Wet Yosemite

It rained the last two days in Yosemite. I couldn't ski or skate, but I could walk around and take pictures. This is what Yosemite looks like when a warm, tropical rain storm lands on top of snow.

An Icy Path

I was wrong about something. For some reason, I believed that anyone who could walk, could cross country ski. I'm not talking about the Olympics version of cross country skiing. I'm talking about the type that even old ladies in Norway can do, where you just slowly slide along on fairly even ground.

Lindsay made a liar out of me. He couldn't stay upright, so I ended up skiing by myself.

One of the things I like about cross country skiing is getting away from other people. Downhill looks like more fun, but I don't like crowds of people. Above, is the ski slope at Badger Pass in Yosemite. It was almost deserted. If I could have whole runs to myself like this, I might switch to downhill. I'm not sure if it was just a slow day or if the economy has hit skiers.

It was just as well that Lindsay didn't go on my little run down the road to Glacier Point. It is a road that have I have skied several times in the past. I have referred to the route as the Bataan death march, but it is actually just long and tiring, not difficult.

My first clue of impending doom was when I passed a young, healthy looking man walking back, carrying his skis. Perhaps his equipment broke, I thought optimistically. Soon, I was on the shady side of the mountain going uphill. It wasn't bad at all.

Then I came to a downhill section. My speed started building and none of my tricks for slowing down were working. The track, pictured above was solid ice. I stepped out of the track, but all of the snow was compacted down hard and icy. I was going faster and faster, out of control. I aimed for a snowy slope to crash into, but went down before reaching it.

The fall didn't hurt me, but I destroyed another camera. What is it about digital cameras and minor trauma? The camera still works, but I can't see what I'm taking a picture of. Well, I can see through the tiny viewfinder window, but the view is different from what the lens sees. It takes a lot of trial and error to properly frame a photo.

There was a meadow next to where I fell, so I took off my skis and walked over to it. I had a nice picnic lunch in the snow and then walked back. It was embarrassing carrying my skis back, but I know that I wasn't the first person to do that and probably wasn't the last.

Once I got near the parking lot, I put the skis back on. I do have some pride.

A Few Good Things

Some good things happened today. First off, I stepped on the scale and discovered that I had lost five pounds. This was without dieting. The only thing I did was start taking Alli. It interferes with the absorption of fat. Most days I don't touch it because my usual diet is healthy and low in fat, but if I go out for a meal or find myself presented with goodies at work, I can nip the extra calories in the bud.

Having slippery fat pass through the digestive tract has the potential for creating social embarrassment, but so far, there have been no problems. There have been some close calls, especially after the surprisingly oily Chinese chicken salad, but no accidents, yet.

The weight loss has been slow. The five pound loss was over four months, but I'm fine with that. It was without hunger, sacrifice or deprivation and now I fit into my smallest jeans.

The other good thing that happened is that I finally got around to looking at my paycheck and discovered that I now get four weeks of paid vacation a year. I like to divide my vacation time into one week chunks, so now I can take four vacations a year instead of just three.

Lastly, I'm leaving on a ski trip tomorrow. The weather has been so warm and summer-like lately, that I'm not sure that there will be any snow, but it will be nice to get away. Yosemite is one of my favorite places and I probably will have it mostly to myself. Not many people go there during mid-week in January during a warm spell.

My dad is still in the hospital. but he looks much better. All of the tubes are gone except for his chest tube. His lung is still leaking air, but there is hope that it will heal without surgery. At least he can now eat whatever he wants. If he takes a turn for the worse, I can be back in about five hours.

Oh, I almost forgot, I'm also glad that I'm single. I was shopping and tried on a jacket. I need a new jacket like I need a hole in the head, but they were cute and different from anything else I have. As I happily walked away with my new jacket, another woman came over and tried on a jacket. Her husband said in a nasty tone of voice, "You need a new jacket like you need a hole in the head." That poor woman slinked away empty handed. Every time I wear that jacket, I'm going to think about how lucky I am.

Another Week

My dad recovered quickly from pneumonia and was discharged from the hospital. What a relief. My life could get back to normal. My mom would be at her house instead of mine and I would have my freedom back. I would be able to sleep through the night without anyone trying to climb in bed with me. There would be no repetitive re-orienting. And, instead of getting up early everyday and rushing to the hospital before work, I would be able to sleep in and read the newspaper. Life was good again.

On my first morning of freedom, I woke to the phone ringing. It was mom. She was crying. Dad had been rushed to the hospital again. The ER people wouldn't let her see him, so she drove home and called me. I got dressed, picked up mom and drove to the hospital. We got there just as they were taking him to CCU.

He had been intubated and was breathing on a vent. One of his lungs had collapsed, so there was a chest tube, along with an assortment of other tubes. He was in a drug induced coma. We spent some time with him, but there was nothing we could do. He had no awareness we were there, so we left.

We hadn't eaten anything that day, so we went out for lunch. There were some errands that needed to be run, so we took care of that. I took mom and her dogs home with me. I was sick with worry about dad, but I had no choice but to carry on. Later that evening, mom smiled and said, "This has been such a fun day. " Mom may be confused at times, but at least she is pleasantly confused.

After two days, dad was taken off the vent and was doing well. He was irritable, difficult and demanding and I was glad. That meant the fire was back and he was doing better. He wanted food, but they wouldn't let him have anything by mouth. They were feeding him through a tube going down to his stomach, but he was hungry and wanted food.

I did a swallow test on him and he passed, so I fed him. He ate two slices of bread and some chocolates. Right before leaving, I gave him a sip of water. The nurse walked in and caught me holding the cup to dad's mouth. The nurse was enraged. I fought back. The argument ended with me walking out of the room. If the nurse was that mad over a sip of water, I wonder what he would have done if he had caught my father eating real food?

The next day, dad was transferred to a regular room. My brother visited and brought food from In-N-Out Burger. Dad ate two burgers, two milkshakes and some fries. But, Dad still wasn't allowed to eat under the hospital rules.

I expressed my concern to his next nurse that I either wanted my father to be given a diet or I wanted them to prove that he was unable to swallow. A swallow test was ordered, but couldn't be done for a couple of days. I was unhappy with that because I knew that dad could swallow just fine and I didn't want to to suffer for no good reason. I worked out a deal with the nurse that I would close the door to dad's room and he would not come in. Dad could eat a good meal and the nurse could pretend that he knew nothing about it. It has been an entire week now and that is where we currently stand.

In the meantime, mom suddenly announced that she wanted to go home. I tried to talk her into staying, but she wanted to go home. I try hard to be patient with mom, but I'm worried that she may be sensing my fatigue and frustration. I took mom home.

This evening, I turned on the TV and there was nothing but static. I tried everything I could think of, but I can't fix it. Out of curiosity, I tried the TV in the guest room. It was broken too. The only TV that still works is the one in my room. Thank goodness mom left that one alone. I suspect that the reason mom wanted to go home was because she knew that she had broken both TVs. I am so worn out.

The Impostor

A crazy lady is staying with me. She is a dead ringer for my mother, but it is not her. This lady is an impostor. Mom is a little forgetful and ditsy at times, but she is nothing like the impostor.

My dad is in the hospital again with COPD exacerbation, so mom is staying with me. I'm going to describe just one day with mom. It starts at midnight when I come home from work. The house is lit up like a retail establishment. The other homes on the block are dark, with maybe just one light on. My house has every light on, inside and out.

Mom has moved her car, so that I'm unable to put my car in the garage. I park on the street and walk in the house. Something is hissing in the kitchen. It is a tea kettle boiling furiously with only about an inch of water left in the bottom. Could mom have gone to bed and left that disaster waiting to happen?

I go looking for her, but mom's bed is neatly made. I check the other rooms. She is not home. I search the yard, front and back. Mom is gone. I'm wondering if she locked herself out and wandered off, not knowing what to do. Perhaps a kind neighbor took her in. Maybe she fell, broke her hip and I need to try harder to find her. I don't want to call the police, but I don't know what else to do. I go upstairs to get a flashlight to better search the shrubbery one last time before calling the cops.

On the way up the stairs, I run into mom coming down the stairs. She had been in my bathroom getting all dolled up. She has her own private bath, but forgot about that and used my bathroom instead. It didn't occur to me to search my own bath.

Her hair and make up were done and she was nicely dressed. She had been getting ready for some visitor who had called and told her to put some coffee on. Mom had forgotten how to work the coffee maker, so she was boiling water to pour through the coffee maker. She is having trouble with the concept of having to push an "on" switch.

There was a message on the answering machine, but it didn't come even remotely close to anyone saying that they were on their way over for an visit and to put some coffee on. It was just a message from my brother asking where our parents were.

Mom, although looking forward to her mystery visitor, was worried because her purse was gone. She believed someone broke in the house and stole it. I searched the house and found the purse in the bottom of my closet.

Her next worry was that her car keys were gone. I searched the house, her car, the yard and up and down the street. The keys were definitely gone. The keys were lost during the dog chase. Mom had gone out front, but hadn't quite latched the door. The dogs pushed the door open and took off in five different directions. It took an hour, but eventually all five dogs were caught or returned home on their own. Mom had driven up and down the streets looking for the dogs and searched on foot. The keys must have dropped on the ground and are gone.

My next day off will be spent getting new keys from the car dealer, having a house key made and hiring a locksmith to remove her gas cap. It will be replaced with gas cap that doesn't lock.

It was very late when I finally got to bed. I fell asleep. The next thing I knew, mom was wandering around my bedroom. I ignored her and hoped that she would go back to bed. Then, she started poking at my legs.

"Mom. What are you doing?"

"Trying to get in bed."

I tried to orient her and tell her to go back to her bed. She left.

I woke up again. Mom was telling the dogs to move over. Once again she was trying to get in my bed. I asked her if she knew where her bed was. She said no. I got up, asked her to follow me and took her back to her bed.

The next morning, mom came in my room a little after seven am and was worried about my getting to work on time. I reminded her that I go to work in the afternoon. She then asked if she drove home right now, would she get home before dark. I told her that she lives a half hour away, but that she would be staying with me until Daddy got home. She didn't believe me that it was such a short trip. I just rolled over and went back to sleep.

Soon, I woke up to the door bell. Mom had locked herself out. She forgot where the hidden key was. I was woken up one last time when mom decided to come in my room again and sing to the dogs.

Everyday when I visit Daddy, he tells me with a wild look in his eyes to "take care of your mother."It is starting to sink in just what he means.

In the meantime, I'm feeling really, really tired.