I was out walking up a nearby hill and saw this lonely lilac leaves shimmering in the wind by the side of the road. They reminded me of November, and of the glory of leaves when the age, they are always inspiring to me. So much character, they speak so much of autumn.
This black and white wants to be a small print, 5″ x 7 1/2″ on fine rag paper unframed. Contact Maria at [email protected] and check out the new photo-for-sale-gallery on my blog. The print will cost $75.
It seems we have another meadow dog. Red has no interest at all in the meadow, he never dives in sniffing or chasing mice and chipmunks. Fate has always been the explorer of the meadow. This afternoon, rebounding from a chest cold, I took Red and Gus out on the road by the meadow.
Gus got interested, he waded into the meadow and rustled around, then came darting out. I believe he will be a meadow dog soon. He is curious and vigilant.
We are making progress in the New Mexico Kitchen Project, adding some new and rich colors to our kitchen, last painted around the end of World War II. The cabinets will stay white – they are funky and have character – the walls will be yellow and grim, the window sashes will have a bright red trim.
Today was phase four, second coats for the first wall and the other side of the kitchen, above the sink.
The painting job was inspired by our recent trip to New Mexico and Maria has been working all weekend on the paint job, she doesn’t love doing it, but she is good at it. It will be done in a day or so, photos to follow.
It is always a great pleasure to look out the window and see a car stopping at our Little Free Library. We have some steady browsers there, and several people have taken books and then returned books.
Today, I saw two kids get out of the car and open the library box on our front lawn. I happened to have the camera in my hand.
I don’t really know yet if they took any books, but I’ll go out later and check. The idea of the LittleFreeLibrary – there are 40,000 of them in the United States, they speak to our better angels – is that we take the good books we’ve read and put them out there in our libraries, and people read the books and then return a book – it doesn’t have to be ours.
It isn’t a repository for used or discarded books from Grandma or the attic, but for books we like and wish to share. It was nice to see these kids going carefully through our books we choose them carefully, there are some good ones out there. And we do have some children’s books out there.
I’ll go out tonight and see if the library needs to be refreshed. We love our Little Free Library and it lifts the heart to see people using it. Community is always worth building.
We went to see Connie Sunday morning at the Samaritan Hospital in Troy, N.Y., where she has been for two days.
She was happy to see us, and we were happy to see her. Red did an astounding job of making his way through wires and lines and portable tables to get his head into her hand, where it stayed for nearly an hour.
She took Maria’s hand in her other hand, and she looked happy and at peace. We were instantly glad that we came.
Connie faces an uncertain future, she said she suffered from some severe dehydration on Friday which caused her “to talk crazy” and resulted in her going to the hospital. She was in considerable pain, she says she is better.
Connie has a number of serious health issues in need of treatment, some of them urgent. It is not clear yet whether she can return to the Mansion or have to go to a nursing and rehabilitation facility where her medical problems can be treated.
When a certain level of care is needed an assisted care facility like the Mansion has no choice, the law stipulates the patient or resident must go to a facility that offers higher levels of medical treatment.
Connie is the Queen of the Mansion, she is much-loved there, by the residents and the staff, and they would all do almost anything to keep her there, and that is where she would like to be. But it isn’t up to her or them.
Connie and I quite close, but she isn’t use to talking easily with men, I can sense that. It happens quite often.
She and Maria click, they have become good friends, Connie talks openly and easily with her.
And she adores Red, who just opens something magical up in her and brings her hope and peace. I see it, but I don’t know how it works. Connie sometimes tries to appear gruff, and she is certainly tough. But she is softie, and remains so grateful for all of the support – Red, yarn, books, air conditioner, letters and messages you all have sent her.
Connie wants very much to return to the Mansion. She will just have to wait and see.
She lost some of her family phone numbers during the transfer and we were able to find them for her. I asked her if it was okay to say where she was, and she said yes, and I asked her if she would like to receive letters or messages, and she said yes. Her address is Constance Martell, Samaritan Hospital, 2215 Burdett Avenue, Troy, N.Y., 12180, Fifth Floor.
I do not know how long she will be there. Red is the most wonderful spirit, he never took his eyes off of Connie, except to go visit her roommate on the other side of the curtain. Her family begged me to bring him over.
There is very little space in her room, I would advise against sending gifts or flowers.
Letters and messages would be welcome. She says she has 10 boxes of books sent by the Army Of Good back in her Mansion room, which is being held for her, and she is so busy with tests and doctors she has little time to read books, she says. For now, letters and messages would be appreciated.
She reads them all carefully.
So many of you have been there with and for Connie for more than a year now, you have made a profound difference in her life and her health. She is tough and determined, she will do her best to get back to what she calls her home, the Mansion.
This is an important chapter for her. Like so many elderly people, she has entered a vast medical and bureaucratic underworld, which can be ruthlessly detached and rule-bound. Individuals seem powerless, even lost.
She really has almost no say in what happens to her or where she goes. If she can’t be mobile, or needs intensive care, she will be sent to the first rehab facility with an available bed. It could be anywhere in the region, and might take days or weeks.
She might be sent to a nursing home or if she recovers and improves, go back to the Mansion. They will hold her room there for as long as they can.
Connie says if her time is up, and “God calls me,” she is ready to go. She is not ready yet.
She has her sharp sense of humor back, we laughed long at hard at the irony of my having gotten her a reclining lift chair – which she badly wants and needs – minutes before she was rushed to the hospital. Go get it, she said, and bring it over here. .
She and Maria were joking and laughing as she told of her journey through another medical wonderland. Connie has never had an easy life, but she has never complained about it, nor has she lost her sense of humor. When that goes, I will know she is on the edge.
I have strong boundaries around my therapy work in hospice and assisted care. When someone leaves the facility where I see them with Red, I rarely, if ever, follow them or keep up. It would be too emotionally and practically difficult to do that, and I would burn out in a heartbeat.
This work requires discipline and a clear sense of boundaries. Otherwise, it is not possible to do it well.
I also respect what I can and can’t do. I’m not a social worker, a health care worker, or a therapist. I do what I can for as long as I can, and then move on to the next person.
And there are many next people.
Connie is different, we have – me, Maria, Red – established a strong connection to her. We can’t walk away from that, at least not now.
If you wish to support my work with the Mansion residents or with the refugee men and women in this area, please consider donating to Jon Katz, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816, or via Paypal, [email protected]. The checks ought to be made out to me, but please mark the checks or payments either for me, the Mansion, or the refugees if you have a preference. And thanks.
Connie is a living monument to the power of your generosity and compassion, you have lifted her up in the most basic of ways. The rest is up to her and the angels.
(P.S. In an earlier version of this post, I misspelled Connie’s last name, a typo. It is Martell, not Bartell, thanks.)
