WISHING YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS

Regardless of religious practices, it's the time of year when festive lights, music and a general feeling of joy fills the air. Only a "bah humbug grouch" doesn't enjoy singing and listening to carols.  Sonoma has had beautiful sunny, clear and crisp days for weeks, a true Christmas gift for all.

My Tree

 Grapes are all picked and in the process of becoming wine.  Even a "grouch" enjoys a nice glass of Pinot.

 Olive gathering.  Because of the rains and late cold weather of 2011, our olive crop is small, but folks are out harvesting, preparing for the Blessing of the Olives in early January. 

This Persimmon tree looks a bit like my Christmas tree.

We will attend a live nativity and Family Christmas Eve service and then will share a dinner of fresh Dungeness crab. Instead of a regular Christmas celebration we opted for a "re-gift" exchange and a Talent Show.  The idea is for each family member to share some kind of talent with the others.  Since we only have one family member who has a legitimate star-quality talent (Elizabeth sings and plays the guitar), the show should be interesting and, I'm sure, will be much fun.  It's top secret, but I know one 73 year old plans to dance the Charleston, something she's always wanted to do but has never done before.  I will read one chapter from my El Chico novel that I vow to publish in 2013.  If the show turns up a candidate for The X-Factor or American Idol I'll let you know!

TRIP TO OAK HILL FARM

Link to Oak Hill Farm Site

A day trip to Sonoma's Oak Hill Farm was a refreshing experience.  Anne Teller the owner of this beautiful place conducted the tour for a group of thirty locals as a benefit for the town's Overlook Trail.   I visit the Red Barn often to purchase fresh-picked vegetables and flowers but this was my first glimpse of how the produce and flowers are grown....all organic...nothing is brought onto the property to add to the production of the multitude of plants.  See the link to their sight for details about this farm, an example of how one small farm effected the organic, sustainable food movement.

California Condor Enjoying the Breeze

Another joy when living in the Sonoma Valley of the Moon area is observing the many creatures that share life among the grapevines with mere humans like me. I watched the huge bird as he balanced on top of a light pole assuming he was preparing for flight. But for a full five minutes, the enormous creature savored the quiet breeze filtering through its outspread feathery extensions. No flapping, just leaning into the wind. Then, the Vulture allowed his wings to fall into a thermal and soared over the trees and into the valley to look for a snack. What a magnificent sight!

This says it best........The Vulture's flight is easy, graceful, and majestic. A writer who watched one of these gigantic birds thus pictures it: "High in air an aeronaut had launched itself — the California Condor. Not a wing or feather moved, but resting on the wind, like a kite, the great bird, almost if not quite the equal of its Andean cousin, soared in great circles, ever lifted by the wind, and rising higher and higher into the empyrean. Not a motion of the wing could be seen with careful scrutiny through the glass, but every time the bird turned and faced the wind it seemed to bound upward as though lifted by some super human power, then bearing away before it, gathering the force or momentum which shot its air-laden frame higher and higher until it almost disappeared from sight — a living balloon."

                   THE CALIFORNIA VULTURE

Among the crags, in caverns deep,

•   The Vulture rears his brood;

Far reaching is his vision's sweep

•   O'er valley, plain, and wood;

And wheresoe'er the quarry lies,

•   It cannot 'scape his peering eyes.

The traveler, from the plain below,

•   Sees first a speck upon the sky

Then, poised on sweeping wings of woe,

•   A Vulture, Bat-like, passes by.

— C. C. M.

                   

"STORIES FOR EMMA" In Print at Last!

As soon as Emma, my granddaughter, was able to listen, I told her stories about her mom, aunt, grandparents and other family members. Once she could talk, she asked to have them repeated time and time again. The tales my mother told to our family were treasures, but were never written. Realizing the importance of family legends lost,  I began putting words on paper.  This small book is a collection of some of Emma's favorites. The project is ongoing. I am thrilled to have this small book (including some photos) in print. While it's not going to win a Nobel Prize, it will be appreciated by my family and maybe by others who remember the mid 1900's. Perhaps the stories will prompt memories of your family in past times.

 "STORIES FOR EMMA" information and order book here

DOWN, DOWN, DOWN AND UP, UP AND AWAY The last report about my Acoustic Neuroma experience...at least for awhile.... February 23 to April 5, 2011

All day I had a headache so I took a pain pill and rested.  By late afternoon I was bored silly and felt well enough to do something productive.  I put my cell phone in my pocket and ventured downstairs, being careful, to the kitchen.  Surely I was capable of making vegetable stir-fry for dinner.

I lined the veggies, wok, knives and such on the kitchen counter and began washing and chopping.  Like a bolt of lightning the earthquake struck, only it wasn’t an earthquake, just seemed like one.  The room spun around like the Titanic getting ready to go under.  I grabbed the counter.

My next conscious moment, I found myself sprawled on the terrazzo floor.  Someone had hit me over the head with a lead skillet. I tried to move but lost consciousness again, I think, re-hitting my head.  When I regained awareness I knew I was in trouble and had to get help but couldn’t remember how to do that.  “Oh, yes, my cell phone”.  Time after time I tried to move to get up and find it but I was so dizzy it was impossible.  I crawled around hoping to pull up on something and saw my phone across the room on the floor.  After scooting around, I had it in my hand.  “What do you do with a cell phone?”  I couldn’t remember how to use it.  “You must remember how to call for help,” I told myself.  My thoughts became more lucid.  I didn’t think I could get to a door to let 911 responders in so I called Mark, “Get home now.  I’m hurt.”  Then I hung up.  The next thing I knew Mark was rushing me to the local hospital.

That night the emergency room doctors in Sonoma, communicating with UCSF doctors, took care of me, made the pain go away and gave me a series of tests to determine just how much damage the fall caused.  There was a concussion, but not hemorrhaging or permanent injury. 

Over the next few days I continued to have tests and meet with doctors who determined the incident was caused by a low electrolyte and blood sugar issue, maybe.  My family was concerned and angry that I “over-did.”  The twenty-four hour sitters were back. I lived on pain meds and with ice packs around my bruised pumpkin-sized head.  My black eyes were impressive.  There was nothing to do but begin the healing process again and be grateful that the injuries were not life threatening, just painful and scary.

Knowing what I now know, I believe the incident would not have happened had I begun Physical Therapy as soon as I returned home from the surgery.  

 The rest of February and March were blurs. My only outings were to doctors and Physical Therapy.  Merek, my PT who works with brain trauma cases, has taught me methods of using my body and brain that have changed my life. The headaches are much better, my balance good and I am getting better each week.

I am learning to be patient, a real challenge.  The process of healing will take a year or more but 2 months out from surgery I am functioning well enough to walk two miles and can participate in most daily activities.  I am not driving yet so still depend on friends to cart me around.  I limit activities that over-stimulate the brain, like television watching, computer use, reading at length or being in crowds. I have problems with loud ear-ringing and a roaring sound coming from the right ear, really the brain since the right ear nerves are gone. The awful sounds sometimes drown hearing in my functioning left ear.  I have to concentrate on my balance and posture to avoid dizziness and headaches.

I admit this has been a hellacious last month, but it is past. I have made great progress with my health and get rave-reviews from all my doctors.

Now, I plan to stop all the “medical reports” and get back to writing my usual blog comments, working on my novel and marketing my family story book, “Stories for Emma.” 

A VERY GOOD WEEK, February 15 to 22, 2011

February 15 to 22, 2011,  A VERY GOOD WEEK

Oak Tree view from my deck - Home Sweet Home.....

Mark had been going back and forth from Sonoma to San Francisco, acted as night watchman sleeping in a chair, worked all day and somehow prepared the house for my return.  I had slept very little in the hospital and welcomed the familiar feel of my own bed and home. Mark was so exhausted I was afraid he was ill.                

I was not to be alone so friends took turns watching me during the day while working family members stopped-in to check on me.  Cards, notes, calls and food boosted my spirits and amazed me.  I heard from people I had not talked with for years and from others I knew only slightly.  I had never experienced such kindness.

I was scheduled to begin Physical Therapy in two weeks.  Meanwhile, I took walks to build my stamina and did simple exercises to regain balance.  Getting accustomed to hearing with only one ear wasn’t as difficult as I expected.  The main problem was adjusting to the direction of sounds thinking the noise was coming from the left when it was bouncing off surfaces originating on the right.  The headaches were less intense each day and I was doing without pain medication much of the time.

The incision was still covered with bandages.  The area was swollen and sore but the pain not unbearable.  The ear ringing was distracting and the “puffy-head” feeling reminded me I was not back to normal. I had no facial seizures; just a few twitches now and then.  WOW!  This was so awesome.

Nothing Smelled or Tasted Good....

I had no appetite.  Smells were overwhelming and not pleasant.  I could spell a minute amount of cleansing product, perfume or food three rooms away. Everything tasted peculiar, not at all like I remembered.  I still craved a taco and when a friend brought me a Taco Bell bag filled with my favorite fast food I was thrilled, then disappointed.  The only familiar thing about these tacos was the crunch.  Oh well!  I still could afford to loose a few pounds.  

By the weekend, I felt so good I told the “sitters” I no longer needed to be watched over.  I would be careful. I would not go anywhere in the house without my cell phone. I knew falling would not be a good thing!

Garden at De Young Art Museum near UCSF Medical Center

My first check-up with Dr. Parsa and his team was that next Tuesday, February 22, two weeks after the surgery.  Mark drove me into San Francisco, my first day dressed like a regular person.  It was marvelous to see the world and be a part of it once again. I was feeling well, walking straight, sitting tall with only slight headaches.       

The team was thrilled with my progress pronouncing me “the poster child.”  I was told I could do anything I felt like doing, but to take it easy.  When I left UCSF my doctors and assistants were waving and cheering me onward.  I was exhausted, but exhilarated. I would see them in six months.

VALENTINES DAY and life........ February 14, 2011

After the usual sponge bath, it felt great to unsnap and untie the lovely "flour sack print" cotton gown supplied by the hospital, the only type of garment I’d had on for a week.  My mother stared back at me from the bathroom mirror only she was 105 years old; amazing since she died at age 90.  I looked like Yoda as a rock star. My dirty-spiky white hair was going in every direction but camouflaged the bandages located behind my ear from temple to neck.  The doctors take special care these days to leave as much hair as possible to hide incisions.  I noticed even the patients with huge incisions,  brads and staples going every-which-way, had hair. 

I inserted my body into sweats, pulled a floppy hat over my tresses and I was ready to go home, to my bed.  

I opted to walk, no wheel chair, so Mark held on and away we went, down the long hall where I had practiced with the physical therapist earlier.  “Wide wheel base; focus on a stable point; keep posture straight; right foot, left foot.”  We turned right, another long hall. 

“Fast, fast, fast.  Slow, slow, slow.”  “Now put your feet parallel and stand,” the PT had said. I tilted.  “It’s okay, just practice this maneuver.”  “Now, walk steady and count backwards by seven,” he said.  “What?”  “Start with 97.”  “Hummmmm, 97.”  I stopped.  “What comes next?”  After a few attempts with sevens, he settled on 3’s explaining, “This is to show you can’t walk and think at the same time right now.  Your only job when you walk is to focus on walking, nothing else, or you will fall.”

Each step into the real world brought back fleeting memories of the experience.  The gurney rides, the pain, the voices and lights, tubes everywhere, injections into the IV’s, ice packs for my head, pillows fit here and there for comfort, bed up and down, head always elevated, more pain, more meds, a midnight MRI, nurses, housekeepers, getting up, getting down, the screaming lady down the hall, Andrew the amazing Aussie night nurse, doctors, doctors and doctors.

Mark and I continued.  I was “me” leaving  the hospital.  My body shivered and tears filled my eyes.  I began crying, sobbing, as we got on the elevator.  “What’s the matter?  Are you okay?,”  Mark panicked.  I was fine, great, but everything had changed. I came into the hospital on one side of life only to be rebirthed into a new world.  I survived.  It is done.

The ride back to Sonoma was beautiful but I viewed it from “underwater”, head stuffed and floating.  For my homecoming, Mark filled my room with all shapes and sizes of Valentine’s balloons, vases filled with flowers, stuffed animals and a stack of greeting cards.  No floral shop could have looked more “Valentine’s Day.” More tears!  I cried off and on for the next day.  I am grateful, blessed, wondering how to use this gift of new life.