About once a week I take William a hamburger at East Side Hospital. He likes them simple, just the meat piled with onions. So on the way I stop at Burger King, or Wendy’s and get him supper. In fact he has got me on that kick also. I just add a little mustard with double onions, best hamburger in the world. Yes the KISS principle can be used in many areas of life, hamburgers included.
So being the mighty hunter I am, I got supper in no time, and got to the hospital. I went up to the se
She was short, under five feet tall,
Yet for all of that she was a fire cracker, full of life, spunk and anger,
With words that would cause a sailors ears to go red,
Flowed like a river from her mouth,
Her voice sharp like a whip, demanding to be heard at all cost.
Yes she was a fighter, a pit bull in a very small body,
Her hair curly, grey with the texture of cotton,
Two stubby pig tails on the side of her little head,
Yet it fit her this strange woman, whom I found beautiful.
It was a beautiful evening one of those you cherish because you know that the summer is just around the corner, so it is best to truly enjoy the soothing cool weather that is Spring’s gift. Sun was out, clouds a delight to look at, and the other drivers for the most part seemed to be in a good mood.
As I arrived at East Side Hospital I noticed that a man was entering with a dog that looked like a Golden Retriever. I figured it was a Seeing Eye dog and thought no more about it. When I arri
I first saw her as I entered into the unit,
An old woman perhaps in her eighties,
Frail looking as people of that age often look,
Bent over, very fired looking,
Safely placed in her chair,
Or perhaps imprisoned would be a better word,
Something very sad but necessary,
Yet I doubt that she understood the reason for it.
Both of her eyes blackened from what I do not know,
Though from abuse I doubt since she did not seem in physical pain.
I said “hi”,
She gave me a w
The chalice is golden
Inlaid with fine jewels of great beauty,
Its elegance unparalleled,
Rubies large surround its handle,
Inviting a response,
To take and drink the wine of life,
Rich in texture
Intoxicating in its effect.
Bringing the joy of youth with all its pleasures,
As well as its struggles and pitfalls,
It goes down smoothly this wine of youth,
Leading one down life’s pilgrimage,
Its path slowly rising up to the mountain path,
Getting steeper as the y
She at times drives me to distraction with her neediness,
Calling me, just wanting to talk about things,
Perhaps to cry over hurts she has accumulated,
Or complains about her friend,
The one she loves.
Not young anymore, has not been for a long time,
Nearing her 70’s,
Yet like a teenager in her desires for someone,
A man to come swooping in and save her,
To ride off into the sunset,
Which of course will never happen.
She is intelligent,
Well educated and articulate.
The old man sat at the table by himself,
Unnoticed if not ignored by others,
Looking down at the book he was reading,
An aura of peace surrounding him,
Content with his solitude
Focused on the world within the book.
The waitress has a kind heart,
Easy to see in the gentle way she talks to him,
Touching his shoulder,
Asking in a whisper if he wants more coffee.
He returns in kind,
Smiling such a gentle way,
I can see why she dotes on him.
They see each other,
Rose and I arrived at Eastside for a visit with William. We had to take him back in to have his meds looked into, since he was starting to have some trouble dealing with his situation. He has now been there going on six days, and I guess his stay will be longer than what I hoped for. I always hope it will only take a week, but for him in the past, he has been there for three weeks or more.
My first visit took place on his second night there. I was pleasantly surprised that they had him in
Sometimes, when I sit down at my computer with a desire to write, nothing seems to come up. It is like I am looking into a deep black well, knowing that there is life down there, but somehow it is hiding from me, playing peek a boo. I suppose the sides of the well can be slippery, so at times inspiration may just have a hard time climbing up. It seems to try, gets only to some point to where I get an inkling, and bam (!) it slides down again, below the water into the unconscious realm. Yet a
It is interesting being a Catholic; we sort of get it from everybody. Atheist gleefully bring up the church’s history, which is of course is checkered, its past filled not only with the good it has accomplished, but also the evil it has also committed; which cannot be downplayed. Those in the New Age movement also love to denigrate the church, loving to bring up hair raising stories of abuse, both physical and emotional, which is also true. The best are some types of fundamentalist, not all of c
For years I passed the complex that houses the building that Aldo is now staying in. At this point it only has three sections to it. One is an apartment complex dedicated for the elderly who can still fend for themselves. Another for assisted living, and the third, the building Aldo is in, is the Nursing home. When the complex first opened, all the buildings were owned by one commercial entity. Now I have heard that they were sold, and each is owned separate from the others. It is a nice co
Well, Aldo is finally established in his new home. The social worker at Crawford Long Hospital was able to get him situated in the area where most of his friends and extended family live. It is a nice place, as far as that goes, but after all, a nursing home at its best is not what you would call a happy place. Most residents would rather not be there, those of course who can still care about such things.
On my first visit I found him in his new room, he has a room mate, who was not there
The prohibition against judging others is something that I at times spend a great deal of energy thinking about. I suppose it goes hand in hand with in injunction to treat others as or even to love others, as one loves themselves. Why? One thing I do know, I hate it when someone thinks that they can read me like a book. I remember an incident many years ago when a friend of mine told me that. Well it changed our relationship, I felt like he put me in a tight fighting box, so the trust facto
We sat and talked over coffee and dessert,
Glen a very good friend,
A loving and caring man,
To a fault,
As many caregivers are.
The gift and the compulsion that comes with it,
An uneasy dance,
In constant play,
Working for and against him
In his desire to care for others.
He is from New Orleans,
So he often talks about Katrina,
His experience in the hospital there
Trapped with many others,
Generators no longer working,
The days fly by,
As if one,
Our thoughts and experiences mostly hidden,
Deeply buried in the seemingly bottomless ocean of the unconscious.
A jumble it seems at times;
Worries sorrows and joys,
Seen often for what they are
A wave rising up and then once again sinking
As if it never was,
Yet it effects long lasting.
Roots hidden though sleeping still live.
Flow from this
The flowing water soothes,
Gentle music played on the rounded rocks,
Lazily fish swim dining a la carte,
Resting and swimming at times fighting,
The round eternal,
The balance kept by the quiet life and death struggle
Below the calm surface,
That will never cease.
Well, I finally got the Power of Attorney paper work for Aldo finished, got the witnesses I needed, and a notary to put his seal on it. Always good to have things like that in order, so that Aldo will get the kind of care he wants, in case he can't speak for himself. The doctor and social at the hospital were so happy to know that he had an extended family of some kind, that they started to work with us even before the paper work was finished. Besides they had Aldo's verbal ok. Younger doctors s
When the heart swells when music’s caress arouses,
When the sight of beauty makes one catch their breath,
When the vision of a child opens up ones heart to be loved,
When compassion arises to help a stranger,
When friends truly laugh,
When lovers truly love,
When oneness is experienced with the world,
Even if only for an instant,
We are made for such things,
For it is worship that we experience,
Living water found in the depths of a dry desert.
Beauty grabs us in guises oft
Quite a few years ago, I can remember reading an article, which cost about 1.5 million dollars for the study, stating that adolescents was the most difficult time of life. I laughed when reading this and thought, what is new about that, what a waste of money. I think most people when looking back on their teen age years would agree, though, those years have many happy events also. Children, becoming adults, sometimes both present at the same time, hence the extremes that many pre-twenties are
I was working on the computer, when Pattie came up to me and ask me if I heard about Aldo. I said no, what happened. It seems that Aldo was having trouble getting out of bed, he could not walk. So Pattie and Michael called the front office where he lived. They checked in on him, and called 911. They took him to Crawford Long Hospital. A hospital affiliated with Emory, a very good place to go if you are sick. Pattie went on to say that Aldo told her that I was his Power of Attorney for medical ca
Answers are wanted at all cost,
Knowledge of what we are about sought with ardent desire,
Seeking to get to the bottom of life’s mystery,
A journey long,
Impossible to complete,
Yet the path humans are all on.
Like a giant puzzle is our existence and each has a piece,
Mistaking that one part for the whole, a common mistake.
Causing strife were perhaps there is none.
Our senses the walls that keep us enclosed,
Allowing us to see only so far,
Perhaps in the end we will come t
I wonder what life would be like, if that fact that death, which could and does happen at any time, be taken out of the picture. If human life was not short, if we had an unlimited amount of years to live out our hopes and dreams; what if that were true? To me the question is like thinking about winning the lottery. I for one would not want to. To suddenly have all the money I need, or could ever spend, does not sound very promising. With all that money I could never ever look forward to an
The path we are on must be trod,
Glass strewn along the way stepped upon,
The thorns that hem us in,
Their prick must be felt,
Wounds that bleed dealt with.
Fountains of living water we must bathe in,
When the Sun of love comes our way it should be absorbed,
Suffering, joy, pain, pleasure,
All a part of our long difficult journey,
Our pilgrimage towards we know not what.
Hope must be cultivated,
It roots allowed to take hold,
Encouraging us along when things are dark,
They sat and simply stared like they did in the past,
The day they first met so many years ago,
So much promise and joy seemed to be there,
The seeds planted waiting to sprout,
Flooding the world with the light of their love.
So many years later, here they are,
Staring, just that,
Both wondering what happened,
When did this cold silence start,
Becoming a chasm of separation,
Loneliness again making itself felt;
Hungry for food once there but now gone.
Being a catholic has it pluses, many of them actually. I think one is the number of devotional practices that are out there for people to partake in. Usually one or two is picked and the devotional life starts. One of the good things about these practices is that it allows one to pray and mediate on a regular basis, which soon becomes a habit that over flows into every day life. Many use scriptures every day for their devotions, others us practices that are based on scripture, but primarily