Traveling Friends: Shorthand for Old, Dear Friends with Whom I Occasionally Travel

What would I do without my friends? My many and varied good friends, undeserved* as they are, bolster me with their interest, understanding, compassion, laughter, memories, acceptance, and ease; it is easy to be with them, and their presence makes me light.

Saturday I drove to Brenham for bluebonnets, Blue Bell, and buddies, as my traveling friends had decided that it was time for us to get together and that I needed their support. We four, friends from college and, in one case, high school, have traveled together to NYC, San Francisco and Napa Valley, Savannah, and Cape Cod, and three of us have done London and New Mexico. We comprise a group muy simpatico, and hope to continue our tradition for many more trips and years.

Tom is anxious for me to continue my life, and I am doing so. I couldn't bring myself to spend the night - as I told him, I could not totally relax doing so yet, so it was better for me to come on home. Home, by the way, is still the rent house, but we will be moving into Gerrilynn's pool house next Tuesday. Woo-hoo!

Judy, Doris, Blue Bell Girl, Sally, Johanna

Johanna Gives it a Try

Cute in our Caps

Photos from Past Trips

Judy and Doris Sampling in Napa

In Nantucket: Planning our Next Trip

Judy and Sally in Taos

Bonaventure Cemetery in Savannah: Johnny Mercer's Tomb

We have been to some great places.

*"undeserved": I use this word, not because I think little of myself (I think pretty highly of myself, as a matter of fact), but because I am aware of how little I give. I have come to see myself as tending toward my father's propensity of being a hermit; I like very much being by myself. Also like him, I like being with others, but not all the time - I want my friends when I want them - otherwise, leave me alone, please. I know that I bring a lot to the party, which, I suppose, is why my friends stick with me. Selfish? Arrogant? Yes. Yet delightfully self-aware, don't you think? (Repeat: arrogant!)

Flor-i-da!

 Yes, it was cold on the beach, but we didn't care. The sand was fine, white, beautiful, and mostly free of other people - a great place to walk or just sit and, yes, chill.

Showing off her new pedicure

Some guy and his son - in the perfect spot at the perfect time 

 Cheryl and I visited the studio of Justin, an artist who creates sculptural paintings, paintings with three dimensional components, like this one on his back deck. Great stuff.

I had forgotten how telegenic Cheryl is. And neither

she nor Curtis looks a day older than he/she did back then.

Rescuers-in-training on the beach. One female trainee had to be rescued herself and taken away in an ambulance. We were pleased to see her back the next day, gamely giving it another (successful) try. Good going, girl.

Our last night in Florida, we went for good food and good music - and a perfect time.

Thank you, Cheryl and Curtis! Great therapeutic time for both of us.

Does this look like a lurch to you? Me neither!

In honor of Tom's birthday a couple of days ago, I'm posting, with his permission, this video of him walking rather steadily at Toledo Bend State Park, where we stopped for a pleasant break on our way back from Florida a week ago.




This is good progress. And this morning he walked two miles on the treadmill at the Y - fantastic!

In an unfortunate juxtaposition, Tom's birthday was also the anniversary of my mom's death. In her memory, I made a donation to the Texas Freedom Network, a group working against right-wing extremists in our poor misguided state. This donation is appropriate since I learned of the group through the newsletters she received.  Mother was a true political liberal; I wish we could grouse about the state of the state today. But when I remove those shades of rose-colored memory, I remember that I used to annoy her when I would take a middle-of-the-road, nuanced position on her issues. I must have been insufferable.

But here's to the memory of my mom and the lively beating heart and spirit of my husband.

On Strokes and Hospitals

When was the last time you stepped into a hospital room and said, admiringly, "Wow."?  The view from Tom's room at St. Luke's called for such a response; it's the best I've seen since visiting MaryAnn in her hospital room overlooking the St. John's River in Jacksonville, Florida. While not a water view, this one provided an impressive panoramic vision of the city-within-a-city Medical Center in Houston.

 The St. Luke's staff were also, with one minor exception, the most professional, attentive group of medical personnel that we have ever experienced.

We are now sold on the Medical Center.

And what brought us to this bustling nerve center of the medical world?

When Tom went in to meet with Dr. Mawad in preparation for his arteriogram, the doctor indicated some reservations about Tom's earlier diagnosis of Guillane-Barre, and he suggested that he see more specialists and have more tests run as an inpatient at St. Luke's. Two doctors and one arteriogram later, a concensus was reached: Tom had never had GBS, but rather had had a stroke last year as well as this.

Dr. Mawad found a near-complete blockage in one of Tom's ventricular arteries, complete enough to make a stent un-do-able. But we're not discouraged; with proper diet, exercise, and medication, Tom might well avoid another stroke - pretty good motivation to work at it.

Another EMG, just to help our new neurologist gauge the extent of the nerve damage, awaits Tom, but he is tough and patient and unalarmed.