Several months ago, our son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter bought us a bird feeder. It’s quite unique. It is a solid, plastic plate-like base on which stands a column of bird seed. (They chose a bird-seed column shaped like an owl!) Over the top, shielding the entire feeder from rain and unwanted four-legged visitors, is a clear plastic dome. The entire device hangs from a pole embedded in an open area, away from trees or other small animal hideouts.
They placed it beside our front sidewalk, outside a window where I can watch the bird banquet every day. It took the birds a while to find it. A brilliant red cardinal was the first feathered friend to try it out. He must have passed the word around the bird world because soon he was joined by a dove or two, some sparrows, an occasional woodpecker, and other species we cannot yet identify. It’s a delight to watch several birds of different types peacefully eating together.
But trouble was on its way. I began to notice a squirrel, who normally lives in the trees behind our house, wandering around under the bird feeder picking up the food that had fallen to the ground. He was gray with a snow white belly and a very long bushy tail that was constantly in motion, and he was FAT.
Apparently he became dissatisfied with eating leftovers and decided he was entitled to eat at the first table. So this sneaky, selfish four-legged thief began to climb up the near-by shrubs looking for a way to get to the bird feeder itself! And he found it!
It took several unsuccessful tries, and bone-jarring falls, until he found just the right branch of the near-by shrub to leap from. At first leap, he only caught the edge of the bird feeder with his front paws with his hindquarters and tail swinging wildly to and fro below the banquet table! Great was the fall of that would-be thief!
Obviously encouraged by his near-success, he tried again - and reached his goal in a stable position on his back legs! He wasted no time in wrapping his left front paw around the neck of the birdseed owl and grabbing huge handfuls of food with his right front paw, stuffing them into his mouth and reaching for another! Finally, when his mouth could hold no more stolen food, he dropped down to the ground to digest his haul. Later that afternoon, Bruce cut off the branch of the shrub the squirrel had used as a launching pad!
But the very next morning he was back to his thieving ways. As I watched I saw that he had discovered an alternative launching branch. There he was, up in the bird feeder again, almost too fat to fit, greedily stuffing his face with stolen bird food. That afternoon, the bird feeder was moved to a new location farther away from the shrubs!
Next morning, I watched as that persistent four-legged robber learned how to climb up the support post directly into the bird feeder from below! Later that morning Bruce made a special trip to the Wild Birds Unlimited store and returned home with a squirrel-stopper device to attach around the post of the oft-robbed bird banquet site!
This morning I almost felt sorry for that persistently selfish squirrel! That gluttonous, overfed beast had managed somehow to jump or climb to the top of the feeder he had so often robbed. But he was on the outside of the transparent dome over the birdseed and could not reach it! All he could do was look and long for another taste!
Now, if there is a moral to this story, I don’t know what it is. As I sit inside the window limited by my breathing limitations, I have learned a lesson from the antics of this selfish squirrel: No matter how hard you try, how frequently you return to the task, or how creatively you approach the job, there are certain things in life you can’t have!
20 July 2019 - mshr
Monday, July 29, 2019
Saturday, July 20, 2019
The Devil's New Disguise
The devil has been around for a long, long time. Different religious groups picture him differently but the majority consensus is that he is the Supreme Ruler of the powers of evil in our good world. If we take a serious look at our earth, our environment, and our personal and international relationships, we can clearly see that something keeps them all from goodness and perfection. For centuries the devil has usually been blamed for all that goes wrong in human life.
One of the most recent images of this Prince of Darkness is as a human-shaped being, bright red in color, who bears two horns on his head, a long pointed tail trailing behind him, and carrying a pitchfork. But, in the ancient biblical story of Job, a righteous man of the land of Uz, the devil is called Satan and he is part of the heavenly council of God (See Job 1 and 2). He raises doubts in God’s mind by questioning why Job serves God so faithfully. God’s response is to give Satan limited permission to destroy Job’s blessings. After causing Job to lose all his livestock wealth, all his children, and his health, Satan disappears from the story, perhaps to cause evil and suffering in the world in other ways and in other times.
Throughout the Christian scriptures, the devil is consistently portrayed as the power behind evil in the world. He is called The Tempter, the Father of Lies, the Evil One, the Deceiver and other negative and hateful names. But he is never depicted as equal in strength or power with Almighty God.
Throughout history, writers have attempted to describe this evil figure. In the 14th century, Italian poet Dante Alighieri, wrote The Divine Comedy, a lengthy three-part description of “The Inferno” (Hell), “Purgatorio” (Purgatory) and “Paraiso” (Heaven). He describes Satan as an angel, forced out of heaven when he tried to usurp God’s power. He is also known as Lucifer and is frozen in ice in the center of the 9th circle of hell, immobile and silent.
Three centuries later, John Milton, an English poet, wrote a ten-volume poem entitled Paradise Lost. In it he describes Satan (also called Lucifer) as one of several fallen angels who inhabit Pandemonium, the capital city of Hell. It is the illustrations from this work that picture the devil with wings, a tail, and pitchfork. Returning to the earth, he disguises himself as a snake and successfully tempts Eve and Adam to eat of the fruit God had forbidden them to use, thus introducing sin into the world.
So, although the Bible does not give us a detailed picture of the devil, it clearly accepts the reality of the evil he causes. Writers through time, however, have attempted to specifically describe his appearance, his behavior, and his nature.
So, I, too, will offer my image of his new, 21st century disguise. I think that the devil (the Evil One or whatever you choose to call him) has chopped himself up into millions of tiny pieces. He has turned many of those tiny bits into cancer cells (or irritants that cause other serious diseases) and has spread those tiny evil cells around, infecting many of my dear and beloved friends as well as many, many strangers! It seems like every day I hear of another friend or read of someone who has been afflicted by a dreadful disease. So I can only conclude that “the devil is doing it!”
(ADDENDUM: If the devil has any bits of himself left over after making cancer cells, I’m sure he could sell them to the military industries of many countries. They could use them as projectile weapons in a new form of germ warfare!)
20 July 2019 - mshr
One of the most recent images of this Prince of Darkness is as a human-shaped being, bright red in color, who bears two horns on his head, a long pointed tail trailing behind him, and carrying a pitchfork. But, in the ancient biblical story of Job, a righteous man of the land of Uz, the devil is called Satan and he is part of the heavenly council of God (See Job 1 and 2). He raises doubts in God’s mind by questioning why Job serves God so faithfully. God’s response is to give Satan limited permission to destroy Job’s blessings. After causing Job to lose all his livestock wealth, all his children, and his health, Satan disappears from the story, perhaps to cause evil and suffering in the world in other ways and in other times.
Throughout the Christian scriptures, the devil is consistently portrayed as the power behind evil in the world. He is called The Tempter, the Father of Lies, the Evil One, the Deceiver and other negative and hateful names. But he is never depicted as equal in strength or power with Almighty God.
Throughout history, writers have attempted to describe this evil figure. In the 14th century, Italian poet Dante Alighieri, wrote The Divine Comedy, a lengthy three-part description of “The Inferno” (Hell), “Purgatorio” (Purgatory) and “Paraiso” (Heaven). He describes Satan as an angel, forced out of heaven when he tried to usurp God’s power. He is also known as Lucifer and is frozen in ice in the center of the 9th circle of hell, immobile and silent.
Three centuries later, John Milton, an English poet, wrote a ten-volume poem entitled Paradise Lost. In it he describes Satan (also called Lucifer) as one of several fallen angels who inhabit Pandemonium, the capital city of Hell. It is the illustrations from this work that picture the devil with wings, a tail, and pitchfork. Returning to the earth, he disguises himself as a snake and successfully tempts Eve and Adam to eat of the fruit God had forbidden them to use, thus introducing sin into the world.
So, although the Bible does not give us a detailed picture of the devil, it clearly accepts the reality of the evil he causes. Writers through time, however, have attempted to specifically describe his appearance, his behavior, and his nature.
So, I, too, will offer my image of his new, 21st century disguise. I think that the devil (the Evil One or whatever you choose to call him) has chopped himself up into millions of tiny pieces. He has turned many of those tiny bits into cancer cells (or irritants that cause other serious diseases) and has spread those tiny evil cells around, infecting many of my dear and beloved friends as well as many, many strangers! It seems like every day I hear of another friend or read of someone who has been afflicted by a dreadful disease. So I can only conclude that “the devil is doing it!”
(ADDENDUM: If the devil has any bits of himself left over after making cancer cells, I’m sure he could sell them to the military industries of many countries. They could use them as projectile weapons in a new form of germ warfare!)
20 July 2019 - mshr
Thursday, July 18, 2019
Invasion
A powerful force has invaded my life.
His name is Agent O2.
Invisible, weightless, no odor or taste.
He’s a nuisance, but what can I do?
He’s even changed the way I look,
As a glance in the mirror shows.
A long green tube is attached to my face;
Wherever I go, he goes.
He’s taken control of my schedule, too.
Chopped it up into four hour bits.
When his assistants give me treatments or meds.
Oh, how bitter! They give me fits.
He’s also cluttered up my house
With a machine and tanks, big and small,
And a tube that stretches from front to back,
Just waiting to cause a fall!
Yes, Agent O2 - my oxygen booster -
Now controls my every minute.
I don’t like him. But I give thanks for life
And without him, I wouldn’t be in it!
Thursday, June 20, 2019
Conversation Stoppers
My father-in-law never met a stranger. He could turn to an unknown person standing behind him in line and start up a conversation. He could turn to a person he had never met seated beside him in the theater or concert hall and begin visiting like a long-lost friend.
He had an enormous supply of “conversation starters.” He might ask, “Have you lived in this area long?” or observe “Your hands look like they’ve seen some hard work over the years” or “Your accent reminds me of New York. Have you ever lived there?” His “conversation starters” always conveyed his personal interest and curiosity about the unknown person. Such an approach never failed to get the stranger talking about himself or herself like a new friend.
I admired my father-in-law’s ability to quickly and gently break through social barriers with his “conversation starters.” But I wish I could consult with him about some problems I am currently having with “conversation stoppers”.
In my present state of declining health, I am discovering that common phrases I used to take for granted are becoming “conversation stoppers.” That is, phrases such as “How are you?” temporarily stops conversation as I consider whether I should answer truthfully or kindly. Does my friend really care enough to listen for 20 minutes to my description of my most recent breathing challenges and weakness? Or should I be kinder to their limits of concern and time schedule and just answer “I’m OK.”
“Surely you’ll get better soon,” is another of those “conversation stopper” phrases. How should I respond? Should I answer honestly? “Excuse me. You don’t seem to understand my situation. I’m not going to get better. I am going to slowly and steadily get worse until I die!” It is far kinder to say, “Thank you. I hope so, too!” Since I don’t like to upset friends or other people, that is my usual comeback.
Another “conversation stopper” I’ve had to deal with several times is the stranger who approaches me in a public place and asks,”May I pray for you?” I am not used to being prayed for in public. On the other hand, I am deeply grateful for prayer support from my many friends, so innocently I’ve said “Yes.” What has followed several times is a lengthy prayer spoken aloud in a commanding voice instructing God exactly what God is to do for me!
Now don’t misunderstand me, friends. I believe in God and I believe in the power of prayer. I even believe in God’s healing power, but I also believe that acceptance of God’s love - even in an unwanted form - is more important than demanding God to perform a miracle! I must confess that these events embarrassed me. After a quick and quiet “Thank you” I went looking for some private place where I could offer my apologies to God!
“Conversation stoppers” continue to pop up from time to time. I have not yet figured out what to do with them. Do you have any suggestions?
He had an enormous supply of “conversation starters.” He might ask, “Have you lived in this area long?” or observe “Your hands look like they’ve seen some hard work over the years” or “Your accent reminds me of New York. Have you ever lived there?” His “conversation starters” always conveyed his personal interest and curiosity about the unknown person. Such an approach never failed to get the stranger talking about himself or herself like a new friend.
I admired my father-in-law’s ability to quickly and gently break through social barriers with his “conversation starters.” But I wish I could consult with him about some problems I am currently having with “conversation stoppers”.
In my present state of declining health, I am discovering that common phrases I used to take for granted are becoming “conversation stoppers.” That is, phrases such as “How are you?” temporarily stops conversation as I consider whether I should answer truthfully or kindly. Does my friend really care enough to listen for 20 minutes to my description of my most recent breathing challenges and weakness? Or should I be kinder to their limits of concern and time schedule and just answer “I’m OK.”
“Surely you’ll get better soon,” is another of those “conversation stopper” phrases. How should I respond? Should I answer honestly? “Excuse me. You don’t seem to understand my situation. I’m not going to get better. I am going to slowly and steadily get worse until I die!” It is far kinder to say, “Thank you. I hope so, too!” Since I don’t like to upset friends or other people, that is my usual comeback.
Another “conversation stopper” I’ve had to deal with several times is the stranger who approaches me in a public place and asks,”May I pray for you?” I am not used to being prayed for in public. On the other hand, I am deeply grateful for prayer support from my many friends, so innocently I’ve said “Yes.” What has followed several times is a lengthy prayer spoken aloud in a commanding voice instructing God exactly what God is to do for me!
Now don’t misunderstand me, friends. I believe in God and I believe in the power of prayer. I even believe in God’s healing power, but I also believe that acceptance of God’s love - even in an unwanted form - is more important than demanding God to perform a miracle! I must confess that these events embarrassed me. After a quick and quiet “Thank you” I went looking for some private place where I could offer my apologies to God!
“Conversation stoppers” continue to pop up from time to time. I have not yet figured out what to do with them. Do you have any suggestions?
Thursday, June 6, 2019
I Know You!
On May 14, 2019 I was an outpatient at Mount Carmel St Ann’s Hospital in Westerville, Ohio for the surgical placement of a pacemaker. A friend had taken me to the hospital with a 7:30 am arrival for a 9:30 am procedure. After I was prepared for the procedure staff called my friend to sit with me until I would be taken for the surgery.
Following the placement of the pacemaker I returned to the same room as before for a time of recovery and observation. The nursing staff allowed my friend to spend some additional time with me before he needed to leave for an appointment. But they told him that I would be ready to meet him if he would be at the main entrance of the hospital at 3:30 pm.
I rested comfortably for those several hours and even enjoyed some tasty food and at least one nap. I remember looking at the clock at 3:00 pm and thinking that I was still in a hospital gown and had an IV in my arm. I began to wonder whether it would be possible to get dressed, go through all the discharge routines and still be at the main entrance by 3:30 pm. So I pressed the nurse call button.
The call was answered by somebody whom I had not seen previously that day, but she explained that my nurse was helping somebody else. Was there anything she could do for me. I explained about the 3:30 promise and asked about getting dressed and the discharge, but she said wait another ten minutes.
Then, she looked closely at me and said, “I know you!” Quite honestly, I did not recognize her, but I told her all the units of the hospital where I had been in the last month related to my diagnosis and heart valve surgery and recovery.
No, she said, she had not been working any of those areas.
Well, I said, I had an aortic valve replaced in 2015.
“Yes,” she said, “I was working on One East at that time. I was on night shift the first night you were in the step-down unit and I was watching the monitors in the nurses station when you flat-lined.
I went running to your room and by the time I had gotten there you had come around all by yourself. Normally we need to do chest massage, but you revived all by yourself.”
She went on to tell how she called my wife with the update and how they transferred me back to the ICU for additional observation.
I had to acknowledge to myself that even though she recognized me after three and a half years, I did not recognize her. I thanked her profusely for recognizing me and for retelling that story.
Following the placement of the pacemaker I returned to the same room as before for a time of recovery and observation. The nursing staff allowed my friend to spend some additional time with me before he needed to leave for an appointment. But they told him that I would be ready to meet him if he would be at the main entrance of the hospital at 3:30 pm.
I rested comfortably for those several hours and even enjoyed some tasty food and at least one nap. I remember looking at the clock at 3:00 pm and thinking that I was still in a hospital gown and had an IV in my arm. I began to wonder whether it would be possible to get dressed, go through all the discharge routines and still be at the main entrance by 3:30 pm. So I pressed the nurse call button.
The call was answered by somebody whom I had not seen previously that day, but she explained that my nurse was helping somebody else. Was there anything she could do for me. I explained about the 3:30 promise and asked about getting dressed and the discharge, but she said wait another ten minutes.
Then, she looked closely at me and said, “I know you!” Quite honestly, I did not recognize her, but I told her all the units of the hospital where I had been in the last month related to my diagnosis and heart valve surgery and recovery.
No, she said, she had not been working any of those areas.
Well, I said, I had an aortic valve replaced in 2015.
“Yes,” she said, “I was working on One East at that time. I was on night shift the first night you were in the step-down unit and I was watching the monitors in the nurses station when you flat-lined.
I went running to your room and by the time I had gotten there you had come around all by yourself. Normally we need to do chest massage, but you revived all by yourself.”
She went on to tell how she called my wife with the update and how they transferred me back to the ICU for additional observation.
I had to acknowledge to myself that even though she recognized me after three and a half years, I did not recognize her. I thanked her profusely for recognizing me and for retelling that story.
Wednesday, June 5, 2019
The Poverty Puzzle
My declining health has put us in a new and unfamiliar situation. For the first time in our lives we are having to hire household help. Our employed caregivers are only in our home for five hours each day because most of the time we can manage on our own, But it’s been a learning experience for us in many ways.
Our caregivers are women, in their early 20’s or middle aged, and almost all of them are west African immigrants. Some came to the States as children and others are more recent arrivals. Quite a few are preparing for, or currently enrolled in, higher education, especially in nursing or social work.
They’ve given us a different outlook on the problems of poverty. Listening to their stories, we learn how difficult it is for a single mother to raise four children by herself on minimum wage; the life-long effects of a chaotic childhood; the dire results of disasterous marriages and unexpected pregnancies; the stresses of being profiled by police; the struggle to find the money to pay off a traffic ticket or to save for college; the trick to saving your job when your car has been totaled! It’s the “personal and underside” of poverty that we are not used to seeing or hearing about.
It reminds me of a jigsaw puzzle my sister once had. It was circle-shaped and on the top side showed a lovely nature picture of flowers and trees. That same picture appeared on the back side of the puzzle, too, but at a 90 degree angle from the front! So maintaining the proper perspective was essential to working out the puzzle.
Most of us who are fairly comfortable financially spend our time looking at the top of the poverty puzzle. We probably agree with my nephew’s analysis when he was working with a home repair ministry in a poor section of a big city. “The problem with poor people,” he would say,”is that they have no money!” So, staring at the top side of the poverty puzzle, we decide the solution is that the poor should “get a job”, “stop buying alcohol and junk food”, “go to college and get a better education”, “stop having so many children”, and on and on with shallow advice.
However, there is another side to the problem of poverty: the underside of the puzzle where the angles of reality’s picture run differently than on the top side. The poor are more familiar with this view where a dark skin is the same as a black mark; where prejudices and unwritten rules limit all available opportunities; where, despite many laws, housing, education, health care, and voting rights are limited. The picture is not as pretty on the underside because it is in black and white. White is considered normal and black is out of place.
One of the major differences between these two worlds is in what each values. The economy of the wealthy on the top side of the puzzle counts value only in dollars and cents, Anything that cannot be measured in dollar signs is not considered valuable. Only money counts.
But the underside of the puzzle, the world of the poor, considers value in a different way. There, compassion, community, and cooperation are as important as dollars and cents. Caring for one another, working together, and forming supportive networks is a kind of wealth they understand. This is the currency that has enabled the poor to survive when money is scarce or absent.
I asked one of our hired helpers why so many of them from west Africa were attracted to such caregiving work. She replied,” That’s what we do in our home country. We take care of our sick or aged family members in our homes.” Community, compassion, and cooperation at work.
Sometimes this type of currency is forged into crime, violence or intoxicants because it, too, can be contaminated with the worship of money. This economy of three Cs is mostly ignored by those caught up in the dollars and cents value system.
However, community, compassion and cooperation is a currency practiced worldwide wherever money is scarce. People learn to care for others, especially family and neighbors. They work together to solve problems and form communities from which any can draw help when needed. Could it solve the poverty puzzle if we all could learn to value both systems?
Our caregivers are women, in their early 20’s or middle aged, and almost all of them are west African immigrants. Some came to the States as children and others are more recent arrivals. Quite a few are preparing for, or currently enrolled in, higher education, especially in nursing or social work.
They’ve given us a different outlook on the problems of poverty. Listening to their stories, we learn how difficult it is for a single mother to raise four children by herself on minimum wage; the life-long effects of a chaotic childhood; the dire results of disasterous marriages and unexpected pregnancies; the stresses of being profiled by police; the struggle to find the money to pay off a traffic ticket or to save for college; the trick to saving your job when your car has been totaled! It’s the “personal and underside” of poverty that we are not used to seeing or hearing about.
It reminds me of a jigsaw puzzle my sister once had. It was circle-shaped and on the top side showed a lovely nature picture of flowers and trees. That same picture appeared on the back side of the puzzle, too, but at a 90 degree angle from the front! So maintaining the proper perspective was essential to working out the puzzle.
Most of us who are fairly comfortable financially spend our time looking at the top of the poverty puzzle. We probably agree with my nephew’s analysis when he was working with a home repair ministry in a poor section of a big city. “The problem with poor people,” he would say,”is that they have no money!” So, staring at the top side of the poverty puzzle, we decide the solution is that the poor should “get a job”, “stop buying alcohol and junk food”, “go to college and get a better education”, “stop having so many children”, and on and on with shallow advice.
However, there is another side to the problem of poverty: the underside of the puzzle where the angles of reality’s picture run differently than on the top side. The poor are more familiar with this view where a dark skin is the same as a black mark; where prejudices and unwritten rules limit all available opportunities; where, despite many laws, housing, education, health care, and voting rights are limited. The picture is not as pretty on the underside because it is in black and white. White is considered normal and black is out of place.
One of the major differences between these two worlds is in what each values. The economy of the wealthy on the top side of the puzzle counts value only in dollars and cents, Anything that cannot be measured in dollar signs is not considered valuable. Only money counts.
But the underside of the puzzle, the world of the poor, considers value in a different way. There, compassion, community, and cooperation are as important as dollars and cents. Caring for one another, working together, and forming supportive networks is a kind of wealth they understand. This is the currency that has enabled the poor to survive when money is scarce or absent.
I asked one of our hired helpers why so many of them from west Africa were attracted to such caregiving work. She replied,” That’s what we do in our home country. We take care of our sick or aged family members in our homes.” Community, compassion, and cooperation at work.
Sometimes this type of currency is forged into crime, violence or intoxicants because it, too, can be contaminated with the worship of money. This economy of three Cs is mostly ignored by those caught up in the dollars and cents value system.
However, community, compassion and cooperation is a currency practiced worldwide wherever money is scarce. People learn to care for others, especially family and neighbors. They work together to solve problems and form communities from which any can draw help when needed. Could it solve the poverty puzzle if we all could learn to value both systems?
Monday, May 27, 2019
Playing the Numbers
One of the social sins that can impoverish us ethically and financially is gambling. “Playing the numbers” is something that I have never wanted to try, By nature I am a “penny pincher” so I cannot even imagine taking chances with money. I agree with a friend who used to say, “I’ve been blessed financially. I’ve had enough money to buy everything I needed and some of the things I’ve wanted. But I’ve never had enough money to risk throwing it away!”
But I am discovering that there are non-monetary ways of “playing the numbers” and I have little choice but to play. My aging and scarred lungs cannot take in as much oxygen as my body requires. So I have to give them supplemental oxygen constantly in order for my body to function.
I wear a little`device around my neck - an oximeter - that tells me numerically whether my body is getting enough oxygen. At 90% or more, I’m at a functional level. If the reading is in the 80s or 70s, my body is getting “oxygen hungry” and needs a boost. I can usually tell by the way my body feels but sometimes a spell of “oxygen starvation” can come on quickly. Then I have to check the oximeter reading to make sure what is going on! So even though I’ve never wanted to gamble, life and declining health are forcing me to “play the numbers” frequently!
Several weeks ago a friend and a hired helper took me to an appointment at my lung doctor’s office while Bruce was recuperating from his heart surgery in the hospital. The doctor’s staff always invites me to use their oxygen tank to save use on my own tank. We were talking together paying no attention to the oxygen tank when suddenly I began to rapidly get very short of breath. My oximeter reported low 70s. I was in trouble!
I glanced at the oxygen tank I was connected to -- and it was empty! The staff quickly got me connected back to my own tank and I could breathe again. What a relief!
We headed home from the doctor’s office and I got out of the car to walk into the house - but could not even stand up. My own tank of oxygen had run empty and my number was at 55%! I was in big trouble! I was losing consciousness as they quickly got me into the wheelchair we were wise enough to take along. I don’t know how they got me into the house and re-connected to my oxygen concentrator, but they did it somehow! (The concentrator is a machine that converts room air into oxygen and so provides a constant supply.)
It took several hours to recover from that event but it did teach me to check more often to see how much oxygen there is left in a tank!
We’ve learned a lot in the past 18 months about the use and care of a supplemental oxygen system. But, even so, it still often feels like a gamble, a game of chance. I’m “playing the numbers” to survive. But perhaps that is the penance I must do for passing judgment on other people’s sins!
But I am discovering that there are non-monetary ways of “playing the numbers” and I have little choice but to play. My aging and scarred lungs cannot take in as much oxygen as my body requires. So I have to give them supplemental oxygen constantly in order for my body to function.
I wear a little`device around my neck - an oximeter - that tells me numerically whether my body is getting enough oxygen. At 90% or more, I’m at a functional level. If the reading is in the 80s or 70s, my body is getting “oxygen hungry” and needs a boost. I can usually tell by the way my body feels but sometimes a spell of “oxygen starvation” can come on quickly. Then I have to check the oximeter reading to make sure what is going on! So even though I’ve never wanted to gamble, life and declining health are forcing me to “play the numbers” frequently!
Several weeks ago a friend and a hired helper took me to an appointment at my lung doctor’s office while Bruce was recuperating from his heart surgery in the hospital. The doctor’s staff always invites me to use their oxygen tank to save use on my own tank. We were talking together paying no attention to the oxygen tank when suddenly I began to rapidly get very short of breath. My oximeter reported low 70s. I was in trouble!
I glanced at the oxygen tank I was connected to -- and it was empty! The staff quickly got me connected back to my own tank and I could breathe again. What a relief!
We headed home from the doctor’s office and I got out of the car to walk into the house - but could not even stand up. My own tank of oxygen had run empty and my number was at 55%! I was in big trouble! I was losing consciousness as they quickly got me into the wheelchair we were wise enough to take along. I don’t know how they got me into the house and re-connected to my oxygen concentrator, but they did it somehow! (The concentrator is a machine that converts room air into oxygen and so provides a constant supply.)
It took several hours to recover from that event but it did teach me to check more often to see how much oxygen there is left in a tank!
We’ve learned a lot in the past 18 months about the use and care of a supplemental oxygen system. But, even so, it still often feels like a gamble, a game of chance. I’m “playing the numbers” to survive. But perhaps that is the penance I must do for passing judgment on other people’s sins!
MarySue Helstern Rosenberger
27 May 2019
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