Monday, July 28, 2008

Some personal TMI

It's been a rough time for my folks. Dad went home with a pacemaker. Still having trouble getting around. Mom had a bad reaction to this injection she got to help cope with osteoporosis. Saturday I took Dad to dialysis at 5:30 then went with Mom to the hospital to find out what was wrong. Rest of the day was tending to various things with my good ol' parents.

Didn't head back to my place till that evening, wiped out. Sorry I was MIA.

I know my folks want to keep their independence but there are things happening that are limiting their capabilities. It's what happens when you get older. Everyone goes through it unless a toilet seat from the the Mir space station comes careening out of the sky to hit you on the head.

We need a better plan though to give my folks the best quality in their senior years.

My folks, dad in particular, are stubborn. He has trouble walking on his own, even fell walking out of a restaurant a week ago. Yet he refuses some ideas that may help him in small ways.

So that's what I have been up to lately. I know this, I will have a plan for my elder days.

I knew someone a while back who disparaged old folks for, well, being old. Yeah, it's inconvenient when they need help or misplace their cane. And maybe I am too attached at the hip to them. But I fix things. It's what I am good at...

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Flame and Bone

When I was made from fire
Poured into the tender vessel of caution
That keeps my smoke from rising
Quickly did I discover that apart from crisp drizzles or falling snow
The world chilled my touched
Walking the narrow cornered gap between girders and cut stone
One learns to tuck his shoulders in or risk
Jostling a neighbor passing by rapt with want
For a clear path without the distraction
Of another man's boiling eyes
The tip of a finger
That oldest of all weapons
Grown deadlier and pristine in its invention
Gathers a mote of a cinder on its bare flesh
And turns pondering how best to scratch the impious itch
Prying open the tender seam
Where the oil of thought dews
Offering a new wick to ignite
Squirming alive as a salamander of mischief
That yearns for a taste of air it is so ready to devour
The steam of breath betrays me
Before the glint of orange spreads
In popping bright waves
Eroding the fibers feeding it
Leaving naught but ash
As my shell of quietude falls away