Physio, Finally

 

     

     Due to the nature of my occupation, I was plagued with a growing neck pain issue as I reached the end of my working years. I would dare to say that the last 15 working years were years when varying degrees of neck pain were an almost constant companion. I did work until I was almost 70 years of age, and eventually put my tools away due to lower back pain and, mostly neck pain.  In the evenings I could not find a position where there was relief. It was constant and nagging. 

     I was convinced that when I would stop working, my body would slowly heal and get back to normal and the pain would gradually dissipate. After three years of hoping my theory was correct, I was desperate, and one morning walked the three blocks to the nearest physiotherapy clinic. I had never been to such a facility before so did not know what to expect. 

    After a cursory examination, it was determined that a variety of techniques would, in combination, help relieve the pain. I was used to the cost of chiropractic sessions but was shocked to see what these treatments would cost me. But, like I said, I was desperate and if I could finally live without pain, it would be worth any cost. 

    There was infra-red light therapy, gentle neck and lower back massages, traction on the neck and the back, heat therapy, electric impulse therapy, another machine that was explained to me but not clearly, and the worst one, dry needle therapy. The dry needles were the last straw, causing so much discomfort I could not sleep for two nights. During one session, my shoulder was manipulated and I heard a pop as an old dislocated shoulder injury was reactivated. Indeed, my condition was worsening.  

    That was the day I walked out of the clinic and never returned, $2000.00 lighter and pain that was more than slightly worse than when I started. I told a friend about my experience and he recommended a clinic, also very close to where I lived. I set up an appointment and was told it would be $130 an hour and the sessions would be an hour long. This was a single minded therapy, strictly deep massage. Upon assessment, it was discovered that my trapezius muscles were knotted so hard and tight that the therapist had never seen the like. The massages were painful, but, you know, no pain, no gain. 

    I had 6 sessions over the next 6 weeks and relief started to come after the third massage. As I left, I thanked the therapist profusely and said that I was eternally grateful, and I was sincere. To this day, I am pain free in that area and have total mobility. 

A Bit of Nostalgia

       As I was looking through my photos this morning, searching for ideas on how to create an AI image that was meaningful to me, I reviewed a folder of photos from last year. Together with a group of friends, we took a two hour tour of a private museum here in town. It is called Shady Grove and touring it is a journey back in time, particularly to the 50's and 60's. Almost every conceivable item that you can think of that might trigger a bit of nostalgia in you, if you are a baby boomer, is there. 

    I spent the age of 2 through 15 in a small town in Saskatchewan in the 50s and 60s so of course, all the memories I have from that place and those years come flooding back to me as I toured the museum and now as I review the photos. 

   My father owned a grocery store, much larger than the one depicted above, but the idea is the same. I was trained from a very early age, to work in that store and I did learn some lasting skills and lessons from those years. One of my many jobs was to deliver groceries after school and on Saturdays. 

   Yes, I did have a little red wagon and it was piled high with groceries as I negotiated the gravel streets and lanes of our little dusty town. We had few sidewalks and not a single paved street, so it was always a challenge to keep items from falling off the wagon. That is why more often than not, the items would be packed in a stiff cardboard box, which helped greatly.

    My father taught me to be friendly and courteous to the customers and I tried my best. I was never tipped, and I was never paid by my dad for the deliveries, or the all the work I put into his business. I never thought of it, even once. I was part of a family that had a grocery store and as such, I was a worker, alongside my mom and dad, trying to make living. How things have changed.  

Of Cruises and Iron Domes

       I have entries concerning the Hawaii Cruise we took two years ago under the label "Cruising". I was thinking (as I sometimes do) about the people we meet on a vacation. For example the wonderful couple from the UK we met (quite literally bumped into) at a resort in Mexico. They became lifelong friends and we communicate quite frequently. 

    Other times, the people we meet become casual acquaintances and the recognition does not go beyond acknowledging them while on the vacation. On the Hawaii cruise we had 12 "sea days" altogether. so there was ample time to meet and get acquainted with quite a few people. We were on the cruise with some good friends of ours who are our neighbors, but we did not spend all our time with them. We occasionally ate meals at different times and in different places so one cannot help but sit very close to someone who is friendly and who does not mind striking up a conversation. 

    One day at lunch, we were at the buffet at a particularly busy time and there were few table vacancies to chose from. We sat beside a couple from New York, retirement age, and friendly looking. We engaged in small talk, where we were from, had we cruised before, had we been to Hawaii before and on and on. For women, these conversations inevitably lead to talk about family, you know, kids, grandkids, aging parents, etc. For guys, the talk steers towards careers or occupation, and interests and hobbies. 

 

    That is where it took an interesting turn. He pondered his answer and then said, in a vague sort of way, that he was with the Canadian Army until the previous year and was on loan to Israel. He was now retired. Keep in mind that the war in Gaza was blazing hot at that time and I was very interested in what was happening there. I asked in what capacity he was engaged and he indicated that it was in research and development and that he had a few engineering degrees. Now I was all ears and I just knew I was going to learn something. 

     I had just been reading about and watching videos about the IDF's Iron Dome, the shield of protection that was created to shoot down incoming missiles from the enemy. The video in particular was taking about a new weapon that would make the defensive missiles obsolete. Because they (each missile) was very costly, the search was on for something more economical, efficient, and effective. The story said that the IDF was on the verge of perfecting laser beams that could take down incoming missiles. Each blast would cost pennies in electricity and could even run with a large battery on the laser launcher. And best of all, they were 100% automated in both detection, guidance, and firing. 

      So I went out on a limb and asked him if he was involved in developing this technology. Immediately, his wife kicked him under the table and said in a low voice, "Be careful what you say." I knew I had hit paydirt. I also knew I had to be careful how I drew him out, but I was determined to find out where the technology was and if they were indeed using it already. He reluctantly, at first, admitted that that was what he had been working on. He then talked in vague terms about the theoretical aspects of the weapon, and then about the challenges that had to be overcome. Several more times, his wife gave him the eye, and even warned him about saying too much. He reassured her that he was being careful to not divulge too much information. Quite frankly, I was surprised he was saying anything at all. 

     It was a most fascinating conversation as he was surprised that I knew so much about it. What I did learn in the end was that the weapon was not yet ready to use, but they were very close. I also learned that the hurdle to cross was projecting the laser beam at distance, because the farther the target, the more the laser beam would build up resistance in front of itself, or what he called 'plasma'. He told me that at best they were able to fog up the "eyes" of the guidance system on the missile, and that might be enough if they were accurate enough in their aim. 

     It was a long and most interesting lunch. And I never saw him or his wife again for the rest of the cruise. 

     

What is That We Hear?

 

     We had to purchase a new micro-wave oven a few days ago, and, of course, there was a learning curve. Besides familiarizing ourselves with the various options, features, touch screens, and settings, there was a whole new set of sounds to get used to. It got me thinking (as I sometimes do) about how many chimes, whistles, beeps, tweets, bells and chirps we have coming at us on any given day. 

    Every electronic device seems to want to communicate with us apart from visuals. And those auditory signals become something we depend on. "Our dinner is burnt because I didn't hear the beeper" becomes an all too familiar excuse for being distracted by all the electronic devices that surround us. My new phone has a whole set of bells and whistles that are gradually becoming familiar to me so I now know which ones to ignore and which ones I should definitely pay attention to. 

     Which leads me to a funny incident my friend related to me today. He was doing an odd job in his car garage when his wife raised the garage door remotely, and drove in, shut the car off, and was getting out when she heard a soft chime. The car is only a year or two old and she thought she had never heard that particular chime before. She got back in and checked the seat belts, the door closures, the lights, the windows and yet every 30 seconds she hear the soft chime. 

      She called my friend over and asked if he could hear the sound and he could. He checked the car over and could not seem to find anything amiss, checking the same things she had just checked. They were both mystified and even got out the owner's manual and poured through the whole book looking for a clue. Finally, he told his wife to drive the care around the block, come back, shut off the motor, and see if the problem would go away with a reset. 

     She did and this time parked just outside the garage so they could perhaps see something in the light of day that they had missed in the low light of the garage. The sound was still there, but more faintly this time. By now an hour had passed and it became a challenge that, like a dog on a bone, they could not let go of. 

     Nearly at the end of her rope, his wife got on her iPhone and did an internet search. After a half hour of searching and putting up with the annoying chime in the background, she came across a group chat. There were more than 100 answers to her question. Every solution suggested was something they had already checked or tried. And then she scrolled to a "Hahahahaha! I know what your problem is." She thought that looked interesting and read on. The contributor named the make and model of the the state of the art garage door opener that she probably had. And they did have that model. He went on to say that when the backup battery (in case of power outages) is in need of replacement, it makes a soft chime every 30 seconds or so. 

    My friend was on his ladder, screw driver in hand, in no time flat. He pulled the old battery out and ...... yes, the chiming stopped. He told me this with a sheepish grin on his face, because he is a handy-man Mr. fixit and this was an embarrassment for him. We had a good laugh. And now you can too. Just don't tell him where you heard it. 

      

Kittens and Lightening

    The inside of this custom car I photographed at a car show this summer just needed a kitten to draw the attention of those who are not into cars. Please click on the photos to make them large. It makes a huge difference. 

    A sunset scene shot in Sorrento. The distant storm clouds needed a bit of prompting to light up the sky. 

   This was a sunny beach in Hawaii, framed by two palm trees. I prompted AI to add some drama. It is nothing like the original. 

   Photographing Mt. Baker on beautiful day. I would be heading down the mountain if those storm clouds were real. 

    This old heritage house in the southern most part of Washington State needed some drama. Why not a tornado. 

    This is shot at the old Tanglebank Farms but the day we were there there was not another soul walking in the gardens. How did she get there? 

  I walk in this park very often and see a scene like this but never have my camera with me. So I combined the scene with what I wished was in the scene. 

  An old weathered door needs an old weathered hand to open it. 
 

Old Eyes, New vision

      It was 20 years ago when I was told, at a routine eye examination, that I had the beginnings of cataracts. I was informed that it was nothing to worry about, but they would keep an eye on it. (Nice play on words). Fast forward to 5 months ago when I jumped the gun on my routine eye exams due to an inability to focus at pretty much any distance. I had just paid dearly for a new prescription for my progressive lens eye glasses. Could I need a new prescription this soon? 

     After a thorough examination, it was discovered that there was no prescription that would restore my vision because the cataracts (that they were keeping an eye on) had galloped forward and needed to be fixed. I was surprised, thinking that the inevitable progression would more sneak up on me than come almost overnight. 

     A eye surgeon recommendation was made and an appointment set up to get the procedure rolling. This was not going to happen overnight. This was all going to take place in the neighboring city and the first of 8 trips was scheduled. Trip 1 was to assess my eyes to determine if I was a candidate for ocular implants. I was and the next appointment, the purpose of which was to measure my eyes and determine what implants I wanted, was set up. Multiple days of drops in the eyes ("if you do not do all the drops and we cannot measure your eyes, you will have to start over") later, the measurements were taken. At that point a third trip was scheduled to do the actual surgery, but only on one eye. For now. 

     I was told what to expect and I had spoken to friends who had gone through this procedure, but I was still nervous. It's not everyday that you let someone anyone near your eye with a sharp knife. The assembly line of patients at the hospital moved quickly and efficiently and before I could back out, I was "next". 

    The right eye was draped and completely isolated from the rest of my body and propped open in such a manner that I could not blink to save my life. It was OK though because the freezing took hold really quicky and I could not feel a thing. The surgeon, a Dr. Lily, was great! He talked me though the procedure so at any given moment I know what was happening and what was going to happen, what I would feel and what I would hear. This becomes important as your imagination begins to kick into gear and you have visions of all sort of things going wrong, like you eyeball falling on the floor. It was all over in twenty minutes. 

      I sat in the recovery room with a semi-see through patch on my eye and waited for busylizzy to get me. She was my ride home as there was little vision in that eye and I need depth of field (two eyes) to drive. Actually, I could have driven as the vision in that eye was only blurry. 

    Two more appointments for follow-up, post surgery, and then 6 weeks later the left eye was scheduled. I was experienced now and had zero anxiety, only hopeful anticipation that I was on the verge of getting my eyesight back. Two more post-op follow-ups and I was done. Except for the eye drops. This turned out to be the most challenging aspect of cataract surgery, but we did it and now it is all over.

    This week I get a new eye exam for prescription glasses. My vision is beyond expectations for distance and mid-range but for close reading of small print in low light, I need help. But this was totally expected so I am good with it. I drove at night for the first time since my eyes fully recovered and I cannot say enough about how amazing it is to be able to do that again with such confidence. I have always loved driving at night, but last winter it was becoming quite difficult. 

     I staved off the inevitable for many years by taking copious amounts of Vit D and C. But now, at my age, I am so very grateful for fantastic vision, truly, a new lease on life. 

 

Lake House Diaries 19

      The family contacted the realtor and expressed the concerns they had about the possible intentions of the potential buyers. After speaking with them, the buyer assured the family that they would use the Lake House as a residence for at least the nest two years. Whether this was good intentions or the fact that the IRS withholding tax went down from 15% to 10%, it was welcome news and the negotiations began. 

     As in all negotiations, there was give and take and eventually an agreement for sale was reached, with reservations and stipulations of course. There was a far reaching and expensive set of hoops to jump through for the family, especially after the official inspection report was submitted. Paul and Wes became invaluable as they navigated the various tasks that needed to be undertaken. They both worked tirelessly and efficiently, together with their wives, and when Kris and Helen joined them in the last few days before the occupation date, all the loose ends were tied up and it was time to say goodbye. 

     All the documents were signed, many electronically, or with a mobile notary, and finally the funds were turned over to the Escrow company for disbursement. At the time of this writing, there is still an outstanding issue to be resolved. As Canadian citizens, the withholding taxes that went to the IRS on behalf of the owners, can only be claimed back through the IRS. Tax numbers, IRS filings, and eventually Canadian tax issues have yet to be resolved. It was a learning experience for the family and an experience not soon forgotten. Advice to others might be to think long and hard before buying and selling US property as Canadian citizens. 

     And now that the Lake House is no longer in the family, the sibling owners and their children and grandchildren will have to reinvent what it is that holds the family together, if indeed there is something. Ethel is still living, although in a diminished state. Some are investing very large amounts of time and effort to make life comfortable for her. Others not so much. When she is gone, she may prove to be the last stitch remaining in the fabric of her family. It remains to be seen.