Day 31 Senescence

“These fragments I have shored against my ruins” 

― T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land and Other Poems

These flags fly proudly in front of a home for elderly veterans. There was a brisk breeze when I took this picture. The flags made sharp snapping sounds as the breeze buffets them. They reminded me of military men in formation as they snap to a salute. 

I once walked into the room of an old veteran who was so infirm that he relied upon the nursing home staff to take care of his most basic bodily functions. Covering his walls were pictures of his family and many of him in his Marine uniform in various stages of action. There was a picture of his wedding day, both bride and groom with glowing smiles. Once he was young and vital. Age has claimed his body and, in his physical state, I was glad that his mind went along with his health and he wasn't aware of his weakened, incapable body.

My mother told me once when she worked in ICU that, in her elderly patients' rooms, she purposefully displayed pictures of their families and of the young, vital men and women they once were. She told me that it was to remind the nursing staff and herself to see beyond the sick patient and think of them when they were once us - strong,  productive, full of dreams.

I have cared for many old veterans in my career. I have cared for many an elderly. A 93-year old retired Army man was brought in by his great-granddaughter into the ER. When the doctor asked what was wrong with him, he said, "Where do you want me to start, young man? What's wrong with me is that I'm old."

No wonder billions of dollars are spent in an attempt to postpone aging and hold on to our younger selves for just a little bit longer.

Age claims us all eventually but I do believe in aging well. I think I'll live my days as if I'm never getting old, until my body and mind tell me that it is time . . . I will live as Gandhi said, "Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you will live forever."

Day 30 A Million Dollar Question

I remember a game my father used to play with my sister and I when we were kids. We called it The Million Bucks game. The rules were very simple. My dad would ask, "If you had a million bucks, what would you do with it?" There were no wrong or better answers. We would let our imaginations run and could talk about it for hours. The point of the exercise was to encourage dreaming. My dad used to say that there was no harm in dreaming. Let your mind go wild and think of all possibilities. My sister and I would sometimes change things up and say, 'hey, what if you can't get that, what would you get instead?' Ah, good times. . .

I don't know why I was reminded of this game when I saw this boat on my way home from work. I laughed out loud. A brand new boat parked in front of, well, at least on the exterior, a dilapidated house.

It's a "Caption this Photo" moment. My first thought was "Everyone has priorities." And laughed again.  A shiny new boat or fix a house on the brink of collapse. I was amused and laughed again.

If you had a million bucks, what would you do with it?

Day 29 The Chair Man

A wheelchair sat alone in the hallway. The unit, now empty. Moments before, a patient sat in that wheelchair. I think of him now and I am overwhelmed with emotion. The memory of our interaction rose in my memory . . .

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He smiled at me. Told me 'Thank You.' His hand trembled as he laid it on my arm.

His voice was raspy. A smoker who quit out of necessity. He coughed. The damage to his lungs apparent. His clothes sagged on his bony frame. His chest caved in underneath.

He looked at me and smiled again. His eyes were yellow. His lips were dry and cracked.

I was gentle with the wheelchair as I headed to the car ramp where we would meet his wife. He was going home that day.

His wife showed me a picture of him in his Navy uniform taken years ago. He looked so youthful, strong, confident. Eyes undulled and bright with promise.  His medical problems plagued him now. His mind invaded by Post-Traumatic Stress. 

While waiting for his wife to come around the ramp with their car, we had several minutes to talk. He saw a picture of Tom in his Special Reaction Team uniform on my phone as I checked for messages. He told me that he was once a special forces operator. His eyes brightened as he told me of places he's been to and the people he met. After a few minutes, his eyes dulled again. He looked at the Veteran's office across the street, and to no one in particular said, "Yeah. Good times." I heard the ghosts in his voice, of a past filled with bad memories, and a present full of nightmares. 

I helped him stand and, unsteadily, he reached for something to hold on to inside the car. He winced, grimaced. Pain caught him off guard and he was unable to mask it. A little short of breath, he settled onto the car seat. I barely heard him whisper, "I will never quit. I persevere and thrive on adversity."

I snapped his seatbelt on. He looked up at me once more. Held my hand and with a smile, he said, "Thank your husband for me . . . for his service . . . " Then he closed the car door. A few minutes later, I watched their car as it made a left towards the main road.

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Out of curiosity, I typed in the phrase I heard him say. It is from the Navy SEAL ethos. I think of him now and thank God for men like him and hope that somewhere in the world, he is well.

To our Navy SEALs. Thank you for your service.

Day 28 Longing for Home

“A man travels the world over in search of what he needs

and returns home to find it."

~ George Augustus Moore ~

"There is no denying the heart what it longs for – especially when it longs for home."
~Nicole Sobon~

Red and orange stubbornly cling to the sky. 

The gray of night slowly creeps in. 

Blue and red lights blink on the runway and the jet turbines of our airplane roar as it takes off. 

Shadows deepen as only the whitecaps of the ocean remain visible as we rise up in the air. 

I close my eyes and wait for sleep to take me. 

When I open my eyes, I shall look longingly to see the lights of Hilo

and breathe the air of home.

The light at the end

 

It is not in my nature to give up so I go on. I traverse this tunnel, still hopeful to reach the end. The light at the end teases me. This journey . . . it is a challenge. Sadness fills me at the moment . . . and doubt . . . That light . . . is it the end that holds redemption . . . or is it damnation . . . that I shall never reach it but forever think I will . . . 

Day 27 A Soul Renewed

The sand glisten ivory. Water laps gently on the shore. Trees sway lazily, throwing merry shadows on the ground. The smell of the sea and the sweet scent of pine invigorates the air. The light blue of the sky complements the aquamarine blue of the ocean.

Here, time stands still. A man sits with his dog enjoying the moment. I stand still watching him, wondering . . . then I smile. The scene spells contentment . . . nostalgia . . . soul-searching . . .

I linger too long watching . . . I've intruded enough into his private moment . . . Slowly, a little guiltily, a little regretfully, I walk away . . .

I smile again, feeling like someone just gave me a warm, heartfelt hug . . . my soul renewed . . . clean and fresh . . .

Day 26 The Memory of Taste

I was walking by the EMS ramp on my way home and I saw this beautiful pineapple. Suddenly, my mouth watered and the memory of taste transported me.

I was in my grandmother's farm. Scattered in random spots were pineapple plants in different stages of ripening. My cousins and I would pluck them regardless of whether they were ready or not. I remember how the young and unripened slices, when dipped in vinegar, tasted so wonderful. That luscious taste brought me back happy memories of my childhood, of the laughter I shared with my cousins, of the guilt we felt at taking the pineapples without permission from my grandmother, of the fun we had carousing in the open fields and exploring the mountains, of the countless varieties of fruits that my grandmother grew and the fun times I had climbing the fruit trees.

I remember the avocado tree. It was difficult to climb because of all the moss that grew on it. The avocado fruit, in my 10-year old hands, were massive.

I remember the cherry tree. I remember the thorns that always got me; but the cherries were worth it - sweet and juicy.

I remember the guava trees. I remember that burst of sweet flavor with every bite. I ate so much once and felt sick for a day.

And the green mangoes . . .

Even now, as I think of the fruits that I've eaten in my childhood, I close my eyes and nostalgic memories flood me.

Tom brought some strawberries this morning. I think I'll savor them slowly and enjoy the memories of childhood that will come with each bite.

Day 25 Visual Noise

I walked with Gwynn around the neighborhood today, admiring the colors and textures of Hawaiian Paradise Park. Our yard was abloom. Kaloli Street, Beach Drive, and that lava road access to Kaloli Point was verdant and picturesque. The rain just moved on somewhere else and the world glistened and smelled fresh. I took lungfuls of air and enjoyed bursts of running on the rough and uneven lava rock road. Gwynn continued her exploration. A few feet away, a rooster made a mistake of walking out of the bushes. With a burst of energy, Gwynn gave chase. I called her back. I was afraid she would fall into some lava hole hidden by the thick underbrush. Obediently, she came back grinning and panting with excitement.

I took short rests to snap pictures. When I got to Kaloli Point and sat on a lava shelf watching overlooking the ocean, I looked at the photos I took. Some I snapped in black and white. Then I wondered . . .

With the advance in the art and technique of photography, we can manipulate colors and reduce or increase their vibrancy to get different effects. Why is it that black and white images still hold so much drama? They pull at emotions and thoughts that cannot be explained easily.

Black and white photographs create mystery. Doesn't it make you wonder? Doesn't it make you ask questions? What color is it? What would it look like if it's red? or blue? or yellow?

Stripped of color, we notice details that we, otherwise, would not have noted.  In this instance, color would just be visual noise.

Looking at the black and white photos I took and the thoughts that ran through my head made me smile; then, I took a leisurely walk back home with Gwynn enjoying the real life color around me.

Day 24 - Dedication

“Seems to me that there is a fine line between insanity and dedication…

I call that line commitment” 

― Jeremy Aldana

It was 5:30 am. It was a blustery 60-degree morning at the Aloha stadium. My friends and I, along with thousands of others, were lined up to board the buses that will take us to the Aloha tower to begin the Great Aloha Run.

We were in shorts and thin t-shirts. There was no respite from the chilly breeze that mercilessly blew in spurts playfully nipping at us. People around us were stamping their feet, rubbing their arms, jogging in place, stretching, and blowing into their cup hands. I saw some who had cut holes through garbage bags for their heads and arms and wore these like cocoons. What a great idea that was! It kept their body heat in and provided protection from the wind. Once the need is no longer there, the garbage bags can simply be discarded. What a great idea! I'll have to do that next year.

And yes, this was the Great Aloha Run, but we walked. My friend, Marisa, had coaxed me to go with her. Her husband signed up for the run but was deployed so she took his place. Except she didn't train for it since she wasn't expecting to go. I agreed to walk with her and we did. Inspite of stopping every so often to take pictures, we completed the 8.15 mile course in 2.5 hours. Next year, I'd like to run it.

I hear there were 20,000 people who participated. What a great experience!

At the finish line, a group of firefighters were resting. Some were still in full gear including their tanks. Some have already unburdened themselves and were sitting sipping coconut water and eating bananas. Their gear lay on the ground and I was awed.

Much of the course was shaded, but much of it was also in the hot sun. Still . . . 8.15 miles in all that gear and their fireman's uniform . . .

Day 23 Potential Lemonade

The sun beats hot on the lava rocks. Clouds float like cotton thinly scattered in the sky. The tradewinds playfully pass through.

Our lemon tree is heavily laden with fruit. Some almost touch the grass. The shiny lemon skins turn white under the sun.

I think about the amount of lemon juice we could get, then  immediately wondered how long it would take to pick and squeeze them. It's a tropically hot and lazy day. Lemonade sounds good, but I'm too hot to to pick lemons and too lazy to squeeze a hundred of them. So, I sit back and admire them from my comfortable papasan on our downstairs lanai and sip water instead, book in hand.

Day 22 Market Diversity

The Makuu Farmer's Market is always a great place to be on a Sunday. For $30, we had several bags full of green, leafy vegetables and fruits that will last for days.

I love the market! It is so full of life and interesting people. There are so many varieties of food that one can be quite stuffed very happily before leaving the place. The vendors seem to multiply each Sunday.

I made stir fry with chicken and bakchoy for dinner. We sat down and enjoyed a good homecooked meal. It's been a while. I've been too busy to cook healthy meals.

The market not only reflects the variety of fruits and vegetables available but, I think, it also reflects such a diverse group of people. Sometimes, I find a seat somewhere and enjoy watching people.

Going to this market always reaffirms my motivation to eat healthy. It also always makes me appreciate human diversity . . . if you've been there, you know what I'm talking about :-) It's a good thing. One appreciates being just like everyone else but, being unique, all at the same time.

Day 21 Morning Promise

"With each sunrise, we start anew"

I woke up to the chirping of birds and the golden glow of sunrise bathing our bedroom. The morning was crisp and brought a slight chill.

This picture was taken on May 15, 2012. We have been living in the house for 2 weeks. At that time, we were still renting from Jim and Sonja, who owned the house prior to us.

We wanted this house so much but there was so much red tape to go through. There were some scary days when we thought the deal would not happen and we would have to sadly go and find another house.

Every morning of the three months that we waited to put the final signatures on the house purchase was a beautiful gold bringing with it hope and new beginnings. Those mornings fulfilled their promise.

Now, I enjoy this sight from our bed as a homeowner every morning. I couldn't feel more blessed.

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Project Life 365 Weekly Challenge for February 3-9, 2013. Day 1: #Bedside

Day 20 Persistence Pays

Success is the result of perfection, hard work, learning from failure, loyalty, and persistence.

Colin Powell

I was ecstatic when I saw this on my school dashboard. I have finally managed to get into the Practicum course, the last one I have to take before I graduate with my Masters in Science in Nursing Education. 

I started on this degree in the fall of 2007. As I close down the last remaining weeks of Advanced Pathopharmacology, I look forward to starting the last leg of this journey. I'm getting there, however, slowly.

At my BSN graduation ceremony in 2001, a student who was, I think, summa cum laude, gave a speech that stuck in my mind all these years. She was in her 40s and just completed her Bachelor's Degree. She said that she knew it was going to take 4 years of her life, maybe more, to get her degree. 4 years! Then she said, 4 years was going to happen anyway whether she chose it to or not. So, might as well do something with it. That struck me so hard that I have used that as one of my driving personal mottoes in life. The years are going to happen no matter what. It's what we choose to do with those years that matters.

This is gonna happen! The Practicum course is split into two parts of 8-week sessions. By the end of June, I will be done with school!!!

Well, at least, for now. Until I start the Doctorate in Nursing Practice Program . . .