Wednesday, December 22, 2021

The gifts of 2021

This has been a year, and not just because of covid. 

Last spring, Art had a lot of pain in both his legs radiating from his back. He spent several months dependent on a walker or a wheelchair. His neurological surgeon could tell by the path of the pain that he had at least six pinched nerves in his back. Art had a laminectomy, a day surgery, on June 11. We arrived at the hospital at about 10 a.m. and returned home 12 hours later. Already the pain was much diminished.

It was a successful conclusion to a careful process. Art had two pre-surgical consultations. Art’s son Peter, a nurse with orthopedic experience, went to the first conference with us and wrote up a summary of the visit for the rest of the family. Art’s son Jason went to the second consultation. Jason and his wife Kalei and son Kaleb lived on the main floor of our Brier home, and we knew that family would need to be watching out for us after the surgery. We had extra help during the first three post-op days from Art’s sister Mary, Linda’s sister Alyx, and Peter. It is great to have multiple nurses in the family. As it turned out, Art followed Peter’s suggestions more readily than he did his surgeon’s, especially in the area of pain control. 

Between February and June, Linda was the caregiver and cook, the errand runner and shopper and laundry doer. Linda was the one who hauled Art up off the floor after the half dozen times he fell. Linda was the one who ordered a “help” button, who loaded and unloaded the walker or wheelchair every time we went anywhere in the car. It was a long, grueling time, made tougher by pain in Linda’s hip.

Linda had been diagnosed in May with severe degeneration of her right hip. She, too, had two consultations followed by a day surgery on August 20 to replace the worn-out joint. 

By the time of Linda’s surgery, Art was up and about, using mostly a walker as he regained his strength. And Linda had a walker. We rearranged our living area so we had enough room for both walkers to move around. We laughed about our “dueling walkers," but both of us were more than ready to get back to our regular lives.

Now, in December, the wheelchair and both inside walkers are in the storage shed. Art uses a walker or a cane when he goes out; he also rides his e-bike around our Tucson neighborhood most days. Linda uses a cane or trekking poles when she goes out. We know these things take time to heal. Art is way more patient than Linda.

So, here are the gifts of 2021:
  • We have excellent medical care and great surgeons.
  • Our children have all been supportive of our challenges.
  • We lived for six months in our new daylight-basement apartment, and we got to furnish and accessorize it exactly to our taste. When we get home in May, we’ll be making some changes that Linda wants. Art doesn’t care, except he’d like to sit on something more comfortable than a sleeper sofa while he’s watching TV.
  • Linda did major decluttering of boxes in the garage - brought downstairs by Jason’s family when they moved in two years ago, or taking up space for years or decades because “you never know when you’re going to need something”. She gave away or donated nearly 100 items from those boxes, from scarves to kayaking gloves to camping gear.
  • Linda went through several memory boxes. She read the letters her father had written to her grandmother during World War II, then recycled them. She read the letters she had written during college to her mother - mostly saying the same thing: “I’m really busy and behind in my classes; I’m dating this guy; I need some money”. Those letters got recycled as well. She read the letters her mother’s father had written to his wife, back in the 1920s, when he was on the road for work, and then sent them to her oldest cousin. She read the cards and letters from a man she’d loved between her marriages, and her journals from that time. When Linda was finished with all the reading, her heart was full and she was grateful for her life, but more than ready to let go of the past.
  • We got to witness the fine job Jason and Kalei have done with their son Kaleb, our grandson. He was so helpful, taking our recycle stuff to the bin on the curb when neither of us could manage it; bringing us slices of pizza and delivering our mail. For almost every task, Art rewarded Kaleb with beef jerky, and Kaleb laughed each time. Jason and Kalei, too, were patient and loving during the times we needed extra help. Having them living upstairs was an unexpected blessing.
  • Kaleb has a hamster named Ricky, who made so much noise at night that Kaleb kept him in the laundry room. One day Linda saw the hamster and felt sorry for Ricky, so she bought a running wheel for Kaleb to put in the cage. It worked so well that Ricky now lives in Kaleb’s room. Grandma scored!
  • In September, Jason and his family moved to a house nearby with more space, and in October Linda’s son James moved in. He will remodel the upstairs in exchange for rent. It is very good to have our children close by
  • Once back in Tucson, we found an inside handyman and an outside handyman who do the “honey do” things. We have enough money to hire the work done, and Art is willing to let the jobs go.
  • Linda has read to Art nearly every night for the last 25 years, before we turn off the light. We’re grateful that we can download books from our Washington library even when we’re in Arizona.
So, we’re elders now. There are some things we can no longer do. We’re probably finished with ten-mile hikes, and walking miles on cobblestones in old European cities. But we’ve done those things, and remember them. Besides, there are gifts given to elders as well: the ability to listen, to appreciate the things close at hand, to remain calm in the midst of the chaos of the world. 

The gratitude continues.

May your holidays be full of peace.

Thursday, November 18, 2021

A conversation with my Afghan friends. You're invited.

I've been chatting most evenings on Facebook with my Afghan friends. Mostly it's been with Samira, since she's 12 time zones ahead of me (I'm in Arizona, Mountain Standard Time). Samira is still in Pakistan. Because of a few donations from friends, she and her family have moved from a one-room place with a washroom but no kitchen, to a two-room lodging. Her children can play outside now. She is reaching out to make connections elsewhere in hopes of finding a way to leave Pakistan for another, safer country.

Many of us don't know any refugees, so what we learn about their plight these days is just what we read in the paper or online. That was my situation until I spent some time volunteering at a camp in Greece. Now I'm aware of it every day. 

Two friends of mine here in Tucson have offered to host a webinar on Saturday, December 4. Both Nadim and Samira will be joining us, from Germany and Pakistan. I'll be having a conversation with them, basing the topics on my own knowledge of their experiences as well as on questions that are sent to me by people planning to attend the webinar. There will be an opportunity for attendees to post their questions online as well.

The webinar will begin at 10:00 a.m. Mountain Standard time on the 4th. If you are interested in being part of this experience, please send me an email asking for an invitation. My email address is budsmom48@gmail.com. In your email, please include any questions you may have for Nadim or Samira. I'd like to hear from you by Wednesday, November 24.

"We are all in this together, and we are all the same."



Wednesday, November 3, 2021

Update on my Afghan friend Samira

For those of you who have asked for an update:

My friend Samira is still in Pakistan with her husband and three small children. Last week they were living in a one-room place with a washroom but no kitchen. Because she does not feel safe, the family remained indoors.

When I sent out my blog post The Bag Lady has an Afghan Friend, I posted it more widely than usual. Not just to my blog followers and on my Facebook page, but to many people in my email contacts list. It's important to me that people have direct knowledge of a real, actual person experiencing the trauma currently happening in Afghanistan, rather than just reading about it in the paper or hearing it on the radio or TV.

Several people offered financial help. I told them I would let them know if Samira said that was what she needed. Her most pressing concern is the safety of her family. She is sending emails and letters of introduction to colleges and nonprofits and other agencies engaged in resettlement work, hoping for a helping hand to get to the US. So far she hasn't made much progress.

I've told her a story that comes from chaos theory, but it's a good story. There will be 100 rabbits at the starting line of a race. At the finish line is a basket of carrots. We know one of those rabbits is going to get the carrots. But we don't know which one. So we're gathering the rabbits for the race: a retired professor friend of mine who made calls to friends; a doctor with experience working with asylum seekers and refugees; a friend of Samira who has made it to a resettlement center in Albany, New York; another friend still in Afghanistan who knows the name of someone who made it out; a retired woman from the University of Washington Law School. Each of those people represents a rabbit at the starting line. 

Then, three days ago, Samira wrote and told me reluctantly that she needed the money I'd offered, to rent a two-room place with more room for her family, where her children could play outside. I sent an email to the three people who'd offered. Yesterday I went online to Western Union and sent $350 - 60,000 rupees - enough money to pay rent on the larger place for three months. I heard from Western Union this morning that the money had been picked up. And today Samira and her family moved.

The search for rabbits continues. I am hopeful. Out of 100 rabbits, Samira only needs one.

Tuesday, November 2, 2021

Me and the DMV with photo change

It was nearly two years ago that I lost my credit card and driver’s license on a bike ride. I was on my e-bike in Tucson, riding with my friend Ellen, and somewhere along the Loop the documents fell out of my pannier. At least I think that’s what happened. I searched the bike, then the car, then my house. Couldn’t find them anywhere.

I had a lot of autopays on that credit card, so I decided not to cancel it unless something showed up that I hadn’t charged. Then I’d dispute the charge and have the credit card replaced. I wrote the number with a Sharpie on my laptop lid - except for the last four digits - and I have used that credit card for 18 months without incident.

I sent away for a copy of my Washington driver’s license, and it arrived within a week or so. Everything was just like the old one, but there was no photo on it. So I couldn’t use it as a photo ID. For nearly 18 months I carried my passport with me so I’d have proof of who I was. Recently someone reminded me that my photo was also on my Costco card. That would probably have been easier. 

Then, this summer, I decided to get a new driver’s license. I’d read somewhere that if I went into a DMV office I could get a new one, and that they’d use the most recent photo in their system to put on my new license.

I made an appointment for three weeks out - this was Covid time, and staffing was light. So I showed up for my appointment about two weeks after my hip replacement surgery. My husband Art drove me to the place. When my name was called, I went up to the window. The lady said, “I can’t give you a new license today because you’re using a walker. You’ll need to come back when you’re just using a cane. Maybe just a week or so. Come on a Saturday morning - there’s not usually a line and you can get in without an appointment.” I was a little annoyed, but I’m fairly compliant by nature, so I left without complaint.

It was nearly a month before I graduated from a walker to a cane. Then I showed up at the DMV on a Saturday morning. There was a long line for people without appointments. I stood there for about 15 minutes and the line didn’t move. We had another commitment elsewhere, so we left.

The next Saturday I showed up again. Another long line. This time a woman in front of me started yelling and cursing at the DMV line monitor. He called his supervisor who was unsuccessful at getting the woman calmed down. I’m thinking she was homeless with a mental illness of some kind. Most of us in line were watching her, appalled at her behavior. Once she left, the line had grown long and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t get in before the office closed at noon. So, once again, I left. We were due to leave for Tucson in a couple of weeks to spend the winter. I figured I’d just use my passport and Costco card for my picture ID.

When I got home, I decided all of a sudden to see if there were any appointments available at the DMV before November 1, when we were leaving. To my amazement, there was one available that afternoon at 3! A cancellation, I’m sure. I took the appointment and showed up yet again - my fourth trip to the DMV in six weeks.

At the window, the DMV person asked the usual questions and THEN he said, “Okay. Time to take your picture.” I hadn’t expected that, so I hadn’t combed my hair or put on any makeup. Just a T-shirt and a hoodie, with wild curly hair from standing outside in the rain for ten minutes.

I got my driver’s license in the mail the next week. The photo was the best I have ever taken in 55 years of driver’s licenses. 

Go figure! 





Me and the DMV

It was nearly two years ago that I lost my credit card and driver’s license on a bike ride. I was on my e-bike in Tucson, riding with my friend Ellen, and somewhere along the Loop the documents fell out of my pannier. At least I think that’s what happened. I searched the bike, then the car, then my house. Couldn’t find them anywhere.

I had a lot of autopays on that credit card, so I decided not to cancel it unless something showed up that I hadn’t charged. Then I’d dispute the charge and have the credit card replaced. I wrote the number with a Sharpie on my laptop lid - except for the last four digits - and I have used that credit card for 18 months without incident.

I sent away for a copy of my Washington driver’s license, and it arrived within a week or so. Everything was just like the old one, but there was no photo on it. So I couldn’t use it as a photo ID. For nearly 18 months I carried my passport with me so I’d have proof of who I was. Recently someone reminded me that my photo was also on my Costco card. That would probably have been easier. 

Then, this summer, I decided to get a new driver’s license. I’d read somewhere that if I went into a DMV office I could get a new one, and that they’d use the most recent photo in their system to put on my new license.

I made an appointment for three weeks out - this was Covid time, and staffing was light. So I showed up for my appointment about two weeks after my hip replacement surgery. My husband Art drove me to the place. When my name was called, I went up to the window. The lady said, “I can’t give you a new license today because you’re using a walker. You’ll need to come back when you’re just using a cane. Maybe just a week or so. Come on a Saturday morning - there’s not usually a line and you can get in without an appointment.” I was a little annoyed, but I’m fairly compliant by nature, so I left without complaint.

It was nearly a month before I graduated from a walker to a cane. Then I showed up at the DMV on a Saturday morning. There was a long line for people without appointments. I stood there for about 15 minutes and the line didn’t move. We had another commitment elsewhere, so we left.

The next Saturday I showed up again. Another long line. This time a woman in front of me started yelling and cursing at the DMV line monitor. He called his supervisor who was unsuccessful at getting the woman calmed down. I’m thinking she was homeless with a mental illness of some kind. Most of us in line were watching her, appalled at her behavior. Once she left, the line had grown long and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t get in before the office closed at noon. So, once again, I left. We were due to leave for Tucson in a couple of weeks to spend the winter. I figured I’d just use my passport and Costco card for my picture ID.

When I got home, I decided all of a sudden to see if there were any appointments available at the DMV before November 1, when we were leaving. To my amazement, there was one available that afternoon at 3! A cancellation, I’m sure. I took the appointment and showed up yet again - my fourth trip to the DMV in six weeks.

At the window, the DMV person asked the usual questions and THEN he said, “Okay. Time to take your picture.” I hadn’t expected that, so I hadn’t combed my hair or put on any makeup. Just a T-shirt and a hoodie, with wild curly hair from standing outside in the rain for ten minutes.

I got my driver’s license in the mail the next week. The photo was the best I have ever taken in 55 years of driver’s licenses. 

Go figure! 






Monday, October 11, 2021

The Bag Lady has an Afghan friend


In 2016 and 2017 I volunteered at a refugee camp in Oinofyta, Greece.  The majority of the residents were Afghans. There were about 500 people living at first in tents and then in small rooms built within an abandoned chemical plant. Volunteers worked long days with Afghan families. 

I made a few Afghan friends. When they moved on - to Switzerland or Germany or France - or settled in Greece - I kept track of them, mostly through Facebook.  I've also stayed in touch with some of the other volunteers. Most of these people are quite a bit younger than I am, and I like how that connection benefits us all.

I developed a bond with one of the Afghans. Nadim was a scientist in Herat, Afghanistan. His life was suddenly in danger, so he left his city the next night with his wife and four children. They endured the typical hardships of a refugee family and arrived at Oinofyta, where they stayed for over a year. They now live in Germany where they are safe. Nadim has been a good friend to me and has given me wise counsel on multiple occasions. And I have done the same for him. He calls me his American mother. We talk on Facetime every few months. He speaks fluent German now, and I tell him we need to talk more often because he will lose his English otherwise. He speaks Farsi at home and German in his community. He speaks English with me.


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I participate in a Zoom meeting on current events on Wednesday afternoons. Everyone at the meeting lives - or has lived - at the Voyager RV Resort in Tucson, where we spend our winters. Right now we're in Arizona, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, New York and Washington, but most of us will be back in Arizona within a month or so.

Back in August, when the Taliban swept through Afghanistan and the US withdrew in haste, the current events group had its discussion. I told the group about my friend Nadim, and I asked if they would be interested in having him join us for one meeting, so they could ask questions. It would be noon in Arizona and 9 pm in his German village. They were interested. So I asked Nadim if he'd be willing to do that. He said, "Yes, and I will ask my sister also. She is a Ph.D. scholar in Herat and her speciality is political science and diplomacy." I have learned to trust Nadim, so I said okay. He set up a Facebook group for the three of us.


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When I had my first conversation last month with his sister Samira, she was living in Herat. One day she went to the market with her young son and on the way they saw a body hanging from a crane. She sent me a picture. I knew this was happening in Afghanistan, but seeing it in such an immediate way was jarring.

Two nights later Samira told me that she and her family had left Herat in the middle of the night. She'd been an activist and she'd gotten word that the Taliban was searching for her. The family was on the road for several days "in many cars and many buses" and crossed the border into Pakistan. At a hotel that night, they were robbed of all their possessions and their papers. She had made copies of the papers on her phone. She was distraught when she talked to me; she said if she'd known how bad it would be she would have stayed in Afghanistan. Within a couple of days, though, the family arrived in Islamabad and found lodging.

Samira wants to go to Germany or the US to live, where she and her family will be safe.

I spent some time with my friend Mr. Google, looking up the various ways people can be accepted in the United States. Here are the most promising paths for Samira:

  • Employment Second Preference (E2): Professionals Holding Advanced Degrees and Persons of Exceptional Ability. Samira has a Ph.D, and years teaching political science and developing women's programs,  If she is offered a job by a college or university in the US, the school can sponsor her for a visa. I told Samira about this, and when I woke up the next morning she'd sent me a CV and cover letter that knocked my socks off. Finding the school will be a project.

  • Humanitarian Parole You may apply for humanitarian parole if you have a compelling emergency and there is an urgent humanitarian reason or significant public benefit to allowing you to temporarily enter the United States. Anyone can file an application for humanitarian parole. Samira will need a sponsor for this option. You must include a Form I-134, Affidavit of Support, and supporting documentation with each humanitarian parole request. This form serves as evidence of a sponsor who has agreed to provide financial support to the parolee while paroled in the United States. There may be multiple sponsors, the beneficiary may self-sponsor, or an organization may support the parolee by submitting a Form I-134. [U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services]
I told Samira about these possibilities.

Samira is 33. She told me her dream was to be the first female president of Afghanistan by the time she was 40. I think anything is possible.

Today when I gave her the information about humanitarian parole, she said, "You are so kind." I said, "That is probably what the women you have helped say to you. Right?" She said, "Yes."

It amazes me how chains of circumstance link my life to so many others. I continue to believe that we are all in this together, and we are all the same.

Saturday, September 18, 2021

Impatient patient

 I was pretty sure I'd be ahead of the curve in my recovery from hip replacement surgery. I like to go and do and I was eager to get on with my life. For the most part, I was compliant with the instructions of both surgeon and physical therapist.

One thing I wasn't told - or don't remember- was not to get down on the floor for the first four to six weeks. So one evening I put my padded yoga mat on the floor to do a PT exercise called "bridge" - where you bend your knees, tighten your abs and your buttocks, and make a shallow arch with your back. It was easier to do on the floor than on my bed because there was more back support on the floor. When I started to get up - difficult even before hip surgery - something in my hip area complained, kind of like the soft twang of a rubber band. I cried out and Art came over and helped me up. I was pretty scared that I'd dislocated something.

I guess I had a setback in my healing. Using my walker had gotten more comfortable before the floor episode, but afterwards there was more pain when I put weight on my right leg. I'd been able to get the leg into bed on my own, but afterwards I needed Art's help to lift it. And medication didn't seem to help. 

After five days I called the surgeon's office. The person asked me some questions - is your range of motion in PT still good? (Yes). Are you having trouble sleeping at night? (No). Their conclusion was, "Well, you probably aggravated the hip when you got down on the floor.You need to ice more, elevate more, and don't overdo it. Take 650 mg of Tylenol every six hours." I'd hoped they'd say, "Come right in and we'll take x-rays to make sure all is well." But they didn't. Maybe they didn't care about me now that I'd had the surgery. I'd need to wait until my six-week follow-up appointment with the surgeon on October 5 to find out what was going on. Maybe it would be too late by then.

So I iced more and I elevated more and I took the Tylenol. 

I talked to my nurse practitioner in Tucson. She asked where the pain was and I said it was in my groin. She said, "Well, you have spinal stenosis, and you had that groin pain before the hip replacement. Your left knee and back and right hip have compensating mightily for the last couple of years. Your body needs to adjust to this new configuration. Ice and elevate and WALK."

When I got out of bed this morning and went into the bathroom with my walker, for the first 20 steps I had NO PAIN. It's come and gone since then today, but I finally believe I will heal.

Here's what happened to me, as a person in pain who was told to take it easy:

  • I yelled at my husband twice in one day because he didn't bring my ice within five minutes after I asked for it.
  • I spent hours lying on the bed brooding.
  • I persuaded myself that no one cares about me now that I'm not "going and doing".
  • I ate extra - especially graham crackers and peanuts.
  • I drove to the dentist one day, when the only way I could get my right foot from the accelerator to the brake was by lifting my leg with the fabric of my pants. This was after the floor episode; the week before I'd gone to the grocery store with no trouble. Our ortho nurse son Peter, when he heard about it, said, "NO, Linda, you don't drive until you have your six-week appointment with the surgeon." He actually rolled his eyes right in front of me.
  • I gave my husband the silent treatment because we are supposed to be decluttering and he isn't enthusiastic enough about it. I'd go so far as to say he's stonewalling, but it's harder because I can't do much of it myself. I have this idea that we should be done by the time we leave for Tucson on November 1, hip replacement or not.
  • I complained daily about how hard it was to carry anything when I'm using my walker, since it doesn't have a basket or a seat. So I'd use one hand to carry something, like my laptop, and limp along with only one hand on my walker.
I have been a delight.

Actually, as my friend Diane pointed out, I'm seeing the glass half empty for the first time in ages. Usually I'm an optimist. I was grateful that she just described my behavior rather than scolding me for it. And I've had visits from Gail and Marilyn and Pam, friends from my church. Gail has brought food and Marilyn has brought groceries and Pam has brought food. They seem to like me just as well as before. And phone calls from Ellen and Connie. Those are good things.

I'm remembering my pain-free walk this morning and, for right now at least, feeling inklings of hope.