Vascular Surgeon

The visit to the vascular surgeon was interesting. For one thing, I got to practice my patience in stressful situations, which needs a lot of practice. When I’m not stressed, I can be the most angelically patient person in the world, but when I’m stressed, I’m a Pandora. And it seems that whenever Mary has a morning doctor’s appointment and I’m not feeling well, she picks up on it and becomes very demanding and moody—she keeps asking where we’re going and why, she doesn’t like the clothes I’ve put on her, she goes extremely slow, etc, and I’m trying to rush because we’re inevitably late and I’ve inevitably got a headache, cramps, sore throat, etc. I warn her that I’m not feeling well, but that just seems to make things worse. I handled the situation a bit better today. At least I recognized what was going on, which is a big first step, I think.

The next stressful situation that I don’t usually handle well is being late for an appointment and having to find a parking place and a doctor’s office in unfamiliar territory. Oddly enough, Mary and I had just been cruising around this area of town last week—the weather had been so nice, we’d driven through the park and around a bit till we found our way home. This particular area of town has always, always frustrated me, so I was prepared to be stressed, if that makes sense. No, not that I was prepared, I was pre-stressed—preparing my stress. But I felt better at least about leaving because I’d just maneuvered that tricky expressway entrance (you have to be in the middle lane or you will not get on the right expressway, and in a normal car it would be impossible to get over, much less in Mary’s Cadillac with absolutely huge blind spots). And today it was in the pouring rain, nonetheless! Getting there was ok, too. I seemed to have an angel sitting on my shoulder. We couldn’t find a space outside (you know, not all handicapped spaces are created equal—I need to find one with the extra space on the right side so that I can get Mary into her wheelchair), so I chanced it in the parking garage. I hate parking garages. They’re dark, nebulous sort of places. It’s hard enough to find a spot in them without looking for a specific sort of handicapped space. I couldn’t believe it—we found one right next to the door! It had a sign that read, “Van accessible only.” I wonder what that means. Are people who need handicapped spaces supposed to just understand those signs? Is there a handbook about handicapped spaces? Hmph.

The door into the medical plaza was, however, not handicapped accessible. It amazes me how many doors are not—especially the ones you would expect to be, like to the doctor’s offices. They rarely are. This one was very heavy and I wondered how someone alone or elderly would have managed. Some doors are not only not handicapped accessible but they also have huge speed bump-like things that greatly hinder access with a wheelchair. Go figure. The eye doctor’s office has not only those two problems but also two (non handicapped accessible) doors to boot. Really go figure.

Ok, enough of that. The people in this office were so nice! The nurse was really laid back. She actually touched Mary’s foot without putting on rubber gloves first. I appreciate that. Some people act like they’re so afraid of catching something. It makes you feel like a leper. The doctor was this Indian guy. Well, he sounded like he was born in America, but he was obviously of Indian decent. He also seemed very laid back and yet professional and very caring at the same time. Bizarre. I can’t put my finger on it, but I’ve never met a doctor like that before. I was enamored, to say the least. And I understood him! Mary’s family doctor and the podiatrist and even a lot of the nurses use this jargon that leaves me completely in the dark. And I feel that as a person with two Masters degrees, I really should understand them, so it’s embarrassing for me to ask for clarification—but I do anyway. Living in a foreign country taught me, if nothing else, to say the words, “I don’t understand,” no matter how painful it is.

He explained that Mary’s right leg (with the sores) is only getting 40% of the blood that it should and the left is getting 50%. The podiatrist had said this but in such a way that all I heard was .4 and .5. He made a huge deal out of explaining that he wanted to be careful and take small steps first to see what could help Mary so that there were no bad consequences. He started her on a medication that will increase the blood flow, especially to her feet. He started at half the regular dosage. I’m a bit concerned because there was no specific question in all the tons of questions they asked about whether she had ever had congestive heart failure, but on the information from the pharmacy it stated that this medicine should not be given to anyone who has had congestive heart failure. I’m in a quandary as to what to do. I believe Mary did have congestive heart failure in the hospital the summer before last. That was when her catheter was not draining properly and they didn’t listen to me when I told them this so that her organs got backed up and then they said that she’d had this congestive heart failure and started her on all of these medicines for heart problems and did all kinds of heart tests and told me that she had ambulatory angina or something like that and that every time she moved, she was going to have chest pain—which never happened! So, I don’t really believe that she did have congestive heart failure or that she has heart problems. So that’s why I’m terribly confused. So I’m not going to say anything and we’ll see how she reacts to this half-dosage.

Luckily, I asked this doctor about whether she should exercise or not and he said not her lower extremities because that will take blood away from the toes to send to the muscles. He said that when a healthy person goes running, for example, their heart can pump five times as much blood as usual to the legs, but since Mary’s legs can’t get any more blood, what she has would just go to the muscles. Interesting. I really wish I were more interested in the field of medicine. It occurred to me the other day that I had never ever thought even once about becoming a doctor. That’s how little interest I have.

Oh, he asked Mary how old her parents had lived to be. She didn’t remember, she said (although I know she knows), so I told him Grandma lived to be almost 95 and Grandpa died somewhere in his 80s. He thought a bit and then said that Mary should live to be 98 if nothing happens (like an accident of some sort). I immediately thought, “That means I’ll be 42 before I’m free.” It was all I could do not to utter those words. What will life be like to be free again? Is this how a parent feels? But, then, they’re never really free.

I’ve seen two episodes of two separate TV series dealing with the stress of taking over responsibility for aging parents. It made me feel good to know that I’m not alone. The thing is that most people are in their 40s when they have to do that and I started in my early 30s and will be in my 40s when I’m finished (with this, at least). So these people usually have children and are married. I’m missing my last window of opportunity to have children by devoting my life to Mary right now. But, then, it’s not like there have ever been any guys lined up at my door waiting to become the father of my children. So I can’t truthfully say that I’ve given up anything.

I picked a ton of rhubarb at Mom’s today. Mary’s really excited and so am I, come to think of it. I love being able to do as much cooking and baking as I want.

I asked Bonnie if she could come over tomorrow if the weather is nice. One of my nephews was supposed to cut Mom and Dad’s grass, but he hasn’t done it and it’s getting way out of hand. I don’t resent having to give up my free time, the little bit that I have, to do this. Nor do I resent having to go over to Mom and Dad’s at least twice a week while Mom’s in St L helping Gina. I guess what I resent is the added stress of not getting to take my sweet time to run my errands—which is ridiculous. I don’t really have that many errands. And I don’t need to go to the grocery. In fact, I shouldn’t go because I need to empty the freezer so that I can clean it out. I guess I resent that we have this huge family and yet there always seem to be so few people there when you need them. I know, they all have their own families and full-time jobs, and only about half of them are even in this immediate area. Nikki says I need to tell people what needs to be done. I think I don’t even necessarily want people to do things—especially if they don’t have the time—but I’d like them to offer without my having to ask. No one asks me to do a lot of things that I do. I keep my eyes and ears open. Or try to.

I was thinking today about who we are. I mean, I feel like I’m finally living in a situation that’s free enough from stress that I can be who I am (with certain limitations, of course). I can eat how I want to, play the piano and guitar a bit, keep a clean (relatively speaking) house, stay on top of paying bills, brush my teeth twice a day, get in at least 6,000 steps a day, keep a blog and a journal, read my German newspaper, listen to NPR, surf the Internet a bit, read and send email, talk to my family on the phone, work in the garden… And yet I still get migraines about five times a month. What if I had a normal stress-level job? I’d have a migraine every day! I remember when I taught I had a migraine every Saturday. When I lived in Germany, I was also in a place (literally and figuratively) where I could be me. It’s been five years since I’ve felt this way. Do other people feel like this? Or are they so stressed-out by work that it’s impossible for them? Or is that stressed-out state of being also who we are? When I get freaked out with stress, I always think, “This isn’t me.” But isn’t it just another side of me? Well, at any rate, I also feel quite guilty for being so lazy. I still feel like I don’t have a job. Just responsibilities.

Curiouser and Curiouser

Mary went to bed at 10:00 tonight! Yeah! I can't remember the last time she agreed to go so early! Freedom! However, I've spent the last half hour paying bills--blech! I've started paying $100 to my student loans, and $200 to each of my credit card bills (I have two.) as a way of Mary reimbursing me for helping her. I think I will also write myself a check for a certain amount each month, but I haven't decided how much. I need to look into health insurance to see how much that will cost. I've started writing down everything Mary pays for in a notebook (well, not things like food and necessities). It's funny. Even though I know that Mary has enough money in her checking account, I still have that awful feeling when paying bills. You know, that feeling that there won't be enough to cover this check.

Oh, this is interesting. I finally figured out how to get onto the bank's website to view Mary's acct info, although it calls it my acct info since my name is also on the acct. A CD was showing with the address of Dad's old PO Box. Mom said that he may have had an acct at that bank once upon a time. Sure enough, this is a CD for Gina and me that we didn't know about. It's getting really horrible interest, btw! It's an 18-month CD. Odd, huh? How could he have forgotten about something like that? And the boys have found out that he had some sort of insurance policies on them. They are able to collect it now--not much but still something. Just like the CD. It's only worth about $500--and who knows how long it's been in existance! Very curious how fate works out, huh? If I hadn't had Mary open a new acct and then decided it was time to figure out how to get onto the website then I'd never have found out about that. I wonder if Dad had other CDs with this bank?

Drinking, Dinner, Boredom, and Relatives

Mary and I had too much wine with dinner. Well, after dinner. I had 1 1/2 glasses and she had one full glass. She never shows her alcohol but she came close this time. It doesn't take much to get me schwipped, so I was really quite far gone. We just sat and talked. It was funny. Mom called and I was the one who was tipsy for a change :-) It's strange, some wine tastes so nasty to me, I can hardly drink it, whereas other wine tastes so good, I don't want to stop drinking it.

I think Mary had a boring day. I think a lot of her days are boring. The other night she started to do a seek-and-find puzzle. She hasn't done one of those in ages! Then Mom called and it distracted her and she never went back to it. I was waiting for dinner to get done and started reading her some of Harry Potter. She seemed to be really getting into it, and then dinner was ready. It was pretty good. I was quite proud. Well, happy. Satisfied. Pork tenderloin (rubbed with salt, pepper and several herbs), kale (w/ garlic, olive oil and sun-dried tomatoes), and a boiled potato. And red wine. Chocolate covered graham crackers for dessert with coffee. We have such a good life.

I read today that you should play with your indoor cat at least 10 minutes a day. Its a good thing our cat likes to play. I don't want her to get depressed or neurotic. I wish Mary would play with her. I wonder if getting petted and talked to counts. The article said that one toy wasn't enough, so I doubt if it does count.

We went over to see about Dad. Took him the thighs from the roast chicken we had the other night (we really do have it good). He dug into it immediately. Getting tired of cereal, I guess. I vacuumed the floors, loaded the dishwasher, cleaned the toilet and sink and remade his bed. I started feeling sorry for him. Good thing I had to leave.

Mary called Anna yesterday. She seemed really glad to hear from her, commented that she never sees Mary or Angie anymore (duh, since I'm not carting their butts all over the place!). Uncle Tom's supposed to come to stay soon. Anna said he'd stay with Angie, of course. Left out the bit about Angie not being thrilled. Angie said she wasn't sure she wanted him there since he drank all her booze. Anna reiterated her bit about how if she had another bed she'd love to have him stay with her. I used to believe that but not anymore. I've got her number now. She mentioned that Jim calls her three times a week. Hm. I'm impressed. I don't know whether I admired him for moving to Florida or found that irresponsible. How much responsibility to we have to our elderly relatives? Does it matter whether it's a parent or someone more distant? Would I be taking care of Mary if she coudn't afford it? I think I would. I've never been very good about thinking about the future.

Toes, Plants, Things

I took Mary to the podiatrist yesterday. He said that the tests at the hospital confirmed that she had artery blockage in both legs and that it was somewherebetween the thigh and the knee. He's sending her to a vascular surgeon to do another test to see where the blockage is specifically and to tell us whether there is some procedure which won't be too invasive that can help her.

I'm kind of worried because all this evening she has complained that her big toe of her right foot keeps having a shooting pain in it. I wish I knew what to do. I tell her to let it hang down, which she says helps, but then she says she gets tired of it hanging down and puts it back up. I'm not sure exactly what she means. Oh, the doctor also prescribed something to put on the sores that he said would sort of erode the white parts. He said that without the circulation, the toes will not heal up. I asked him if it would be ok to have her do some more exercise. He didn't seem to know. He said to ask her regular doctor. I'd like to get one of those things that's just the pedals and a tension adjustor, but I don't want to exercise her legs if her arteries are blocked. Hm. I try to get her to do some light weight lifting, but it's so hard to be consistent with it. Especially when she's often not in the mood.

Bonnie couldn't come today--she said she had a fever. I took Mary with me and got her to go into the supermarket with me. It's great that they have those wheelchairs with baskets on them because she can't really control the elecric cart. She didn't want to go in but afterwards she said she enjoyed it. I got some Lilly of the Valley, Phlox and Peony bulbs as well as some Impatients, Aster and Basil seeds. I'm really excited but Mary doesn't seem to care much. I didn't plant some things last summer because they wouldn't have bloomed until this summer. Now I wish I hadn't been so impatient--we could have enjoyed them this summer! I've planted a lot of Cosmos (which Mary always says was Grandma's favorite) and Sunflowers along with some other things and can't wait till they bloom. I wish I could make up my mind about whether to get the windows redone in Mary's little porch at the back of the house. I should have some people give me estimates. There would be no harm in that. One of my brothers has a company that makes such windows, but they don't install them, so that would be a problem. If it would make it possible for Mary to sit out there in the winter, that would be great. It might help keep her from getting depressed or down in the winter. But do I want to invest that in the house? The crack in the basement wall is being repaired tomorrow. Altogether that's going to cost $1,000. I'm also having one of the men install a handrail out the back door so that Mary can get down the stairs. What if I then have the windows redone? If he ankers the handrail to the window frame??? O je... Are things really so complicated or is it just me?

Mary did really well on our trip to St L to visit Gina, who has cancer. We took Mom so she can stay and take care of Gina a bit. Mary's feet did get rather swollen and that scared me. I even had her get out half way there and stand up a bit. I think it's just so boring for her there and there are little things missing that make it uncomfortable for her.

I've played my guitar the last two nights after dinner. It's interesting--I think the cat is more into it when I play music (piano, too) than Mary! Maybe Mary can't hear it. But it's also not her sort of music. I've notice, too, that when I read to her, she doesn't seem to pay attention as well as she used to. She'll start talking to the cat. But she did remember what I'd told her about a problem I have with the joint in one of my fingers.

Now Mary says she's warm. And I'm not. That worries me. Sounds like all I do is worry!

Trip to L

I took Mary with me to L. today—it’s an hour and a half drive. I went to have my Ovarian Cancer Screening. Driving around L., I was annoyed at myself at how quickly I lose my temper. It was raining and the stupid college students just walk out into the street and expect the drivers to stop. Since I never drove around campus, I didn’t know where to park and so was late for my appointment. Trying to find a handicapped parking space was also confusing for me because I’ve never done that in a parking garage. It was actually very easy but I was just stupid about it. However, getting out of the garage was not easy. You just don’t realize that as a pedestrian you can walk almost anywhere but with a wheelchair (and especially with an elderly person in that wheelchair), you have to look for the sidewalks and the special ramp place to get up on them. Instead of just crossing the street where you want, you absolutely have to use the light or the pedestrian crossing. Needless to say, I was 20 minutes late. I’d started getting ready to leave 2 ½ hours ahead of time. Argh! And then they had a message at the sign-in that if you were 15 minutes late, they would reschedule your appointment. This is an appointment that you have to make six months ahead of time.

(Just a note—Mary’s sitting in her chair nodding off but if I ask if she wants to go to bed, she says in a short while. I told her I’m going to start calling her just-a-minute-Mary. She never wants to go to bed, even though she goes right to sleep. She said a minute ago that she wasn’t sleepy, although she was getting tired. Personally, I don’t know what the difference is.)

I took Mary with me into the room to get the ultrasound of my ovaries and I think Mary was embarrassed, although she said she wasn’t, because she kept saying that I could have left her out in the waiting room. I didn’t’ want anything happening to her.

After we were finished, I took her over to meet the secretaries in the foreign language department. I just love those women! Azhar is from Russia and Lillian is from Peru. I hope when the weather gets better (and Mary’s foot) that we can go and maybe have lunch with them.

It was really strange pushing an old lady around the campus with all these young people walking around. It drives me insane when young people dress absurdly.

From there we went to a local Starbuck’s to meet another friend of mine. We only had about 20 minutes and she was a bit stressed out—she’s a mother of a rather spoiled (my opinion) 8 year old (?) who’s working on her Doctorate.

Luckily the rain held off all the while we were there. I was worried about taking Mary out in the rain. It was a bit chilly, which worried me. I can’t put a sock on Mary’s right (sore) foot. For some reason she can wear a house slipper, but a sock hurts her.

I’m taking Mary tomorrow to get checked for a UTI. I kind of hope she has one because she’s been really shaky and a bit confused lately. That would explain it at least.

Tulips and Taste

I cut some tulips the other day and brought them in so Mary could see them. The first fall I was here I went a bit crazy planting bulbs. Rather stupidly I planted the tulips next to the bottom of the front steps, which is a place that Mary can’t see very easily. (The funny thing is that I planted red tulips interspersed with yellow tulips and now we’ve got red tulips with black outlined with yellow in the center and a bit of yellow tine and streaking to the petals. Also, sometimes there are pink tulips. Very odd. And the daffodils all moved and are now clumped together. They were originally interspersed with the tulips.) Anyway, Mary was sitting there looking at these tulips today and asked me, “Honey, what are those flowers called?” I told her they started with a “t” and ended with a “p”, but that didn’t help. Then I asked her if they were roses? No. Daffodils? No. So on. I finally told her they were tulips. Later on, I asked her if she knew what they were called and she said, “Yeah, tulips.” I commented that earlier she hadn’t been able to remember and she said she knew that.

She asks me a thousand times a day what types of birds are out in the yard. This is a bit sad because I believe just a year ago she knew what they were. It must be so hard to see your mind slipping away like that. Luckily, I think the only two things she really minded giving up were cooking and driving.

We had ice cream with Crème de Menthe on it the other day. I asked her if she could tell what taste the green stuff had, but she couldn’t. When I told her it was mint, she said she couldn’t taste it. I asked then if all her compliments of my cooking weren’t true and she just gave me that, “Oh, honey…” business. No, I know she can taste some things. I think she can still differentiate between the major groups (salty, bitter, sour, sweet). And I know she can tell that Listerine burns—she always squeals when she has to use it and then after she spits it out comments that it’s “as hot as fire.”

What to Do

I’ve been putting Neosporin and bandages (Telfa, not band aids) on Mary’s toes like the podiatrist said. They do seem to be getting better—or at least they’re not getting pussy, which was what I’d feared. Gina said that studies show that a warm, moist environment is the best to heal wounds. Who would have believed it? Why did the wound care nurse say to keep it dry? And why did Dr R say just to use soap and water? The podiatrist wants me to just use Neosporin and a cotton sock at night. Gina swears that her doctor told her to use polysporin and bandages on a wound for three days in a row and that would heal it. Hm. Too many people telling me what to do!

Schedule and Diversions

Still no calls from Angie or Anna. That makes me so sad. Not that Mary notices too much, but I think she does notice. She says she doesn’t care, and I hope she means it. I’ll be glad when Mom gets home from Gina’s. It’s a real Godsend that my sister-in-law Jan could come and stay with Gina for a while. I know taking care of Gina has been hard on Mom. Too bad she can’t take care of Mary and let me go take care of Gina. Ha, ha. If it hadn’t been for Gus stopping in on Dad, Mom wouldn’t have been able to go to Gina.

The guy came to look at the basement today—the corner that’s been leaking. Sure enough, you could see the crack on the outside. And sure enough, it’s right behind the bar down there. As he put it, most of the basement hasn’t been finished and the crack is right behind the part that has been finished. So I’ll have to have someone move the bar, or at least part of it, if that’s possible, and then either leave it out permanently or have it put back, depending on the cost. Just to get the crack fixed (which they do quite thoroughly and with a life-time (of the house) warranty) will be $500. Mary wants a second opinion, but Anna recommended these people and I feel confident in them. Or am I just lazy? Or both? It certainly does hurt to spend over $1000 on the house considering the events of the last month or so. But I can’t continue to keep changing the towels down in the corner. I can’t just not fix this. But I am not going to recaulk the bathroom, that’s for sure. I’ve been fixing meals for Freddy and I hope he’ll put a railing on the back stairs so that Mary can get out to the backyard and swing easier. Not that I’m making him the food to bribe him. I’m sure he’d rather just pay me for the food. When Mary moved into this house, she had Fred paint it and he gave her a lower price than usual but then she tried to get him to come down even more and he was so incensed about it that he’s never wanted to do anything else for her. So he won’t even do things that would be simple for him. Mitch and Chris have both done things around the house for Mary. Fred is a frustrating enigma. Better get on to another topic before my blood pressure starts rising.

I was thinking that maybe you’re curious about my daily schedule. As Gina asked once, what do you do all day? Everybody thinks I’ve got lots of free time but I don’t. Maybe that’s my fault. I probably take longer doing things than I should. Every day is different but maybe I can sketch out a general sort of day. I try to get up sometime between 6:30 and 9:00. Usually I get up at 7:00. I’m having difficulty adjusting to the time change. I hope I get over that soon. The cat has not adjusted. She still wakes me up at daybreak. Now she sits on the nightstand next to my bed and tries to look out the blinds at the birds building a nest in the shutters of my window. This noise usually wakes me up. If I get up before Mary, I’ll write in my journal (the one I keep in German, very stream of conscious) or read the paper, have some coffee or tea, maybe take a shower. I get Mary up between 8:00 – 9:00. That partly depends on when I gave her her Synthroid pill. She can’t eat or drink anything for an hour after taking it. She often has to use the potty when I wake her up to take her pill. Otherwise, she uses the potty when she gets up. If she doesn’t use the potty, she still wants to go into the bathroom to wash her hands. I understand and respect that, but it’s rather annoying because I have to maneuver her walker so that it’s on the right side again after she takes it in the bathroom and leaves it on her left. It’s a tight fit and just not the highlight of my day. As I’ve said before, she has to dry every single finger before leaving the bathroom, by which time she is usually worn out and needs to sit down and have a rest so I have to pull the chair out for her to sit down. Oh, I have to make sure that her wheelchair is out in the kitchen before she gets there or she’ll have to have a seat and wait while I run back to get it. I don’t like to leave her unattended like that (in a position where she could easily get up, with her walker right there in front of her), so I try to get the wheelchair in there first. Sometimes I push it along behind her, but I’m not too crazy about doing that because there’s a dangerous moment when she goes round the corner from the hallway into the dining room when I’m not right behind her and she could easily fall since she’s turning and I wouldn’t be able to get to her. Oh, from the moment Mary gets up to the time she goes to bed I keep her gait belt on her so that I can grab her or help her at any moment. She’s a real sport and has gotten used to it. The therapist who ordered it for her got the largest they make for some reason, so I have to double it over and it doesn’t really fit right. It slips when you pull on it, which it’s not supposed to do. I’ve contemplated buying a smaller one. Also, I’ve seen ones with a plastic clasp that would be easier to close and would stay closed, and also not be so heavy. Sometimes it swings, since it’s metal and heavy, and hits Mary or me in the leg. It also sounds God-awful in the dryer, clanking around. I hate to get a new one when this one isn’t broke, though. Hm. I still have to think about it. I finally came up with the bright idea to draw a line with a permanent marker where the end should go when the belt gets doubled over. For a long time I’d have to guess and that was really annoying because it’s gets moved easily. I just have an elastic hair band around it. When Mary gets back into bed, say during the night, I usually tell her to get her belt off while I get her house slippers off. She inevitably (much to her chagrin, God love her) pulls it out to its full length, so I have to adjust it again. Now I can truthfully tell her that it really doesn’t matter since I have it marked. Oh, when she gets up at night I always put her slippers on her because they have a skid-resistant rubber sole. She tells me I don’t have to put them on and each time I have to repeat why I’m putting them on. Argh!

So we get out to the kitchen and I get Mary a cup of coffee (instant) and me usually a cup of tea. I try to vary breakfast. Hang on; she’s coughing. I have to go give her some water. I’m back. You have to guide the straw to make sure she can get it. I try to let her hold the cup/glass. She feels more in-control that way. She’ll drink a little but always tells me that she doesn’t want to drink too much because then she’ll have to get up and use the potty. O je. As if she doesn’t do that several times a night anyway! She refuses to believe that. Maybe she has another UTI. Maybe I should make a doctor’s appointment.

Ok, we have breakfast. Either cold cereal, toast (she likes some toast with her honey), oatmeal (with brown sugar and raisins), bacon and eggs (poached or scrambled, usually on Saturdays), waffles on Sunday, kuchen (pastry), or cinnamon rolls (her number one all-time favorite which she’d like to have every day). I also try to give her a few reconstituted prunes. She loves those. Or we’ll split a banana. She loves a big mug of black coffee. Sometimes she’ll have two cups. She used to always have two cups. If she thinks she can put off getting dressed or, especially, taking a shower, she’s sure to take a second cup. If I’m having coffee, I’ll make the real stuff, but Mary can’t really tell the difference. Instant coffee makes me ill, personally.

It’s 11:30 so I’ll continue this another day. I spent the day digging in the garden. I got some Asiatic lilies to plant and decided to put them in a corner of the yard that has always been wild and over-grown. I had to dig up two small tree-like roots and it was a lot of work. I dug up the lilacs that were growing wild around there and put them in another corner where I planted daffodils the first year I was here. They’re coming along quite nicely. I think the lilacs should bloom after the daffs are gone. At any rate, they’ll keep that corner green. It’s partially shaded due to the neighbor’s garage, so I’m not sure if the lilacs will grow. I’m thinking about taking the tulips from out front and putting them there, too. Is that too much? But I was stupid to plant them out front because Mary never gets to see them. Not that she can see much over in that corner; it’s so far away. Aw, I’ll probably leave them. I planted the azalea from cousin Jackie back there and it looks like it will survive, but it won’t be worth seeing for probably a few more years. Oh, I also dug out a honeysuckle tree root from back there. Gina had told me to nip it in the bud when it was young, but Angie told me to wait and see what it did. She’s always so curious to see what things do. One time while she was visiting Preacher’s grave at the cemetery, she found something on the ground and picked it up and tasted it. Her tongue got really sore and I think around her mouth broke out. It’s things like that that make you love Ange. Oh, Chris said something interesting the other night—that Angie always did have a gorilla inside her. This is just so perfect! I’ve always thought, affectionately, that Angie looks so much like a chimpanzee.