A Trio Of Beetle Boxes

Some people call them scarabs but to me they are just lucky beetles.

Baby Blanket

Here is the baby blanket I knitted for my new nephew Matthew Patrick. I like the colors and its imperfections.

Bluebirds of Happiness

Hospital Chronicles, Part 10 - Family At Last!

Sunday morning, Sparky came in to visit me on his way to pick up my sister and mother from the airport. When he came in, he asked me if I noticed anything different about him. ‘Um, you shaved?” I guessed. Nope. He was no longer wearing a mask, which meant that tuberculosis was finally ruled out. So the two options were now either lung cancer or a fungal infection. We were getting closer to a diagnosis anyway, so that seemed positive even though both choices sucked. But now my sister and mom wouldn’t have to wear a mask when they visited me, and Sparky promised to bring Bee by tonight so that I could finally see her again! Of course she wouldn’t be allowed up to my room, but I could go downstairs to the waiting room and visit with her there and I wouldn’t have to wear a mask and freak her out. Sunday was shaping up to be a good thing. Except for one thing. 

A good friend of ours, our “go-to” person for all things Bee had gone bad. Somehow this episode at County-USC just didn’t register for her. In the suddenness of it all, Sparky had been calling everyone we know to find someone to watch Bee for a few hours so he could visit me in the Contagion Room. The painful part of it all was that she would have been insulted, hurt even, if we hadn’t asked for her help. And who knows what turmoil lurks in the chambers of the human heart? It was never explained, but after four days of saying “nope, too busy, can’t do it”, Sparky gave up on her, and she on us. Many have said that tragedy and emergencies bring a real focus to family and friends, but this was  the most unexpected turn possible. And despite the generally happy ending to this medical tragic-comedy, that multi-year friendship is nothing but a burnt bridge now. It was even more unexpected than the host of potentially life ending diseases that I was being probed for, and was nearly as painful. And through it all this so called “friend” never even asked how I was doing, or communicated directly with me. I was a bystander in the towers of County-USC, and it was a very lonely place to be. For all I know, she may think I’m still there. Because of this situation it has taken me forever to continue on with my hospital chronicles because I have been in full avoidance mode. But I now fully accept it, it is what it is, and was what it was, C’est la vie.

My very good friend Ali who was in France during my hospitalization was there for me despite the distance. She contacted her parents who contacted me and offered their help. And on that Sunday, despite it all, things were looking up for the Misers. I had to have a pap smear done  in order to rule out cervical cancer, but that should be no big deal. And soon my family would be in my hospital room with me. My mom and sister were going to be staying with Ali’s parents, who very graciously offered their guest room to them for a night or two. And then they would be at Ali’s spare apartment which was being cleaned. The generosity of my friends was pretty awesome, and I’m forever thankful to them for being so sweet to my family. Ali’s mom told me that it was no big deal, that it was what friends and neighbors did for one another in times of trouble. 

Sparky left to pick up my mom and Kiki, and I was taken across the hall to have my pap done. It did not go very well. The doctor who was doing it hadn’t done one in a while and was having problems. She had to call another doctor in to help her, and they finally managed to get some of my cells. I then went back to my room and waited for my visitors. 

They finally showed up and I was very happy to see them, I think we all cried a little. I don’t really remember what we talked about, but it was good to have them there. I was served my dinner and my mom made me eat every single thing on my plate because she thought I was too skinny. And then Sparky called me to let me know that he and Bee were downstairs. 

I put on some pants under my hospital gown, hid my IV line under a sweater, and the three of us headed down. Bee seemed a bit disheveled, as though her hair hadn’t been properly brushed for a week, and she had a bit of a glazed look in her eyes. She was as happy to see me as I was to see her. Her voice seemed really high to me and I could tell that she was overtired and needed both a bath and some sleep. But it was so good to finally see her again. Seven o’clock came too soon, and everyone was asked to leave and I hugged and kissed them all and went back upstairs to my little hospital room. I felt both happy and depressed. I dearly wanted out of there, back into my old life. It was hard to get use to this new life in this hospital, and I was afraid of what was going to happen next. But tomorrow I would see my family again so it was not all bad. I took my valium and read my self to sleep. 

(to be continued...)   

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Kindergarten Baby Anxieties

Bee started kindergarten just this Monday. I have very mixed feelings about this as it was not an easy task picking out a school for her. Sparky and I both thought long and hard about it, but ended up choosing her charter school based on the fact that it started one week later than the others (more summer for us) and it starts at 7:50 a.m. vs. 7:45 a.m. To a little girl who loves to sleep and is not much of a morning person, five extra minutes in the morning are huge.

The other things I like about her new school is that besides having an ambitious academic program (she has homework everyday, even on the weekends) the emphasis is on dance. Which seems like the perfect thing for a little five year old. Each day, after the rigors of learning math and reading skills, the children get to exercise and move around and dance. It just seems like a good, healthy thing for them to do each day. So that is definitely a plus. Also, they are required to wear uniforms. Sparky and I like uniforms. In fact, I would wear one myself if I could. But since I’m not in a profession that requires one, it seems kind of weird. 

We plan on being very involved in her schooling, which I think is important; the parents at her new school must volunteer for at least 15 hours a year. The parents all seem enthusiastic, the teachers are nice, and the principal is very friendly and knows all the kids by name. My misgivings, though, come from a campus that is all asphalt and concrete. There’s no grass, and the few trees are trapped in planters and look sad.  In short, it’s very much of an inner city type of place, and seems particularly wrong in verdant Echo Park. The kindergarten shares this campus with another separate elementary school that has been around forever. They have tried to beautify the grounds with large pots full of plants, and maybe when these plants get bigger and fill out the place will look nicer. 

But aesthetics seem like they should be a minor thing. We wanted to send our Bee to a school in our neighborhood, and not ship her off to some fancy private school that we couldn’t afford. What we hope for is that she gets a good education, and that she’s as happy and well adjusted as can be as she begins her school journey that will last for the next seventeen to twenty years. (The twenty years would depend upon whether or not she goes to grad school. Although I don’t think you need a degree to be a fairy, and I know you don’t need one to be a rock and roll singer, so the twenty years of schooling could be a moot point.) And if it really blows there we can always enroll her somewhere else for first grade. In the grand scheme of things as Sparky says, “It’s just kindergarten.”

Squirrely McNutty

Last week was something of a bittersweet time for the Misers. Shortly after learning about Piano Man's demise, Sparky discovered a baby squirrel lying on our patio in the backyard. At first he thought that our cat Lila had caught it and that the poor thing was on its last little legs. His first thought was to put it out of its misery. Bee was screaming because she thought it was a dead rat and I didn't even want to look at it because I thought it would be broken and bloody. But when Sparky poked at it the little squirrel moved a bit and curled up into a teeny ball. I then looked at the baby and saw that it was breathing and seemingly whole. We decided that it had most likely fallen out of the tree and Sparky guessed that a Red-tailed hawk had gotten its mother which caused this little guy to fall out of its nest. We also decided that he was a boy and put him in a box lined with an old cotton t-shirt. I looked up what to do on the inter web, and after comparing baby squirrel pictures we decided that he must be about four and a half weeks old. He was tiny and very cute and we very much wanted this little guy to live. We named him Squirrely McNutty, and Bee placed a little knitted red heart in the box with him to keep him company. 

Sparky then called our local veterinarians who told us to bring him in. This vet office had recently changed ownership and were now open until 10:00 p.m. weeknights. They also happened to have a wildlife expert on hand, so it seemed like serendipity. The woman at the front desk cooed over the baby when she saw him and asked his name. She then took Squirrely McNutty to the back to be examined by the expert. She asked us what we wanted to do with him, if we wanted to take care of him ourselves or if we wanted to hand him over to them. I told her we wanted to do what was best for Squirrely McNutty. But then Sparky chimed in that he thought that we should care for him ourselves, and that it would be a good learning experience for Bee. The vet wanted to keep him for a bit to give him some nutrients and some badly needed fluids, so we were told to come back later that night to pick him up and to get instructions for feeding him.

When we got home, I received a phone call from the vet's receptionist telling me I needed to get some kitten formula for Squirrely McNutty - and she told me that he would need to eat every three to four hours for a couple of weeks or so until he was able to hold solid foods in his little paws. Wow. I realized that we were probably not be the best people for this job after all, especially since Bee starts kindergarten this week. I told her that I wanted to release Squirrely McNutty to them since I knew that they were better able to care for him. Their plan was to nurture him for a few days and them turn him over to a squirrel sanctuary where there would be other orphaned squirrels for him to play with.  She told me that he had opened his eyes and wrapped his little paw around her finger. She was completely smitten with him and I knew that Squirrely McNutty was going to a-okay. Bee cried when I told her that Squirrely McNutty wasn't going to come home with us after all. Sparky and I feel a bit sad as well but we are happy that Squirrely McNutty will live and that we saved his little furry life.

We are hoping that his eventual recovery will lead to a release ... in our wildlife sanctuary, our backyard!

Piano Man

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