The Year of the Knee

My knee replacement surgery is tomorrow. I'm calling 2014 "The Year of the Knee." It started in January with that cortisone shot that apparently introduced staph into my body (an absolutely freak occurrence according to all) and proceeded through many months of knee strengthening and learning to walk again.

So now I will go back a few steps - use a walker for a bit. However the knee will be stronger and the arthritis gone.

I hope to travel to the East coast, swing down South, back to the West and then up to Oregon for the months of October and November. I look forward to long, lazy conversations with good friends I have not seen in many years. It will be, by necessity, a physically easy trip and I plan to do a lot of it by train. See more of this wonderful country. It should be lovely.

I assume that by December my knee - and my life - will be back to normal.

I learned a lot about myself in this Year of the Knee. I am also glad the experience soon ends!

Wish me well.

Simple Pleasures

When I sold my house in Pacific Grove in early June I pretended I was rich - after all I just sold a house in California. In reality the money is needed for my retirement years but, for a week, I pretended this wasn't the case. I took anyone and everyone out to dinner, I bought clothes and shoes, and I certainly didn't think about the bills that would surely come due. Instead I luxuriated in the pretense.

Of course reality soon reared its ugly head and I am back to my usual budgeting but oh that week was glorious.

The single best thing I bought (and after using it at my cousin Pattie's house soon after my arrival in California I asked her to go to my amazon account and order the exact same thing for me) was my Nespresso machine.

I love it.

I bought their espresso machine - and the frother - and the the case to hold the little packets - and the large (200 total) sampler offering a variety of caffeinated and decaffeinated coffees. Yes, I went a bit hog wild. I am sure my financial advisor is glad I bought the least expensive model (well, actually I did not divulge the extent of my spree to him) and the whole works was waiting for me when I returned from California.

Then I watched the 60 Minutes episode about aging - and what appears to affect how long we live.  Who knew the regimen includes 2-3 cups of coffee a day and 1-2 glasses of alcohol?

And here sat my new Nespresso just waiting.

I am now in coffee heaven.

I enjoy a perfect cappuccino each morning (I equal the cappuccinos from my memories of Italy. The little cap of foam?  Yep, I create it every time.)

On these hot summer days in Portland (I know, I know - who knew summers were sunny and hot here?) I make at least one iced coffee - YUM.

And then, to combine the daily required intake of coffee with that of alcohol - what better way to end each day than with a hot decaffeinated coffee with a dollop of Bailey's?

Okay, I am not rich, not even in the slightest, but I am so glad I went on that short spending spree. In fact I toast myself each night, Baileys and espresso in hand.  Way to go, Donna!

Yosemite Again

What can I say? I am not sure there is anything more majestic or more breathtaking than Yosemite. Yes, I have stood in other majestic and breathtaking places on this planet but I don't think any are MORE so than Yosemite. Simply wonderful.

This year my cousin Pattie couldn't come. Drat those work commitments for the too-young-to-be-retired-set but her sister Loretta could join Stephanie, Dan, the two boys, Lee, Michelle and me (and the 30 plus other friends and family that make up this annual camping group). Although I have only come the past 8-10 years, this was the 30th year the group has camped at Yosemite.  

Our campsite was spectacular - the most beautiful of my experiences here at the Housekeeping Campground.

Okay, the actual tent cabin is NOT spectacular:

Yes, a tad rustic but look close - we ARE minimalist campers.  There is not a lot of stuff at the site.  Inside the tent flaps are a double bed and a set of bunk beds. We had two of these cabins - mine was to the left in this photo. 2 bear lockers (the two iron boxes stacked on top of each other) are provided at each site. You store EVERYTHING that has a scent - sunscreen, toothpaste as well as all food. No bears joined our site this year.

But look at the view we had from our cabin:

Our tent cabin was at the top of a bluff overlooking the Merced River.  Here was our view to the right..

Here was our view to the left.

Just down a bit we could cross a foot bridge:

To the wide beach on the opposite shore:

This is where we swam and the boys played in the sand.

I wasn't wearing my glasses when I saw this interesting sight at the beach.  I wondered what it was.  

A green man fleeing for his life?

Ah, a turtle raft, of course!

The child did have fun on it!

In the afternoon the river filled with rafts (including ours - the same ones from last year). 

And if I got bored, I could look up to the left from the beach and see:

Yosemite Falls

We made great camp meals (well we only had to make one dinner - for all 40 of us - and then were able to enjoy the dinners made by others in the group the remaining nights) but is there anything better than the smell of bacon and eggs cooking in the early morning chill air?

We hiked, swam, biked, saw ranger shows (Wesley learned a lot and was able to share what he learned), played baseball in an open space in the midst of the group's 10 cabins, caught up on reading, watched the ground squirrels and deer who strolled into our sites, heard campers yell "Elmer" from camp site to camp site as it got dark (a decades-old Yosemite tradition with several options for its origin), looked at the stars through Dan's telescope, caught up with each other's lives over the past year, read some more and enjoyed the beauty around us.

I did quite well with my cane over the uneven ground - no problems. Okay, I didn't hike or bike or play baseball but I did the rest. The one funny thing was the reaction of others on the beach as I walked into the water using my cane. I heard a few catches of breaths when I first started into the water (I guess they thought I wouldn't get in or wouldn't get the cane wet) but more gasps when I kept going until my shoulders were covered by water and the cane was completely submerged. It still supported me even in the shifting river bed sand. When I got out, I turned it upside down and watched the water drain out from the metal holes. Handy thing, a metal cane.

And yes, of course, I went to the Ahwahnee to have lunch and to pretend I was staying at the other end of the spectrum of lodgings at the park.  Wonderful, as always.

When Lee and Michelle (Titi to Wesley and Finn) arrived, Wesley was ready. He knew he was in for lots of tickles and loves from his beloved Titi.  Let's see what this looked like:

The first gentle little tickle to Wesley's side

Uh oh - so funny he is hopping about.

Even Titi's feet are elevated from mirth (who knew the rafts would make great chairs when not in the water?).

Complete convulsions of laughter.

Oh no, just so exhausting - can you do it again?

A wonderful week.  Wonderful memories.  Unfortunately, the day after we left, lightning strikes ignited a fire. Today, more than a week later, almost 5000 acres have burned. Thankfully it is 95% contained and did not affect the part of Yosemite Valley where we camped but any acreage burned is a loss to all. 

Even with the realities of forest fires, I already can't wait for next year's trip.

Another Birthday

I had a perfect birthday. Turning 66 was lovely. I always like double digit years. I remember 11, 22, 33, 44, and 55 so now I can add 66.

First it is summer in Portland - a whole different animal from the rest of the year. The rain disappears to be replaced by lovely blue skies, fluffy clouds and - get ready - sunshine. Today was in the high 70s, low 80s, just about perfect. Stephanie, Dan and the boys joined me in a round-trip, 2-hour river cruise from downtown Portland south to just a bit above where I now live. I have driven alongside the Willamette River - well parts of it - but now I got to see it from mid-stream. It was glorious to sip champagne (it was a Sunday champagne brunch tour) while watching the shoreline slip by. We sailed under 4 bridges and around small and large islands.

There were surprises. Things always look different when looking back at the shore. I found myself trying to figure out what all the riverside buildings were - their riversides looked so different from their street fronts. I also discovered several small neighborhoods of floating houses. I had no idea they existed because you can't see them from the shore. What fun it might be to live in a floating house. I'm sure there can be challenges but on this particular gorgeous day it seemed the perfect place to live.

The OFH (Old Folks Home, my irreverent name for the retirement community where I now joyously live) is right on the Willamette River, well we are at the top of a bluff overlooking the river. I can see across to lovely estates along the opposite shore. By the way, what a feast of fire works displays these riverside owners set off on the Fourth of July. I watched from an apartment on the 6th floor and was amazed as their fireworks exploded in front of me. When I looked north I could see, way in the distance, the fireworks from Portland and Vancouver and when I looked south, I could see ones set off by folks at Lake Oswego. I have never seen anything quite like the array of displays along the river.

One house, across the river a bit northward, has intrigued me since I moved here. It appears to be a combination of an old utility building (like an old water works) with an elaborate, multi-storied Mediterranean villa plopped on top of it but I couldn't be sure if it were one or two separate buildings because the river bends at that house.

Today I got my chance - I sailed right in front of it. I learned that the 8 bedroom villa IS built on top of an original pump station. I now saw that it also has a dock with 2 boats, a small boat house and its very own sea plane. As lovely as it all was I found myself thinking about the cost of upkeep. Phew. It is also a lot to dust.

The boys were perfect, the sun shone, the river glistened and, all too soon, we returned to where we departed. We went back to Stephanie and Dan's house and had a lovely time starting the list of what is needed for the annual trek to Yosemite. We leave in two weeks. This time the whole family will be there - Lee and Michelle as well (assuming their work schedules cooperate). I already can't wait. A week camping along the Merced River in sight of Half Dome and Yosemite Falls - can anything be more magnificent?

So thanks to all the family, friends and former students who wished me well today. Several called but I wasn't home - I was out on the river. Ah, it was lovely. 66 is going to be a great year.

Back Home Again

I am home and had a wonderful time but first, let's picture my entrance into the Golden State. How about arriving with - get ready - a walker, a cane, a raised toilet seat and a box of fiber cereal. Really? Could I be more geriatric?

In reality I did not arrive carrying the raised toilet seat but sent it, via Amazon, to the first home where I stayed. My beloved cousin Pattie experienced the embarrassment of greeting the UPS man who handed her a carton with RAISED TOILET SEAT stamped all over it. Given that she is so much younger than I am, she was brave; I thought it pretty hysterical.

The good news is that both flights (to and from Oregon) were simple thanks to the kindness of Alaska Airlines folks who wheeled me from the curb to the gate and then back to the curb on my arrival. It couldn't have been easier.

My first week in the San Francisco Bay Area flew by then off to the Monterey Peninsula to sell my house.

All went really well. My house looked beautiful. The new hardwood floors are gorgeous. Everything sparkled. Robin's minimal staging was perfect. Each morning I found time to read while sitting in the kitchen nook or out on the deck. And, somewhat surprising to me, there were no tears. It has been three years since I lived in the house and there were enough subtle differences that parting was a bit easier than I thought it would be. Standing in its emptiness, with all the walls painted white, made it not quite the house I had left. It will always be the best-house-of-my-life but the important memories are safely stored in my heart.

And, as always, amusing things happened. The first was the discovery that Robin had found the original screwdriver that held the garage door closed when I bought the house in 2002. I thought it was so funny at the time. A screwdriver? Filling the clasp that held the garage door closed? Really? I used it while I lived there (why change a tradition?) but the tenants apparently found something more appropriate. Bless Robin. She found it in the garage and replaced it. I smiled when I saw it and left it, with a note, for the new owners.

Then I walked around to the tiny side yard and had varied emotional reactions. My heart leapt when I saw the porcelain angel and old bathroom window I had hung on the fence - I had forgotten about both and was pleased that the tenants hadn't removed or damaged them. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the baby rose bush climbing up the side of the house.

Of course, this is my crappy photography. I failed to include the section of the fence with the angel and window but you can see the rose bush leaning over from the wall of the house.

Oh that bush was a major pain in the butt. I am responsible - I planted it. I wanted a rose and roses don't do well in Pacific Grove - summers are too foggy. The man at the nursery suggested a good ol' Cecile Bruner rose, given its hardiness. Well he was right - I couldn't kill that plant if I tried. It was under the fumigation tent and still managed to survive.

While I lived there I didn't often go in the side yard - there was nothing there of significance - but when I occasionally wandered in I was often amazed at how high the rose bush had grown. Sometimes tendrils grew through the casement of an upstairs bedroom window and on up to the roof. I would sigh, drag the hedge clippers upstairs, lean out the tiny bedroom window and start slashing. My arms got tangled in the thorns as I chopped my way through the mess and tossed clippings down to the ground below. I was only able to trim down about two feet from the window.

Back down on the ground I would use my long tree trimmer tool to pull down the branches to clip them to a height of maybe 7 feet - and it seemed like only a month or so later, the whole process had to be repeated. I grew to loathe that rose bush except when it bloomed. I will not miss it. I wondered if I should drag out the tools that were still in the garage and trim it back a bit for the new owners? No, I decided, let them get used to it.

Ah memories. Now new ones will be created when the Martins move in. Without a doubt it WAS the best house of my life. I hope it is for them and I thank Robin for all that she did to help me sell it.

I stayed four nights with Robin and Greg - across-the-street neighbors at our intersecting street corners - and then 3 nights with Sharon and Warren, kitty-corner from my house. Robin gave me a lovely gift - a copy of her photo of the area immediately inside my front door. She put the photo through an app that makes it look like a painting. I carried it with me for the rest of my trip - it sat on each succeeding bedside table and now sits next to my bed here in Portland. I love it.

This is on my bedside table at Sharon's house

The days flew by.  Sharon and another friend drove me down to Big Sur for breakfast at Deetjen's - those of you who have been there know how special and how very Big Sur it is. And who can resist French toast stuffed with raspberry cream? Under the redwoods? Certainly not me.

Lee and Michelle drove down from Oakland to pick me up on Lee's 35th birthday and the day was his. Guess where he wanted to go for breakfast? Deetjen's. I did not utter a word in protest. Who would turn town raspberry-stuffed French toast a second time? Off we went for the hour drive back down the coast to Big Sur. Again, simply lovely.

On the way back Lee suggested we drive the Old Coast Road. Yes, those who have been there know how rugged it can be. There was one section where it WAS a bit scary but Michelle drove it all with panache. What a girl! Here was one mild part:

I think it's about 15 miles, all dirt, through open areas like this (see the fog slipping in?), into redwood forests, steep hairpin turns - it took us about an hour.  You end up at the Bixby bridge.  Not for the faint of heart.

Eventually we made it back to Oakland where we had a great dinner and I spent the night with Michelle's moms. A lovely day in all ways. 

And then back home. 

I am no longer a home-owner and that is okay. Thankfully, I am happy where I am. Much love to the few friends I saw and apologies to the many I did not. I just wasn't quite strong enough but, look out, I warn you, next time I will be at your front doors.

Ms. Rocky is on her way to California!

Yep, I leave tomorrow morning. I have a noon flight to San Francisco so barring earthquake, fire, tsunami or flood, I am FINALLY on my way to my beloved Pacific Grove. I will spend the first week in the Bay Area with family and then the following week in PG in time for the house's closing on May 30. The final contingency was removed (what I feared - that the house wouldn't appraise for enough - didn't happen) so all moves forward. I continue to get papers to sign (well, all done electronically) but my hard copies make quite a good pile.

Although I am staying across the street with two sets of neighbors, I intend to indulge in my absolute favorite house activity - sipping my morning coffee on the front deck, underneath the redwood tree - each of the mornings while the house is still mine. If it is foggy, even better. I find fog so mysterious as it slips its fingers around everything in sight.* The fence around the deck is just tall enough to hide my head so I inadvertently hear conversations of all the early morning walkers who turn the corner at my house. I get 20-second bits which often leave me wondering, "what happened next?"

Here is the fence that surrounds the deck. The redwood tree is on the far left - of course you can't see it's branches, they are too high up. The fence is just tall enough to hide me from view when sipping my coffee.

For the first time I have not over-scheduled myself. In fact I still have a few days with either nothing or just one thing planned. I need rest, I realize. Although I am so very much better than just a month ago, I still tire easily when I have walked a bit. I want to just laze in the glory of the Monterey Peninsula - and shop at my favorite dress and shoe store in town. After all, I have just sold a house - there should be some reward!

I continue to emulate Rocky - am working hard in the pool each day. I am a little worried about the two-week break but believe I will slip back into my routine when I return. The good news? I returned the wheel chair last week - it is OUT of my life. I walk really well with the walker and am getting better with the cane. Today and yesterday I used the cane almost exclusively. I can actually walk without any support but it is very robot-like and glacially slow but PROGRESS has happened - so much, in fact, that I was dismissed from Physical Therapy. Although Maureen (my wonder Physical Therapist) says I deserve credit for my hard work, I was almost in tears when I thanked her. I wouldn't have known the first thing to do without her guidance.

So, tomorrow I will find out how Alaska Air supports folks who need help. I don't think I have to climb in and out of planes on the tarmac but tomorrow will reveal all. If so, I can do it.

Overall I feel that I have finally turned the corner. I am walking and it is coming naturally. I no longer have to give myself instructions on how to do it. It is slow and still a bit painful but I am upright. I am driving, easily getting in and out of the car with a cane - which is so much easier than hauling the walker around. So, that's it, end of story, not another word about knees and staph infections and walkers and surgeries and infusions  . . . it's over. Finito Benito. I am back.

Love you all.

* You know what could be amusing? I left adirondack chairs on the front deck - I wonder if I can get out of them? I could before but they are low and my knees are still weak. Could be interesting. I should probably warn the neighbors that, if I am not back in an hour, bring a winch to rescue me.

All Good News!

Let's cut right to the chase:

#1. I am walking - sort of.
#2. I have an appointment for a knee replacement - August 12.  Ah, so many problems will end.
#3. My house sold at full price the second day it was on the market and, the following day, I received a second full price offer. Wow!
#4. I think I can get down to Pacific Grove to say goodbye to my house before the May 30 closing.

See, all good news.

Walking
It has been absolutely bizarre to have to learn to walk again. Who knew it wouldn't come back naturally? I had a race with my youngest grandson, Finn, but he beat me by a few weeks. The wee one is now officially walking - and is much cuter than I am when he does it. Thankfully, I don't fall like he does. Bless those diapers and baby fat . . . on him, I mean.

But the walking is still not coming naturally. I find myself muttering as I look down: "Lead with the knee, add weight only after it's extended, use the toe and heel to propel forward." Thankfully my good knee works fine and I try to match it as I walk.

I cannot walk by myself, mind you, I have to use a walker and can only do about 1200 steps a day because it is exhausting and it hurts a bit (sometimes, quite a bit), but initially I could only do about 50 so things are definitely improving. I spend the rest of my time in my wheelchair. At this point, 3 1/2 months after the staph infection occurred, I see signs of progress almost every day. This week alone I learned how to use the steps to move in and out of the pool (I had been using a lift - in reality, much fun), I can now stand long enough to use exercise equipment in our gym, I was able to climb the steps onto our bus and attend an event I didn't want to miss - but yesterday's event topped them all - I took about 30 steps using just a cane. Major advance. Of course, those 30 steps did me in and then I had to rest but I am on my way. Yippee big time.

So, at this point I have a walker, wheel chair and cane in my teeny unit and can move among all three with a degree of grace.

Knee Replacement
Moments of the appointment with the surgeon were quite funny. He is younger than I, of course, and only does knees. He surprised me as he explained that he wants my knee to be in its best possible shape on the day of surgery. Here I thought I could go in with a crappy knee and come out with one that was perfect. "No, no, no," he said, "your new knee starts where your old knee left off. Therefore, you want it as far ahead as possible." I had to fight to keep a straight face as he continued: "You have to be like Rocky, in the movies. Every day, in every way, you have to WORK. You have to push yourself; push yourself hard." On and on went the speech.

Okay, let's stop here and think about this. Do you know ANYONE less Rocky-like than me? Anyone? I would much prefer to watch Rocky run up and down the steps than emulate him. But Dr O'Shea kept it up, explaining how I had to work on aerobics, strength and range of motion (that last one makes me cringe, thinking about how much it hurts to bend my knee).

So what has happened since that appointment 3 weeks ago? Well, you wouldn't recognize me. I throw myself into the pool each day (not true, I slowly go down the steps but I CAN get in by myself) and swim a half mile (aerobics), then strap weights on my ankles to do exercises assigned by my physical therapist (she meets me at the pool once a week - the other meetings are on land) to increase strength and flexibility. I stretch and pull and stand on balance equipment, steps, noodles and buoys - I'm in the pool about 90 minutes each day. Then add my time in the gym pulling and stretching and lifting weights. I am starting small, however, with just 3-pound weights in each hand. I have to laugh while doing the lifting, "And here she is, Rocky incarnate, in her corner pulling a total of . . . .  6 pounds!" What do Olympians lift? Hundreds? Well, you have to start somewhere.

I have not yet downloaded the theme from Rocky but I AM THERE mentally. And you should see my buff arms - the muscles pop. Who knew how much exercise you can get from a manual wheel chair when you live on a 20+ acre site? I have decided that if I run out of money, I can become a stevedore down at the docks - that's how buff my arms are. Wait, I forgot - I'm only lifting 6 pounds - maybe I should wait a bit to apply.

The House Sale

Can you believe it?  The second day it was on the market. Alleluia. Blessed Robin (my realtor and next door neighbor) called and listened to me prattle on about my attempts to walk etc. before she sprung the news - an offer and at full price. Phew. Such an incredible relief. And then, the next day, a second full-price offer. Here are the two couples in the order I received their offers:

Offer #1 - a family from Salinas with grown children (although the youngest may live with them). The wife grew up in PG and they want to move here. He owns a local business; she works in the insurance industry.

Offer #2 - a couple from Los Altos (for those of you out of the area - about 1.5 hours from Pacific Grove) looking for a second home. They have been looking for 2 years and fell in love with the house. He is in finance; she is in education.

They gave identical offers. Which would you choose? Scroll down to the end of the entry and you will see what I did. Did we agree?

Not surprisingly, I have mixed emotions. I love the house and it's hard to see it go but I recognize that I am happy in Portland and it's time to move on. I also did not like being a landlord for the almost three years it was rented.

Robin has been simply wonderful doing all the work to get it ready for market - she chose the interior paint colors; the style and stain of the new hardwood floors (all with my input, of course); planted the window boxes; did minimal staging with her own furniture; fussed and cleaned and made sure that all the workpeople completed their tasks and gently reminded them when they hadn't; figured out the best way to show off the features of the house; saved all the receipts of work done; created beautiful ads for the local newspapers; kept an eye on the house when strangers wandered by (my favorite story was her coming over to find a couple on the deck, peering in the windows, at sunset, supposedly waiting for their realtor to show them the house. Who goes house hunting in the dark?) etc etc etc  - she did everything right.

At this point, things are moving forward; contingencies are eliminated each week (by May 7 the last should be removed); and then, hopefully, smooth sailing until the close on May 30.  Phew, in time to avoid another mortgage payment!

Trip to California
After two attempts to get down there, I am hoping the third time will be a charm. I will need help at the airport to get to the gate (I can't walk that far yet) and into the plane (If I fly into Oakland, as planned, I have to walk out on the tarmac and climb steps into a smaller plane). How do I carry luggage when I can't fully walk? All interesting challenges but hopefully easy to meet. I will figure out how to do it.

So things are going swimmingly (very appropriate given all my hours in the pool). I am getting back into the life I had before everything went south. I have returned to my volunteer work with the homeless in Portland, am participating in more activities here at the OFH, and am playing with my grandchildren. Ah, life is certainly looking up. Thanks for the lovely notes, surprises, and good cheer sent my way. I so appreciate each and every one of you and am grateful that you are all in my life.

* So whom did I choose? Oh come on, you know me - the couple from Salinas. They are local and I wanted a family living in it full time. There are so many second homes in Pacific Grove, we don't need one more. I just hope they are lovely because my wonderful neighbors deserve the best. By the way, the couple who didn't get it made a back-up offer and, if the first offer should fall through, I will be happy for them - as long as it doesn't cost me a lot in time and money!

A Hint of Freedom

Yes, I am on the way to freedom. No, I can't yet walk BUT, just about one hour ago, I wheeled to my car, got the trunk open, collapsed the wheelchair, got it inside the trunk, got it out again, got it into the backseat, got it out again (giving me options), got into the driver's seat, got back out and into my chair and wheeled back into the building - all by myself. I can now get out! So if you hear any news story about a white-haired lady in Oregon who will not stop driving around, it's me. I have had lots of outings to hospitals for surgeries and infusions and doctor appointments since mid-January but now I can go where I want as long as there are no stairs - not doing so well on stairs yet.

My life with physical therapy continues and I am most grateful for my therapist, Maureen. She is wonderful (but also quickly caught on that I would prefer to do more than less, am impatient to walk NOW, want to be independent as quickly as possible. She insisted that I have someone go with me for my practice session to make it to the car - she looked at me and knew I was planning on doing it by myself. She was right and I was good - Dan and Wesley accompanied me.) So, with her instructions I can now walk about 300 feet with a walker before I need to rest. My bad knee still cannot bear my full weight but I am working towards it.

The big event this week (well, prior to getting to the car) was getting back into the pool. I am a water baby; I love swimming/playing in the water and have really missed it. Last Wednesday Maureen met me in the pool and showed me exercises I can do to stretch my knee.

Three surprising things happened - two were great, one not so.  Let's go with great first. The first? I was able to quickly swim 1/4 of a mile in freestyle laps. I was amazed. I haven't swum in 3 months and, in the past, an absence of that length would mean I would struggle to get 8-10 lengths done. Wednesday I plowed through all 23 lengths. My legs weren't much help but my arms - the arms that have been wheeling me around in my manual wheelchair for 3 months - they are BUFF.  I didn't realize how buff they were until I roared through the swimming. It was incredible. I don't think I have ever called any part of my body buff but my arms certainly qualify. Buffness as part of my life - who knew?

The second great thing almost made me cry. After I finished the swim to loosen up my knees Maureen had me get in 4 feet of water and walk. Yes, I walked. I walked completely normally. My toes and heels operated as they should, my two legs worked together. I could stride across the pool. There was some pain - but not much. I couldn't believe it; I could walk. I did it for 5 glorious minutes, back and forth. Then Maureen had me walk backwards - much much harder. Then sideways and then with little jumps. It felt so normal to have everything work. God bless the buoyancy of water.

The not so good  - boy, does my knee affect swimming. Forget the breast stroke. When I tried I could hear the pity in the voice of the lifeguard who has watched me swim for more than a year. I can't get my right knee to bend as it should. It goes part way than jerks to a stop. It was a shock to see how little movement I have in that knee. However, Maureen insists I can get a lot of it back if I just keep working on it. She showed me several additional exercises. I intend to swim everyday.

So my life remains restricted but I am working on dropping barriers - even those pesky stairs. I will do it.

A Unexpected Surprise

A few months ago (before the problems with my knee) I submitted a story to a contest for residents of OFHs (Old Folks Homes) here in Oregon. Almost 200 people from around the state entered and, I found our recently, I was one of the 6 winners (an honorable mention)! What a lovely surprise.

Here is my story about an event that happened in 2006. I can remember every second of that landing.

St Barts

I love to fly. I love the escalating speed of takeoff that pushes you back against your seat. I close my eyes and wait. When I think I feel the hint of lift off, that very first instant when the wheels leave the ground, I crack one eye open to check. Yes, I was right, we are on the way up. It is glorious to look down as the earth falls away. But as great as takeoff is, my favorite part of flight is the landing. The long final curve to line the plane up to the airfield below, landing gear clicking in place, the shock of wheels hitting the tarmac, the race down the runway and then the incredible rush as the pilot slams on the brakes to bring the plane to a shuddering stop. Physics in action. You've got to love it, and I do, but I was still unprepared for the reality of my flight from Guadeloupe to St Barts.

My friend, Barb, had called me two weeks before with a last-minute invitation. Did I want to join her and her family for a few days at a friend’s villa on St Barts in the Caribbean? The owner was off-island and the home was available to celebrate a family event. Could I come?

Of course not. My daughter’s wedding was 5 weeks away and I had an unending To Do list sitting in front of me. It was last minute - flights would be exorbitant. It would take most of 2 days to get there and back. All of this for a few days in the sun? Don’t be silly. But a villa? On an island I had never heard of? Sitting by a pool, piña colada in hand? “Count me in,” I said, and pulled my suitcase out of the attic.

So there I was, standing in the airport in Guadeloupe, listening for my flight to be called. I had already flown from San Francisco to Texas, then on to Guadeloupe. I was hot, tired and dusty – just like the airport I was standing in. One more leg to go.

The plane was small, sitting out there on the tarmac. It held maybe 15. When I climbed on board I saw it was old and a bit decrepit. Actually, quite a bit decrepit. The seat belt felt like it would snap if any pressure were applied. The plane hadn’t been cleaned in a while – reminders of earlier passengers were scattered about. There was no dividing wall between the pilot and passengers – we were all one happy family on this plane. The pilot, wearing shorts, flip-flops, and a stained t-shirt, was last on board. He reached back, hauled the steps up behind him, and then pulled them through the only door on the plane. As he walked toward his seat he gave us our safety instructions. “If you see me run past and jump out, there’s a problem. Follow me. Hope you can swim.” That was it. “Succinct,” I thought.  “Basic info has been transmitted.” He put the plane in gear and we were off. 

I think rides in small planes are more interesting than those in big ones. You really feel the wind and it was blowing that day in Guadeloupe. Our plane buffeted sideways as we sped down the runway but then, suddenly, as always, we were up and away through rich blue skies. 

The flight was short. After what only seemed minutes our pilot twisted around in his seat and announced we were approaching St Barts. I wondered why he was aiming the plane straight at the mountain ahead. I actually held my breath when we flew through a cleft in a ridge, barely clearing cars traveling on a road along its crest. I suspect we gave them quite a shock. But I – and my stomach - were completely unprepared for the sudden swoop straight down the back of the mountain to the airport at the bottom. 

But that was not the final thrill. As we sped down the runway I saw sunbathers straight ahead, oiled up, oversized sunglasses firmly in place, stretched out on towels on a beautiful beach just beyond the airstrip. The only thing that would keep our plane from running into them was a chain stretched across the end of the runway, strung between two 4-foot poles. That was it- one chain between us and the beach. Our pilot brought the plane to a screeching halt about 10 feet from the sunbathers who didn't even glance up. Welcome to St. Barts.

Although I was wobbly when I climbed down from the plane I forced myself to remain objective when rating this landing. Yes, one result of 34 years of teaching is a compulsion to grade things and landings is one of them. Although this landing was terrifying, it was smooth. No bounces after touching down. No wasted landing strip. That sudden dive down the back of the mountain landed us on the first available foot of airfield and we needed every inch. No one appeared to be hurt in the plane, on the beach, or in the cars we almost strafed as we barely cleared the mountaintop. We were in one piece and so was the plane. The airport’s tricky location wasn’t the pilot’s choice. Incredibly, according to my rubric, the pilot earned not only an A, but an A+. He didn’t just meet my requirements; he exceeded each and every one. It wasn’t his fault that I had failed to include a “scared the pants off me” factor in my rating scale. I shook my head in amazement as I turned to wave my thanks but he was already walking toward the small group of passengers awaiting his return flight to Guadeloupe. Ah yes, my return flight. I have to get back in that plane. I assume foreknowledge of conditions, several days of relaxation and many gallons of piña coladas will prove adequate preparation.

Selling Bentley

Gary and I moved back to California with children in tow in the summer of 1987. After looking at communities throughout the Monterey Peninsula we honed in on Pacific Grove. It had a small town feel, was right on Monterey Bay, had affordable modest homes and was not in the community where I taught (Carmel). We probably toured 25 houses looking for that perfect home. I wanted charm, Gary wanted easy maintenance, Stephanie wanted sidewalks (our home in Connecticut was on an acre bordering a lake on a curvy narrow road with no sidewalks in sight),  Lee could have cared less.

When out driving one afternoon we spotted a For Sale sign at 222 Bentley Street - and instantly fell in love. There were  problems, however (aren't there always?). Yes it had LOADS of charm but no sidewalks and needed work. How did we know? Well, no one was home and we didn't hesitate to walk the lot and peek in the windows. Phew - work to be done.

Front of house

Side view

Over the years of ownership we had totally redone our house on that lake in Connecticut but Gary's worsening MS meant that this was no longer realistic. Could we truly afford the time, energy and money to fix the most challenging features of the house? I remember the two of us sitting on the porch steps, discussing possibilities. Yes, we decided, we could - so called our realtor who called the agent and, unfortunately, found out that the owners had just accepted an offer from someone else. DRAT!

Front Door

Eventually we found another house and, in reality, thank goodness we didn't get the house on Bentley - we could not have done the work needed. It would also have been really difficult for Gary to navigate with the wheelchair that was soon to land in his future. The home we eventually bought, although it had zero charm, was easy to maintain, perfect for a wheelchair and had sidewalks.

Stepping inside the front door into the enclosed porch

We settled into our house on Gibson Avenue and lived there quite happily. This didn't mean, however, that I forgot the house on Bentley. Every few years I would drive by and report back to Gary. We called it "The House That Got Away."

The far end of the enclosed proch

Fast forward 15 years to October of 2002. Gary had died 6 weeks before and college friends of his were visiting. On the way back from a trip to the local beach, on a whim, I turned into the neighborhood of the "House That Got Away" and there, incredibly, was another For Sale sign posted out in front. I copied down the realtor's phone number and, to make a long story short, 5 days later put in an offer that was accepted. On December 23rd I moved in.

Stepping into the living room (you can see the open front door at the top of the photo)

The rest of the living room

I have never had so much fun - the perfect distraction for mourning the death of my beloved husband. My sisters and sister-in-law jumped in to help. The whole process was like playing house. We brought home stacks of wallpaper books, paint chips and fabrics and then spent countless, utterly delightful, hours making plans. They helped me arrange furniture, figure out curtains and rugs, and the best placement of art on the walls. In those intervening 15 years all the challenges of the house had been fixed, I just got to play.

The kitchen nook

The rest of the kitchen

Exchange students

I look back at the 9 years I lived on Bentley as a time of great joy. I lived in a house that was 100% mine, that I filled with friends and family, exchange students, cats and dogs, friends of friends who needed a place to stay - my guest book is filled with wonderful memories of several hundred visitors who spent anywhere from overnight to months, and in Francia's case, several years. It was a blessing, every single day.

My office

My room

Thank you, Lowell, for figuring out how to add a dog door
to the small fenced back yard. It is so cute!

What memories, what joys, what fabulous neighbors, what a wonderful location. When you own dogs you walk your neighborhood - and between the 3 dogs of my life I covered the town. I now know that it is a 15-minute walk in one direction to Monterey Bay, a 15-minute walk in another to the ocean, and a 10-minute walk in still another to get to the heart of downtown. The adult school where I took evening classes was one block south, the woods where I let the dogs roam off leash began 4 houses east, favorite cottages were in surrounding blocks.

One upstairs bedroom

The second upstairs bedroom - I love the slanted ceilings.

But then came the call of the grandchildren. I still remain surprised at how easy it has been to make the decision to stay in Oregon rather than return to Bentley Street as had been my original plan. My friends all knew I wouldn't come back - they understood the lure of family - but I was SURE my move to Portland was temporary. Not the case, however, not the case at all. I am here for good and so it is time to let Bentley go.

The side deck - gardening that was safe from the brazen deer that strolled Bentley.

It never crossed my mind that I would not be able to return to Bentley before selling it but it looks like that might be the case. I can never thank my across-the-street neighbor and realtor, Robin, for all the work that she is doing in my place. Her taste is exquisite (I adore her house), she has the knowledge of what sells, and has the wonderful capacity of being both practical and artistic at the same time.  I could not ask for a better person to handle the house preparations.

Wonderful memories

And so I sit here, in my wheelchair, waiting for PT to start on Monday - I WILL walk soon -  reminiscing with such fondness about my time on Bentley Street. I look forward to hearing from my neighbors about the new owners - how they, hopefully, will also fall in love with the house and enjoy its wondrous location. I was so very very happy and wish the same for them.