No Surgery

My second day alone here at the cabin. Feasting on apricots from our sole fruit tree and the eggs (free range organic). I also found some tilapia fillets in the freezer which made a fine dinner. The dogs had some too.

The Loma Linda Surgeon didn't recommend surgery. Just too risky at the current time.  Looks like we'll try like hell to find a decent pain management specialist for Joni. Joni is relieved.

There is a fire up in Shasta which has made the sky all weird and orange colored. I took the dogs for two hikes today. On the second one the sky was just all bizarre and I had the strange premonition that we were being watched. Angel stayed close to me the entire walk. Our new dog, Little One, kept running off, excitedly sniffing, trying to find whatever seemed to be stalking us. Even Abbey was excitable, but she listens to voice commands well and stuck around. What was out there? Nothing? A Raccoon? Skunk? A mountain lion? A bear?

There has been a bear active on the ridge. One of our neighbor's storage sheds has had a bear visiting it nightly. Turns out he stores his garbage in there. We haul our garbage out weekly and keep it locked up in a shed. No ursine visitors at our place yet.

Joni is home tomorrow. Then I am off to spend another week in Napa starting on Saturday. I look forward to taking the entire month of August off. Should I do this trip? I'm not in shape. I don't spend enough time with Joni. There is a ton of work to be done on this mud hut. Yet, is there a better way to get in shape? And I'm not getting any younger. And I haven't been on the trail in oh so very long. Decisions.

Status...

Drove across California late last night. I got up and got the dogs out of a kennel where they were boarding for a couple of days. Joni is in Los Angeles, undergoing tests and meeting with surgeons. I'm writing this in an empty cabin---and I think this is the first time I've been alone here in a long, long time. The girls are in Georgia visiting with one of Joni's brothers.

The only food I've got in this house is a carton of eggs and about 1,000 apricots. Our tree was bountiful this year. This diet seems fine to me: no need to go to the store. In fact, this should hold me over just fine until Joni comes home on Friday.

I took the dogs out on a hike in the 104 degree heat this afternoon. Dogs panting; me sweating. The dogs were overjoyed at the reunion after having been kennelized for the past three days. I didn't take the dogs down the canyon as there was somebody shooting in that vicinity. It's bone dry and somebody decides that shooting a hot weapon on a 104 degree day is a smart thing to do. Not a good thing to do in wildfire season.

As I look out the window, I think I can see smoke from a fire across the valley.

Hot

Well, things are on hold. I don't know if I will be able to make this hike this summer. As such, I haven't really been training. I take the dogs down the canyon when I'm home, but mostly I've been working extra, paying for airline tickets for Joni and the girls and generally trying to keep our heads above water.

On Monday, Joni flies to Los Angeles to meet with a surgeon. She is investigating whether surgery will restore some increased function to her legs. If she has the surgery, I probably won't be doing a hike this summer.

Summer

"In the end, for all our differences and conflicts, most women and men share the same food, work, shelter, bed, life, joy, anguish, and fate. We Need each other." Ed Abbey

And so it is Summer. And Joni and I don't have the girls for the next two months. Generally, we've spent most of our time sleeping, taking naps and then going to bed. It is quiet. We take walks together. Our newest dog, Little One, managed to find and kill another skunk on our walk last evening.

I spent the day today building a new dog run in the yard. (Get that smelly dog outside!)

We are using this childless time to make some weighty decisions. Joni's back has deteriorated over the last couple of years. She was able to manage much of her pain with an opiate but then she started developing cardiac problems from this drug. We've tried many other pain medications--done almost everything, but her pain, and level of functioning, continues to worsen. We are using this time to talk with surgeons to see if Joni might be helped by going under the knife. We met with one surgeon yesterday, only to find out that he can't do that particular sugery in northern Calilfornia.  Unfortunately, with our insurance, the only place Joni can have this complicated of a surgery is in two hospitals in Los Angeles. Joni will have to fly down there for those appointments.

We are doing the research and weighing the pros and cons. We are talking to all the utilization review people at two different insurance companies. Talking to case managers.

And so my trip just might be on hold. If Joni decides to have the surgery, I will have to fore go a hike this year to take care of her following her rather extensive recovery. Doesn't matter; it is all good.

The Lazy Boy

"As a confirmed melancholic, I can testify that the best and maybe only antidote for melancholia is action. However, like most melancholics, I suffer also from sloth." Ed Abbey

Joni and I now have our very own separate Lazy Boy chairs. After nine years, we have finally arrived in that state of bliss where each of us can lounge in comfort. You see, we used to have just the blue one on the left. It was always an act of love to give up the "good chair" for the other member of the household. Now we each have our own ($20 at the thrift store---a major score on Joni's part).

Okay, so this isn't a training reference. I've resigned myself to the fact that I'm mostly just gonna suffer on the trail. At least I have a nice place to lounge while I contemplate the need to train.

Sleepless in St. Helena

“That which today calls itself science gives us more and more information, and indigestible glut of information, and less and less understanding.” Edward Abbey

I've been at work the last three days and haven't done much of anything but show up for work. I've been reading "The Hunger Games" which has kept me up much too late at night. The hospital maintenance staff, for some reason, has decided to use those leaf blowers on the parking lot, early in the morning, even though it is spring and there is not a leaf to be seen anywheres. I don't know why they have decided that 6:00 am is a good time to turn on these jet engines. Loud! Probably because there isn't anybody parked in the parking lot at that time. But who can sleep through such racket?

Part of me suspects that the maintenance staff enjoys the early morning solitude. The early start to the day. It is a most delightful time of the day in the Napa Valley, as the fog sallies up the valley and the air is moist, smells of the ocean and cool.

The building I stay in comes to life about 6 am. That's when doors start banging, showers are taken in the communal shower and the day shift takes the short cut through this building, past my room, taking the elevator which was invented when soft shutting elevator doors weren't invented. All of this to spare themselves a 100 yard walk around the building. The room I stay in is next to these elevator doors that sound like the drums of Mordor when they shut.

If I'm not sleeping, I know the patients aren't. It's hard enough to get sleep in a hospital, what with the poking and the prodding (lab draws start at 5:00 am) so that the doctors can get the information by their 7 am rounds. Healthcare is often more important to the practitioners than it is to the patients.

And so I'm quite exhausted. Feeling droopy. Ready to get home so that I can get some sleep. Back to Concow tonight---where Joni tells me we've had a chicken apocalypse. The coyotes ate 7 of our 11 chickens the other night.

Weed Whacking...

"One man alone can be pretty dumb sometimes, but for real bona fide stupidity, there ain't nothin' can beat teamwork." Edward Abbey

Spent the day weed whacking. This end of Spring ritual which takes the better part of a few days work. The nice thing about California is, unlike most other places in the US, once you've weed whacked the yard, your mowing is done for the year. I mow/weed whack once a year.