tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45087543192694841862024-03-29T05:03:33.693-06:00Blogging from the Boot HeelA view from the Painted Pony Resort outside of Rodeo, New Mexico's most western town.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.comBlogger468125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-73044853950715793332017-05-06T19:00:00.000-06:002017-05-06T19:00:18.229-06:00Going HomeI am preparing for the long awaited trip West, returning my Brothers ashes to New Mexico. A simple request he made. A promise I have ached to fulfill. In these 2 weeks prior to departure, He is hourly on my mind. Though I've returned to my normal life, it still feels raw.<br />
<br />
When my Brother came to live with us we had to make some changes in our old farmhouse. My husband and I had always slept downstairs in the smallest bedroom, leaving the upstairs bedrooms for our collection of in and out kids. Our house was built in 1869 and in tradition with that era, the staircase is steep. To accommodate his declining status, we moved upstairs and we made our previous bedroom into his room. There is a fireplace in there and designed to give him privacy and the best access to the bathroom. The last 3 weeks of his life, I slept on a loveseat just outside his doorway. After his death I stood in that room, now empty of a hospital bed and other implements of his illness, and thought, I'm done here. I cleaned it up, turned on a lamp and walked away. I thought it best.<br />
<br />
Today my Husband and I went shopping for a new box springs and mattress. We picked out a nice one after laying on every mattress in the store. My husband looked at me after we arranged for delivery and said "Little (He has always called me that and I'm not sure he knows my real name), I think its time to move back downstairs". He is right. I have prepared our bedroom for delivery Monday. I'm sitting on the same loveseat where Ive read for years while my Husband watches ballgames. Our life will return to where it was before. My Brother would approve. He was clear that there be no "shrine". He referred to me as "useful and decorative" when I cared for him during his illness. I honor him by going home. Even if its just to my bedroom.<br />
<br />
Lastly, I checked my Brothers email and facebook today. It had been about a month since I did so. There was a facebook message to him from an old friend. She missed him. I miss him too.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17861135874921402365noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-32197770088517844172017-02-19T15:40:00.000-07:002017-02-19T15:40:31.629-07:00Time passages<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d89zJ-bHSxE/WKoXYV10P7I/AAAAAAAACDs/sdR1axz8mvglGu9RzkwU43I3Xp5eFYPJwCLcB/s1600/20170215_123156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d89zJ-bHSxE/WKoXYV10P7I/AAAAAAAACDs/sdR1axz8mvglGu9RzkwU43I3Xp5eFYPJwCLcB/s320/20170215_123156.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Its been 2 months and a day since my Brothers physical presence exited. Some days it feels like yesterday and other days it feels a lifetime ago. I have spent time returning to my deliberate life. I take care of our Mama, I work in the Emergency Department at a local hospital, I am a Wife, Mother and Grandmother. All those things are good for me. They are my purpose. But I have a promise I made, not yet kept. To my only Brother. I promised to take him home.<br />
<br />
This promise is important. I want to do it and I will. I have the plans made. I have a departure date. I'm going. My problem is, historically, I'm a runner. When life overwhelms me, I run. Its usually post crisis and really has never served me well. I have certainly learned as an adult to control this. I've had a successful career. Raised a house full of kids, not all I gave birth to and have a long committed relationship to my Husband. Who knew at this point in my life, the urge to run would come back in full force? <br />
<br />
As I've struggled daily to keep myself in check, I've dreamed of my Brother's bubble. His life in the desert where he felt safe and accepted. A recent browse through his possessions, I came across his dissertation. Written on a Commodore 64, completed in 1987. Above is his acknowledgement. The people specifically mentioned, he valued so intensely. One even visited him in our home in his last days. It was extremely meaningful to him. Its that last sentence that caught my eye. His friends. Those people who taught my brilliant brother that there was more than the laboratory. Those friends that taught him it was ok to run. And run, he did. I'm grateful to them for what they taught him. It was a life fulfilled.<br />
<br />
So I've put my gypsy soul in order. I will run, the end of May. I will fulfill my promise. I will take my Brother home. I will return to my own bubble where I know, there is nothing to run from.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17861135874921402365noreply@blogger.com118tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-31168795519593321672016-12-23T06:26:00.000-07:002016-12-23T06:26:22.000-07:00Its not goodbye<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WDYHn2OXq5Q/WF0dQcVPqfI/AAAAAAAACCQ/XGT2HRQvI2IowkElvdRVLSuwbEdtcFMWwCLcB/s1600/20161218_140848.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WDYHn2OXq5Q/WF0dQcVPqfI/AAAAAAAACCQ/XGT2HRQvI2IowkElvdRVLSuwbEdtcFMWwCLcB/s320/20161218_140848.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
Its taken me a few days to come back here. Finding my strength, sleeping some and going through the motions of my brother's death. Funeral, family and formality.<br />
My brother died Sunday morning. I was alone with him, at his bedside when the end came. The week before had been tumultuous. There were episodes of restlessness and pain that required constant physical care. On Wednesday, he asked for Last Rites. Following a very moving time with our Priest, Mama and my girls, he went to sleep. From then on, He never spoke. I performed his physical care, slept at his bedside and waited. On Friday night, an ice storm came. For those familiar with this part of the country, ice is rare but snow is common. We live quite rural and access to us became limited. My Husband, in a desperate attempt to help, began salting. Our drive, our deck and sidewalks. <br />
Saturday came and went. I turned him every couple of hours, did oral care and kept him clean. He did not respond at all.<br />
Sunday morning at sunrise, I awoke from my station on the couch to see the sun coming through the window in a bright ball of light over my brothers bed. My husband and I previously occupied that room and is all our years there, I had never seen such a thing. I snapped a photo and began to care for my Brother. I was tired, scared and a little bit crazy. I defaulted to what I knew. Nursing.<br />
At 0930 my Husband ventured out for "fancy" coffee. He's a kind man and wanted me to feel better. The icy roads were not going to stop him.<br />
I sat down at my Brothers side. His eyes closed with no response for days. He was clean, dry, carefully positioned (I used 9 pillows). At about 10, He opened his eyes and turned his head and looked at me. Startled, I asked him "are you in pain"? He didn't answer but slowly closed his eyes and took his last breath.<br />
It was peaceful, quiet and over.<br />
I spent about 30 minutes alone with him. It was the greatest gift. I knew the days and moments following would be hard. I took that time, I believe, God given, and relived our life as only siblings. He was important to me.<br />
There has been some humor that I'm sure my Brother orchestrated. Hospice couldn't make it out after his death, due to icy roads. Our local coroner, accepted my pronouncement of his death as I am a nurse (finally that ER experience came in handy). The funeral home was delayed, also due to icy roads. My husband and I enjoyed "fancy coffee" and muffins with my Brother's remains. After all, food was a quality factor for him.<br />
So, its not goodbye. There's more to this journey. The cancer part is over. I await his ashes, which I'll store til Spring. He was very clear that I not make a shrine, so I imagine I'll keep them in a cabinet. Then off to New Mexico at first weather break.<br />
I'll post here on occasion. The transcripts of this journey as well as my personal journal and notes from our Hospice nurse and Priest will eventually go to an copy editor for publication. It was my Brothers final hope that someone else could learn from his journey. Typical B Alvarius fashion<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17861135874921402365noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-32496085126824092642016-12-15T06:05:00.002-07:002016-12-15T06:05:40.676-07:00Morning has brokenMy Brother hasn't moved or spoken since yesterday at 1pm. The stillness is peaceful. After the restless, painful, scary Tuesday and into early Wednesday, I feel God's mercy. Not as I pictured it but peaceful just the same. I listen to his breathing now, not with fear of his last breath. I slept on the love seat restfully. I woke up twice in the night to stillness. Just the sound of him breathing.<br />
I thought I'd made friends with the pain of my Brother dying. I fought it pretty hard though. My words to myself in journal form have helped, but as I reread them now I see the complicated, controlling journey I chose..<br />
I'm a tough cookie, I've always told myself. I don't throw my hands up. I don't take to my pallet. I have endurance and stamina and I don't throw pity parties. I always try to do whats right and I think of others first. These are my conscious values. I thought heading into this I had what I needed to be with my Brother every step of the way. I did but after much struggling I find that I need God's Grace.<br />
I am aware now that Grace will peacefully do the rest. <br />
I'm not throwing my hands up. I am folding them in surrendered prayer.<br />
Please join me.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17861135874921402365noreply@blogger.com43tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-34923039972800954502016-12-07T13:36:00.000-07:002016-12-07T13:36:39.812-07:00The Rally: A nonclinical perspective<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U2E3dEpdJoE/WEhtFp-CesI/AAAAAAAACB0/cwYsNuhdXlcUajdm4wpn6lM8xvp4wfSJgCLcB/s1600/20161207_140759.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U2E3dEpdJoE/WEhtFp-CesI/AAAAAAAACB0/cwYsNuhdXlcUajdm4wpn6lM8xvp4wfSJgCLcB/s320/20161207_140759.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
When I posted last I fully expected this to be a different post. The weekend past was grueling with no food intake, completely bed bound, confused and clearly dying. I spent hours watching, waiting and planning. On Sunday evening I communicated with our Priest. He was willing to come then but I preferred that we wait until morning. During the night, the rally prevailed. Though weak and aphasic, Bruce rose from the bed to his wheelchair. I slept soundly thru this as it wasn't med time. My Husband, however, did not. He heard noise in the kitchen and rose to find my Brother, armed with a kitchen knife, attacking a plate of saran wrapped Christmas cookies. Though confused, his intentions were clear. My husband successfully disarmed him, prepared him a plate of cookies and escorted him back to bed.<br />
When our Priest arrived Monday morning, expecting to deliver last rites, my Brother was pirouetting in his wheelchair in the living room. They spent time together, discussed literary collaborations and prayed.<br />
So the rally I looked for, came. It appeared in the form of one of his original goals: food.<br />
It didn't last but it was tremendously entertaining and I had a peek again at my strange and wonderful Brother.<br />
Pain is now the issue. He does get up in his wheelchair briefly several times a day. Not really for food or drink now but for the occasional cigarette. Hospice nurses felt that as his metabolic needs decreased, so did his need for meds and we attempted a 6 hour regimen. That turns out not to be the case. Nights are long and painful and we spend them trying to catch up. I am giving him morphine now, when he asks. Time increments really don't matter. He sips water or juice boxes but really still has no measurable intake. He wanted to go to the bathroom yesterday and we wheeled him in at which point he promptly fell in the toilet. He weighs 114 lbs.<br />
I'll not speculate, even in my mind, about the next post. I will certainly commit to keeping his readers informed.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17861135874921402365noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-15461425535495986382016-12-03T08:58:00.001-07:002016-12-03T08:58:08.787-07:00Little Sister<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LeXMxW-7jRQ/WELoYiqyGcI/AAAAAAAACBc/Nc--stIl6pg5G-bBm_wWbjIl4VItrRBRwCLcB/s1600/20161202_135725.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LeXMxW-7jRQ/WELoYiqyGcI/AAAAAAAACBc/Nc--stIl6pg5G-bBm_wWbjIl4VItrRBRwCLcB/s320/20161202_135725.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
Time. It ticks away. This has seemed fast. Just early October when we made the trek to New Mexico. Now the minutes tick by. The last few days have been ones of steady decline. I medicate him now, every 4 hours because he is unable to. He is mostly nonverbal, with occasional words that are garbled. I medicated him at 9 last night to much the same. At 1am I was up. I couldn't wake him. He was breathing, but shallow. I sat for a while and watched. He seemed peaceful. In my nurses mind, I thought "this is it". I feel asleep and awoke to my alarm for next med time at 0445. He was laying in the bed smiling at me and waved. He sat up and took meds. In my nurses mind I thought "ok, this isnt it". <br />
At 0845, I woke him. He never opened his eyes but took his meds. I asked him if he wanted to get up, and there it was, the look. He opened his eyes and mumbled something. I didn't need the words, I remember the look. I'm 9, he's 12 and I've invaded his space. He is busy doing something and I've got questions. Way too many questions. The look isn't mean, its actually gentle, but I remember it. "go away, come back later".<br />
The nurse in me said "still his little sister".<br />
I wouldn't have it any other way.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17861135874921402365noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-87316610161862062402016-12-01T09:16:00.002-07:002016-12-01T09:16:57.158-07:00Its his Sister. For those who wait, we can feel you. Time has been precious and cruel. The earth suit is failing and the ability to type and express thoughts currently exceeds his capabilities. I keep waiting for one of those beautiful "rallies". One where he is standing at the kitchen counter eating a cinnamon roll with a sparkle in those blue eyes. He seems fairly comfortable though the physical ravages are obvious. When he's sleeping, which is a lot, I like to think he soaring through the desert and those mountains in his ultra lite. I picture him safe, healthy and strong in that "bubble". In the meantime, we are with him. <br />
I'll update here as I can. I find strength in his readers.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17861135874921402365noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-7462558410738449852016-11-24T06:01:00.000-07:002016-11-24T06:01:37.711-07:00Let's Make a Deal – Bargaining with the Unknown
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As the more emotional aspects of my
personality continue to exert themselves I notice the bargaining
process beginning. Discussions with the blg misty unknowable on how
to avoid upcoming events. Today was particularity emotional since I
was able to visit with my old undergraduate professor and mentor from
the 1980's who I had not seen in about a decade. She was in Chicago
for the holidays and made a special trip down to visit. I of course
cried like a baby at her embrace and we were able to visit for
several hours. A major highlight in my day and one I will not forget
(literally take to my grave). I appreciated her visit so much and
because of her compassion I made through graduate school with a
freshly minted PhD many years ago.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My mother came by in-preparation for a
visit by Father Mark who administered communion. This was primarily
for her benefit but got me tracking on the bargaining process and
reinforced the notion that much of this process is about others and
my job is to muddle through the tears as best as I can.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
ic</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
You knew, the why me, not now, I did
everything according to the book, don't I get a pass? But no, I
don't get a pass and like everyone else walks this road alone but
surrounded by friends and family.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
At this point I don't i'm not sure how
I feel about the traditional death watch and must confess a certain
ignorance about the process, so I guess some study is in order.
Questions like who should be around
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
, do the kids participate? How boring
is the process? Will there be games? I just don't know at this point
and perhaps I can evade the question altogether.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As I speak with others who have
traveled this road with others i'm amazed at the detailed personal
stories and accumulated wisdom i'm hearing but have yet to find a
good distillation, so i'll just keep looking.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-50091490327642453682016-11-22T06:23:00.000-07:002016-11-22T06:23:04.155-07:00A Breast
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As I watch certain physiological
aspects of my male body change in prepration for shut down I also
notice other aspects become hyper accentuated. One particular image
will not seem to leave my mind, a typically male response, it is an
image of a breast, a right breast belonging to a friend.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I first glimpsed this right Brest back
lite by the sunlight through a tee shirt. The warm glow of the late
summer afternoon light highlighted in shadow the perfectly rounded summitry of the Brest, taught within the confines of the teeshirt and
the image lives on randomly popping in my mind like random bits of
floatsom at any opportunity. Although the other physiological
responses that usually accompany a magnificent site have eluded me,
this vision of grandeur stays with me. The edge of the nipple just
peaking out from the white teeshirt in the warm summer afternoon will
not soon leave me.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A some what bohemian observation and I
hope not offensive.</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-46962878649136561392016-11-17T02:41:00.001-07:002016-11-17T10:54:43.324-07:00Expectations versus realityThe idea of hospice congers up a whole range of ides from "giving up on life" to " transitioning and exiting life in the best manner possible". Excluding tramatic injury where triage protocols take precedent, the slower decline where hospice intervention can be of utility actually applies to all of is as we age. So it seems that hospice care of some sort is a useful tool for all to be<br />
ware of. While I can only comment from an N=1, and I have found the first line of defense more than sufficient in pain control. That is not to say that there are not periods of discomfort which were delt with immediately but I have become aware of the smaller up and downs combined with the steady loss of function of the overall process. I have tried to graphically represent what I'm experiencing to give some understanding of the process from my perspective. Lots of ups and downs overlaid on a steady decline of bodily decline. I have found that chocolate cake does make for for a good intervention and is perhaps related to the 6 gallons a month of chocolate ice cream i was eating. i snarfed down a big piece last that passed magically before me last night and found the energy to get this piece written.<br />
<br />
So, i leave you tonight with a mouth full of chocolate crumbs and hope everyone sleeps well. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"></td><td style="text-align: center;"></td><td style="text-align: center;"></td><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a3bfgV-xJZE/WC1wyLDJ3OI/AAAAAAAAG70/h8evH3mfp9on_9ixWWCdRoo79wLQqdC-ACLcB/s1600/design.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a3bfgV-xJZE/WC1wyLDJ3OI/AAAAAAAAG70/h8evH3mfp9on_9ixWWCdRoo79wLQqdC-ACLcB/s400/design.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">expectations versus reality</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-10527528935697264232016-11-06T07:34:00.001-07:002016-11-06T14:07:01.438-07:00Previous Aspects of the Journey<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was recently asked what brought me
Rodeo NM, what were the threads of life that came together to weave
the tapestry of my life in Portal Rodeo area. After finishing my Phd
in Biology I moved tot he southwest in 1987 to start a Post Doc at
Arizona State University. As a recreational caver I quickly ended up
in the basin and range region of the state to look for and explore
the caves in the region. It was during one of these trips I entered
the Chiricahua Mountains, though not lots of limestone there are a
number of caves that I found entreating. And began visiting the area
on a more regular finishing the post doc I was fortunate to land a
job with the National Institutes of Health working on the genetics of
type II diabetes in Pima Indians. This allowed me to continue my
explorations of southeastern Arizona and its' cave systems.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Interrupting this was the development
of a brain tumor which eventually put and end to my science career,
so I sold off everything and decided to full fill a bucket wish item,
learning to fly. Since I could not pass a third class medical I
chose to fly ultralights. After mastering ultralight trikes I
eventually moved out to a remote airport north of Phoenix and started
flying on a regular basis. It was after a number of years I met John
MaCafee who was learning to fly trikes that I became aware of his
desire to build a cross country loop through Arizona and New Mexico.
I did a deal with him and moved down to the airpark in Rodeo. Having
access to the valley and surrounding mountain ranges by air was
great. The landscape just pulls you in and I began photo documenting
the landscape eventually producing a coffee table book. But like all
good things there was a dark side to this aviation project which
rapidly became apparent. It was more about people and personalities
rather than the ideas and concepts of business which lead to some
serious mistakes including 3 deaths. It is my belief that a startup
should not kill people but this one did. I managed to avoid all the
lawsuits by adopting the nom de plume even though I was publishing
the Sky Gypsies blog.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
McAfee packed it in and sold off all
his holdings at auction an left for Belieze where the same thing
happened again only this time getting out of third world country
proved more difficult for him. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-4151458464454058042016-11-04T07:52:00.000-06:002016-11-04T07:52:32.999-06:00The Second Coming
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A somewhat indelicate subject this
morning but one that surprised me. I assumed with the colostomy that
the normal route of solid waste excretion would cease, but was I
wrong. I suddenly started getting that full feeling in my lower
bowel, that morning feeling that is relieved with a good sit and a
cup of coffee. In any event, and sans the coffee, my bowels decided
to give me gift, the one I had asked for when this all started a good
poo the old fashioned way. It even came with the rush of relief that
accompanies the activity. I clearly don't understand how they
rewired by bowels but any poo is a good poo.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The change in medications is working
well even though the time between dosages has decreased requiring me
to get up more often. The rest of the day was spent just relaxing.
Meeting the priest to plan the funeral today and family arrives
tomorrow.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-16986793725244510422016-11-02T03:40:00.000-06:002016-11-02T03:43:25.388-06:00Spirituality<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In an attempt at the big question that
surrounds this whole issue of dying is - what's next? Every culture
has a rich tradition of attempting to answer “what's next”, but
the best and most intellectually honest answer I can come up with is
– I don't know. Having grown up in the Episcopal church (thanks to
my mother, the daughter of a priest) and having worked and lived in
churches as a way to cover lodging all through college I have a solid
background in Christianity. But as a scientist I'm fully aware of
the difference between belief systems and observable testable facts.
I can not rule out any notion of “what's next” based on what I
can observe and test. While some notable scientists are atheists,
any of the possibilities (including atheism) can not discounted and
I'm forced into the position of “I don't know”. I learned to say
“I don't know” in graduate school. In fact it was during my oral
qualifying exams when my pride would not let me say “I don't know”
and the examining committee lead me down a garden path with a series
of questions that if I had answered “I don't know” would have
been alright but instead I tried to answer the questions and was
eventually cut off at the knees and made to look foolish because I
would not say the simple words “I don't know”. It was a lesson I
have never forgotten, I was embarrassed and felt incredibly foolish,
but I can see it was a lesson I needed to learn, so while I may
believe I rule the world in reality I don't know. Admitting that I
don't know something is generally my first step in learning
something new. While many are comfortable in their belief systems,
this simple admission that the universe is much larger than me
holding many unknowns has served me well and I'm OK with I don't
know, but I will find out.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
With respect to the question I was
asked “do you have Jesus” (an event describe in described in a previous post) I was taken aback primarily by the intrusion into my
privacy when I'm in pain and uncomfortable by someone I do not know.
Both my sister and mother have strong religious beliefs but for my
sister it is a matter of living a life that reflects those principles
but not talking about them. I guess that comes from a career working
in the emergency room. A very pragmatic approach in my opinion.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I thought this topic would be harder to
write about, but it doesn't take much verbiage to say “I don't
know” and I will leave you with this video sent to me by a friend
and biologist from Louisiana which captures the </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/nlaoR5m4L80/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/nlaoR5m4L80?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-51014757389868130532016-11-01T09:57:00.001-06:002016-11-01T09:57:21.982-06:00The Changing of the Meds
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Well, it was nice while it lasted but
all good things come to and end. Monday after returning from a
lawyers visit I received a phone call from the medical house asking
to deliver the hospital bed. I said sure and began cleaning stuff
out of the bedroom. The supplies guy arrived and began setting up
the bed when suddenly the nausea started followed by vomiting. I
made to the kitchen sink and was busily puking away while the
delivery guy was carrying bed parts into the house passing behind me
while I'm busily regurgitating everything I ate that morning.
Somewhat awkward for both of us. After 3 bouts of vomiting which
occurred after radiating pain in my gut I got back to a recliner and
sat down and rested. Being Monday the Hospice nurse was due and I
had missed her call. At the same time my brother-n-law contacted my
sister at work who also spoke with the Hospice nurse. The hospice
nurse arrived and evaluated my condition concluding it was either
another (new) bowl obstruction or constipation from the high fiber
meals I had eaten the day before perhaps in combination with all the
bending over while cleaning. So, consultations with the oncologist
and the Hospice medical director. The hospice medical director
suggested changing the anti nausea medications and adding some
steroids. So I switched haldol, adavan, and compozine. The
alternative is an NG tube which I hope to avoid since it further
decreases my quality. What amazed me was how quickly I went from
good to bad. Fortunately, after several hours I was feeling much
better and was able to get up and move around. I hope this does the
trick.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I can say that after a night on the mew
medications I certainly fell better this morning and slept till
almost 10 AM.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-33454120941081729652016-10-30T07:23:00.000-06:002016-10-30T07:23:17.234-06:00Transitions and other Little Picture Stuff
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">It was a week of
transitions, some positive and some not so positive. First off I've
become more emotional with uncontrolled outbursts of crying and
sobbing. It started with the Hospice nurses visit where I totally
lost it. This behavior has continued and culminated today with a
breakdown on the phone while talking to the manager of the Storage
facility where I keep some furniture from my old home in Phoenix. I
ended up explaining why I was behaving in an odd manner. I'm
uncomfortable losing it in front of compete strangers while trying to
get some business done. But we struggled through our conversation
and finished off our business. This suggests that my ability to
detach from my situation is failing and that I'm moving into the next
stage of this process.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Next on the list is
eating, my appetite is failing. Living in the southwest for 30 years
has taught me that hydration is very important so water intake is not
a problem but food is another story. My desire for food is declining
and currently I've not eaten in a couple of days. I try to get some
ensure down but even that tastes off. This decrease in appetite
parallels the increase in nausea and vomiting which started this
week. Several mornings of vomiting has left me somewhat weaker, but
another rally should help with the food issue combined with a more
regimented approach to the anti-nausea drugs.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">On a positive note, the
laproscopic incision in my navel finally closed and I'm no longer
leaking fluid everywhere. I've been taping feminine bladder control
pads over the site and using puppy pads to absorb the liquid, but was
changing them several times a day. As my energy levels decreased it
was often easier to sit in wet nappies rather than change them, but
I'm dry all the time now which is much better. Now that it has
closed I've noticed urinary volume has increased and conclude that
absorption of liquids in my gut, from the VP shunt and tumor weeping,
still functions which is encouraging. I will just have to watch my
gut and make sure the fluid build up does not become excessive.`</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">In addition, I'm no longer
taking any hydrocodone and have moved to only morphine for pain in
combination with a strict regime of anti-nausea medications for the
vomiting and nausea. In fact this transition has resulted in a rally
and I feel much better today. The lesson I learned was listen to the
Hospice nurse when she suggests stopping the hydrocodone and take
only morphine, do it. Trying to use up the remaining hydrocodone was
a waste of time. It was failing to control the pain so I should have
discarded it. I also noticed that Hospice nurses operate differently
from nurses in a medical setting. They are more attuned to the
patient and bring a more holistic approach to their care whereas in a
medical setting it is all about the earth suit and the “who I am”
is not relevant to their job. As a result Hospice nurses make
suggestions based on their their training and experience (they have
walked this road with others many times). So I'm learning to heed
their advice and glad my brother-in-law made the suggestion that a
hospital bed was needed. The Hospice nurse got right on it and the
next day I received a call from home health medical services saying
the bed would be delivered Monday. </span>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-14850585128701724962016-10-29T10:46:00.001-06:002016-10-29T10:46:42.840-06:00The Little and Big Pictures
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In my photography I have always
composed photographs that were “little picture”, “medium
picture” or “big picture” images. That is to say up close
images of landscapes like individual images of trees, plants, and
animals or medium pictures of canyons and rock formations and finally
“big picture” views of the mountains and landscapes. I must
admit a fondness for “big picture” views and enjoy creating
multi-image panoramas, either low level aerial panoramas or ground
based images. I even figured out how to use my aircraft to create a
nodal point for making large aerial panoramas and always liked to
obscure scale clues so the viewer would have to create their own
interpretation of the scene.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r1Jqt7KCJiU/WBTRR9wjHrI/AAAAAAAAG7Y/IvkgUaGFheQNpt2-CE_uhifZEA8mXpNmgCLcB/s1600/3852584465_d2ccc8c157_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r1Jqt7KCJiU/WBTRR9wjHrI/AAAAAAAAG7Y/IvkgUaGFheQNpt2-CE_uhifZEA8mXpNmgCLcB/s400/3852584465_d2ccc8c157_b.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cities from space, a low level aerial "little picture" in false color.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I notice that as I progress down this
path that my days become a mixture of little, medium, and big picture
views of life as well. But the distinction now is that I spend much
more time on the little picture aspects of life. Such as remembering
to take my medications, remembering to eat, and other mundane
activities that comprise life, plus pain management. Part of it
seems to be the amount of time it takes to get anything done, any
little activity that would normally occupy a few minutes now takes an
hour and afterwards I'm pretty well spent and need a nap. Another
aspect is the frustration associated with the amount of time I must
devote to these activities. It is a battle between the realization
that my time is limited and spending lots of time on these mundane
activities detracts from my achieving other goals. This is one
reason for the blog posts, they help me focus on “big picture”
aspects of life and keeps me from falling into a trap where I'm
focused only on the “little picture”.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-j_pfRt4uAhc/WBTR3ErpdkI/AAAAAAAAG7c/E-FyTH5jFSwUhtieHhGdnhgktehsKb7SwCLcB/s1600/Darnell%2Bpeak%2Band%2BPortal%2Bpeak%2Bscaled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="72" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-j_pfRt4uAhc/WBTR3ErpdkI/AAAAAAAAG7c/E-FyTH5jFSwUhtieHhGdnhgktehsKb7SwCLcB/s400/Darnell%2Bpeak%2Band%2BPortal%2Bpeak%2Bscaled.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A "big picture" view of the eastern flank of the Chiricahua mountains.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-31118594410778734502016-10-28T14:45:00.001-06:002016-10-28T14:45:16.249-06:00Personal Interactions at the end of Life – Dying is as Much About Them as it is You.<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I've been single all my life and have
no children I'm aware of. I never got the personal relationship
thing down very well so have journeyed through life by myself. As I
find myself in a situation where my death will come with family in
attendance I realize that my death is as much about them as it is
about me. While I have specific goals about my end of life, others
around me hold vastly different views and the best way I can
acknowledge their viewpoint is to accept (to a certain extent) what
they wish to do.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
An old friend offered up the idea of
cutting edge treatments as a way to prolong things, which brought me
back to my original goal of quality versus quantity, I'm more
interested in the best quality and not necessarily quantity. I was
also asked recently “do you have Jesus” by a well meaning
hospital technician. While I suspect some hospital regulations were
transgressed with that statement I can understand it in the context
in which it occurred (they were looking at images of my enlarged
tumor filled liver and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see the
problems) and do not begrudge them, but did find it distressing at
the time (I'm working on the post on the spiritual aspects of this
journey to put this in context).</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then on to family, I had hoped my end
would happen quickly out on the landscape in New Mexico and had even discussed this
possibility with my sister but that was not to be the case. Friends
knew that if they saw buzzards circling over the estate, they should
stop by and check on me (it is only 1 person/square mile out here). So,
I formally asked permission from my brother-in-law to die in his home
since I was sort of invading his space when he and my sister came and
picked me up in Rodeo. Although I didn't need to ask (permission was
implied) I still felt it was the right thing to do since this is an
open ended proposition and I'm though I know where it ends I'm not
sure how this adventure will progress. I was given formal permission
but could see he was uncomfortable with the notion. My
brother-in-law would prefer that I chose palliative chemotherapy to
extract as much time as possible but has chosen to honor my wishes in
this matter which I appreciate, and suggested we go ahead and order a
hospital bed from hospice to make the transition to reduced mobility
easier. We have had several “man to man” discussions which
consist of “you know what I mean?” “yea I know what you mean”
and I do. They are typical of males discussing uncomfortable topics
one to one. My sister is completely supportive but has admitted this
experience is creating a situation where she too is re-evaluating
some of her notions including those that are are currently inline
with mine With my mother it is hard to tell, she is 82 with some
slight dementia (don't tell her I said anything) but I set aside some
time with her, just the 2 of us, so she could express any misgivings
or thoughts about this path I'm headed down. She expressed little
except to concur when I said it was unfair to her to have to bury a
child.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I conclude from these interactions that
empathy on my part is a useful tool in this process, tying to
understand the situation I'm in from the perspective of others. Since
we all see the world differently, a topic I've explored through
photography, empathy has suddenly become an up close and personal
issue in this new journey.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-31859518490182271012016-10-27T07:36:00.000-06:002016-10-27T13:31:24.653-06:001984, but not as we Expected<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Scrolling through Facebook on my phone
this morning I can across another article about death. I've been
seeing articles about death popping up on my news feed with a
seemingly increasing regularity since I started posting blog entries
from <a href="http://bloggingfromthebootheel.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Blogging From the Boot Heel</a> about cancer and death. At first I
shrugged it off and chalked it up to random coincidence, or being
sensitive to the topic since I'm on that road myself. Then I
realized that there is another possibility, Facebook's' algorithm
that analyzes my postings, comments, clicks, etc. has picked up on
the death and dying issue and is reflecting that issue in suggested
posts it presents me.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I should have realized that companies
are looking at my online activities and while the result is kinda
creepy, I should have known that some computer algorithm would pick
up on the key words death and dying, stage IV colon cancer, medical
decision making, etc. and start to incorporate that information into
their profiles on me. I have tried to ensure some semblance of
anonymity by the use of a nom de plume, carefully watching the sorts
of material I post, and generally behaving in a manner consistent
with what my mother taught me growing up. You know, the golden rule
and if you can't say something nice don't say anything at all, things
like that. I can say that this approach was successful in keeping me
out of 2 lawsuits associated with the Sky Gypsies that sued everyone
associated with that project except me when all the while I was
running the Sky Gypsies blog.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I should say the article in question by
VICE magazine was about an article in a British medical journal on the best ways to die and included cancer as a
top ranking way to go. While I agree the reasoning in the article,
so far, it is still amazing how much companies can figure out about you
based solely on your online behavior. This is <u>not</u> a call to abandon
Facebook or get all upset about companies desires to sell you things
and understand your personal preferences in a way to do it better,
but now that I have an idea how much they know I'm tempted to see how
much I can skew their results, garbage in garbage out, so I'm
including a tag to a topic I would like more information on as a test
to see how long it takes to show up on Facebook.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1twydYAZtVA/WBICSRqY6NI/AAAAAAAAG64/57cegYrFBxYLbAbVAlORhp4NnTAQKlW5wCLcB/s1600/IMG_0869.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1twydYAZtVA/WBICSRqY6NI/AAAAAAAAG64/57cegYrFBxYLbAbVAlORhp4NnTAQKlW5wCLcB/s640/IMG_0869.PNG" width="360" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-utLp7oe6f8k/WBIBRQJaipI/AAAAAAAAG6w/QCNOXe0KFBQQRu4MuDl8tqjmzrBLyPFfgCLcB/s1600/vice%2Barticle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="183" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-utLp7oe6f8k/WBIBRQJaipI/AAAAAAAAG6w/QCNOXe0KFBQQRu4MuDl8tqjmzrBLyPFfgCLcB/s400/vice%2Barticle.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Addendum<br />
<br />
He's another one I just found in my time line.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A_5jrJpZFZw/WBJV4nd1wuI/AAAAAAAAG7I/AxoHaoDU_SsusiNUOM2Z22vhsm-OBi7sQCLcB/s1600/IMG_0870.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A_5jrJpZFZw/WBJV4nd1wuI/AAAAAAAAG7I/AxoHaoDU_SsusiNUOM2Z22vhsm-OBi7sQCLcB/s640/IMG_0870.PNG" width="360" /></a></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-86658506368830644002016-10-25T07:01:00.001-06:002016-10-25T07:01:43.743-06:00The Emotional Roller Coaster Ride<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I expected it would start at some point
but didn't know when. While I like to consider myself a rational
thoughtful human there is an emotional component to my personality
and it kicked in today, the emotions were not to be denied. While
speaking with the hospice nurse I completely broke down. Lots of
tears and uncontrolled sobbing while I was trying to relay
information to the nurse. She came over and cradled my head and let
me cry (even writing down the experience now leaves me teary eyed).
Just that simple act of kindness though makes this transition to hospice worthwhile. While not avoiding the emotional aspects of my personality I prefer
to maintain some control but all the news, decision making, and
adaption to a new lifestyle caught up with me and kicked me in the
butt. I felt kinda like if I cried enough somehow all of this would
magically go away but like everything else on this new adventure I'm
along for the ride and have to acknowledge that I'm going to
experience a variety of emotions but uncontrolled sobbing is way
down on my list of fun. I eventually regained some semblance of
control and after our meeting the nurse called the hospice medical
director with her observations and recommendations and the liquid
morphine prescription was filled that afternoon. Clearly these folks
know how to get things done in a timely fashion for which I'm
extremely grateful.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I guess I'm in a bargaining phase where
wild thoughts come to me uninvited that somehow all this will
disappear or it is an incorrect diagnosis, but I've seen the lab results and images
myself, I know what is in my gut but it doesn't deter the wild thoughts
that pop into my head. I find these thoughts suddenly emerging,
unbidden, grasping at any threads of hope somewhat disturbing. Intellectually, I know the outcome but the more
primal emotional aspects of my personality refuses to accept the
situation. The key for me is to first acknowledge the thoughts but
to put them aside and get on with what I was doing. I suspect it is
all a control issue and as I've observed, everyone (including
myself) believes they rule the world.
</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I also got the results of the last
ultrasound scan (Friday mornings scan looking for ascites fluid in my belly) this afternoon and there is now
evidence if disease in my spleen. Since the spleen appeared normal
on the first ultrasound as well as the CT scan done in Springfield, it would appear this is moving fairly
quickly. Although I've finally bounced back from surgery (yea my colon started working again) and feel better much of the time, it is still surprising how rapidly things can change, one minute I feel fine and the next not so good. So I guess I have to balance both the emotional and physical roller coaster from this point onward.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The psychological aspects to this
journey are surprising to me and I suspect I will be learning more as I
progress along this path. As a male I do have the y chromosome linked emotion suppressor gene which has functioned quite well so far, but now not so good. And promise to keep folks updated on what I find as things continue to evolve.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DPdDWnFJilE/WA4wZCWT4oI/AAAAAAAAG6Y/50S5A0ayIUQJVjQcMJy33v4DcQ6nyqHEACLcB/s1600/16713219653_4d20850fa4_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DPdDWnFJilE/WA4wZCWT4oI/AAAAAAAAG6Y/50S5A0ayIUQJVjQcMJy33v4DcQ6nyqHEACLcB/s400/16713219653_4d20850fa4_o.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Octillo in bloom</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-51460302834412836322016-10-23T07:26:00.000-06:002016-10-23T07:26:57.864-06:00Going Shopping
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Everyone likes going shopping on occasion, though I must admit I generally find things online and then target the store where I can find the item, blast in and get it then I'm gone or I'll order it online and have it delivered saving a couple hours of driving. But this shopping trip required my presence.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I've never done funeral arrangements
for anyone, but now I've done it for myself. Sort of odd feeling
shopping for the final arrangements for oneself. Since the plan is
to transition from the farm at my sisters house I chose the local
funeral home in Atlanta Illinois. They are close so it won't be a
long drive for the pickup and I'm supporting the local business
community. I met with the funeral director who knew I was shopping
for cremation services. He went through all the options about
services he offered and I settled on a basic package of services
including the pickup, obituarys (for family), a stack of death
certificates, and of course the cremation. No urn, no service,
nothing else since the ashes will end up back in Arizona and New
Mexico and a service is planned for the local Episcopal church in
Lincoln Il.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
During the meeting the director
collected a bunch of personal information for the obituary (which
suggests I should write my own) and then it was on to fees. The
total cost was very reasonable, a little less than $2200.00, for the
whole thing, so I began signing paperwork. All the funds are insured
and placed in escrow until services are rendered so I'm covered..
The director then said I could write a check and I responded “no
way, I'm paying cash”. With a shocked look on his face he looked
to my sister who just shrugged and I began counting out bills. I did
not realize how flustered I had him when as recounting the cash he
fumbled around for change. All he had in his wallet was a 20 dollar
bill so I got a 8 dollar discount. I got the impression it was an
uncommon event, a pre-payer who used cash, and should make a good
story in funeral directors circles. Although in speaking with a
friend I found out she also has prepaid all the final expenses for
her earth suit once she is gone, so while I learned something new,
I'm clearly not the only one who has thought about this aspect of
death (what to do with the earth suit).
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So another checkoff on my list. I
should also say that this journey involves a lot more work than I
anticipated especially detail work, especially paperwork.
One would think that such a natural process would be easier to
navigate.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As an aside, I'm amazed at how I can go from feeling great one moment and like shit the next especially if I've fallen behind on the pain medication. I'm slowing learning to set the alarm on my phone to keep on schedule with medications, especially at night. Though I tend to wake up to wake up when the meds are wearing off and I'm learning to keep a dose on the bed stand so I don.t have to get up.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-61504574047841466752016-10-21T08:36:00.001-06:002016-10-22T11:09:57.173-06:00An Uneasy Alliance<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">We all go through life wearing a meat sack that is
our body. It is not us but rather just the outward manifestation,
what we wear around as we move through life. This container, vessel,
handy carrying case is issued at birth and sticks around until we
leave. It operates pretty much independently of our conscience mind
pretty much doing its' own thing and generally providing a safe place
of refuge. As we grow up we quickly learn many of the operational
limitations of our bodies, what it will allow and what it won't allow
(like getting drunk as a teenager and puking everywhere), or all the
changes associated with puberty, or from a male perspective the daily
experience of morning wood. But what happens when things go awry?
When we feel that our body betrays us by breaking down. Not the
normal aging process that comes with entropy and biological processes
but rather an active revolt. The first time I recognized this
emotion was with the brain tumor, I initially took it as a personal affront and
that our alliance was not so much a partnership but rather just a
meeting of overlapping mutual interests. Speaking with my sister and
comparing notes, her with leukemia and me with first the brain tumor
and now colon cancer we had exactly the same thoughts, our bodies let
us down. While we can blame it on genetics, lifestyle, past choices but
it all boils down to a parting of the ways between who we are and the
meat sack we wander around in. A close friend recently joked when he
asked “who did you piss off? First the brain tumor now this”. I
don't believe I pissed anyone off it is just chance that I would get
to play this game twice.</span>
</div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: medium;">So what does this have to do with my current
adventure? Well several things, first of all the idea of privacy.
As a patient, privacy goes out the window. For the professionals to
do their jobs they are going to see the meat sack in all its'
glorious imperfections. I realized that with the brain tumor, the professionals
are there to fix the meat sack not me, so I had to get over the idea
of privacy. Second, how we see ourselves. I passed by a full length
mirror yesterday and was shocked at what I saw. Although I never
carried much weight, 150-155 weight stable, the loss of 25 lbs over
the past 8 weeks shows clearly on my body. Thighs are thin and I can
almost put my hand completely around my bicep. The fat mass is gone
and muscle mass is going. A somewhat discouraging sight, but
remember it is not me it is just the bag of flesh that carries me
around. Finally, after making a trip to the cancer center at
Memorial hospital early yesterday, my sister and I emerged to a
waiting area full of patients. My sister observed that as we passed
by, everyone looked at me then lowered their head. They were there
with their own personal battles and here comes this emaciated old
fart who didn't look so good. Not great encouragement for those
dealing with similar issues. But I take faith in the fact that
although I and my body are parting ways, what you physically see is
not me. And I don't feel betrayed by my body and recognize that the
parting of the ways is nothing personal, I moving on and my body will
be recycled.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: medium;">The last photograph of me in New Mexico may be found <a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10209421638212263&set=a.3360184257775.141747.1664114369&type=3&theater" target="_blank">here</a>. I'm the skinny guy on the right. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: medium;">Addendum:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: medium;">A recent commenter on this post made a great suggestion, instead of meat sack how about "earth suit", which is a much better description of what we walk around in. So mentally please substitute earth suit for meat sack in the above post. As I have said before "language is our common currency and some days my wallet is empty", and clearly it was an empty wallet day when writing and editing this post. Thanks to Timothy for an eminently practical suggestion. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-82099218169696777472016-10-19T06:45:00.000-06:002016-10-19T06:54:04.942-06:00Quality versus Quantity<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A wise man once said the best death is
an unexpected death. On the other hand there are advantages to
having some time to prepare, allowing all the loose ends we generate
throughout our lives to be resolved. But I've run into an obstacle.
Having been given some time prepare I have been slowly moving through
my list, contacting friends, resolving old issues, and of course
doing the paperwork. When I was admitted to the hospital I made it clear to the colorectal surgeon that
I was interested in quality not quantity, he disagreed, saying he
wished I would do more. His opinion but not mine. The most telling
sign that my position had validity was the diversional colostomy
which did not touch the primary tumor except for biopsy. If it was
so important to go full bore in treating this thing then why was the
tumor left in place. Well it's simple, the tumor had spread to my
liver, lungs, spine, and omentum so removing the primary tumor had
little benefit and exposed me to a much longer surgical procedure.
The next medical professional was the oncologist. Upon our initial
meeting I also made it clear that my long term goals were quality not
quantity. The 5 year survival stats are less than 10% and the
survival curve, with treatment, was not encouraging with 50% survival
after 1 year for stage 4 colon cancer. He made a strong argument for
palliative chemotherapy. He gave 80% confidence that I would see
some improvement and extend my life. What he neglected to mention
was that after chemotherapy became ineffective I would still go
through the possibly messy end stages. So really it is a choice about
time (quantity and not quality). This confusion between quality and
quantity in the minds of medical professionals is understandable,
they mostly deal with families, with often differing and conflicting
needs so quantity could easily be equated with quality in families
seeking to extract the absolute maximum amount of time with a loved
one. He made the same argument at our first office appointment, saying 59 was to young to die, but since all the possible medical intervention he can muster would not give me an average lifespan or even a median lifespan. When
I pointed out that this was essentially a quantity argument he quite
looking at me and physically turned to my sister and began
addressing her as if she would convince me to follow his plan. But he
did not know was that my sister has also walked the cancer path with
leukemia. And in typical Thompson fashion she did not tell anyone
until she well into chemotherapy. She completely supports my
position having been down this road herself. Her only question was
“would he (the oncologist) sign the death certificate so the corner would not have
to do an autopsy”, to which he replied yes. I told the oncologist
that I would consider his arguments again and let him know my
decision by the end of the day. After stopping for some Chick-fil-A
we headed back to the farm. I ate and then slept for several hours
and upon rising from my nap was still comfortable with my decision
and called his office and let one of nurses know my decision and
asking for a belly line so I can drain acities from my belly. So,
the next step is done. It is off to the lawyer tomorrow, then the
local Episcopal Priest to get aquainted so the funeral, for the
benefit of my mother, will have some substance. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As a final observation, I finally had a poo through the new colostomy, but you know it's just not the same feeling of goodness and relief. A good poo, the old fashioned way, is orders of magnitude more satisfying.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-37790413278558045662016-10-13T16:12:00.003-06:002016-10-13T16:12:47.220-06:00New Adventures in the Journey of Life, in case anyone asks<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Life is always full of new
adventures, some expected others unexpected and I've started down a
new unexpected path. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">But first some
back story on how this particular journey started. About 6 weeks ago
I decided to grill up 5 lbs of chicken I had sitting in the freezer.
Many of the chicken breasts were freezer burned but not wanting to
waste food I grilled them up anyway. Nice and crispy (burnt) I dug
into a couple for dinner. A little hard to cut because the cooked
breasts were dry I added some butter and some sauce to add a little
liquid to moisten them up. I retired for the evening a short time
later but was awakened later that night by a sharp pain just below my
sternum. Rubbing the area I noticed a lump. My first thought was
“great the dried out over cooked chicken has bound up my gut, this
should be fun” and went back to sleep. The next day I was
constipated lending credence to the idea my cooking skills were
responsible. This continued for several days so I ordered an enema
bag to flush things out. I finally began to see some waste movement
and the enemas seemed to help (hurrah for Amazon and deliveries to
the bootheel of New Mexico). I continued with the enemas on a
regular basis and noticed no pain just some discomfort and a full
feeling during the day while outside working. The owner had
scheduled a visit to help me with some jobs on the estate and with
his arrival we got to work finishing the installation of the new pool
cover. I also serviced the pool's solar heating system in
preparation for winter. But I was spending more and more time in the
bathroom. The owners concern grew and he eventually wanted me to get
checked out. Through the hard work of Marlenia Baska the P.A. at the
Animas clinic which is now open 4 days a week, I was able to get
checked out. She sent me to Silver City for an ultrasound. The Gila
River Regional Medical is 2 ½ hrs away and the owner graciously
postponed his return and carried me up there for the procedure. The
only tip off I heard was a question about how much alcohol I drank,
to which I responded “I don't drink”. They cut me loose after
the ultrasound (which I saw as a positive) and we headed home. A day
or so later it was back to the Hidalgo county medical clinic for
results. The ultrasound revealed 2 large masses (7 cm in my left
lobe and 10 cm in my right lobe) in the liver and was suggestive of
metastatic liver cancer. Oops, wasn't expecting that one. Having
walked this path before with the brain tumor I knew things were about
to get exciting and messy. So now on to the next step,
notifications. I let the owner know so we could start planning the
transition to make sure guests were taken care of in my absence.
Then then family call. I remember making this family call when I was
in the hospital with the brain tumor, not the most fun call. My
sister immediately said she and her husband would drive out and get
me. I immediately responded yes, since I knew a plane flight would
be mistake and driving back and to Silver City for treatment would be
very difficult, so she and her husband Bob headed cross country to
pick me up. After three days out and 3 days back I was ensconced in
central Illinois. I hadn't been in central Illinois since 1987 when
I finished my PhD at the University of Illinois in <br />Campaign
Urbana. I then went to the emergency room at Springfield Memorial
and handed over my test results and was admitted. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Since my symptoms were
progressing my immediate goals were to 1. - have a good old fashioned
morning poo. You know, after getting up and brushing your teeth and
peeing followed by a hot cup of coffee nothing feels better than a
morning evacuation of the bowels. 2. - a good meal. I'd not been
eating much since it took so long to get stuff through my system and
I had a good appetite, I just wanted a tasty meal.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">After abdominal, pelvic,
and head CAT scans with contrast the next phase was planned. I had a
maximum of 3 options, 1. a bowel stint to open things up, 2. tumor
resection, and 3. a diversional colostomy with primary tumor left in
place. Well my choice was curtain number 1 but a lower GI test
showed complete blockage. The extent of the disease showed the
primary tumor in the lower colon, complete liver involvement, and
evidence of metastases in the spine, lungs and omentum. This pretty
much ruled out option 2 since the benefit derived would be minimal,
so curtain 3 became the best choice. After a laparoscopic colostomy I
was done, about 36 hours after walking in the door to the emergency
room. Pain medications ranged from acetaminophen with codeine (helped
with incision pain but nothing else) to morphine. I must admit a
fondness for morphine, it washed all the pain away and allowed me to
get a good nights sleep. I could also now eat and was craving bacon
and eggs which I had every morning after the procedure as well as a
variety of other treats. Unlike many other hospitals, you order your
meals from a menu at your convenience and perhaps the best part of
the morphine availability is, at least in my case, no risk of
addiction.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">So I have a place to
finish up and some time to wrap up loose ends which is a good thing.
Although I won't be able to get back to the valley, the farm here is
not a bad place to be. I'm planning a photo essay of Hoblit Farms so
I have something occupy my time and will try and post when I can.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DpsX6damvaQ/WAAGGWeu5YI/AAAAAAAAG6A/3vkJmTVQgZoV9SiTwURi4Tp_zQk1mCFkACLcB/s1600/IMG_5532_stitchb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="128" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DpsX6damvaQ/WAAGGWeu5YI/AAAAAAAAG6A/3vkJmTVQgZoV9SiTwURi4Tp_zQk1mCFkACLcB/s400/IMG_5532_stitchb.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One more sunrise over the Peloncillo Mountains</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">I wish everyone well and
will miss the place terribly, but some new adventures can not be put
off.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-68416737403614104452016-09-13T09:21:00.001-06:002016-09-14T11:00:53.717-06:00Chiricahua Peloncillo Heritage Days 2016I missed the talks at this years <a href="https://bloggingfromthebootheel.blogspot.com/2015/09/chiricahua-peloncillo-heritage-days-2015.html" target="_blank">Chiricahua Peloncillo Heritage Days</a> but did help with one of the walks on Sunday. Co-sponsored by the <a href="http://www.portalrodeo.com/chiricahua-peloncillo-histo.html" target="_blank">Chiricahua Peloncillo Historical Society</a>, the walk covered the historic Catanzaro Ranch which is north of Highway 9 and the Painted Pony Resort. Because of illness Craig McEwan and I were last minute fill ins and the discussion centered on early transportation in the valley. First a discussion of early "roads" in the valley starting with the <a href="https://bloggingfromthebootheel.blogspot.com/2015/02/the-road-cultural-resource-inventory-ix.html" target="_blank">old road</a>, the first trail running north/south through the valley connecting native villages and used by the Spanish. Then on to the highway that preceded the Current Highway 80. This highway shows up on the 1917 topographic map (labeled the "Borderland Highway") lies one mile east of the current Highway 80 and crosses the San Simon with a low concrete bridge. The bridge has no markings indicating its construction date so I compared the first topographic map of the area with satellite imagery. Shown on the 1917 topographic map this highway and bridge also paralleled the San Simon riverbed, spanning over the lowest portion of the San Simon river. During heavy rains the river can carry a significant amount of water as shown below in some historical images. We followed this early highway north, now passable only with high clearance vehicles, to a homestead of one of Gus Chenoeth's offspring on the other side of low hills leading to cowboy pass north of the current ranch house. After finishing with the old bridge and drive along this early "Borderland Highway" the group moved on to the old <a href="https://theskygypsies.blogspot.com/2009/05/piece-of-aviation-history-in-san-simon.html" target="_blank">Rodeo Intermediate Field</a> where I talked about the history and uses of the old airfield from its' inception as part of early commercial aviation through its use as an Army Auxiliary field during WWII, then as a private facility, and finally abandonment. A good day all in all and I had a chance to learn, see, and explore a little more the area's history as well as sharing what I have found with others.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tOhm18wbxBs/V9a7WBk8BdI/AAAAAAAAG4g/wXOA7PKh9HYMgbtuCsOO1XstScNXvoFywCEw/s1600/2016-09-11_11-00-40.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tOhm18wbxBs/V9a7WBk8BdI/AAAAAAAAG4g/wXOA7PKh9HYMgbtuCsOO1XstScNXvoFywCEw/s400/2016-09-11_11-00-40.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Craig McEwan talking to the group just below the Catanzaro Ranch house.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8sVKDmhJTnE/V9bBr19Ck4I/AAAAAAAAG40/0RZhbB-b-PcNbtJWGV5BT-JyAc3WaUHVwCLcB/s1600/2016-09-11_11-48-41.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="113" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8sVKDmhJTnE/V9bBr19Ck4I/AAAAAAAAG40/0RZhbB-b-PcNbtJWGV5BT-JyAc3WaUHVwCLcB/s400/2016-09-11_11-48-41.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking back NW across one of "Gus" Chenoweth's offspring homestead toward cowboy pass (on the left).</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M_sYnBiGjLo/V9a8FERmQxI/AAAAAAAAG4s/kZhHJrVgNqk8w6HITrJsvuUQ0hppW8skwCEw/s1600/2016-09-11_13-09-32.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M_sYnBiGjLo/V9a8FERmQxI/AAAAAAAAG4s/kZhHJrVgNqk8w6HITrJsvuUQ0hppW8skwCEw/s400/2016-09-11_13-09-32.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking east at the old Highway bridge surrounded by a sea of Giant Sacaton grasses.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fk6Qupxsb6k/V9bIajDvUPI/AAAAAAAAG5E/_MvVDhNSmrUf-a8oixW4QNcIvQY5-wMMQCLcB/s1600/San%2BSimon%2Bbridge%2Bby%2BBonnie%2BCatanzaro.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fk6Qupxsb6k/V9bIajDvUPI/AAAAAAAAG5E/_MvVDhNSmrUf-a8oixW4QNcIvQY5-wMMQCLcB/s400/San%2BSimon%2Bbridge%2Bby%2BBonnie%2BCatanzaro.png" title="san simon river with water" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">San Simon river flowing under the old Borderland Highway bridge. .</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fPI6h4Pa8bU/V9bLHECd1HI/AAAAAAAAG5Q/ie3ZMlozaL0Ae43MwZgCkmcbDms7F1e7wCLcB/s1600/chiricahua%2Boverlay%2Blabeled.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fPI6h4Pa8bU/V9bLHECd1HI/AAAAAAAAG5Q/ie3ZMlozaL0Ae43MwZgCkmcbDms7F1e7wCLcB/s400/chiricahua%2Boverlay%2Blabeled.png" width="271" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1917 topographic map overlaid on Google earth showing the early highway from Rodeo and bridge location. Rodeo is at the bottom just off the overlay</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/TOOgosTbfx8/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/TOOgosTbfx8?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
Video about the Rodeo Intermediate FieldAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4508754319269484186.post-87399498167210129962016-09-08T10:11:00.001-06:002016-09-08T10:11:36.163-06:00After the StormHurricane Newton came up the Baja and into Arizona and New Mexico. Flash flood warnings were posted for both states and I battened down the hatches here at the <a href="http://www.paintedponyresort.com/Home.htm" target="_blank">Painted Pony Resort</a> to get ready for some significant rains. Unlike <a href="https://bloggingfromthebootheel.blogspot.com/2014/09/odiles-gift-to-twin-cities-of-portal.html" target="_blank">Hurricane Odile</a> 2 years ago, Newton did not deliver the anticipated rainfall totals to the San Simon Valley. While many residents I'm sure are happy to not have the roads wash out, we sure could use the rains. The estate received a total of 0.8" from the remnants of the storm with higher rainfall totals to the west. The morning after the storm I captured the image below of Portal Peak with some sun and lingering clouds from the storm. This brings the yearly rainfall total to 6.93" so far for the year. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Arizona_hurricanes" target="_blank">Hurricanes reaching Arizona</a> are not unknown, with 47 hurricanes/tropical storms/depressions having reached Arizona since 1921. A frequency of one ever couple of years. I never thought of hurricanes reaching the high desert but they do and apparently on a regular basis. Although heavy rains can cause problems on denuded landscapes, <a href="https://bloggingfromthebootheel.blogspot.com/2013/03/grassland-restoration.html" target="_blank">restoration efforts</a> can minimize the negative effects by slowing the water. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s0hvhd6wre4/V9GIYNitlPI/AAAAAAAAG3o/-VgHVbX78xM039GKP9uLjOHL6ekt9_YiQCLcB/s1600/IMG_6957_stitcha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="146" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s0hvhd6wre4/V9GIYNitlPI/AAAAAAAAG3o/-VgHVbX78xM039GKP9uLjOHL6ekt9_YiQCLcB/s400/IMG_6957_stitcha.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Portal Peak after the rains.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06828727163244604661noreply@blogger.com5