Saturday, November 09, 2019

I borrowed this Normal Thelwell cartoon from his Facebook page. His pony-child images perfectly reflect how my mare, Rosie, and I sometimes “don’t get it together”.

Yesterday again, we experienced our joint effort differently. I was using 30-foot ropes (long-lines) to guide Rosie in a routine she understands well. After a walking warm-up, she’s to trot in a circle to the right for ten minutes. Next, she turns and trots in a circle to the left for ten minutes. This repeats over another twenty minutes, and then, Rosie walks to cool down.

At my first signal, Rosie did as asked and trotted to the right for ten minutes, but in turning, maybe an instant when I was loose with a rope, she took off at a full gallop. I stood watching her freely circle the loafing shed, chase Sunni and Pimmy, and gallop in large circles throughout the dry lot while trailing those 30-foot ropes. (Rosie’s blinders don’t interfere for she knows every inch of the lot and fencing).

Lately, that’s happened and I’ve considered seeking a trainer’s help. Typically, the now-free Rosie gallops awhile and then returns to me, waits patiently while I collect her ropes and return us to the work area. When again she starts trotting, if I feel her energy rising, it’s Bingo! she’s off again. There’s no holding Rosie back and she’s delighted.

As in Thelwell’s cartoon, I’ve spent off-hours revisualizing Rosie’s breakaways and trying to figure out how to handle her ropes effectively. In practice, regardless of how I adjust my handling, nothing deters Rosie’s determination and strength.

Typically, after letting her break away and run several times, my most useful response has been to follow while beating a dressage whip against the ground. The action and noise force Rosie to gallop until she’s willing to resume working. Sometimes we manage to finish her workout okay, but sometimes Rosie’s brattiness continues.

Yesterday, my response changed. At Rosie’s first turn-around, in the instant she took off, I immediately grabbed the long whip and followed beating on the ground. The mare galloped on and on, and even when she slowed and appeared tired, I didn’t let her slow or quit. Finally, when she really paused, I set aside the whip, waiting while Rosie walked forward, ropes trailing, and stopped before me. I reached for a rope and let my hand slide along it as I moved behind her and lifted the second rope. Holding both ropes, I asked Rosie to walk forward.

When we resumed working, Rosie circled and reversing directions properly without breaking away. We finished, with her sweaty, foamy, and worn out. In the barn, as I removed her harness, Rosie gobbled fresh apples.

An experienced trainer might know how to prevent such breakaways, but maybe I’ve discovered the solution. It’s a rapid, extended response at a first offense with my whip. By allowing Rosie’s galloping breakaways to succeed once, twice, or three times, before I respond, has made her freedom episodes rewarding enough to encourage the take-offs.

In our remaining days of nice weather, I’ll continue exercising Rosie on the long-lines. Starting today, the instant a misbehavior occurs, I’ll force her galloping to continue until the rascal is worn out.

About, Thelwell, the artist. I understand that when his then-young daughter was learning to ride her pony, he captured many of the duo’s problem moments. For anyone not hands-on familiar with ponies (ah, yes, cute little critters), they definitely have minds of their own. To me, this artist managed better than anyone–more fully and with fun–to capture the realities and humor of horse-handling.

Dear Friends: Big Rosie both is sweet and too-smart, she keeps me on my toes. Diana

Friday, November 08, 2019

My Apple Watch shows which shape of moon to anticipate in each evening’s darkening skies. In last night’s twilight while heading down to feed the horses, I glanced up and saw the rising moon. It was a kind that I love, almost-full and overall slightly lopsided, a shape that to me seems hug-able.

Later in more darkness, I returned to the barn to release horses from their feeding stalls. While preparing to head up toward the house, I saw a changed moon lighting my path, of course still lopsided and lovely, but now neatly framed by slanting streaks of light-yielding clouds. I stopped, stared, and switched off an after-dark headlight while reaching for my iPhone. This new phone makes me do bunches of learning and I’m still too recent a user to go with confidence for good shots, but I really wanted that moon.

My photo isn’t perfect, it sort of resembles a watercolor but doesn’t disappoint. In it the moon appears less sharp and clear than in real time, but overall and with those slanting clouds, the whole seems to work. What makes this visual more cool is how well it captures that interesting moon’s great illumination of my pathway to the house.

In a good photo what’s best is how always it offers more. This one holds yet another element of cool, reminding me of yesterday morning’s pleasant telephone reunion with Tina, a Nevada friend who knew my sister well. For sure, we shared many memories of Elaine, and we also gave ourselves time to catch up with each other. Before we said our goodbyes, Tina told me how much she enjoys the photos in my blogs. After we hung up, I considered her words and how preoccupied I’ve been, the minimal effort given to camera-work. All day, thoughts of cameras nudged up the joy of aiming a camera, to capture forever unique moments and complex senses.

Dear Friends: And, last night, bingo! A serendipitous moon sealed the deal. Diana

Thursday, November 07, 2019

Learning that my elderly sister had passed away brought a night of no sleep before I managed to face a day that was long, nervous and trying. At the funeral home, I sat listening to a long lecture having to do with cremation and death certificates. That afternoon, I visited the nursing home and learned that I can take a whole week to remove my sister’s possessions. I left empty-handed and took care of a couple of Elaine-associated errands before going home and trying to refocus on routine chores.

In her last months Elaine had mellowed. This made hanging out with her easier and I felt closer to my sister. Unlike in our past when often we were adversarial and negative. Anyway, regardless of how well or not a relationship, one in it who slips away leaves gaping holes. Emotional relationships ultimately may force facing the rawness of losing a beloved.

For me this moment means moving onward. Today, one of my key goals is to become better informed about any new legalities in the handling of my sister’s real estate, banking, and debts.

Meanwhile, another key goal is to start working again with Rosie-the-brat, my 23-year-old mare. The last time I was long-lining Rosie, she figured out that suddenly starting to gallop pulled the 30′ ropes from my hands, and she could run victoriously, freely, to her heart’s content. After she got loose a second time, I picked up a long whip and followed her while slamming the whip repeatedly against the ground and forcing Rosie to gallop until she got worn down enough to behave. If she gets away with misbehaving and dumps my handling, I’ll be toast. Today we’ll return to the dirt lot with the long ropes, and again find Rosie’s cooperative side.

Like people, Rosie can decide to be just the sweetest or to be a pain in the butt. These days, my too-smart mare probably is good therapy. Actively involving with a horse eliminates thoughts of anything except what’s in the moment.

Dear Friends: It’s hard to grow up, but on the other hand, do we ever really? Diana

Wednesday, November 06, 2019

Last night, my sister passed away. Early yesterday during my visit to the nursing home, her hospice nurse, social worker, and I discussed her condition. Both long had been assigned to my sister and agreed she wasn’t close to passing. This was reassuring, but I know my sister and told them she’d finish in her own way. Which exactly, she did.

Yesterday, during the hours I sat with her, although seemingly asleep she knew I was there. She once managed to say, “Help me, Diana.” I asked if she wanted to be turned in bed and at her nod called for someone who knew how to do this. That person taught me how to keep my sister’s lips moistened and how to offer water through a straw, all of which my sister resisted. Later, as I was leaving the facility, a nurse said someone was on the way to turn her again.

Last night around midnight, after awakening and letting the dogs outside, I discovered that my phone had a voice message informing me of her death. On the advice of her hospice team, I had packed away some my own sense that passing was imminent, and now felt a shock of having left the nursing home too early. In those midnight hours, all I could learn was that already she had been moved to a designated funeral home. I will get in touch early hoping at least once again to visit her.

Five years ago, as I was preparing to bring my sister to Oregon, she explained her wishes to be cremated and then her ashes mixed with those of a beloved dog, whose ashes she had saved for years and which I have. I’ll do as she wanted. Something else she’d prefer would be those ashes spread in favorite surroundings, like the Nevada or Arizona desert, or near Little Rock, CA, where once she lived.

I am touched and encouraged by readers who care and have followed this ongoing, sporadic thread of my sister’s story. Later, I will write more, for Elaine was a unique and in many ways amazing individual.

Dear Friends: This is a rare moment, for I’ve run out of words. Diana

Tuesday, November 05, 2019

My sister was asleep when I entered her room. She woke briefly, said “Hello, Cutie,” and again closed her eyes. I said, “Do you want water?” Her eyes opened and she reached for a half-full glass on her bed tray but wasn’t strong enough to lift and move it to her mouth. I quickly helped and she managed two sips. The caretaker who let me into her room (I forgot my key) picked up my sister’s untouched breakfast tray. It was close to noon and the attendant said she’d return soon with a lunch tray.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

My sister nodded, “I think so,” as her eyes closed.

I sat for nearly two hours while she slept. There never appeared a returning attendant nor lunch tray. Finally, I tiptoed out, went to the office and found the manager. I explained the no-food situation and inquired about their process of caring for my sister. The manager assured me that someone looks in on her every two hours and turns her in bed to avoid sores. She apologized, saying she’d make sure a lunch arrives shortly.

An attendant brought a food tray, set it on my sister’s bed tray and left us alone. I tried to encourage my sister to eat but her eyes wouldn’t open. I held near her mouth a spoon with soft food that she refused to accept. It felt wrong to try forcing her to eat. I found myself remembering an article in yesterday’s Wall Street Journal, about an elderly woman in her right mind who independently elected to commit suicide by self-starving. According to the writer’s informants, self-starvation isn’t an awful way to go. As it dawned on me that maybe my sister is committing suicide, I set down the spoon and considered this.

Nearly 20 years ago, our mother who had lost her memory lived in a nursing home, and as she weakened I authorized a feeding tube for her. I couldn’t let her go and the tube kept her alive longer–but maybe too much, for she seemed very ready to go before it actually happened. Yesterday, while considering a feeding tube for my sister and remembering our mom’s lingering life with one, I x-ed the idea. Besides there’s a key factor of my sister herself. She’d never want any sort of surgical intervention. Period, that’s who she is.

I left her still sleeping and on my way out stopped to chat with the nurse on duty. She said they do attempt to help feed my sister, but if she refuses won’t try to force her to eat. I understood, having just faced that situation.

Now, my sister sleeps most of the time and is starving. For all us others, it’s a waiting game.

Here’s a link to that WSJ article. https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/social-issues/at-94-she-was-ready-to-die-by-fasting-her-daughter-filmed-it/2019/11/03/41688230-fcd9-11e9-8190-6be4deb56e01_story.html

Dear Friends: Rosie-The-Brat, kept me running to re-capture her all afternoon. Diana

Monday, November 04, 2019

I’ve been writing about my elderly sister. She’s failing more rapidly and I’m visiting the nursing home frequentlly. She’s becoming more fragile and tired, it’s an effort for her to speak beyond a sentence or two, yet while awake she’s very alert.

I’m working hard to rethink and re-cement her as a cornerstone in my life. She’s the big sister who successfully represented to “the little me” a lifestyle of independence and decisiveness that often flaunted old traditions. She’s the big sister to whom I was sort-of a daughter. She’s the big sister from whom I finally achieved emotional independence, but the separation took a toll on our relationship, which became acrimonious.

During the weeks of all the past mishigosh on my mind, I’ve ignored other aspects of my daily life that usually are enjoyable. Like my horses in need of attention and exercise. They’re getting fed, and I’m repairing results of their idle destructiveness, but they’ve been just standing around for weeks.

Until yesterday when I felt forced to go out and make Rosie do some groundwork. She’s begun showing signs of using her left stifle in a manner showing that she must exercise more to keep that leg’s muscles strong. I harnessed and began to long-line Rosie, feeling a little disassociated and wondering if I’d last through a half-hour of this effort. By the time we were fifteen minutes into the routine, I was focused on handling the ropes to encourage her willingness and gait, and pleased again by action with my horse.

In fact, after Rosie, although it wasn’t in my plan to harness Sunni and repeat the long-lining routine, that happened. What’s important is my renewed sense of kinship with the horses and knowing they’ve been exercised. Not to mention that all the while they’d been moving in circles, so had I, cirlcing slightly behind their girths, again and again. All this movement, a good addition to my now-daily walks on a treadmill.

In the best of times, it becomes a difficult call to balance our emotions and activities, and this becomes even worse in the toughest times, which do occur. A good support system can provide an optimal solution during both the best and worst of times.

Dear Friends: Thank you for keeping my sister and me in your thoughts. Diana

Sunday, November 03, 2019

A phone call from an employee at the nursing home where my elderly sister resides informed me that they’ve put my sister on “alert status”. Her blood pressure had registered only 68 over 30-something. I tossed on a jacket and rushed there, entering my sister’s room to find her dozing lightly. She woke and weakly greeted me.

As I settled into her wheelchair, she asked, “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m worried about you.”

She thought a moment before shaking her head, “Don’t start counting me out.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Nobody ever counts you out.”

She nodded weakly and dozed off.

Our intermittent sentence-exchanges continued between her dozes and awakenings. In her non-alert moments, I tried to watch a football game on her television. She noticed this and reinforced my sense that she’d not been the one who tuned to that game by suddenly saying, “I don’t like college football.” When I asked why, she lacked the strength to verbalize an adequate response.

That’s when two nurses entered, one from the home and another from Hospice. The Hospice nurse checked my sister’s vitals. His reading of her blood pressure was 120/69, which is normal for her. When he said his BP cuff was new, the facility nurse decided that the facility’s BP machine was off and needed fixing. The Hospice nurse noted that my sister’s complexion and lips weren’t bluish, that her hands were warm but her toes slightly cold, perhaps because of slow circulation.

My sister’s condition was decent!

I’d been over-warned, but it felt important to be there. My sister said she felt well, was without pain and comfortable. The facility nurse commented that they’d earlier administered codeine for my sister’s pain. Now, I know for a fact that my sister rarely agrees to consume anything except her known daily five pills. I wondered how they had managed to encourage her to accept codeine and the nurse said, “In chocolate.”

After the nurses left, I sat watching my sister doze. She looked much like our mother at around the same age. Even her spoken words reminded me of Mom’s old age sounds and tones.

My sister’s admonishment, “Don’t count me out,” rings in my head. I recognize that she might recover, as has happened before when the odds seemed against her. But what’s also ringing is a “cautious maybe” that this time she won’t. I returned home reassured that for this moment she’s okay. Today, I’ll visit again.

Dear Friends: I’ve nixed old mixed feelings about a cherished and complex sister. Diana

Saturday, November 02, 2019

It turns out that daily trudges on the treadmill have nudged my brain to consider stepping-up my exercise game. Of course, as a non-participating gym member, my bank pays monthly for an unused membership. I neither want to kill that membership nor drive through traffic to exercise. Rediscovering my treadmill and reading this book are turning points that elevate my long-zero interest in formal exercising.

Through many years, my favorite role model has come to be RBG. She represents longevity, wisdom, and productivity, and one could add good health to her achievements. Although she’s battled through several rounds of cancer, it’s neither got her down nor done her in. She’s also of solid character, for according to biographical data, she’s always been diligent, hardworking, and straightforward.

Have you seen videos of RBG working out with her long-time trainer (who authored this book)? Can you believe that in her mid-80s she executes such as push-ups, kicks, and front- and side-planks? And that she and this trainer have worked together 20 years to keep her physically strong?

This little book of slightly over 100 well-illustrated pages (available on ebay) is inspiring me to expand my restarted exercise program. The author explains how to perform the Justice’s routines by using equipment available in a gym or by using stretch bands at home. I intend to start my workouts with stretch bands and hope to find my way back to the gym that’s charging me during absences. Honestly, I enjoy working out in a gym but need an appropriate restart program. RBG’s well-illustrated routines are inviting, and most of all, they’re doable.

Dear Friends: It’s never too late to restart strengthening our bodies. Diana

Friday, November 01, 2019

Upon the advice of a co-worker at my part-time job, I dusted off my aged treadmill and tested its turn-on switch. The machine heaved a sigh before a push on the “start” button cranked its floor into action. I set it for 2mph and walked while studying the control board and trying to remember its basic functions and potential. That’s an indicator of how long it’s been since last I unfurled this old machine. Happily, it still works.

Funny enough, although the treadmill has been parked in my bedroom throughout my years in this house, I had forgotten about it. Its floor folds up and creates needed space for a dog’s bed and its upright section offers various opportunities. Lately, its been a support for hanging winter jackets. And other odds and ends like handbags and scarves tossed casually over its handlebars.

I’d been explaining to my friend some concerns about stumbling and falling, which are possibilities on my rocky acreage, and liked the suggestion that walking on a treadmill could strengthen my legs and balance. That ah-ha moment–remembering the catch-all in my bedroom.

That treadmill has a history. I bought it as a used-refurbished unit from Sears back when that great merchandiser was a major store in Santa Monica’s downtown. My purpose wasn’t to exercise myself but to condition my dogs. My work requiring lots of traveling meant boarding my dogs at a kennel (it specialized in Irish Setters). Some of the Setters walked on comfortably on its treadmill. That seemed a great idea.

Only one of my dogs went for it. Cassie the Cattle Dog (in every way a terrific pup) would hop on and walk as long as asked. Others would get on and soon as the floor began rolling hop off and refuse to cooperate. Okay, so occasionally I’d walk, too, but let’s face it, treadmill minutes can be long and boring. Since then, I’ve hauled the machine around, maybe deep inside thinking someday it might be useful.

Now, I’m walking again and with lots of purpose. I intend to become stronger, and thus more efficient while navigating over property, playing with horses, and hiking with dogs (always their best exercising). These days, technology helps to combat boredom on the treadmill. An iPad streams movies, headphones allow read-aloud books, and an always nearby TV offers the latest political twists.

As yes, it’ll be a “new me”.

Dear Friends: This story never-ever entered my mind, life is full of twists. Diana

Thursday, October 31, 2019

Recently, some friends met for coffee with a common purpose of discussing current politics. All of us were well informed and our political perspectives agreed–a non-conflict group speaking aloud what we thought and felt–a meaningful event.

Except that parting into our separate ways didn’t diminish my heightened interest in politics. Since, our discussion has driven me more toward an awareness of national and international politics, and with more interest in regional populations.

I write, not from wanting to espouse a particular point of view, but because of that coffee meeting and mutual ventilating with friends of common interests. I’m surprised by it’s impact and how the aftermath continues to inform my world-view.

Many share my political leanings and I’m not among a minority, but mostly I prefer keeping quiet and avoiding potential conflicts. This is recent behavior, for I learned just a few years ago by experience that passionate politics can separate friends. Yes, after losing friends, I’m more quiet.

Communications are complex though. Perspectives leak out and manage to gain sympatico responses. Folks love to discover common interests, and the same for all focused perspectives. Take for example religious advocates, who attract like responses by speaking a word or brief phrase.

Unfortunately, while passions can bind, they also can separate.

There were friends I regret losing because of differing opinions to the extent that I wish my mouth had stayed shut. On the other hand, the new friends in my life have common opinions. The recent coffee klatch reinforced the pleasures of openly sharing, without arguing over premises, personal perspectives on situations, local, national, and international. And afterwards, parting as friends.

If I were to sum up, this probably has much to do with gaining wisdom.

Dear Friends: Sensing a need for silence is a good habit of the opinionated. Diana

“Nature is not something outside the human world. The reverse is true. Nature is the real world, and humanity exists on islands within it. E.O. Wilson