THE TRIPLE "O" CLUB

 Over the years I have been a member of various groups and organizations. 

 As a child I became a Brownie when I was in early elementary school and worked my way up through the different levels until I graduated from high school.  As a young mom back in the 70's I rejoined the Girl Scouts as a leader which I continued to do up until about the turn of the century.  All in all I was a Girl Scout for about 28 years.  

I was never one to join high school or college organizations so I have no experience with that. 

I have been a member of about 5 different Catholic parishes. I was very involved in my parish out on Long Island while my kids were growing up. I taught religious education and worked with the food pantry and other outreach programs that our church provided. 

And last but not least I am a member of the Triple "A" automobile club.  I have been a member of that organization ever since I got my first car back in 1966. That makes me a member of The AAA for 57 years, if I did the math right.   

For a while during our pre retirement years Husband and I belonged to AARP.  I honestly don't know what purpose they served so I cancelled that membership several years ago. Yet they still haunt me with advertisements and offers. 

With the exception of AARP the groups that I have joined provided me with a sense of fulfillment and purpose that I lacked in my otherwise mundane life.  Not to say raising 3 kids was mundane but I always wanted to be validated as a contributing member of society.  Whether being a part of these various groups filled that need is still questionable.  

Now that I am a senior citizen and living out my "golden" years I find that it is this newest membership that I am having the most difficulty with. This new group is not one that I sought out.  Rather it found me and enlisted me into its ranks with astonishing speed.  The Triple "O" Club has made me a charter member and I have risen in its ranks to unprecedented levels.  

What ?  You don't know about the Triple "O" Club?  You probably are a member and don't even realize it.  If you are over the age of 70 most of us are automatically signed up.  The Triple "O"'s stand for the 3 levels of pain that out bodies endure each and every day. 

 The first "O" stands for the days we are at the "OOOOOOO" stage.  Just a mild reminder that we have joints and those joints are not happy.  When you stand you grunt or say, "Oooooooh" until the joints limber up.

The second "O" is for "OWWWWWW".  Those are the times when our body is not just stiff for a short while but continues to ache all the time.  No matter how you sit, stand or move you have the ache that just won't go away. You may choose to say "OUCH" when a particularly sharp reminder of your age zaps you but either way it hurts.  

The final "O" stands for "OH MY GOD" or any other version of the "Oh  @%$&*#%!@(%" that you choose to use.  This is the worst of the "O"s and it is the one that puts us down mentally and physically. It is relentless and cruel and should only be tolerated on the rarest of occasions even though most of us have to put up with it more often than we would like. 

All three of the triple "O"'s oozed into my life way too soon.  I do not like being a member of this club.  But it seems I have no say in the matter. The "O"'s make me ornery, obnoxious and obstinate. 

Because I have found it almost impossible to terminate my membership in the Triple "O" I think I will have to resort to joining yet another organization known as the Triple "D" club.   DRINK, DRUGS, DEMENTIA !!!!   Now that is a club I am ready for !

 

THE HOLE STORY

 COPD is awful !   Every day I watch this man struggle to breathe. Breathing is something you don't ever think about until you can't do it.    We get headaches so we focus on our heads and hope we don't have a brain tumor,  your heart races so we think it is about to explode. Aches and pains are warning signs for all our body parts but unless you have a persistent cough we seldom think about our lungs. 

Seven and a half years ago when I first met The Man I had no idea what COPD was.  I knew it had to do with breathing issues but beyond that I was oblivious to the complexities of this nasty disease.  On our first date we meet for lunch after which I suggested a trip to one of the local oceanside parks. The Man was not familiar with Florida, his wife had died two years earlier so an old army buddy of his invited him to spend the winter with him in Florida. We met at a dinner party hosted by mutual friends of mine and The Man's friend John. The Man was not using oxygen at that time so I didn't know he was in the early stages of COPD.  As we drove down to the ocean park The Man told me he had some breathing issues so he couldn't walk very far. No Problem!  We parked the car and took the tram along the boardwalk to the ocean where we encountered stairs.  This was my first realization that breathing isn't something that should be taken for granted.  

Over our years together I have been educated in all the finer details of this miserable disease called COPD. Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease is like an evil shadow that creeps up on you and slowly strangles you.  Asthma, Emphysema, and Chronic bronchitis are all types of COPD. Each one is destroying the lungs in different ways.  Emphysema is The Man's nemesis. It is a progressive destruction creating holes in the lungs. Not much fun !  No cure.  So you make the best of what you have and keep going. The man has mastered this approach with style and dignity. We make slight adaptations to our daily lives, no eating in restaurants because it is just too complicated to drag oxygen around, whether it is a tank that will only last 2-3 hours or a concentrator that needs to be plugged in.  Easier to just do drive through or stay home.  Can't fly because you can't bring oxygen tanks onto airplanes and there is no where to plug in a machine. The concentrators do have auxiliary batteries but they only last about 2 hours and they weigh a ton.  With all of these oxygen sources I get to be the pack horse carrying the batteries and wires in my back pack.  Let me tell you how heavy they are !

I have mentioned in past blogs how our home is booby trapped with oxygen tubing.  Like the disease the tubing has increased over the years.  The Man has gone from no oxygen supplements to carrying a small portable battery powered machine that provided a burst of oxygen as needed.  From there we went to a small electric concentrator that he could move around with him. Now we have moved up to a LARGE concentrator that sits in a room in the center of the house.  The Man is attached to these concentrators by a hose. In the beginning it was a short hose. He would just need oxygen occasionally and could leave the hose and walk around without it.  Now the hose is over 50 feet long because he wears it ALL the time.  Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Day and night. In the shower, sleeping, sitting . . . Not one step without it. I have learned to be VERY aware of where I am stepping.  Not only can I step on the hose and cut off his oxygen supply but the hoses are made of plastic and are not that pliable.  They get tangled and curled and caught under pieces of furniture.  I have gotten my feet tangled in them a few times but have avoided any major catastrophe.  The good thing about the tubing is I can always tell exactly where The Man is.  If the hose is going out the door I know he must be outside. It's a warped version of Hansel and Gretel.  

So now I have filled you in on the WHOLE story of the HOLES in The Man's lungs.  But it doesn't end there.   

For the past 2 weeks The Man has been struggling with his breathing.  There are many factors that can cause this. An infection in his lungs, (which is quite common), allergies, a build up of fluids in his body which put pressure on his lungs causing less room for air, or possible heart issues. ( Did I mention that difficulty in breathing causes a strain on the heart so more often than not a patient with COPD will die of heart failure?)  When The Man has a "flare up" we have to rule out all these possibilities.  With this last episode, (which The Man failed to mention to me until it got really bad), we ran down all the possibilities and came up with nothing. He had decided that maybe we would have to go to the ER and have them check him out. But being a man this was the absolute last option.   Y

esterday The Man decided to go out to ride around on his lawn mower. When he does that he has a tank of oxygen sitting in the small trailer attached to the lawn mower.  He took off the house oxygen hose, put on the tank hose and said, "What the Hell ?" He noticed that the air flow from the tank was much stronger than the air flow from the concentrator. (Both were set at 3 liters which is what he now needs to function.) We immediately went into Sherlock Holmes mode to solve the mystery.  The Man thought of everything . . . we checked the concentrator's filters . . .  check!  Checked the outlet . . .  check!  Checked the nose piece that delivers the oxygen into his nose . . .  check!  Checked the hose for kinks . . .  check !   He finally decided to call the company that supplies the concentrator to see if they had a mechanic on call since it was now 5:30 on a Friday afternoon.  The lovely young lady on the phone was so patient with The Man and his convoluted explanation of his problem,  She went through all the possible problems and The Man assured her he had checked EVERYTHING.  

 EXCEPT . . . The girl suggested there may be a hole in the 50 foot hose that was delivering the oxygen from the concentrator.  True to form The Man immediately said, "NO! That can't be!"  My brain went the other direction and I got thinking about the hose and how we brought it from Florida, after using it there for 7 months and attached it to the MI concentrator back in MAY and have not changed it EVER !  When The Man goes outside the hose gets dragged across concrete and grass, it gets pinched in doors so it takes quite a beating.  The possibility of a HOLE in the hose made complete sense to me.  The girl on the phone suggested we go inside and connect his cannula directly to the concentrator, by-passing the hose entirely.  Sure enough !!! The Man was breathing again !   The hose DID indeed have a hole in it somewhere along its 50 fool length so that the full flow of oxygen was diminished drastically.  

Now we are breathing easy and I have told you the whole HOLE story. 

THE OLD MAN

Many years ago I had a discussion with my BFF Sharon about who was worse,  little kids or old men. Being a nurse Sharon though old people were much easier to deal with than small children. Having been a kindergarten teacher I love little kids. We decided she could deal with all the old folks who came into our lives and I would handle any kids that should show up along the way.  Between us we had 6 kids so she got to deal with her 3 and my 3 on many occasions. She did GOOD !  I'm not saying she didn't finish a bottle of Jack Daniels once I picked up my kids but while she was watching everyone all was well.  

We never had many occasions to deal with old folks except for those she encountered at work. My dad was a sweet heart so Sharon loved when he was visiting.  When the older relatives of mine would visit Sharon would get an ear full once they all left.  She would calm me down and explain how I should cut the older folk some slack because, well, because they were OLD ! I didn't really buy into that but because they were relatives I often gave them a pass on their quirky behavior.

But now WE are the old people and I am feeling that my peers are getting stupider by the day and I still don't have much tolerance for them.  Especially when I am living with a classic example of OLD.

What's that ?  You want to know what a classic example of old is ?  Well here goes . . . 

1.  Twenty second phone conversations that take twenty minutes !  Do you honestly think that the person at the Post Office needs or wants to know how often you eat at Burger King?  I realize this makes no sense but when The Man gets on the phone anything is possible.  He has a great deal of difficulty staying on the topic at hand. 

2.  Do I REALLY need or want to know how often he changes his socks ? One small sentence will suffice if you care to share but that seems beyond the capabilities of The Man. Once again I get a blow by blow description of why he is changing his socks on a Tuesday, which drawer the socks are in, how he decided on which pair to choose and which foot he will start with when putting said socks on his feet. 

3.  Shower time . . . I don't want to know and I especially don't want details !!!!!

These are just a few examples of how my patience is worn thin. But worse is when I see The Man putting someone else in his sights for one of his detailed conversations.  I can just imagine the poor girl sitting at her desk in what ever office she works for. Her phone rings, (usually 3 minutes before quitting time because there is no other time schedule than his). She picks up the phone at 4:57 on a Friday afternoon only to be treated with The Man. A half hour later she is late for her dinner date and The Man is still rambling on about where he put his teeth last night.  

Little kids !!!  All the way !!  Even though old people often revert to child like behavior they are still a pain in the butt. 

PISSED AT A STICK

 The next time you are reading one of my blogs where I am ranting about something "stupid" that The Man did I want you to recall todays blog.  It will put into perspective just what The Man has to put up with living with me.  

I love living on this farm for the summer.  The opportunity to be outside most of the time without sweating or freezing is ideal for someone like me who really enjoys the out of doors. As a kid I spent as much time  as possible playing outside because I didn't want to be inside where my every move was under the scrutiny of my grand father and my mom.  First thing in the morning I left the house on my bike or roller skates or just hung around out in the yard, (all 15 square feet of it)  My parents loved the out of doors so we often found ourselves taking day trips to the country. Being outside was fun !  My favorite parts of being a Girl Scout for all those years were camping, hiking and anything else out side.  As a parent we took our kids camping every summer and when we weren't camping we were at the beach in the summer or outside in the yard no matter what the season.  And so you can understand why I enjoy Michigan so very much.

Life on this farm is a far cry from my childhood in NYC, my years of raising a family out on Long Island or even retirement in Florida.  Here in Michigan we have wide open spaces and no neighbors right on top of us.  The property stretches in all directions without seeing another house. The fields are bordered by woods on three sides so the animal like has plenty of area to roam.  We have trash pickup twice a month so when we have lots of burnable trash we burn it ! Leftover foods are brought out back to the field where it can naturally compost or get eaten by the local wildlife.  (Did I tell you the other day we saw a black bear walking across the field in back of the pond?).  This is country living at its finest.  

Because we burn a lot of our trash we have a fire pit between the house and the garage.  I think The Man built it when he moved here so it is well constructed and very safe.   I LOVE to burn stuff !!!  Perhaps I was a pyromaniac in a past life or maybe I'm preparing myself for an eternity in Hell.  What ever the reason I am always ready to volunteer to go outside and start a fire in the fire pit.  

I have all the proper equipment required for this task. I bring the hose around from the back of the house "Just in case". . . garden gloves are a must so as to not get splinters from any wood that might get added to the fire and most importantly of all I have my favorite "Fire Poker Stick". (Everyone needs something to poke at the fire in order to keep it burning properly.)  I found my fire poking stick last year as I walked up the driveway one afternoon.  It had broken off a tree during the night and it was PERFECT !!   The stick was completely smooth of branches and leaves.  It was about 5 feet long and just thick enough around to fit nicely into the palm of my hand. (If I was a hiker it would have been the perfect walking stick.). But best of all the wood was still green enough that it would not burn when I used it to poke things around in the fire.  It was a wonderful stick that lasted me all summer last year and most of the summer this year.

UNTIL . . .  House guests arrived !  I knew these 2 adults and 2 young boys were coming and I knew I should "hid" my perfect fire stick.  But life got in the way and I forgot.  Our company was here a whole week of which the first 3 days were very windy so there was no bonfire to toast marshmallows. On the forth day I left The Man here with his guests so I could fly down to visit my son and wife in Atlanta.  I came home 4 days later, the guests left and life slowly returned to "normal".  

(While our guests were here two large branches broke off one of the apple trees out in the yard.  Dwayne's son cut up the large, apple laden branches and piled it all up on the grass next to the fire pit. The wood was very green so we had to wait to burn it. I guess one of the nights the winds were calm and the guests had a bonfire with some of the dry wood from the woods around the house. I heard they did get to roast some marshmallows.)

Today I went out to burn a ton of paper that we have accumulated over the past week. (Amazing how much news paper and tissues can accumulate in a weeks time.). It has been very windy here all week so when I got up today and saw how calm and still the morning was I  headed out side with 3 bags of paper.  I lit the bags, piled on some dry wood and went to get my "fire poking stick" that I keep leaning up against the big Maple tree. 

IT WAS GONE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!  

The horror !!! My stick was GONE !!!!!  OMG !!!!!  

I can not tell you how upset I was over this tragedy.  I swear to you I was ready to smash something. I was PISSED !!!

Now . . .   the fact that I am surrounded by woods on three sides of the property and can go get fifty two thousand "fire sticks" in about three seconds does not factor into the equation.  I was pissed at myself for not putting the stupid stick "away". ( It is only a STICK for heaven sake!)  I was pissed that anyone DARE to burn MY stick. ( Like anyone would know that a branch leaning against a tree trunk was MY stick ).   I was pissed at The Man for having house guests. ( How dare he invite people into HIS home !)

Yes, basically I am crazy !!!  It took me about 15 minutes to come to the realization that I was totally out of my mind to be upset about a stick but I also realized I had to write about it.  

Aren't you glad I am just a little bit nuts ???

I'M BACK IN THE FLANNEL AGAIN

 Do we have any Gene Autry fans out there ?  Remember his song, " I'm Back in the Saddle Again" ?  It went like this . . . " I'm back in the saddle again,      Out where a friend is a friend,  Where the long horn cattle feed on the lowly jimsonweed,  I'm back in the saddle again "     A catchy little tune that has stuck in my head for the last 75 years.  (My dad was a fan of anything Western.  Louis L'amour was his favorite author and Western movies were his choice of TV viewing.) I grew up with the radio always being on so I have a lot of old music rolling around in my otherwise empty brain.

Today I am writing my very own version of Gene Autrys hit song, titled . . .  "I'm Back In The Flannel Again".      It goes something like this . . .

"I'm back in the flannel again,    Here in the frosty UP,     Where the leaves are turning red and the garden is quite dead,  I'm back in the flannel again !"

Yes folks . . . summer is gone and winter is knocking on the door.  There is no Autumn up here in the UP or if there is an Autumn it lasts for about 2 weeks in late August or early September.  Last week at this time it was 86 degrees and today it is 47.  Where else can you have a 40 degree change in temperature in the span of 6 days ???   Last week at this time I was sitting out in the shade under my big Maple tree because it was too hot to sit in the sun,  This week I am sitting on my bed with the heat on in the house.  

The Man's body is totally in shock!  One day he is roasting and the next he is freezing. His doesn't know what the hell is going on. The poor guy has no energy because his body is too busy switching from AC to Heat mode trying to stay comfortable.  Forget trying to keep the house temperature comfortable for him. It's an old house so it is not that well insulated.  No problem in the summer, just open the windows and let the breeze from the lake cool us down but staying warm is a whole other problem. As a result we play games with the thermostat.  In the morning when The Man gets up the house is cool because I can not sleep when it is hot.  I will go into Ninja mode at night after The Man goes to bed.  Sneaking out to turn the thermostat down to anything below 92 degrees where he has had it set for the day. (I exaggerate just a little.) If I get really desperate at night I can open the window over the head of the bed so I can get some cool air blowing down on me while I sleep. But come morning Mr. Man gets up and heads for the kitchen IN HIS UNDERWEAR where he sits freezing . . . so he turns up the heat to about 85 because he is cold.  He also "kindly" shuts the bedroom door so as to not disturb me.  That's very nice except that I am now left sleeping in a closed room where the heat is coming up. After about a half hour I find myself trying to sleep in a sweat box. 

But all that is old news . . .

The weather has officially changed into "Autumn/Winter" season or as we refer to it . . .  Flannel Season.   I am not quite ready for it yet. Today I will spend the afternoon cleaning out my clothes closet and dresser. Switching the shorts for the sweats and the tank tops for flannel.  The good thing about this is that I don't have to put away my summer duds.  They just get packed in a suitcase and put in the back of the car ready for the trip South in 3 weeks.  

No need for flannel or Gene Autry in Florida . . . In a couple of weeks it's all about Jimmy Buffett and bathing suits !!!

RESET . . . RECHARGE . . . RELAX !!!!

 I left the UP for a couple of days last week.  It was WONDERFUL !   Don't get me wrong, I LOVE being in Michigan for the summers and I LOVE my life up here but every so often I need a little change of pace. I am a restless person. I like having "adventures" but I also crave having time to myself. Wherever I am I like to have projects to focus on to keep me busy. I enjoy cleaning out a closet or dresser.  I enjoy rearranging kitchen cabinets and I actually enjoy cleaning out the car.  But along with all that I LOVE sitting under a shady tree reading a book.  Especially if it is one written by Stephen King. 

Last week The Man's son flew down to Michigan from his home in Alaska. He arrived with his girlfriend and her 2 boys ages 8 & 10. They flew in on Saturday afternoon after traveling almost 24 hours. Flights from Fairbanks to Seattle to Minneapolis to Escanaba.  That's a LONG trip . . . and I appreciate that they do this once a year to come see The Man but it also means 4 extra people in this tiny house with only ONE bathroom and a septic tank. (No civilized sewers for this part of the world. The week before they arrived the toilet was backing up so we had to have the septic tank pumped out. Better before the guests came than while they were here.)  The group arrived in a whirl wind and settled in for the week.  I remembered from last years visit just how chaotic the week would be so I made arrangements to escape to Atlanta, GA to visit my oldest child who will be turning 50 on Sunday. (How I can possibly have a 50 year old child is beyond me since I am only 35.)   I used Kyle's birthday as my "excuse" to leave town but all I truly wanted was to NOT be here in Michigan with a house full of people.  The Man and I are about 3 weeks away from returning to Florida so we have lots going on. Last minute doctor appointments, the oil burner man coming to service the heating system before we leave it for the winter, garden furniture to put away, things to winterize and close up. It's a busy time for us.  Our Alaska guests are a help with some of it but they also create more work at a time when we are trying to wrap things up. Extra laundry, extra food and a lot of extra beer being drunk. I picked up our house guests at the airport on Saturday and then I left town 4 days later. 

Do I feel the least bit guilty about leaving The Man ?  NO NO NO and NO !!!!!!!   I look at this visit as an opportunity for someone else to keep an eye on The Man while I reset, recharge and RELAX !!! And that is exactly what I did !!!  Kyle and his wife, Bridget bought me a round trip ticket to come to Atlanta.  They put up with me for 4 days and nights, cooked wonderful, HEALTHY and delicious meals. They left me alone to sleep late in my "private suite" and to sit in the sun room or out on the deck to read all day. My only job was to talk to Nora the cat when she came near me for some tickles.  (I'm not sure Nora knows what to make of me. She comes over, sniffs my hand and then gives me a look that says, "Who the heck are you and what are you doing in my house?" She tolerates my existence in her space but I am sure she is glad to get her people back for herself when I leave.) I enjoyed an amazing few days of doing absolutely NOTHING !   I watched movies that I wanted to see. Not a single one included murder, mayhem or mystery.  No blood and guts, no cowboys, cops or crime. Just happy and funny.  It was wonderful !!!

In case you think I was totally "off the grid" I must mention that I had a nightly 45 minute phone call from The Man telling me about his day.  I got blow by blow accounts of who did what, what he had to eat for the day, what the house guests did for the day, (most of which he did not approve of because they did things differently than he does so therefore they were "wrong") and what he was going to do the next day. 

(Do you remember how detailed The Man can get?  I will tell you that the description of how the guests took out the garbage took him ten minutes to share.  It would have sufficed to say, "They took our the garbage" if I even needed to be aware of that.  Not exactly a momentous occasion in my life.) 

Then there was the panicked phone call regarding the washing machine.  I am in Georgia . . . The Man is in upper Michigan.  He is in a house with two adults who I am pretty sure have used a washing machine at some point in their lives. Mid afternoon one of the days my phone rings.  It is The Man in a total complete panic . . .   "There is something wrong with the washing machine!!!!"  "Listen to it!!!" and he holds out the phone.  I have NO idea what the hell he is talking about.  I do not know what I am listening for. I couldn't hear anything.   Apparently they were running a wash and The Man decided that our guests did something wrong and "broke" the machine.  They tried to tell him it was just doing what it was supposed to do but The Man was convinced they did something wrong.  So I got a phone call !  I calmed him down,  told him it sounded fine to me and all was well with the world.  

I need another vacation !!!  And I have only been back 24 hours. 

ANOTHER "EPIPHANY"

 As I have mentioned before, my brain never stops.  Even when I am asleep I have crazy and entertaining dreams.  When I am awake I am always thinking about what to do next or where I should be. At least I don't hear voices . . .  yet!

This morning The Man woke me from a sound sleep to tell me I had to get up in TWO hours.  Thank you Mr. Man!!!!   It is Saturday, I do not need to be anywhere or do anything until 3:00 but my "little helper" thought he was doing a good thing.  OK, I'll give him a pass on that one. 

(I am doing a bible study on Genisis 1-8.  Very interesting study with a LOT of information that I never realized was there.  SIN is the big topic this week and I am feeling guilty of a lot of that.  As a result I am     REALLY trying to control my impulses to murder The Man.  So far it is not working well.)

As I made my morning trek through the kitchen on my way to the bathroom The Man was in his usual spot at the kitchen table.  I said good morning, (I wanted to ask why the hell he woke me when he did but I realized that was a lesson in futility.). He muttered something that I took to mean, "good morning" and then said no more.  So I continued to walk to the bathroom. As I was closing the door behind me I heard him say something.  (I have previously written about this most annoying habit of his to speak to me as I walk away.).    Now it is at this point that I have 2 options . . .   ONE,  stop,  turn around, retrace my steps and ask him "WHAT? . . .  OR . . .  TWO,  just keep going because I know it is nothing important.  Because I was pissed at being woken up I chose option #2.      It was then that my epiphany struck. 

Men's brains work much slower than women brains.  It takes more time for a thought to travel from the brain of a man to his mouth.  Once he thinks of something in his brain the response time to any action takes a LONG time.  

Women's brains work much faster.  We are already in motion before our brain fully considers the situation.   We are thinking as we are acting.  Or in my case, my mouth is already speaking before I fully consider what I am saying.  And THAT can get you into trouble.  

I often think about "panic" situations.  A man will have to THINK about what is happening and what his response should be.  A woman will spring into action thinking as she goes.  

I'm not saying one is better than the other . . . but holy crap . . .  stop talking after I have left the room !!!!!!