texas

I just placed a winter coat, with sharpa, over a Santa Barbara sweater and thought for more than a moment this must be an oximoron or something as I do not associate Santa Barbara with winter. I spent as long as I could playing ball with Ashley considering everything around me looks dead and the idea of throwing a ball that resembles a hardened snowball without gloves, is not my idea of a productive Saturday afternoon.

For two days I have been chilled, literally to the bone and no matter what remedy I have read and implemented to find warmth has not worked. When I saw my breath as I was brushing my teeth, INSIDE, I new my idea of warmth and that of my parents was different too...almost another oximoron.

Today is Jim's funeral. I did not know Jim. I did not go. But my mother went and represented our family, with dignity, knowing that the idea of asking me to attend a funeral or memorial service would be perceived as an assault on my mental state. And since I just completed another round of questions for the doctors and nurses and saw them standing strong in their convictions over my prognosis, it is truly best I stayed away from a funeral and know that my 'being there' for the family in a week, when all those that have appeared out of nowhere go back to somewhere, will be more meaningful and more sincere.

The smoke of my cigarette blew toward my coat and I shook my head, trying to end a thinking game that has left a lump in my throat, created puddles and muddied my process of knowing to the core, just like the cold, and it continues.

mourning

Today we mourn the loss of Dottie's husband Dr. James Spradley. He died early this morning as I was taking long drags in the crispness of midnight, the smoke from every puff obscuring the vision around me.

I did not know Jim, only of him. I do know Dottie and the devastation she must feel having taken her life partner in for leg surgery fours week ago, hearing many words of hope and encouragement after some pretty shakey nights in ICU. Today she walked away from the hospital with a plastic bag of his belongings, everything else a simple memory to hold on to until their bond is re-united in the spiritual world.

more

I am reflecting a year now, or just a few days over a year, living in Texas. I try not to reflect too much as what I see is often painful. I came here knowing something was physically wrong and the severity was beginning to be talked about amongst my Florida doctors. I thought, perhaps, I would have minor surgery, several months of rest and recuperation and then my ventures would take me onward.

My ventures will take me onward and upward too.

After a year I remain under hospice care with no cure for the multi system breakdown that will take my life, sooner than later although as time continues to pass, I question the doctors and nurses more only to have re-confirming tests that show my body functioning ina survival type mode. They are however, unable to pinpoint the EXACT timing of death, which has been a source of frustration for me, no longer answering the question of how does it feel to still be alive...

How does it feel that I have not yet thrown a clot and bled to death? How does it feel that my kidneys help to filter out toxins for an over worked spleen and an almost shutdown liver? How does it feel that I am breathing at 37% of capacity? How does it feel, hold tight and I shall let you know if willing and able. The asking will be over. And life will continue without me.

Personally, I am just thankful for a little extra time, a new tune on satellite, more travel plans and more thinking, becoming deeper and deeper.