, I am focusing on using guided imagery to keep myself relaxed in a positive place for surgery, minimize the pain & bleeding, promote healing & making a speedy recovery.

I have always believed that our minds have amazing control over our bodies & our health. Pretty much everyone believes we can make ourselves sick, so doesn't it stand to reason that our minds can also make ourselves better? There is such power in our brains & our subconscious but we don't know how to fully use it for our benefit. Back during the years I was going through menopause, I could bring on a hot flash in a matter of seconds just by thinking of it engulfing my body in searing heat. BUT, damned if I could figure out how to stop one in its tracks as soon as it started.

I believe that meditation & guided imagery is a fantastic tool to aid us in preparing ourselves for a positive experience as we face surgery. Fifteen years ago when my father was having his first back surgery, I did some research & purchased a CD titled "Preparing for Surgery - guided imagery exercises for relaxation & accelerated healing". The CD includes an introduction & three 22 - 25 minute guided imagery sessions - the first for before surgery, the next for the day of surgery & the last for healing after surgery. The CD is narrated by Dr. Martin Rossman who co-founded the Academy for Guided Imagery.

Way back when, my dad agreed to listen to the CD prior to his back surgery even though I'm sure he thought it was gobbly gook. Dr. Rossman puts suggestions into your mind that you don't have to believe will work or know how it works but your body can use to promote healing. He stresses that your body knows how to minimize bleeding during surgery. One of the first things my dad's surgeon told me when he came to talk to me after the procedure was that there was remarkably little bleeding. Whoa! I was a believer.

Over the years I have copied the CD & shared it with a few friends facing surgery. Being one who likes to put my money where my mouth is I pulled my trusty Guided Imagery CD out of the file cabinet & started listening to it several days ago. I bought a small CD player on ebay & will be listening to the day of surgery mediation as well as taking it with me to listen to the healing after surgery one in the hospital. The Joint Institute staff encourages us to bring music or meditations.

While I am not looking forward to this surgery by any means, I am definitely looking forward to two weeks from now when it will all be over & I should be well on my way to healing & being pain free. I know that it is time. It won't get better on its own. I am 100% confident that I am in the best place possible with the best surgeon doing the surgery. I am as prepared as I can be for a positive outcome. I have numerous friends & family members who are keeping me in their prayers, sending good wishes & generally supporting me. But I'm still scared. This is my first major surgery - ever!

I even filled out the Advance Directive form with my health care wishes just in case it all goes to hell.  And as my son pointed out over dinner last week, "That's good, but I think with a spinal block instead of general anesthetic & replacing your hip joint, it will be pretty hard to kill you. They would really have to work at it." True!

So, here we go!  I'll keep you all posted.

SCORING DRUGS IS NOT EASY

Okay, one more rant before I begin to calm down, relax, listen to my guided imagery CD & generally prepare myself for successful surgery. But first, I have to say that our medical system is genuinely fucked up (sorry, but my soapbox rants usually include a few swear words!)

I spent the past four days at four different pharmacies attempting to fill my prescription for Vicodin from my surgeon in Fremont. They told me to fill it prior to my surgery so I would have the pain medication at my disposal. My prescriptions are normally filled through mail order but I have a local CVS on file for one time things. I headed to CVS on Monday with my prescription in hand. Interestingly, I found out that CVS doesn't take my insurance, Medicare & Tricare for Life (the military retirees insurance). Fine. Guess that's good to know.

I went to Walgreens & was assured they take the insurance & can fill it with doctor approval. Apparently, since doctors give this stuff out like candy for any ache or pain, there are now new regulations limiting the dispensing of Vicodin. They would contact the doctor & I should come back the following day. I did & it wasn't ready. The doctor hadn't gotten back to them. Hmmm, every time I call the office they return my call within a couple hours. This was now Tuesday.

On Wednesday morning, I got smart & called using their automated phone system to check if my drugs were ready. Can anyone talk to those recordings in the same voice that you talk to a real person? I sure can't. Anyway, still not ready....waiting for the doctor. I pushed the number to talk to a real person. I read them the riot act & told them that if it wasn't ready the next day, this morning, I was coming down to get my prescription & go elsewhere.

To cover my ass, I called RiteAid to make sure they took my insurance & would fill the prescription if needed. Sure enough, the same run around this morning from Walgreen's, now Thursday! I told Lou I was going down to yell at Walgreen's & get this shit done. Enough already! My surgery is now only five days away & call me crazy but I definitely want some pain medication available.

The woman at RiteAid was wonderful after hearing my sob story. She said we can certainly do it but will have to call the doctor. I said, "Call them." I had called them yesterday & they had no record of anyone asking about approval but were happy to help. Two minutes later, she comes out from the back with an I'm sorry look on her face. She says, "I really wanted to help you but we can't fill a narcotic prescription outside of Placer or Sacramento counties." I muttered "Thanks," but didn't really mean it.

Back home I started calling pharmacies. Eventually a really nice man named Daniel at WalMart helped me with good information. He said technically a pharmacy can't refuse to fill a prescription outside of the area. They could do it with doctor approval BUT he didn't have enough of the correct dose to fill my prescription. I genuinely thanked Daniel for his help.

Finally, on the third WalMart I called, they said they had enough medication, would take my insurance & if the doctor approved it they could do it. Off I went again. Ultimately, they did fill the prescription but only for 70 pills instead of 100 for some reason or other. By then, I really didn't care what bullshit regulations they were spouting. THEN they had to call the doctor to make sure they could fill the prescription for LESS than the prescribed amount. The doctor said, "If she is okay with it, we are okay with it." I said, "I'm okay with it, please fill it."

So, I am now the proud owner of 70 generic Vicodin pills & it only took four days of my time! Twenty-five years ago I took one when I had a breast biopsy & it knocked me on my ass. This same medication made my sister throw up & had my son feeling like he was high on drugs so I don't even know if I'll be able to take it.

BUT there is some possible good news. My son thinks there is a street value of probably $3 to $4 per pill if I want to sell them. Well, guess what? Those 70 pills cost me $3.04......sooooo, I could make a cool profit of $250. Don't panic, that was obviously said tongue in cheek.......I think.

THE COUNTDOWN BEGINS

After nine months of varying degrees of pain & discomfort, my hip replacement surgery is scheduled for July 17 - just nineteen days away! I chose to go to the Institute for Joint Replacement (IJR) in Fremont (about 120 miles from our home). My son lives 12 miles away in Hayward making it easy to drive in yesterday to play with my Charley before all my pre-op appointments today.

I headed out this morning & took the shortest route down Mission Blvd. This area is my old stomping grounds. I lived in Hayward for 50 years & spent a lot of time up & down Mission Blvd. Not surprisingly, I was bombarded by memories of every era of my life - the McDonald's where Darrin & I created "Ash Scattering by Air"; Darrin's high school; the barn (now houses) where I rode horses; the old roller skating rink (now a pile of rubble); the first apartment building where my sister lived; Big Daddy's Drive-In (long gone); & Darrin's train club at the Niles Depot to name a few.

The list goes on & on with literally about 100 places or events from my past popping into my mind as I drove by the images of my life. Many things are gone or look different now but they all came alive in my thoughts. And, there are quite a few memories that will continue to remain completely personal as a smile crossed my lips.

But back to my impending hip surgery. Let me be clear - I don't want it! I'm somewhat unnerved since I have never in my 68 years had major surgery! I'm apprehensive about every bit of it! AND I keep hoping I'll wake up one morning, feel fine & be able to walk without pain. BUT seeing as how that hasn't happened, I am resigned to knowing that if I want any kind of active life in my remaining years, this is absolutely necessary.

Having done my homework, I am 100% sure that I have one of the best surgeons in the country & am at the best place possible to have my hip replaced. Everyone I have met or interacted with from the scheduler to the physician's assistants to the physical therapist to the doctor has impressed the hell out of me! They have dotted every "i" & crossed every "t" - several times. I feel valued as a person, not just a patient.

A couple weeks ago, I received a binder full of information regarding every aspect of my hip surgery. There were forms to fill out & chapters covering pretty much anything & everything about the procedures that have been finely honed down to every tiny detail. I was told to bring the binder with me to every appointment for the next year starting today.

The surgery will be done with a spinal block not general anesthetic, meaning I will be awake, making recovery easier. I will be given the choice of watching my surgery on monitors or being almost asleep with sedation. Uhhh, right - no way in holy hell am I watching the surgeon saw off pieces of my bones & pound metal into me! I'll take door number two & sleep through it!

Anyway, today after having blood drawn, peeing in a cup, getting an EKG & having my hip x-rayed, I was interviewed by a nurse who put everything into the computer. The IJR is attached to Washington Hospital in Fremont but has its own testing area, its own patient rooms & is separate from the hospital other than using their operating rooms. Next I was seen by a physician's assistant who double checked all the information & gave me a complete rundown of exactly what to expect.

My final pre-op event today was a class given by occupational & physical therapists who work for IJR. About 8 or 9 of us knee & hip replacement candidates filed into the Power Point presentation all carrying our required binders like good little students. They shared everything that will happen from the night before surgery up until we are discharged & beyond. I am as well informed & as ready as I'll ever be.

A long time ago I bought a CD for my dad that uses guided imagery meditations in preparing for surgery. I made him listen to it before his back surgery 15 years ago. It says that you don't need to believe it will work just let the suggestions simmer in your subconscious - one of which is reducing the blood flow during surgery. When he surgeon talked to us afterwards, he remarked how remarkable little bleeding there was. Whoa! I'm a believer!

I've shared it with several people since then & have started listening to it myself this past week. I even bought an old refurbished CD player on ebay to take to the hospital. The IJR encourages people to listen to whatever music or relaxation CDs they prefer. There is a "day of surgery" meditation & a "healing after surgery" one, too. I'll be listening to both of them!

I'm one who has always liked to cover all the bases so I would not be at all adverse to anyone who might want to say a prayer or think good thoughts for my successful outcome on July 17th. If all goes as planned, I will be home on July 18th & will keep you posted.

POMP AND CIRCUMSTANCE

Last week a friend, Helen, posted on Facebook that it had been 50 years since she graduated from high school. As I marveled at that statement, my first thought was simply "Wow!" Then I realized that since we are the same age it has also been 50 years since I graduated from high school. OH, MY GOD! Fifty years! Half a century! That is a long ass time! The math can't possibly be right, can it?

Honestly, I hadn't even considered how many years it had been since I graduated. It never even entered my mind to wonder how long ago I completed high school. I only went to one reunion, my tenth, & really wasn't interested in any more. I haven't kept in touch with anyone from my high school days. We all went our separate ways & moved on to adulthood.

Many people I know love reminiscing about their teenage years & miss them dearly. Truthfully, I hated school - pretty much from grammar school on but especially my high school days. I have no real idea why I had no use for school, but I didn't. I was an intelligent young woman who got good grades & graduated 9th in my class of over 400. For a couple years I hung out with the brainiacs but really didn't fit into that group.

My junior year I moved on to the hippie scene (this was the mid-1960s after all). But again, I didn't fit in well since I refrained from "free love" & only smoked grass (that was our term of choice for marijuana) once or twice. Looking back I never liked the feeling of being out of control. And probably the biggest reason was that I was afraid my mother would indeed kill me if I came home stoned or pregnant. The worst thing I did was take up smoking at age 16. Fortunately, I quit ten years later & have never smoked a cigarette again.

Now, that my mother has long ago passed away & my father will never see this, I can share my greatest teenage deception. My parents had a cute, little two-seater sports car - a 1960 British MGA. That was the car I learned to drive on & I loved tooling around, shifting & enjoying the wind in my hair with the top down. I had cut if off super short like Mia Farrow in Peyton Place. Only if you are on the other side of 60 will you understand this reference.

Back to my version of hell raising (Hah!). The gas gauge didn't work so we used the trip odometer to make sure we filled it up every 250 miles or so before resetting it. Somehow, I discovered that if you twisted the little knob backwards you could take miles off the trip odometer rather than pushing it to zero it out. Myself & two girlfriends (you could squeeze three of us in the two seats) would take the MG to San Leandro to cruise East 14th Street on Friday nights. In hindsight, I'm not sure what the big draw was about cruising. Do kids still do it?

Anyway, to cover our tracks, we knew that the car got about 25 miles per gallon so we would turn the odometer back however many miles we put on the car & added enough gas to cover those miles. My parents never found out! There was a great deal of satisfaction knowing I put one over on my mother. I guess it was my way of living dangerously as a sixteen year old.

Yeah, that was about as wild as this child got during my high school years. I started riding horses when I was fourteen. My social focus was always at the stable after school & on weekends. I didn't participate in any clubs or after school activities. I didn't attend my Junior Prom or Senior Ball - just wasn't interested. All I wanted from school was O-U-T, OUT! Even with those great grades, I did not want to go to college. I had enough of school & was adamant that I wasn't going any longer than the law made me.

Those of you who know me are aware that I am an emotional person. I cry at movies, books & even Folgers coffee commercials where the kid comes home from school to surprise his mom. Those Christmastime ads with the Budweiser draft horses get me every time. A heartfelt card or sentiment from any of my sweeties & I'm a blubbering mess.

BUT when my high school graduation day finally arrived, I never teared up or sniffled at anything. There wasn't one emotional moment which I still find hard to believe. I was just so damned happy to get my diploma & get the hell out of there! I'm pretty sure I headed for the barn to celebrate with my horse.

AN INTERNATIONAL INCIDENT AVOIDED

Here is my slightly tongue-in-cheek account of passing through security at Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi, India.

On our recent flight back to the United States, the Indian airport security made our American TSA experience seem like a speedy, efficient, well-oiled machine. Due to the fact that Lou was pushing me in his dad's transport wheelchair, we were directed to a different line. Everything electronic had to be removed from our carry on bags - phones, tablets, cameras, chargers, kindles, batteries, etc.

None of the metal detectors were working or they just didn't feel like using them, not sure which. They were wanding all the men. I stepped out of the wheelchair & was motioned into a small booth (not unlike the old voting booths) where a woman in traditional burka clothing motioned for me to turn around. She ran her hands up & down my body until she was convinced that I wasn't carrying anything that could blow the plane out of the sky.

I made it out the other side of the voting booth & Lou soon joined me. He had apparently passed the wand test assuring a terrorist-free flight. Our experience had been that they would get to the wheelchair when they felt like it, so we waited patiently using the time to put all of our electronics back in our carry ons.

At this point one of the camouflage clad agents held up my purse looking for the owner. I raised my hand & he communicated that he needed to open it. I nodded as he unzipped it & began rummaging through the contents. He removed my wallet, sunglasses, quart bag of liquids & a few other things. He took out my small makeup type bag that contains a few medicines, bandaids, a mirror, lipstick, etc.

Finding nothing, he put it back through the x-ray machine. Another camo agent checking the screen again told him to search it. Once more, everything was removed & rummaged through as I stood quietly by. I waited as he spread my dental floss, ibuprofen, panty liners, lip balm & other assorted toiletries out on the table. About this time I was beginning to think that maybe it was my corkscrew buried in the bottom of the makeup bag. But I wasn't about to bring it to his attention.

Thirty years ago when I started getting into wine, I vowed to never be without a corkscrew. I always carry one with me. And it has come in handy many times. You really never know when you will need to open a bottle of wine.

One time about 25 years ago, my ex-husband & I were in Tahoe. We stepped into the elevator in Harvey's to ride up to our 20-whatever floor room. Two young men got on, also. They had grocery bags with them & one pulled out a 2-liter bottle of wine. The other one started giving him a hard time saying, "Why the hell did you buy that? How are you going to open it?" I immediately scrounged around my purse & withdrew my corkscrew saying, "Here ya go!" His smug look at his friend made me smile as he opened his bottle of wine on the elevator ride.

But I digress. Back in Delhi at the security table, after the third search, the camo guy pulled out my corkscrew, took it apart, looked at it & asked what it was. I replied, "A corkscrew." I have learned over the years not to volunteer too much information & give minimal answers. He looked puzzled so I added, "It's to open wine bottles." Still confused he took the offending "weapon" to a higher up camo guy. A minute later he returned, put it back in my purse & sent us on our way to the gate with no further explanation.

Apparently, we avoided an international incident regarding the attempted smuggling of a sharp pointed, curly cue corkscrew. A scenario flashed through my mind where I separated my corkscrew from its holder, held it up & shouted, "Get back! I've got a corkscrew & I'm not afraid to use it!"

Eventually they decided we weren't hiding any explosives in the wheelchair either & we were finally on our way. BUT upon arriving at the gate, we discovered yet another security screening. Yep, all the electronics had to be taken out of the bags again, our shoes had to come off this time & the wheelchair was searched again. Any water that was purchased had to be discarded. HOWEVER, my corkscrew made it through with no further issue!

HALF A WORLD AWAY

It is really difficult to remain calm & positive when you learn that your only child is in surgery in Oakland after an injury in the Dominican Republic & you are in Thailand, half a world away - literally. Yes, my "child" is 42 years old, but as every mom & dad knows, they are your "babies" as long as you live.

We had left on a 21 day vacation to Singapore, Thailand, Sri Lanka, India, Oman & Dubai just a few days before Darrin's accident. He & Patricia, were on a week long getaway to Punta Cana, DR, that overlapped our trip by a few days. Due to our father's advanced ages & health issues, I had changed my phone service to include international phone calls at 20 cents a minute & free texts so we could keep in touch. BUT it would only work on land, not on the ship.

After a day at sea, we were on a tour in Phuket, Thailand, when my phone beeped with the notification that I had a text. It was to both Allen (Darrin's dad) & me that had been sent the night before. It read in part:

"Hi Allen & Kathy. This is Patricia. Darrin is safe & fine now, but I wanted to update you on his condition. While on vacation, Darrin had an unfortunate fall that further injured his hip. (He was on crutches from a stress fracture in his upper thigh that occurred while training for a half marathon.)

"We were able to get medical care there, which included an x-ray that showed the top of the femur was broken. The doctors in the DR & Oakland agreed that surgery was needed. Weighing all the options & risks, we decided to return home ASAP for the surgery at Kaiser Oakland."

It was a lengthy text that gave us all the pertinent details. I barely skimmed the last couple of paragraphs before sitting down on a low wall & calling Patricia from the top of a mountain in Phuket. The sights on our tour were suddenly of no interest to me. Patricia answered immediately & told me Darrin was taken into surgery about half an hour ago. Allen had driven down to Oakland & they were waiting for word of the "open reduction surgery" results which entails putting a metal plate & pins or screws into the bone to stabilize it.

After talking extensively with both Patricia & Allen, I was soon able to breathe somewhat normally. They both said they would remain in contact with me almost as if I was sitting there with them - & they did. About an hour later I received this text, "Good news. Out of surgery with a plate & screw. Doctor very pleased. He is in recovery now. Will text when we can see him in about an hour." Sitting outside the Seashell Museum, I was immediately in tears. Knowing he was through the surgery was such a relief. Plus most of you know that I cry at those Folgers coffee commercials & pretty much every movie so this was not unexpected.

Our tour was wrapping up & I still hadn't heard that they had seen him yet. As we prepared to board the tender, I was getting antsy with no news, especially knowing that we would be at sea with no affordable communication for two days. This text arrived a short while later, "Heading up to see him now. Nurse said he's doing fantastic. He may be able to go home tomorrow." I took some deep breaths & boarded the tender thinking that it would be okay & I could enjoy the rest of our trip. 

Halfway back to the ship as the tender bounced slowly across the sea, my phone rang. I frantically dug it out of my purse & answered. It was Darrin! An hour out of surgery he wanted to reassure me that he was doing okay & I shouldn't worry - yeah, right. I fought the tears again as I was incredibly moved that my son was making sure that I was alright after he went through such an ordeal.

And maybe a little part of it was that he just wanted to hear his mom's voice. We talked for several minutes before hanging up with many "love you lots" & promises to call in every port. As I hung up, that's when the waterworks started again - right there in the middle of the tender with 200 other passengers. I didn't even bother to explain, just sniffled & wiped my tears. It really is unbelievably hard to be half a world away when you want to be there holding his hand with love & support. Thank God for the cheap international calls.

Follow up: He did leave the hospital the next day & his dad took him up to his place in Sonora where he & Marilyn took good care of him for two weeks. Allen brought him home yesterday for a follow up appointment which showed all is healing well. After being up for almost 48 hours as Lou & I traveled from Delhi, India to San Francisco these past two days, I absolutely had to make a stop in Hayward on our way home to hug my kid & see for myself that he is indeed okay. He is!

HIPS DON'T LIE - SO SAYS SHAKIRA

I just realized that I haven't updated everyone with the results of my orthopedic specialist appointment regarding my hip pain. Some of you already know the outcome but I know many of you are still in the dark.

I mentioned to the doctor that I was hoping to feel better for our big cruise vacation in April. He said he looked at my x-rays which did confirm the arthritis. He had me lay down, moved my leg around asking when it hurt & had me describe the pain. He announced that my hip was worn out & I would need hip replacement surgery. Then he just wanted to talk about travel.

What the fuck??? The LAST thing I was expecting to hear was that I need hip replacement! Honestly, it never entered my mind that would be the ultimate diagnosis. Never! I was just a little flabbergasted trying to wrap my head around the fact that I needed surgery where they would put big pieces of metal inside me. I thought I had bursitis or a pulled muscle.

Since I didn't even want to think about actually having the surgery at this point, the doctor recommended a cortisone shot into the joint a couple weeks before the trip then decide on the surgery later. I drove home in a bit of a blur with all sorts of things spinning around in my brain. Not the least of which was, "What the hell? I've never had major surgery. My body has never let me down like this. Shit, I really am old."

Over the next few weeks, I made it my mission in life to find out everything I could about hip replacement. I started by talking with everyone I knew who had hip replacement surgery. Countless hours were spent online researching the different techniques, the limitations, what the surgery entailed, etc. After reading the description of the surgery - the socket is replaced with a metal cup lined with plastic & the top of your thigh bone is sawed off before the spike with the ball is pounded into the bone - I was feeling pretty nauseous. Okay, deep breaths, Kath.

My personality is such that I need to know everything to expect. And the more I go over it, the more normal it sounds. It is hard to deal with at first but once I know the details, I feel better. Describing cutting through muscles & sawing off bones seems less freaky the more I talk about it. But I seriously doubt I'll watch the video of the actual surgery I found online.

One of my phone calls was to my dad's home physical therapist in the Bay Area. She was nothing short of a miracle worker for my dad when he literally could not roll over in bed several years ago. As she told me about the various types of surgery & the recovery times, she said if I was still in the Bay Area she had a great doctor to recommend. I said, please, recommend away. I'm totally open to driving a couple hours.

I met with Dr. Sah on February 21 in Fremont. Everything about his Institute for Joint Replacement is first class with state of the art surgical techniques. She was right, he is who I want doing my surgery. Prior to my appointment Lou & I drove into Fremont for a seminar that Dr. Sah was presenting on joint replacement. Both of us were impressed with him & his approach. He is that rare combination of excellent surgeon & compassionate, caring person. If anyone wants to check it out, here is his website: http://sahortho.com/

Now that I know more about x-rays, symptoms & what to expect I'm 99% sure that I do indeed need hip replacement surgery. I've been holding out hope that a miracle would occur making me suddenly feel fine again but that hasn't happened. The primary criteria seems to be when your pain is impacting your life, it is time to suck it up & have the surgery.

I will have the cortisone shot on March 19, spend a week with Charley for spring break & leave on our three week cruise to Singapore, Thailand, Sri Lanka, India, Oman & Dubai on April 4. If I survive the cruise relatively in tact, we will still do our previously planned trip to southern Texas in May. I'm not going to jeopardize any time with my Charley this summer recovering from hip surgery. Dr. Sah will schedule me for late July or early August when I can devote all my time & focus to healing.

Last week I received a full page handwritten letter from Dr. Sah thanking me for my visit & telling me he is looking forward to participating in my care. He ended by telling me to enjoy my trip to Singapore! I was impressed. I've never received a thank you letter from a doctor before, let alone a handwritten one!