Menopause, and Change

Guess it's now official; one full year without a cycle.  Came close a couple of years that didn't hit the 12 month anniversary.  This time it did.


Blessed is not really the word, though some might argue to the contrary.  The Fall, or original sin got women bleeding regularly.  Lucky is more fitting, at least for now.  Either I have a high threshold for discomfort, or symptoms have not been as classically severe, as it is for many.  Have slowed down, though not entirely because of 'the change'.


Too many other things have come into play, that make this just another milestone, that causes little suffering by comparison.


Saying a prayer of thanks every night, not because so called menopause has come and perhaps gone as well.  Because another day went by when we have so much more than many can say.


Hurricanes, devastation, poverty, hunger, thirst, and not having full physical or mental faculties as a result has not happened here, lately.  It has in too many other places of late, and the world is watching.  'The change' for me is not even a blip on the radar, and I prefer it that way.


We must use what we have to help those who have less, which includes their full faculties, regardless of resources.  Those with the most materially are not always the smartest, and can do things that hurt many others.  We must watch out for them as much as those who become the brunt of ignorant actions.  Every day is a gift, and we must do all we can, every moment.

Charlie the Lifesaver

She saved my son's life at a critical time, and taught him another form of love.  For a long time, they were regular friends.  A boy religiously took care of her, changing her bedding, food, and water daily.  She got time out of her cage almost daily, too, and a regular memory is a short video of her jumping what looked like two feet into the opening of her 'home' that had her nameplate on the outside of it.

She continued to jump onto the platform of her cage, without the ramp, most of the time with its door open, to the food dish, and down again for the hay and water.  She would also jump when happy, and take short, happy sprints when let out on the floor to cover more ground.

Time changes things.  She has her own personality, and was always loved.  A boy grew into a young man, and trips to and from became too much.  So Charlie's cage remained at Mom's house, and the sound of a young boy's voice became unrecognizable to her, as it went from that of a child to that of a young man.

Mom and the family continued to give love, and not as much time out of the cage as we would have wished, had things been different.  There were other guinea pigs, one or two, that had their own personalities and ways of wanting to be active, or not.  None of them got whatever overtook Charlie.

The vet said surgery would likely not be successful.  Guinea pigs don't do well with anesthesia.  Her belly is swollen as if there's a large litter of pups in there, though Charlie never mated.  She was acquired from the pet store as a pup herself.  She had fit in a small child's hands: the best friend whose life she made different and even more valuable at a critical time.

Tumors, cancer or not, have inexplicably overtaken Charlie's body.  She can no longer jump onto her platform.  Her food dish must be nearby.  She has difficulty moving across the cage from the size of her body.  The vet said to keep her comfortable, so she gets the softest bedding, changed daily.  It's not really enough; Charlie can't move much, though does the best she can...

The vet said so long as she acts like a guinea pig.  She was sick a time or two before she started to get bigger.  She still has an appetite and sounds like her old self, though she doesn't look happy.  Soon we will likely have to decide when to allow her to cross the rainbow bridge.  She may not lose her appetite again, or become so big her unhappiness makes the decision inevitable.  It's sad to see her every day; her body can't be free from the ground, her back legs struggle to move her lower half.  She must be picked up gently to give her vitamin C, and her underside washed to keep her cleaner. 

When one loves an animal or a person, we don't see what they've become; we see what we loved first.  Holding Charlie as she makes her signature sounds only reminds us of when she was little.  We are saddened that her days appear shorter than others like her, and that we may have to decide what her last day is to be.  Miracles do happen.  I pray that something lets go in her body and that she just starts to get smaller again.  If the loved ones on the other side of the rainbow bridge need her more, she will go there to be happy and jump high again.  Maybe before that she can give comfort to someone else who's sick.  Only time will tell.  We love you, Charlie.

Upside, A Day Late

Again, fatigue and overwhelm, again. Now I know how the survivors of Hurricane Katrina felt, only moreso. One of the ones that Hurricane Sandy continues to impact. There are moments of quiet reflection where it's a fight to stave off intrusive thoughts, as worrying accomplishes nothing. The sun coming in the window, a pet wanting attention, care and feeding.

Moments observed in solitude that actually were meant to be shared, with a child, with an offspring. The pets are mostly theirs. Not one of those instances where the parent takes over care because the child isn't. The child isn't able to from distance; would if he could. So caring for the animals and being present is caring for him. He will take over when he can. Much groundwork has been done for him he's not aware of yet, though he may appreciate the knowledge once he's independent.

There are insufficient outlets for expression with existing demands: storm recovery, not yet settled, work, and not least of all parenthood: the priority. Thus late again, for one. Postcards every day, sometimes four to six at a time, one for every calendar day; poor compensation for the distance, though may be helpful at some point. He knows there are copies, for a time in the future that can't be determined right now.

Only in a winter climate to do what was recommended "by law". Found out too late it was a 'relative term'. It's cold, and not being so vibrantly young as before has its limitations in response to the weather. Will not be spending final years here, and the thought of moving again even once is exhausting, though it's absolutely necessary. The plan has to change to work in the pets, and health maintenance, for all concerned.

The upside is staying in touch, with profound limitations, helping others when possible, and moments of quiet and peace, regardless of how few, for now.

Family History, continued

"in the 1902 strike we were living at what they called Sugar Creek. it is now Stadium Terrace now. but when we lived there it was just an old mining camp. Well when the men came out on strike. the company gave us a house notice to vacate at once which we did. my dad rented a three room house over on packs branch. you could throw a cat through the cracks. we all almost froze that winter. and while we were there my Dad had a little extra trouble. he drank at that time so he took his shot gun and started hunting. but in the mean time he went over to the saloon in Mt. Hope. and got drunk of course he still had that old shot gun. so the company had up no Trespassing notices. so my Dad walked in to the Boiler Room there at Sugar Creek. and pointed his gun at one of them mens feet and told him to dance. so about that time one of the guards blowed the whistle and they picked him up and sent him to Huntington Jail for Trespassing on their property so he had to reside in jail over two weeks then the union men got him out. so he was home again. Then he went down on Cabin Creek. to Red Warriors. and got a job in the mines there. he worked a long time there. but something happened at the mines there all the mines came out on strike so. we were notified to vacate our house when one day 27 armed guards with thier Winchesters rifels came in and set evry thing we had out in the road. and it happened it started raining that day and all night. so all of our household goods took all that rain. My Dad went to Dry Branch and rented a place to store our things. un-til he could find another job and another house for us to live in. so the family all scattered out some to one place and and some to another un-til Dad got another place to live. he got a job at McDonald and we moved there. and the family all got back to-gether again. we lived there awhile then. they wanted him to come to Turkey Knob . and be Stable Boss. there at that time they used lots of mine mules so we lived there for a good while then my mother took a notion she wanted to move to the country. so my Dad rented a log house high up on the mountain above Price Hill. and we lived there for about two years. Dad worked in the Price Hill Mines. so Mother took a notion to move down off the mountain. so Dad rented a house at Sherwood WVa so we moved there. my Dad worked in the Sherwood Shaft Mines. which has long been abandoned. we lived in that house for a while. and Mother decided she would like to move up on top of the hill so Dad rented a nice five roomed house on top of the hill. we moved up there. but she decided she wanted a house on the other end of the other row of houses. so it was move again. and it was the last house we had moved into. was where I was married 1908. My sister Minnie also. so we had our own houses then. but don't think for one moment that Mother stopped moving she moved many more times after this. I still hate to think of all them old dirty houses I have had to scrub and clean. back in those days we just had bare floors to scrub with a brush or broom. we never had it quiet as easy as we have it now. Wash on the washboard all day. then iron with irons you heat on the stove. use oil lamps. this was my job to clean those lamp chimneys and fill the lamps up with oil so we would have a good light for night time. real sharp. Oh well as I said we were all very happy together. Cook up a big black pot of beans and a pan of corn bread or biscuits. fry up a big skillit of beef steak. and make some of that good old mommy made gravy. some country butter and milk it was real good to set your feet under the table. Well so much for that."

"Change"

There's no such thing as 'overwhelm'; "If you want to get something done, ask a busy person."

Was just online for hours doing research after an intense meeting that involved conversation about misdiagnosed kids and broken systems. Having a plan is one sure cure for 'ADD' or ADHD on the part of both kids, and parents.

I find myself saying constantly to the kids I work with that if I'd had someone to tell me now was the time to decide what I want to do with the rest of my life when I was their age, things would be different now.

Parents don't want to be parents, and the ones that do get very little real support when it matters or the quality of what is available is all about resources and access to them. That was at the heart of the conversation. It's not so much about wealth or the perception of it as it is about genuine caring. Numbers in the form of people with a common voice can sometimes do much more than financial incentives that corrupt people, organizations, and systems.

There are tradeoffs. Access to information and preparation is everything, including implementation and timing. We can't control the weather any more than we can control others' moods, though how we respond to each respectively is everything.

There are things that happen that we're not responsible for; we are responsible for our reactions to them. Ignorance can precipitate 'bad choices'. Emotion or fear can cloud all best possible judgments, as can bias or apathy.

Timing is everything, most of the time. And children's lives tick away by the minute that demands huge responsibility on the part of everyone who touches every moment of their young lives. Labeling is no help if you don't understand root causes. Training with huge gaps in other disciplines and misinterpretations of symptoms of both children and cultures affect lifetimes. We are responsible for who we choose to be in contact with, and the quality of communication determines the quality of outcomes. It can take another person's life in one direction or another, for better, or for worse.

Think twice before you speak, and if you don't know, a delayed answer is better than a wrong one. If more were held accountable for the effects of what they say to or around others, things would be different. Some laws are worth no more than the paper they're written on: a result of a different or uninformed agenda. Laws are passed and ignored every day. Documentation to justify a bad decision: there are as many of those as there are appropriate justifications. It just has to do with where you're standing or observing from.

A child or person who cannot handle change is sometimes right, and sometimes wrong; what's the big picture? Where are they coming from, and what's going on in their world, really?

If you're not qualified to answer, don't, for the benefit of those both directly and degrees of separation away. There's always another way to see things, always another side undiscovered. Out of sight and out of mind is only a perception issue. When you are not seeing the results of your past and present interactions, they're still happening, and it's a reflection of what you've said or done, of what you knew, or didn't know...

Gratitude

Uncertainty and change are guaranteed, so what is 'stability'? It's a relative term, according to who you are, your 'world view', and the filters created, consciously or otherwise, by every moment up to this one. The word 'ego' was heard recently defined as 'your past'. Get it? Who is who we see in the mirror (if we have one)? At any moment, we can either decide our past is who we are, or decide otherwise.

The hardest to master is oneself, so we're taught. Words are powerful: a lesson that happens on the journey. Another mentor was overheard during a recorded session taking place in a summer youth camp how we can turn negatives into positives with single words, regardless of how we feel. Say, the 'change of season' immune system resistance factor got the better of us on a particular day. "How are you?" someone says in greeting (taking the time to ask, maybe even caring about the answer). Think for a moment; we can choose the answer. Regardless of the 'outside' forces that can attack our bodies or psyches, the answer is still up to us.

"Wonderful" we say (as has this mentor), quickly followed by a cough or tissue to the runny nose that doesn't seem to want to stop, footsteps labored, as we walk slowly beside our inquiring acquaintance or friend. They look at us a little puzzled, as we don't particularly sound so (to them). The middle-ground of this 'transition' is we are in wonder of the ability on this beautiful day to greet another, to have woken up, gotten dressed, breathed, seen the sun, and felt the breeze on our faces. It's the truth. We are 'full of wonder' observing the miracles that occur daily around us, with us, and for us. "Awesome", we say, as we are 'full of awe' of how we may feel or encounter our daily 'happenings'. As the masters who have prospered by these practices can attest, the solutions come much sooner, through the utterances that bring us ever closer to the joys we seek.

“ There is the lesson of a Cherokee man teaching his grandchildren about life. He says to them, ‘A fight is going on inside me. It’s between two wolves. One wolf is evil. He is fear, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, anxiety, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, competition, and superiority. The other wolf is good. He is joy, peace, love, hope, sharing, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, friendship, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, faith, and laughter. Then he tells his grandchildren that the same fight is going on inside of them, and also inside of every person. The children think about this for a moment, and then one of them asks his grandfather, ‘Which wolf will win?’ The old man then replies, ‘The one that you feed’.”

Many thanks as well to the cherished mentor and friend to have shared more than once the memorable and profound quote provided. The children are here to teach us once again, and forever, as we watch in awe just how rapidly they exercise the mastery they were born with, the low number of their years leaves fresh the innate 'remembrance' that we can choose to laugh directly from tears, their consciousness still close to the surface, unaffected by the layers the larger ones get piled upon them with age. 'Remembering' is not 'going back', it is, or can be taking the next step on the journey.