Dragonfly1957's Blog

“This was a test…”

dragonfly1957 — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 17:19:04 +0000

About a month ago I hurt my back to the point of there being absolutely no way to get comfortable. Being in pain all the time puts the brain into a tunnel like focus, with pain being the only thought. But nighttime was beyond comprehension. No position was pain-free and rolling over, which I did probably a hundred times every night, was almost as bad as standing for any length of time. I realized that the blankets which keep me warm in my unheated bedroom (off the flow of wood stove heat), were much too heavy for my aching back, and quite possibly were contributing to my back problem. So I plugged in an electric radiator, looks just like the baseboard heaters that surround the outside walls, but it’s smaller, and as I said, electric. Warm room, light blankets…
While my back has been healing, I’ve been waiting for the electric bill to come to see how much it would cost to use this little thing for 6 – 8 hours per night, figuring I’d keep using it if it was costing $10 or less. My bill came yesterday. I have unplugged the heater and it is on it’s way to the local second-hand shop. My electric bill was more than double any of the previous 12 months! It cost more than $40/month to use that heater! What a costly test it was.
I’ll now stick to the cold room and heavy blankets…

Who will call me “Babe?” part II

dragonfly1957 — Thu, 07 Jan 2010 13:16:21 +0000

When asking people who might know about John’s condition I wasn’t surprised that I came up with more than a few “I dunno’s.” Finally, I asked a long time friend and maintenance man for the building John lives in who said, “He saw all of 2009 but didn’t see 2010. He died on New Year’s Eve.”
No family, no obit.
Rest, my friend, in peace. I will never forget you.

Who will call me ‘Babe’?

dragonfly1957 — Thu, 24 Dec 2009 00:03:28 +0000

At the hospital I asked which room he was in. 330. I asked at the nurse’s desk if he was in a coma. She didn’t know, she said she was only the secretary. A nurse then whispered to me, “the answer to your question is yes.”
On my way down to 330 another nurse asked me if I needed help. I told her I wanted to see John in 330“Oh, I need to check on him so I’ll show you where he is.” I walked in and around to the side of the bed toward which his face was turned. His lower lip was swollen; he must have fallen and hit his face on something on Saturday night. His eyes were open and flitting around in the sockets. I thought he’d look like he was sleeping. His mouth was hanging open. His tongue looked dry. He had tubes of oxygen in his nose exactly as he had never wanted. The nurse said she would pull up a chair for me and as she did so I tried not to sob, but my restrained cry came out like a squeak and the nurse said she was sorry and she would leave me alone with him. I wanted to leave with her, but knew I couldn’t. I cried more and looked at his eyes, still open. His beard was just as perfect as usual, he is always careful about his appearance; at least that’s what I’ve always thought.
What do you say to someone who you aren’t sure is hearing you? What do you say to someone who you’ve been told has only 2 days to live? What do you say to someone who you know you love but haven’t been able to say the words out of fear they’d be misinterpreted? What do you say to someone who has brought you much laughter in your life at times when no one else could? In short, how could I say good bye?
I stared at John for several minutes, I couldn’t stop crying, but still I couldn’t leave. What if he knew I was there? What if he was looking at me and what I said really did matter? Finally I said to him, “You old man. What are you doing in this place? You belong at home in Cobblestone – so you need to get better!” Cry, cry, cry. “You are so awesome, John, I think you are such a nice guy.” Cry, cry cry. I put my hand on his arm resting across his chest. “John, if you don’t get better who is going to call me Babe anymore?” sob, sob, sob. “I hate to see you like this John.” Cry, cry, cry. I reached into my purse and found the photo I had taken of him a week before. “John, here is the photo I took of you last week.”

Last week I finally asked John if I could take his picture

. I held it up into the light and to where his eyes were looking. He didn’t react, but I said, “It turned out really good, didn’t it John?” Of course there was no response to anything I was saying. But suddenly he started making a rough noise in his throat. Was this death rattles that I had learned about not a year before? Or was he trying to talk? “You just have to get better John. You have to go home to Cobblestone!”
I waited a few minutes, or maybe just a few seconds before I stood up to leave and the nurse came into give him some kind of medicine.
I walked out of his room with the nurse. “We are only keeping him comfortable, we aren’t doing anything aggressive,” she answered when I asked her if he is expected to live.
“Carla and Dave,” she answered when I asked her who has been in to see him. Carla had given him CPR originally and Dave is his friend who takes him to breakfast, I know them both. She was a very nice nurse and was willing to talk to me as long as I wanted, but I just had to get out of the hospital. I had the urge to run from death.
The elevator moved so slowly to come to the 3rd floor to get me and it moved even more slowly to get me to the 1st floor and out of the building. I got in my truck, drove out of the parking lot where I finally sobbed.
I don’t think I can ever get as close to any tenant again. To see John in that hospital bed with no family, no cards and no flowers, it plain and simply breaks my heart.

NPR Voices

dragonfly1957 — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 22:58:10 +0000

Ok, so after years of listening to NPR (National Public Radio), and my local stations VPR (Vermont Public Radio) and NHPR (New Hampshire …) their voices have become part of my life. I picture them in my mind sitting at table with a microphone, or on assignment in Afghanistan, or the jungles of Brazil. In my mind I assume I know who has brown hair, thin face, glasses, etc. – do you? Try to look on your local NPR website (or whatever station you listen to) and view their images, my stations are linked above.
How close did you come to reality? Just kind of interesting what your mind does when given only a voice.

Nanowrimo is now a thing of the past

dragonfly1957 — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 00:48:30 +0000

Well, I did it! I passed 50,000 words in 29 days, 1 day early.
I was completely surprised with the process of fiction writing. I was able to make my characters do whatever I wanted them to do, clearly it’s my first attempt at fiction! The plot moved along nicely and the whole book took place over the period of about 5 days. The main character gradually showed his true colors (mentally disturbed) which I hadn’t expected. That was another surprise for me – I’ve heard that while writing fiction your characters take you to places you don’t expect and it really did happen, now I understand what that is like.
I have not yet even looked at my novel, I think I’m afraid of how bad it is and the fact that it could end up a very short story once I edit out the extraneous parts! However, that said, I do feel like NaNoWriMo was resounding success for me and I look forward to doing it next year!

dragonfly1957 — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 01:13:29 +0000

I’m back again

dragonfly1957 — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 14:04:50 +0000

I’ve decided to continue my blog after giving it up a month ago. New course it’ll be taking, but still it’s me and mine.
I’ve been participating in the NaNoWriMo competition, although I doubt competition is a good description because you are only competing against yourself, really. The goal is to write a novel of at least 50,000 words during the month of November. You commit to it on line as do people from all over the world. The basic expectation is that you will just write, not edit, be gentle with yourself, just spend time every day writing. It takes 30 days to make or break a habit, it’s a no brainer as to what the NaNoWriMo people are trying to accomplish. That’s half the reason I’m on board.
There are local write-ins where you can go meet face to face with fellow NaNoWriMo-ers and laugh and party and get tips and actually write too. Sadly there are either very few NaNoWriMo-ers in my town, or they are keeping quiet about participating, or they feel they are too good to participate, or too good to tell anyone they are. The only connection would have been about 10 miles north of here and that was canceled because the college in which it was to be held changed their minds since it’s not a school sponsored function. So I plug away with my book, over 10,000 words so far, my characters are developing wonderfully and I’m having great fun with it. I do have a writing buddy who is also participating, Leon, and we give each other encouragement when needed. He was here a few days ago and I found writing with someone was much more fun, especially a buddy who’s on the same track you are. I have never written fiction before so this is incredibly new and very liberating. I have control over my characters – and I really am not sure how the book will evolve other than the basic plot. Here is an excerpt (rough draft, first writing – ) They walked in the dawn, to their car which was readied the day before with gas for their journey. They took their respective seats just as they always did. Although no one was on the street walking, they couldn’t help but wonder if someone driving by in a car was noticing them leaving, or if a neighbor was already up and watching them from their window. Mother smiled, hoping it would make their departure look normal and cheerful but Father was much more focused on the threats made to him and he could find nothing in himself to draw a smile to his face.
Thanks for reading, comments are always welcome. -l.e.h.

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