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.