My experience here

 

View of the building in which I live.

by Keith Ramos.USFWS

Sharing with Tom's Tuesday Treasures

Pocket balcony is great for springtime fresh air. Until the pollen from my lovely maples gets too strong!

Have you noticed how many photos from space include the Straits of Hormuz? 

In the hood

 

At the base of these ancient maples are a wonderful patch of lilies of the valley (the closest group is blooming.) Behind it is a small azalea white azalea bush.

The closer maples haven't fully fluffed with leaves quite yet This is from my balcony on the south facing side of the apartment. 

When I look out my north  facing front door, I can see the balconies (yes very small!) on the next building. My apartment is also on the upper level of my building. A clever design for these steep slopes.

Again from my front door, looking down the walkway between the buildings.

My brain continues to lag - there are two pieces of something I need to put together for breathing treatment...I pick up the wrong one, don't go so far as to try to connect it, but notice that there wasn't any selective thought ahead of the action, and complete it.

It's like the internet Sunday morning. Slow as molasses. Sometimes I select my choices, key in my own desires, and wait about 4-6 seconds to see if it will happen.

For my brain, it's not a matter of too many users, but this one has reverted to maybe 8 years old. Or earlier.

I am enjoying some rather abstract ideas, so I'm not back totally to concrete operational thinking. Like today I realized that God is a metaphor much as we anthropomorphize so many things around us...the animals with names, plants, and in my case, even my car.

But do I trust myself to drive that car?

Maybe later. But I'm quickly running out of toilet tissue. Needs must.

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What if I stopped now? Usually this is where I’d share some wise sayings, or editorial comments. But I can let things go…just watch me!

Sepia "Sunday?"

 I knew I had some interesting old homes to share, but it took a while before I could plug in the external hard drive to search for them.

Sepia Saturday says: "We've always been proud of our houses. Once affordable cameras became available to the general public, we have highlighted that pride by having our photographs taken outside our houses. It doesn't matter whether we are talking about mansions or cottages, caravans or terraces: we want our photographs taking whilst we are lined up alongside them. This week on Sepia Saturday we are celebrating houses and you are invited to share your old photographs by posting them on or around Saturday 11th April and leaving a link ..."

I love this neat old house...when it was not brand new, but the yard was established with flowers and a tree had been planted, as well as a big bush by the front steps. That could be the man who did most of the hard work leaning against the wall.

Google street photo of my Geat grandfather, Alexander John Swasey's home, where my grandmother grew up, Galveston TX.

Alexander John Swasey, 1853-1913. I don't know much about GGranddad Swasey, as there are just dates bookmarking his life. His wife was a Christian Science practitioner, as well as my grandmother when she grew to adulthood.

GGranddad Swasey was born in Charleston SC, just before the Civil War, while his ship-captain father was imprisoned for the duration 1861-65. His father returned from Massachusetts prison to die in Charleston in 1866.  How  did John (as he went by that name) get to Galveston? That's probably where he met his wife, who he married in 1881. My grandmother Ada Swasey Rogers, was born there in 1886.

She married George Rogers and he built a house, which was still standing in the 1970s. I'm searching for photos that were taken then.

House built by George Rogers Sr. in Galveston, TX

I've posted a bit before about Galveston and my family which came from there.
my-family-from-galveston

Our front steps were often the site for family photos...my mother on the left, and obviously in love with my dad centered, with grandmom the next step down ...San Antonio TX. My parents married November 1936, and lived with his parents for a while. 

Mother and dad, with baby sister, and myself standing in front of my first home in Dallas TX 1946.

Christmas 1954 in St. Louis, my sister Mary on left, and myself on the right in our poodle skirts and dolls. At 12, I was a bit old for a doll. But loved the faux collar of red velvet with bead work.

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Liberty leading the people by  Delacroix.

Thanks to unknown photographer.

Update on my health...progressing healing along at home again. Whoopee!

Friends have kept me going!

Visiting Flat Creek again

 Visiting Flat Creek in Montreat NC...I was attracted to these medium size little fish.

Three fish on a rock. I first noticed this kind of fish, much bigger than the many minnows, by it's actions of stirring up mud which showed where they were through the reflections on the water. 

Friends say they are probably Northern Hogsuckers.

Wikipedia says this:

The northern hogsucker (Hypentelium nigricans) is a freshwater ray-finned fish belonging to the family Catostomidae, the suckers. It is native to the United States and Canada where it is found in streams and rivers. It prefers clear, fast-flowing water, where it can forage on the riverbed for crustaceans, mollusks, aquatic insects, algae and detritus. It turns over small pebbles and scrapes materials off rocks and sucks up the particles, and other species of fish sometimes station themselves downstream from its activities. Breeding takes place on gravel bottoms in shallow riffles in late spring. This fish is susceptible to such man-made disturbances as channelization, sedimentation, pollution, and dam construction. However, it has a wide range and is a common species so the International Union for Conservation of Nature has rated its conservation status as being of "least concern".

Are they edible? Nothing said so.

There used to be a foot bridge across the creek to a short trail on the other side, as well as a lengthy trail up to the town of Montreat, and another trail which went up the mountain to a lookout. This parking area is no longer an access to any of them, thanks to Hurricane Helene which flooded the whole area.

This is part of the bed of the bridge which has been cobbled together, but as you can see on the right half, it only has the support struts, and no planks upon which to walk. Further downstream is a repaired road crossing which provides access to the public utilities on the far side, and probably the trails if they are open.

The gravel road on the opposite side just goes to a little shed for the utility people around the curve. The huge bolder in the creek used to be further upstream and I often would sit in that area.

Here's a photo of that tree and rock taken 3 weeks before the storm Sept 29, 2024. 

April 1, 2026 with a bit of the debris still at the base of the trees.

Fun just looking at reflections, then I noticed all the activity under the water!

Standing on this bank, you can see how I was higher over the water on this side of the creek.

But I got my photos and returned to my own life.

First I bought a $3 cup of lemonade from these two boys (seen here selling some to a couple of hikers as well) Wow, I asked what the money was going for (thinking how Montreat is a community of retired Presbyterian ministers, as well as a Christian college.) The lad said something about 2 other percentages, and he would put 10% in his savings. 

I drove back through the Montreat gateway to go enjoy a lunch of fried fish and chips!

Sorry, couldn't wait to eat a bit before the photo! It's called Mountain to Sea on the menu below.

The view from the Trailhead restaurant. I timed it wrong and missed the free lunch right across the street at the Methodist Church which is offered for contributions each Wednesday at 11:30. I didn't eat until after 12:30. But I did have seconds as my supper.

The further you distance yourself from your expectations, the more exhilarating your life will become. ------------ This was written several days before my recent hospitalization. This is what my normal life was like...and I hope in a few more weeks I can be back to walking around town or the woods. Until then, I'm afraid I'll rely upon stored photos. ----------- If you're local to me, here's a poster I was recently sent... There have been several trainings given in the area of how to protest.

Surviving and getting mad

Pulling a tangle of tubing around behind me at my home, to have the oxygen available while moving around. The trick is to not trip on it...which means making another decision about how to walk, turn, step. Another F-ing Educational process. AFGO was the term we used in college. Another F-ing Growth Opportunity. Not doing a bit of growing here...just surviving!
 

A last fun view of the mountains outside my hospital window. That's of course just a cloud coming over the top of the highest one, not snow!

The last tiny room had a wall of windows. I figured out finally that the building that predominates is actually AB Tech...our technical college. I've never visited it, just seen the turnoff signs. This was dawn of Wednesday.

By 10 am I had heard horribly loud construction drilling going on. You know, electric drills into metal studs. Intermittent of course. They took a lunch break. I called to a head person when they returned. I was mad. I told how 6 months ago I'd been in this hospital and endured 2 days of this kind of noise behind (above) my bed. I had no rest all day long. Then the 3rd day they were gone (weekend perhaps). And I finally was able to sleep and feel better. I remembered immediately how that experience affected my healing process. I demanded another room.

One was available, and I would be able to move soon. But then two doctors visited, and one (the house doctor) said I could go home if I could reassure him that I had oxygen overnight.

I dumbly didn't lie.

The machine at home was not acceptable to me, as it had specks of dark stuff and dust all over it from a dirty air handler in the wall behind it. The air handler had been cleaned, but I hadn't gotten around to getting the oxygen concentrator cleaned/changed yet. So I could use the portable oxygen machine, which had a battery which lasted about 3 hours, and could be recharged. I proposed just leaving it on the charger all night. Seemed like an answer to that.

But various discussions outside my hearing were held (probably phone calls between their seeing patients.)

I was on hold whether to move to another room and stay another night.

Would that even be an answer to overnight oxygen?

The home health agency only comes to my village once a week, fortunately Thursdays...the next day! But they couldn't get in my apartment unless someone came over and stayed there until the delivery guy arrived, which was open to anytime during that day. None of my friends could do that for me. If I didn't go home, I couldn't let him repair/change the unit, and I couldn't go home and sleep the night before...

Is that the definition of a Chinese Fire Drill? Or what is it called? Catch 22 probably.

The Case Manager and the Doc finally came to an agreement that I could go home, use the portable O2 unit to sleep with, and be there for the concentrator repair guy the next day.

The move to another room had been canceled. During many of the discussions with the medical staff in my room, they got to hear the construction drilling noise. I feel for any patients who remained nearby. That room would only be appropriate for someone totally deaf, or comatose!

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First day at home included re-establishing some of the breathing equipment in a different location, to see if it will be more comfortable using it there. I lost track of all the phone calls to various medical people, setting up and changing appointments, talking with nurses about concerns over side effects, and finally getting a written message through the patient portal with my pulmonologist. He read the hospital notes and said he agreed with the treatments, and reassured me the side effects I was having were normal enough to not cause concern.

Freedom means responsibilities

Out that door. This is the little discharge cubby (don’t know their term for these numbered cavelike rooms)  where I heard the last wishes from my Doctors. Yes, I will watch both ways, yes I will continue to breathe…and take my pills as directed. Just let me OUT!

 Not at all flattering, but modesty had to go by the wayside while my body was poked, stuck and measured in so many ways by so many others.

Am I well? Well, as much as I can expect for right now. Much much better than last Friday night. So as always, there were trials and errors by the medical team. But I was well treated…up to a point. More on that later.

For now I just want to be back in the reality of my home, my coffee, my machine from which it flows whenever I wish. Freedom!

Responsibilities are hitting me. I’ve been fed, bathed (no kidding) and medicated all by the wishes, whims, or timing of others. Now I had to figure those things out for myself.

After my dear friend picked me up Wednesday afternoon, we drove by the pharmacy to get my new antibiotics. Then to the pizza place where I got a personal pan pizza and chicken Caesar salad to go. Then pull my cart into the house, sit down and eat a slice of pizza. (After all one has to keep up one’s strength.)

Then set up the breathing equipment here at home again…to have oxygen when needed. 

When needed? Is there a bell on me that goes off when I need it? This continues to be a nightmare. I have no idea. Here I am trying to make a decision whether to wear the cannula and carry the portable concentrator (see, I finally learned a term for the thingie) or not.

Trial and error . Mmmm.

It’s 35 degrees outside, and the sun is up. I love seeing the dogwood in full bloom after 5 days away. Maybe I’ll go closer and get more photos. Frost warnings for the next day. Dogwood winter, it happened.

Gratitude to still be able to enjoy the beauties in life. Blooms. Weather. Sun on a mountainside outside my windows. Bird song. The puff of the concentrator by my side proving I’m breathing!

And so grateful for the care which I’ve received.

Thank you to all who have communicated with me. I’ve never looked into the eyes of all of these great supportive bloggers (except a couple who live near Asheville.) But the humanity shared is worldwide. Each day has the gift of your own sharings here, as well as true connections in your comments. I did cut back on my blogging time (aren’t some of you glad for that!) but it was a daily plus when I could look on my iPad and see what was happening in Scotland, Germany, Sweeden, New Zealand, Canada and other US states.  My deepest appreciation for blogger.

In the pink

 

This is what life looked like at my house the last time I was there…Friday.

Today I woke up feeling a lot better. I said “This is better Barbara day.”

 

My view today is a bit different looking

This was a minor inconvenience, but with necessary results 

This plastic vest has tubes for pressurized air all through it that vibrate which loosens up the stuff in my lungs to help me cough. My main discomfort was that I sweat. It definitely doesn’t breathe ha ha ha ha but first you’re going to sweat and eventually you get to breathe.  Bronchiectasis means chronic coughs and the goal is to cough the stuff out.

Sorry about this crazy formatting.

The other thing that finally happened was getting a medline- a longer IV line for me to keep getting antibiotics. The first 7 tries gave 3 that lasted for less than 24 hours…apparently my veins clot up and block further stuff from getting in.

They tried once with a muscle injection, and it was the worst pain I’ve ever had. 

 I am quite unhappy with how long it took to get this better, more permanent line in.  Three doctors and repeated nurse calls, and finally it’s done. I don’t know what ports are like but this is shorter than a PICC line is all I know.

I am waiting for my first dose of antibiotics since yesterday’s muscular hell around 9 am - which I don’t think is a good span without antibiotics…it’s 3:30 pm when writing this.

The good news is having great laughs with a female EKG ultrasound technician while she took pictures of my heart and with the phlebotomist who had his own ultrasound machine to put in the new IV. He is from Sarasota FL, and she is from near Boston MA. They both are traveling employees of HCA, which owns our hospital.

An answer to a question several people asked, how did I get this infection? I pumped the third Dr who’s visited me about staph pneumonia 

Airborne probably since it’s in my lungs probably from someone who was sick. Then he proceeded to try to be sure I didn’t become a hermit.  

It’s not likely! These are some things I learned from the pandemic - I will definitely wear masks around strangers more.

And wash my hands more often and try to keep fingers out of eyes and nose.

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He who, when called upon to speak a disagreeable truth, tells it boldly and has done, is both bolder and milder than he who nibbles in a low voice and never ceases nibbling. -

Johann Kaspar Lavater, poet, writer, philosopher (15 Nov 1741-1801)