Paddling is not about "fun"

Last year my employer and my husband both agreed to let me work part time. I use the time to exercise, heal, rest & de-stress... I am not saving much money for retirement, really, but I don't see the point if I'm not going to be alive to enjoy said-retirement.

My husband June 29 2014 

U.P (unknown paddler) and Kimmie in "my" Sirocco! She says she loves the boat. I am glad I passed it on to some one who loves it as much as I did.

Janeen, one of the regulars from my exercise paddles

James sits in an eddy while others take their turn playing in the current coming off Little Falls

Andy, one of our fearless leaders

What nice boats

June 15 2014 near Edgewater, MD

Selfie 

James circling my boat 

We had some wave action

Recently I was told that some people who see me regularly think that my life is great; they wish they were "off having fun" like me. This has led me to have anxiety, the exact opposite of what all the down time was supposed to produce. I wanted to write a scalding retort to their presumption that my life is "fun." But I have found I do not have it in me. I am considerably anxious, and have lost all desire to "defend" myself. Reacting defensively might have been counter productive in any case.

My whole package is no "fun." Medically I am a wreck... Maybe mentally, too. The "seasonal depression" that came this last fall turned into "all season depression." I guess that's just called plain old "depression."

"If you were me, you would need to relieve some stress too."

My son said the other day that I "walk around like nothing is wrong," and so I "can't blame people for thinking every thing is great and wonderful." I have spent my adult life fronting. I doubt I can stop now. It is almost a matter of pride that I act like I am A-okay. "Pride cometh before the fall," right?

I have just scheduled my seventh surgery in five years. I am like Michael Jackson, eh? But without the talent and money. No, really, none of the surgeries have been cosmetic. But I would rather they were! I want a chin tuck, dammit!!

I can't believe this is happening. I so disbelieved this could be real, that I made and cancelled two appointments with my primary before I actually went to see him. I kept thinking "well, maybe I'm over-reacting?"

I can't believe this is happening.

State Director Program - ACA

State Director Program - Overview - ACA | Canoe - Kayak - SUP - Raft - Rescue

I really considered this and am still thinking about it. I feel well qualified for this position. I would propose using meetup to inform people and boost participation. I believe this can be done by using meetup's enormous member base. I think it is especially useful when getting volunteers together for clean ups, etc.

The reasons I didn't apply mainly have to do with time and money. While I can afford the time for a position that pays me something I cannot afford the time for a position that does not. Sadly, my art has suffered neglect as I pursue my dream of learning to make my kayak dance. This level of learning has severley impacted the time I have to paint and make. If I cannot make time to paint then I must enforce the rule that I cannot make time to volunteer, either.

And then, I am only working part time and actually need to be working more but with business being slow at the clinic I cannot take any more hours. If and when there are more hours I will be taking them. This will reduce the number of hours I can spend in my kayak. But at this point in our evolving plan to leave the area making money is really very important. Very much so.

So I must sadly let this position pass. I think the application process closed around the 15th April. But I had a big dream for it. Time and money aside, I could have done so much for the ACA. Maybe next time. There may always be another chance.

There is heartbreaking sobbing coming from an exam room

When any client says goodbye to their beloved pet it is a sad thing. Some clients bring family, some come alone. We offer hugs, condolences, and reassurance that they are doing the right thing. But still, it is very hard. As veterinary staff and doctors know, we are called upon every day, every moment, to extend compassion not just to animals, but to people as well. One of my coworkers told me that I was suffering from compassion burnout right before I left for vacation 12 days ago. I needed that time in the Keys. I really really did.

At work a couple of weeks ago one of the practice owners received a message from a past client demanding that the doctor return their call. This person refused to give even the briefest hint to the receptionist taking the message. Normally, one can't just call a doctor's office and get a doctor on the phone. Try it; see how far you get. But in this case it was a new receptionist, a kind person perhaps a bit easily bullied.

No one wanted to return this client's call. This is a client whose name is bandied about rather like Freddy Krueger's; a name used to incite fear and loathing in any staff member who has had the misfortune of dealing with them.

Alas, it turned out that "Freddy" was calling in hopes of his pet seen for free or nearly for free. Freddy reasoned that we had been seeing him for a "long time," and perhaps he felt we owed it to him. In this situation it came down to this: this person had been merciless with our staff and doctors over the years, a real genuine bully. Because of this behavior they had zero compassion in the "compassion bank." Their expectation of free service was a bit humorous to us.

None the less I was bothered by the episode and the next day I asked one of the practice owners if we should go ahead and see the pet for free? If maybe, just maybe, it was the "right" thing to do? She said "Right? As in 'right' when you reach the Pearly Gates?" I replied "yes" and gave my reasoning. She was not convinced in either direction. So I was left with a question unanswered.

After the incident I left on vacation. In quiet moments I re-visited this episode and the fact that I felt I had failed to be compassionate. Or, on more reflection, is my definition of compassion skewed? Does compassion equal "free service?" I did come to the conclusion that I should offer compassion equally to all. It is not my place to judge whether a person is worthy of compassion or not. "I will offer compassion, I will turn away fear," is my mantra during meditation. And yet I feel I failed some how.

I wish I could say this story has a happy ending. But at this time we do not know what will happen. There may be no happy ending.

On the water things don't look so bad

Let's try this again, my laptop just ate an entire blog post. Ugh.

Family things are keeping my full attention now. Most of them are not my story to tell. It helps for me to remember that lessons need to learned and suffering happens. A mom can't keep mothering her grown child forever. Sometimes it's best to step away, come what may.

I visited with my sister Lisa last night. We talked about the terrible economy and how hard it is to find a decent job now. There really isn't any such thing as a "living wage" anymore. We will all have to crowd together in our hovels to even be able to afford to live soon. And that appears that's the way corporate wants it. There really isn't a US of A anymore, with its strong and united peoples. There is only the corporations offering us trash as food, and new drugs all the time for "new" disorders. Here, have another pill and a bag of "low fat chips." And for escape here's your LCD teat or an hour or two of explosions in a theater.

I woke up this morning focusing on meeting my doctor today and beginning to cut the nerve pain meds out of my own life. They helped my cope with the pain and neuropathy of my insulted and overly reactive nervous system. But if these tremors and sheets of fire and electrical-pricklings are simply the way things will be from now on, I intend to adjust and move past leaning on meds forever.

To live in the moment and remember this life is temporary is sometimes hard. Be present, be kind, be helpful.  I'm going to burst past this bubble in my life. There's a whole lot more story to write and this one is MY story to tell.

Backing up

Taking a break

Sandy beach somewhere up river of Mason Neck

Belmont Island on the right, the Occoquan ahead of us

Paddling back across Belmont Bay

Canes as fashion accessories

I need a cane. I can't walk very well anymore. This is a tragedy. Ok, a personal tragedy, not like an-epic-tsunami-that-ate-Japan-tragedy, more like a well-this-sucks tragedy. It's no big deal to anyone except myself, maybe my family, and on a more limited basis, my co-workers and clients.

Luckily, I don't think it will affect my kayaking friends at all. They don't give a damn whether I can walk as long as I can paddle, and perform an adequate self-rescue. And of course, lift a beer at the end of the day. They won't help me with that. We are a self-sufficient crowd when it comes to consumables.

I can still get my boats out of the garage and on to my newly christened "handicapped accessible Thule Hullavator" installed on my Outback. I can still walk a few steps with my boat. So I can still paddle, which is of the most importance for my quality of life. Because, let's be honest, when I can't paddle anymore I am hanging this crap up.

Walking any distance early in the morning, is possible. I typically walk with my dogs a couple of miles near dawn. Towards the end of the second mile I begin to limp. By noon I can barely walk down the hall at the clinic to the staff area in the back of the facility. Both my hips are uncooperative. Lately both legs are just in knots, like cramps but less painful, really stiff.

I am seeing a chiropractor my orthopedic surgeon recommended. He is trying myofacial release from my knees through the hip areas. It's really painful, and I wasn't really seeing any improvement until this week. This week on Wednesday I felt great, before my appointment. After my appointment, maybe less so. And then I missed my Friday appointment. It's getting hard to drive an hour, get an hour long treatment and then drive an hour back, three times a week. I think I'm going to scale back to just Mondays and Fridays.

When I saw my surgeon on Monday, after another session with the "mangler," he said my hips had the best rotation they've had since he's been caring for me (over a year). Man, I have two different dudes regularly groping me in the hip area, and both are swell to look at, might I add. And then I get home and am too exhausted to function, aka: take care of the hubby. Sad.

So I ordered my first cane. Hopefully not one of a series. But if I do need more than one I am getting this one next: http://www.fashionablecanes.com/3456.html
Don't worry, it's work safe and all. Just a carbon fiber cane with FLAMES!!! Did I say that with enough emphasis? FLAMES MOFOS!! Because it's so hot it's on fire! Yeah. Plus, it folds so it will be easy to store on the deck of my boat. I think I'll make a little padded bag for it to protect it if I flip and have to slide the boat over my buddy's deck to dump the water before I slither back in. Also, I think it will be fun at work. I can accidentally crush coworkers' toes with it. Oops, did I say that out loud? Yeah.

Let me leave you with some recent photos:

Water lily on the Mattawoman

Cool little catamaran leaving the canal in Avon NC

My Kona Bee

Kat on the Mattawoman

Been thinking about my friend Pat

Bear with me while I wander about my neural synopses for a  moment.

And so my friend Pat has been on my mind a lot. I found him dead from a heart attack the morning of September 22, 2010. He was laying face down in his backyard. I still see his body when I close my eyes sometimes, just in a flash, a beautiful fall day but the harsh sunlight falling on him, unfiltered by the large oaks on the edge of his yard... While the event was unfolding I kept thinking "this isn't real," and the memory of finding him still feels unreal to me. It plays out like a film. Someone else's memory.

I wrote this last year: "I can sometimes be found working at a vet hospital. It's not a "calling" or a "vocation," it's more like an unpleasant pastime that pays the bills. Please don't get me wrong, I love working with animals." The first part of this statement was an untruth, not real, born out of a desire to distance myself from my real life. One must accept that sometimes the truth of what I do for a living haunts me; is so painful I must create distance to avoid losing my fruit completely.

What I do to earn money is, in fact, a vocation, one that I am as dedicated to as some priests are to their chosen religion. One of the doctors I worked with in the past said once that, should anyone question her religion, that she would say seriously with a straight face "I worship the cat." I thought she was being a bit kooky, but now I believe she was on to something.

I don't worship the cat but I do honor the relationship we have with our pets as though it is my religion. It is the single driving force that keeps me working in field of veterinary medicine. The reason I keep returning to this and to the thoughts of Pat is this: Pat LOVED cats and so it naturally combines with this second thought about something I read recently; that a satisfying way to honor a deceased loved one is to strive to be more like them. To find the best part of that person, the part we found most good, and work to display that same goodness.

My friend Pat would help anyone he knew out. He lived to help, I truly think it's what he enjoyed most about life; being needed. And he was so needed, but I never told him so. If there are two things I learned about losing him the first is: the next time someone tells me something is killing them more than once, I am going to take that thing away from them. In Pat's case it was a total re-do of his roof, he stripped it down to the studs and was rebuilding it. But the project just kept taking longer and longer, it stretched into 6 months and he kept telling me "this roof is gonna kill me, kiddo," and I guess it did. The other thing I learned is that I am very bad at telling people how important they are to me, and that I can fix.

This morning I hugged my husband and told him sincerely how very much I love him and how very lucky I feel.

Today would be Pat's birthday. I do believe that Pat remains, in some part, Pat, even on the other side. It is not necessary to be incarnate in order to be one's self. I do believe. So, in Pat's honor I will stroke the office cat even longer today, and I will truly endeavor to be a better person, more like Pat. I will make myself more available to people in need, in order to offer help.

As I collected Pat's cats and found them homes, and helped his distant family manage the details, I said to several people "Pat called in every favor I owed him." I believe those two weeks after his death took several years off the length of my life. But I am truly grateful that I was there to help Pat when he needed me. And that's part of honoring him; that I was there to help, and was needed.

I love you Pat, where ever you are. Happy Birthday.

Catching up

So I guess keeping up with a blog isn't as easy as I supposed it would be. I have less trouble keeping up with my tumblr blog as it contains mainly just photos and very few words. That blog is really dedicated to art and so I tend to only post stuff I have just made or good pictures I've taken.

Let's see, last time I was here I talked about a bike ride. Since then I have paddled a bunch. The water has warmed up nicely and I am able to sit in my boat comfortably for about two hours at a time. At about the two hour mark I start needing a stretch. After a little stretching and walking around I can paddle some more. But I'm afraid the days of sitting in my boat for hours on end might be drawing to a close. As I said in an email to a kayak instructor I have great respect for, "Sucks getting old. Youth is wasted on the young. And one last cliche, if only I'd known then what I know now I would have done it all differently". To which he replied, in kind with cliche, "fight the good fight, never surrender."

Words to live by sir.

Some pictures. Work, play, love:

Jojo Bob, our office mate, creating a work stoppage allowing me to stretch and laugh

gathering for a Full Moon Paddle 4-26-13

Pulling away from Bull Run Marina as dusk falls

Taking photos with available light from a moving kayak  isn't ever easy 

Just as the moon clears the tree line

Happy Hour Paddle 4-24-13

Sculls everywhere, river right river left...5-3-13

Becky's fabulous new (to her) boat 5-3-13

5-5-13 Paddlers at Jug Bay on the Patuxent

I always love wandering back into the log jams and strainers of the western branch of the Pax

Going just a little bit further

Our furry "love children." Such it is with empty-nesters in our country. Work, play, and love.

Had a birthday

Some how I thought I'd be more upset by my recent birthday. I'm not yet at the half-century mark but encroaching steadily. I did okay, better than I expected. Evidence I am slowing down, went to quiet mid-afternoon dinner with the husband and then came home to a quiet house, played with the dogs, snuggled the cats. I fell asleep listening to spotify (my present to myself) at a reasonable hour none-the-less.

I really like where I am at this moment. Yeah, I got some not-great things in the offing, but I am psychically comfortable and pretty happy. The husband and I adjusted the household expenses to allow me to work outside the house less. This experiment is only in its third week but so far so good. I especially needed more time to devote to healing and less on making money.

I spent a fair amount of time worrying about my job but am trying to focus more on personal growth and health now. Money is great, especially when you are getting ready to crest that hill, but why focus on retirement when you might not be around to enjoy it? Coming out of this is also having more time to paint and make stuff, something I really love and find personally very fulfilling.

"Steal like an artist," have you heard that phrase? A friend showed me a photo of a quilt she is working on. And I will, a bit, thieve from her idea. From one crafter's idea another idea grows in another crafter's brain. It reminds me of the way some house grown orchids put out bloom spikes one growing off another. From one flower another blooms. It feels like a sweet idea. I am good with it. And can use the time I am now at home to work on it.

Here's to winter's end, around the corner, and a year of fulfillment for both of us.

More surgery. Yay.

Talked to the surgeon, that's that, my right labrum has a full-thickness tear. It's as shredded as the other was before surgery. I also picked up a good case of bilateral bursitis as well, just to mix things up. No wonder nothing feels right down there. More surgery. Great. Can you hear the lack of enthusiasm just dripping?

As you might imagine, I am having a really tough time holding it together now. Things like paddling trips and bike rides are high points in an otherwise miserable pain-soaked existence. I am even having a hard time finding funny cat memes to post on my employer's facebook page, which I maintain as part of my job. I think my sense of humor crawled out back and died. It's rotting away in the mulch pile with the summer grass clippings as I type.

None the less, I am digging around for something funny to say. Oh, hey! The Lorax quit drinking around Christmas. He hasn't slept well in years and I swear a couple of drinks will give me insomnia. So he stopped and actually started sleeping better. Anyway, we were at our outdoor club's happy hour and he told the waitress not to bring him a beer. So she didn't. Later he ordered one and she said "oh, have you quit quitting already?" with a big smile. And it was funny. Yeah, okay, that was a stretch. Maybe I'll come up with something funny later.

Thanks giving and all of that

Sometimes you have to say goodbye. And it sucks.

I can sometimes be found working at a vet hospital. It's not a "calling" or a "vocation," it's more like an unpleasant pastime that pays the bills. Please don't get me wrong, I love working with animals. The people, not so much. I am lucky in that I am still employed despite the truly atrocious economy. And that I am employed despite being a middle-aged plump female of middling health.

Don't laugh, you have no idea how lucky I am. Or maybe you do? Maybe your Aunt Edna lost her job when her company office downsized and she can't get re-employed to save her life. Now she's living in her geriatric parents' sun room, working at Walmart part-time just to pay for her car note and food. This is, all kidding aside, exactly the fate of many 40 & 50-something aged gals.

The incoming young people, fresh faced and right out of college, look so much more appealing to the HR department. I know, I AM the HR department at my place of employ. And it's not like I am some lecherous creep. I just foresee less management problems with the younger crowd. Although, come to think of it, one of my teenaged coworkers called me at 9:45 last night, waking me from a sound sleep. She wanted to discuss more hours. Believe me, calling me at that hour is a sure way to get me to agree to anything just to get you off my phone. She's not stupid, that one.

But in the end, even despite the "Gen Y" peculiarities, I am saying I wouldn't hire myself, if there were a younger option.

Because I am still recovering from one surgery and getting ready for another I have a lot of time to think. I am thinking about where my life is going. And whether that's where I want to go. Do I really want to "keep fighting the good fight" with my clinic? Or would I rather be painting and starving? The painting and starving options might not be as bad as it seems. I need to lose some weight, and I need to get these ideas up on canvas so I can move on to other ideas. And make those happen next. Also, I need time to focus on getting healthy and stronger. I don't have much time between work & home duties.

My chiropractor said it would be a full-time job to fully recover in a year's time. He wants me to cook all this special food, and eat a very "clean" diet. Then, walk 4 plus miles a day, and fit in all the exercises both he and the physical therapist have prescribed. And resume cycling, etc.

And where does that leave me-time? Me as in painting, and knitting, braiding, sewing, making...? I am not getting any less tired, that's for sure. So here's my Sunday after Turkey Day blog. Lamentable as always, an Eyore for sure. And on that sad note, a last photo taken by me of one of my all time favorite patients:

Good bye Max. We will never forget you.

Fall is almost here

I love the fall, my favorite time of years. Sweaters and pashminas, mmm. I also like gearing up for cold water paddles. The trees from the water are so lovely, and the air so crisp. The water becomes more challenging. The choking water weeds die back too, allowing us to paddle back into the marshlands. Love, heart, fall paddling.

But then, we haven't paddled the last two weekends, we got caught up in real life.

I am not biking right now either. My hip is killing me. The orthopedic surgeon says I need surgery for a labral tear. It is certainly painful but I am not ready to go under the knife again. At this rate, if I let them keep cutting away the malfunctioning parts I will be missing a quarter of my body in 10 years.

So I am seeing a chiropractor instead. I was really dreading the first visit. When I see them on tv cracking and popping joints, I cringe. That stuff isn't good for your joints long term. Don't let anyone tell you different.

This fellow came highly recommended so I took the plunge and went. First visit he sounded like he didn't even want my case. This wasn't a surprise, I am a medical disaster, I get it. Second visit, and I was pleasantly surprised. So far so good. He wants me to change my diet, no problem. I'd cut anything out if it will help.

He said to give it a month. If he can't help me feel more comfortable in a month, then he can't help me. Sounds reasonable. I hate to be hopeful, but am.