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Thank you, Drew, for describing things I could never experience! So glad you found the battery. I have been getting teeth pulled in readiness for dentures, Medicaid style. They pulled 2 upper and 2 lower, and I was in agony. Marife, the kind Filipina dental assistant with extra credentials, said I would probably have two more extraction dates, then healing period, then take impressions, then maybe I can eat salad again. This about two more pullings is all the info I got. Stress and more stress. Wanting a good life. Suffering in situations that winning the lottery just could not fix. . . . A VA social worker beat up on me for not designating anyone to make my medical decisions! I can’t be the first old vet to have nobody! She was toxic in ways I can’t/won’t describe. I was getting better when her sappy letter and legal documents came in the mail. So I took her advice and explored California veteran homes. Almost no private rooms. No pets. Room has bed, recliner and TV! You get meals and snacks. You get everything (they think) you need. Oh dear . . . I live in HUD housing with a 7-year wait list! Veterans get preference. So I have nearly 30 veteran neighbors, all male and all served enlisted. Mino turns 98 next week. Another man is nearly 96. Most are 70’s and 80’s. Absolute heroes. There is no social life here except for a little bingo, Bible study. . . movie night. . . . But it’s home, maybe our last chance to have Mickey Mouse sheets on the bed, eat our kind of food, watch our TV choices at the loudness we prefer. My tiny unit contains a piano and a sewing machine in a cabinet, plus a lot of books and desktop computer. What that social worker could not have known is that many people so situated can stay in our homes with just a little help. Just a weekly visit to bring fresh laundry, change the bed, vacuum, empty trash, mop kitchen and bathroom floors. Heck! I used to do that on Saturday and then go dancing! . . . So I hope to move to Chico, CA with a bedroom and more inspired management. Chico reminds me of Bakersfield in the 1940’s where I grew up with Dust Bowl Okie kids. Back to Chico, the town is working on its homeless problem. The VA clinic is right there — no scarey freeway driving to get there as here in the Sacramento area. There’s a university and a beautiful park, book stores, churches and a yo-yo museum! . . . The stress of pulling teeth has triggered migraines. My VA prescription is a year out of date. I put in for a refill. I plan to mask again when there are no front teeth. Oh boy, is this ego or the human mind? As a little girl being punished, I would think about my next birthday with everyone singing to me, candles to blow out, and then delicious sweet cake to eat with my close ones who were impelled to be nice to me for at least that half hour. . . . And ego wants to know is my future nothing but cottage cheese and applesauce? Would that be so terrible? . . . At 3 a.m. unable to sleep, I reach for a book I didn’t know I had, with a bookmark for a book shop that closed in a town I left 12 years ago. The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. Brand new book! I read the last chapter, and it makes sense! Don’t poke around the past! Don’t fret about the future. Just rest in the now. Just be. Oh, yeah!
Alyssa
January 18, 2024 05:44Loved reading this.
Mimi M. Routh
January 17, 2024 17:13Thank you, Drew, for describing things I could never experience! So glad you found the battery. I have been getting teeth pulled in readiness for dentures, Medicaid style. They pulled 2 upper and 2 lower, and I was in agony. Marife, the kind Filipina dental assistant with extra credentials, said I would probably have two more extraction dates, then healing period, then take impressions, then maybe I can eat salad again. This about two more pullings is all the info I got. Stress and more stress. Wanting a good life. Suffering in situations that winning the lottery just could not fix. . . . A VA social worker beat up on me for not designating anyone to make my medical decisions! I can’t be the first old vet to have nobody! She was toxic in ways I can’t/won’t describe. I was getting better when her sappy letter and legal documents came in the mail. So I took her advice and explored California veteran homes. Almost no private rooms. No pets. Room has bed, recliner and TV! You get meals and snacks. You get everything (they think) you need. Oh dear . . . I live in HUD housing with a 7-year wait list! Veterans get preference. So I have nearly 30 veteran neighbors, all male and all served enlisted. Mino turns 98 next week. Another man is nearly 96. Most are 70’s and 80’s. Absolute heroes. There is no social life here except for a little bingo, Bible study. . . movie night. . . . But it’s home, maybe our last chance to have Mickey Mouse sheets on the bed, eat our kind of food, watch our TV choices at the loudness we prefer. My tiny unit contains a piano and a sewing machine in a cabinet, plus a lot of books and desktop computer. What that social worker could not have known is that many people so situated can stay in our homes with just a little help. Just a weekly visit to bring fresh laundry, change the bed, vacuum, empty trash, mop kitchen and bathroom floors. Heck! I used to do that on Saturday and then go dancing! . . . So I hope to move to Chico, CA with a bedroom and more inspired management. Chico reminds me of Bakersfield in the 1940’s where I grew up with Dust Bowl Okie kids. Back to Chico, the town is working on its homeless problem. The VA clinic is right there — no scarey freeway driving to get there as here in the Sacramento area. There’s a university and a beautiful park, book stores, churches and a yo-yo museum! . . . The stress of pulling teeth has triggered migraines. My VA prescription is a year out of date. I put in for a refill. I plan to mask again when there are no front teeth. Oh boy, is this ego or the human mind? As a little girl being punished, I would think about my next birthday with everyone singing to me, candles to blow out, and then delicious sweet cake to eat with my close ones who were impelled to be nice to me for at least that half hour. . . . And ego wants to know is my future nothing but cottage cheese and applesauce? Would that be so terrible? . . . At 3 a.m. unable to sleep, I reach for a book I didn’t know I had, with a bookmark for a book shop that closed in a town I left 12 years ago. The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. Brand new book! I read the last chapter, and it makes sense! Don’t poke around the past! Don’t fret about the future. Just rest in the now. Just be. Oh, yeah!