Zwerglipatch March 14, 2011 5:26 p.m.
This simply is a Winter’s Day — a Long Island Winter’s Day. The air is still and chilled. The sky is grey. Today has whisked away.
This is a worried household. A depressed Dad Meyer who is always crying and complaining does not make the most joyous of environments.
Saturday night, René and I watched another entertaining Bollywood film. The name of this film is “De Taali”. It was full of surprises. We showed our two-year-old nephew a few numbers from it yesterday. He was entertained. When the closing credits began during the finale, he knew, right away, the film was done. Wanting to go outside to birdwatch with his binoculars, he and I went outside. There were no birds around to watch. There was not even a single bird flying overhead. Nor were there any squirrels to watch. It was a silent afternoon. Fortunately, Uncle René pretended to be a bird flapping its wings on the bänkli. [“Bänkli” is the Swiss word for “bench”.] We were both entertained by Uncle René’s shenanigans.
As I write this, on this grey day, I hear many birds in Zwerglipatch.
Zwerglipatch March 15, 2011 11:22 a.m.
At the moment, I am alone in Zwerglipatch Cottage. Dad Meyer was taken to the hospital by René and Mom last night at two-thirty. They returned at four-thirty. They went back at nine this morning.
Dad’s catheter was clogged. His pain was excruciating. He needs intravenous antibiotics to cure a bacterial infection in his bladder. He is now receiving a blood transfusion.
René and Mom have just arrived home. At the hospital, Dad is sleeping in the emergency room. He is more lucid and not weeping.
Life, here at Zwerglipatch Cottage, is dramatic. I will never understand certain dramatics — events which are blown out of proportion. Yes, I have had many such moments myself. Yes, I did have a physical reason. Yes, I, myself, have added unneeded fodder to this drama. Can Life be the comedy I wish to live? Do I have the energy for comedy? With reluctance, today I scribe “No” to both questions.
Today, as I was watching the Redpolls and Juncos cavorting out front, I smiled at simplicity.
Simple it is to focus on food and nesting. Birds live their lives each day. They do remember. They do plan — or, do what they must for survival. I should be able to learn from these feathered Friends. I should be able to learn from the Elders around me. Learning is living Happily.
Zwerglipatch March 16, 2011 6:12 a.m.
This day, at the moment quiet, could be traumatic. Dad Meyer has to have surgery to remove blood clots from his bladder. It is hoped his heart is strong enough to withstand this invasive, necessary action.
Last night, a pensive Mom and René came home with this news. They knew, when the Doctor came into the waiting room to talk to them, it would not be good news.
At nine-thirty, we all went to bed. At nine-forty-five, a nurse from the hospital called to say that Dad had been moved out of the emergency room, where he had been all of this time, into a bed in the cardiac section which confused her as Dad’s problem, for her, was with his urinary tract. I shan’t even begin writing about the lack of communication in hospitals. I will write that Dad’s urologist spent hours with him yesterday. Thus far, I hear good reports of the staff at St. Catherine’s Hospital in Smithtown.
It is raining. The sound of the rain accentuates the numbness I feel; the uselessness. We three, Mom, René, and I, agreed we did everything to make Dad happy during these past weeks. He was his own enemy. We hope when he comes home that he will be thankful, comfortable, and the happy self we all know. We hope that soon he will be the proud survivor of a heart attack.
When I went into Mom’s bedroom to tell her that Dad was in a bed and was given painkillers to help him sleep, she said, “Now, I can sleep in peace.” She, like René, never has trouble sleeping. Both are sleeping like logs right now. I shall not disturb their peace.
Thankfully, I, myself, have had eight hours of sleep to help energize me.
Fortunately, one learns to live with barriers. One learns to cope. One learns to appreciate. As I have said, too many times, Life is Learning.