Life in the waiting room | by Linda Brendle
Published in the Rains County Leader on October 15, 2019:
David had an endoscopic examination of his upper GI tract last week. The doctor was concerned because of some recent weight fluctuations. She ordered the test in spite of our explanations that he had stepped on the scale wearing a jacket with a cell phone, wallet, and other weighty items in the pockets during one visit and a T-shirt the next time. So, Friday morning we left the house in the driving rain and made the trek to the VA in Dallas. The traffic was backed up, the parking lot was full except in the very back, and the day surgery was the building where we weren’t, but we made it within minutes of our scheduled arrival time.
David checked in, and I was sent to the waiting room while he was prepped for his procedure. After he had changed into a pair of khaki scrub pants and some over-sized hospital socks and the nurse had put an IV into his hand, I was allowed to visit with him for a few minutes. It was a simple procedure, but it was still hard to go back to the waiting room, leaving him in the hands of strangers. Still, the waiting room provided some interesting diversions while I waited. (more…)
Knowing a writer can be dangerous. You never know when you’ll see yourself in print. I learned that when my son Christian wrote his first novel at 16 years old. I recognized myself in the over-protective mother who woke her son each morning with a cheerful Good morning, sunshine. Over the years I’ve seen my politics and religion displayed to the world. I’ve cringed as my failed marriage was discussed, and I’ve cried when he thanked me in one of his first published books for showing him what it means to be a person of faith. There’s always payback though. He showed up a lot in my memoir and even more often in my blog. Maybe that’s why I started to write. As the saying goes, don’t get mad, get even.
mortified to know that I wrote about his hygiene issues, and Mom would have been embarrassed for people to know that she sometimes put four socks on one foot and two on the other. But that was part of the truth about caregiving, and I told my stories in hopes that other caregivers would be encouraged to know they’re not alone, inspired to continue living in spite of hardships, and maybe even be amused by some of the ridiculous situations that dementia causes. Based on the responses I’ve received, those hopes have been realized.
I’ve continued to write about what I know and who I know. And to my dear RV friend, here you are once again – and no, I’m not ashamed. I’ll make you a promise. If you decide to become a writer, feel free to write about me as long as you speak the truth in love. I promise not to get mad – but I might get even. And one more word of warning – since I’ve expanded my repertoire to include fiction, I have other weapons in my arsenal. If you make me mad, I’ll write you into one of my books as the main villain, and I’ll kill you off!
Every Friday night for the past several years, David and I have attended a home Bible study with several friends from our church. As the name implies, we meet at the home of someone in the group where we share a meal, praises and prayer requests, and Bible study. On Mondays, I send out a group email that includes the prayer list and a link to the food sign-up sheet for the next Friday.
Several days ago my 16-year-old grand niece posted this meme on Facebook, and I responded with the obligatory laughing emoticon. I remember when I was her age, and our generational slogan was “Don’t trust anyone over thirty.” I never really felt that distrust, but I did feel like anyone who was thirty was pretty much past their prime. Now that I’m well over twice that age, my perspective has changed. I no longer feel like there’s nothing good about getting older. In fact, I have found it to be quite enjoyable, and here are some reasons why.
up with current trends in clothes, make-up, hairstyles, and especially shoes. I loved shoes and would have had a pair to go with every outfit if I had the budget for it. After my brother told me I walked like an elephant when I strode past him in my first pair of three-inch heels, I practiced long and hard until I could glide in a pair of stilettos with nary a turned ankle. I did manage to turn a few heads, though.
If you enjoy spending money, one of the really fun parts of becoming a senior citizen is the discounts. My first encounter with this truth was shortly after my fiftieth birthday. The rolling over of another decade had been hard on me. I had just moved to a new town for a new job, so I was feeling old and alone. Then, I went to the bank to open a new account and discovered that, because of my advanced age, I qualified for free checking. That was when I decided that getting older wasn’t so bad after all. Since then, I’ve discovered that many businesses offer senior discounts including restaurants, movies, hotels, hair stylists, and even grocery stores. If all I have to do to get lower prices is live long enough to have gray hair and wrinkles, I’m all for that.
choice as my husband and I have left city life in favor of a small town in East Texas where the two most exciting events of the year are Founder’s Day and the County Fair. I worked part-time at my church until the first of this year, but even then my hours were flexible enough that I gave up setting an alarm clock. Now that I’m retired, I rarely schedule anything before 9:00 or 10:00 am, and slow and easy is the order of the day at the Brendle household.
to read in my lifetime, so I have to choose wisely. I was thrilled when I came across BFOR on Facebook. Books for Older Readers (BFOR) is a group that was established in October 2017 to promote books with older protagonists and/or themes such as ‘second chances’ which tend to appeal to readers in mid-life or beyond.
In a First World Country like the United States, we tend to take the availability of safe, potable water for granted. Sure, there are complaints about chemical additives and other impurities in our tap water, and we spend millions on water filters and bottled water. In fact, we have specialty waters like artesian water, iceberg water, mountain water, mineral water, flavored water, vitamin water and so forth. But still, we assume water will come out of our faucets – until it doesn’t.
Kitty is not a celebrity who seeks the spotlight. She is more like Greta Garbo, the Swedish-American movie star of the 1920’s and 30’s who is famous for the line, I want to be alone. Unlike some family pets who never meet a stranger, Kitty hides under the bed when visitors come, and even though she tries to sneak outside occasionally, she seems to prefer watching life go by from behind a pane of glass. However, the rules and regulations of society don’t favor the sensitivities of the recluse, and this week she had to go out into the world.
When I left you last week, David and I were both tired and sore from a week of climbing and crawling around on a ladder and porch railings to paint and to mount sheets of foam insulation on the ceiling of our new front porch. This week we had several days to rest and recuperate.
