Laid Low

Two Green Iguanas In Small Palm  

I am reduced to watching the iguanas climb up and down the four palms outside our balcony. I cannot make out any pattern to their movements. Sometimes it's large (not huge like we had on our docks) black ones, sometimes medium greens ones, sometimes it is two at once, maybe going in the same direction, or not. Once I saw one eating the flowers off an inflorescence, but those are all eaten now. I think they may go to sleep in the tops of the palms, however since I can't see the top of the tallest palm, I can't confirm that. And if they did, surely I'd see them come down in the morning and up in the evening, but they move up and down at random times. I'm going crazy stuck in this apartment.

Going to Bed?  

Ten days after my crash. Grant stayed home from work last week, ferrying Clara to swimming lessons; doing the shopping and cleaning; cooking labor-intensive, time-consuming, delicious meals; and being at my beck and call. I hobbled around with my walker, slept, watched the Tour de France, and whined. I also decided I rather suffer the consequences of adventures than not do them.

Until I absolutely cannot manage the physical requirements, I want to be out and seeing new things. I want to be in the camper, on the trip, at the new-to-me place. This will take plentiful negotiations between Grant and me, because I'm always sure things will work out. He is more cautious. Probably we prod each other to a better place than if we were on our own. Somehow this seems like progress even though I cannot walk. I can't wait to get back on my bike, only a little more carefully than before. Back to watching for iguanas.

Second Opinion

I have fractured my left rami, i.e., the front of my pelvis (which just goes to show that knowing what rami are means you've been involved in things better left alone or you've been to med school.) By noon on Friday, I knew something was wrong. Grant rode home and took me to Jackson Memorial Hospital. The emergency room personnel were kind, efficient, and respectful. I told my bike crash story over and over as I moved through their process. X-rays confirmed the breaks. What to do? The wait for orthopedics began.

Fortunately, Grant had brought me chicken soup and crackers when we first got to the ER. Now down in the admitting area, I was out of the hard wheelchair, into a comfortable bed, and injected with a big dose of morphine. And getting hungry. He went off for more food before the nearby restaurants closed for the night, returning with a delicious Cuban sandwich. Yum. The ER doctor Miguel was jealous. I offered to share and was delighted when he declined.

While we waited, Dr. Miguel asked me if I had broken my pelvis before because the X-rays indicated old breaks that had begun to heal. No, I would have remembered that. When the ortho doctor finally came (they have to see the worst cases first, and I was thankful I wasn't at the front of the line), she asked me the same thing. Dr. Marshall could see old breaks and nothing else. In any case, rest and time were the treatment. I could have heavier pain killers, which I declined since we have have a stock of opiates from previous surgeries and injuries. Armed with a walker, I went home.

By Sunday, I was weeping continuously and being snappy (euphemism for how horrible I really was) with Grant. I was miserable with pain, couldn't sleep, and convinced that the ER had misdiagnosed. I had not broken my pelvis previously. Something was wrong. And I was getting dehydrated from crying. I decided to call my own ortho doctor and get a second opinion.

Monday morning I called Jackson to send the X-rays to Dr. Wells' office. Not possible even though they are all digital. We would have to go pick up a CD and take it with us. Really? This huge hospital can't transmit information electronically? Another round of weeping and a call to my doctor to make an same-day appointment. Come at 2:15 and be prepared to wait. On our way.

Grant dropped me off and took Clara over to visit with our son. Within 10 minutes I was in the exam room, 10 more minutes and we were reviewing new X-rays. Yes, I'd broken my left rami; yes, they were new breaks; no, we don't know or care why Jackson ortho thought they were old breaks. Plus I likely had a buckle fracture on right side. Treatment was still rest and time. I can do anything I want since the pain will control my movements.

Amazing what a relief. I still hurt like bejezzus, but I no longer am consumed with doom and gloom. I'm staying current on my pain meds (Tylenol, since with all the recent publicity I'm afraid of the side effects of the opiates we've stashed) , watching the Tour de France, and making some peace with the forced immobility I now have. This too shall pass.

That's Going To Be a Bruise

I officially hate riding the nature trail. Flying along it this morning at 11 mph (for me that's flying), I took a sharp turn too fast, froze, and went right where I looked: into the brush besides the trail. Flew off my bike, scraping my elbow and landing on my hip. Dang, that hurt. After a few minutes, I was able to stand and get back on my bike. Our first plan was for me to ride on to Grant's work, then catch the bus back to our apartment.

By the time we rode to Bear Cut bridge, I decided I could ride home, which I did, slowly. Now I'm in bed after failing to get comfortable on our love seat while trying to watch the Tour de France. I can barely walk. Hungry, I limped to the kitchen by hanging on every available surface to support myself. I made a sandwich and limped back to bed to eat it. In my efficiency in moving, I got rid of the walker I had for my knee replacement. I also passed on both of my grandmothers' canes. They were interesting wooden ones but not really safe to use. Next time I get up, I'll get one of the walking sticks out of the closet.

Of course I'm obsessing about having a broken hip. Not going to an emergency room to have it checked, just obsessing. The last time I fell off my bike, I broke my collar bone. I heard it snap when I landed. This time I didn't hear anything, so that is a good sign, isn't it?

Even on Key B  

Breaking my collar bone came under "no good deed goes unpunished". We were riding the Loop Road in the Everglades with some friends. I spotted an aluminum drink can thrown down by the roadside, so I picked it up and bungeed it to my back rack. Got back on my bike and rode on. I hadn't secured one end of the bungee well. It caught in my rear wheel and only stretched so far.  My bike came to a halt, and I tumbled over my handlebars. Fortunately Grant was able to ride to the car and come pick me up. Rather than going to a Miami hospital, we opted to drive to Broward General, stopping for BBQ on the way. Always a good decision to eat before going to an emergency room. Makes waiting less miserable.

Why do people litter? Even though my broken collar bone was my fault, if that soda can hadn't been thrown down in the Everglades, I probably wouldn't have fallen off my bike.  I'd think if you wanted to see nature, you'd be the kind of person who doesn't throw down their soda cans. It also brings up why do people throw down those dental picks?

For a while, I was taking a picture of every dental pick I saw on the ground. In parking lots, at the hospital, in restaurants. What's the deal? You can't be bothered with flossing your teeth in private and throwing the pick in the garbage? The worst was the one on a nature trail. I quite taking pictures because they were depressing and because they were hard to contextualize. I could not resist this one last: at the base of a palm here on Key B. On this over-the-top affluent island with doggie poo trashcans everywhere, and someone has to throw their dental pick on the ground?

Full Moon

We walked over to the beach to watch the full moon rise. Even though the temperature reached almost 90° today, the ocean breeze cooled the evening air. God, I love being at the beach, just watching the waves. We sat in Adirondack chairs at the private beach we can use because we joined the Key B Community Center. What lucky, lucky people we are.

My day was filled with learning about Medicare and its various permutations. I joined AARP and made an appointment with their long term care insurance sales person. I also made an appointment with SHINE, Florida's program to help elderly people learn about health care. I printed out the UM information on retirement, and I read Schwab articles about re-balancing our portfolio to manage our wealth.

Then I indulged myself and began thinking what 2020 will be like for us. In January, we will have our annual, and maybe last, cabin camping with old friends, this time at Bahia Honda. Then, Okinawa in February to see our new grandchild, due mid-January. As long as we're that far, maybe visit my sister in New Zealand and stop by Hawaii to see friends in Hilo on the way home.

After watching too many You Tube videos about van life, I concluded perhaps we should buy a motor home and tour the US. We could put the rest of our stuff in storage, pick up our Orlando granddaughter when school is out and go. A summer of bison and canyons. I'll need to start making reservations for the big national parks.

I pitched this idea to Grant as we sat at the beach. The full moon finally came out from behind the clouds on the horizon, glowing gold as if in tribute to the 50th anniversary this week of the lunar landing. What a gorgeous sight. However, even in the glow of the moon path, Grant was hesitant to sign onto my plans without seeing spread sheets of projected income and expenses.
I feel like one of those NASA engineers, trying to think of all that could go wrong with our own moon shot, then coming up with a plan to get us there. At least I have a better computer than NASA, in 1969,ever dreamed of.

Overindulged

We had our first semi-new acquaintances from Key Biscayne to dinner last night. Semi-new because they are known to Grant through work, but not on a personal level. Their teenage son had cat-sat for us twice, however this was the first time we'd interacted. Grant cooked his good teriyaki chicken with rice, a cucumber salad, and ginger fruit compote. My contribution was a chocolate cake with ice cream.

Good times with too much wine for me. I'm suffering this morning. I've reached the stage that two drinks are all that I really can process; one would probably be even better. Mostly I remember. Last night I did not. Aspirin, Tums, breakfast and lots of water haven't done much. Time is the only cure.

Ever since Grant announced his retirement, rather that pretending that day is far, far in the future, we have been talking more about the next stage. We've been more gentle and compassionate with each other since soon we will be in each other's pockets day in and day out. We've even been more passionate, as much as our aging bodies allow, which is nice. It looks like that's what the next stage will be: nice. Especially if I don't overindulge.

Slurpee 7-11 Day

Free Slurpee on 7/11  

A free Slurpee at 7-11 on 7/11 is a family tradition. One year, my younger son and I went to several stores to sample the various flavors. Now it is just me on my way home from a bike ride. Still fun, and a way to savor memories while enjoying my blue raspberry treat.

I'm celebrating finding my mirror which I bought in North Carolina while I was on my Key West to Washington, D. C. bike trip a few years ago. Grant had been using it on his commute to work and lost it two days ago while riding home in the rain. He dodged around a low-hanging branch on the nature trail, and the dang mirror flew off. Not enthusiastic about looking for it in the rain, he came on home. Yesterday, I rode to work with him, and we stopped to try to find the mirror and to trim back the branch. No luck.

As most things go, the day before, I had called the mirror maker to get some more little rubber covers for the prongs that keep it clamped on our glasses. I decided to ride again this morning and look again. Perhaps it had gotten caught up in the branch. I tried to figure which way it might have flown off. After searching for about 5 minutes, I gave up, then, as I mounted my bike to ride home, I glanced down one more time and spotted it. It had landed about 6" off the asphalt trail into a bed of leaves. No harm done.

I have reclaimed my mirror for nostalgia's sake and given Grant the new one we ordered. I had forgotten how much more comfortable I feel when I ride with a mirror and can see what's coming up behind me. So I raise my Slurpee to toast to whoever invented bike mirrors and to the wonderful people in Colorado who make them. And to my mother who encouraged me to look for things and find them. Salude!

Independence Day

I first thought of spelling the title of this post as "Indepen-dance Day", because I should be dancing. Grant decided to retire at the end of the year. Yesterday he told his boss and coworkers. I knew this day was coming, but somehow I didn't believe it.

Why am I filled with a trickle of dread? Not despair, not sadness. Just a dampness of anxiety settling around me. When I told Grant, he was worried I didn't want to spend time with him. That's not it. I enjoy his company, and I look forward to our being able to travel as much as we want. I look forward to our having mornings together and weekdays, not just weekends. A whole new part of our lives.

Neither of us slept well last night, but we both kept reassuring each other that we were fine, individually and as a couple.

                            When I breathe in, I breathe in peace.

                            When I breathe out, I breathe out love.

This morning, I realized my stress isn't from Grant. It's all from me. I feel pressure now to get all those projects done that I had said I would do this year. And already this year is getting away from me. I fritter in the afternoons rather than tackling the things I want to shed this year. I will give myself one more day to dally, then the battle begins. This will happen. The boxes of photos, slides, videos and other mementos are not going with us to the next roost.

Happy 4th of July

Decorated For the Fourth  

While the rest of the nation perseverates whether the parade in D.C. should have tanks or not, Key B stuck with decorated golf carts, water fights, and near-heat-stroke marching bands. If  we are here next year, we will be armed with water guns. By the end of the parade, no one was immune from being soaked, which felt great in the soaring temps.

Beginning of the Water Fights  

Fireworks at the Beach  

Our older daughter drove down from Orlando, arriving in time for fireworks. Rather than dealing with traffic like most of the country, we walked 3 blocks to the beach, set down our chairs and towels, and watched the show. A joy of living on this little island.

She is here to retrieve our granddaughter Clara who has been visiting for 2 weeks and going to Marine Biology Camp, then Summer by the Sea. With Bill Baggs State Park at one end of the island and Crandon Park at the other; the Seaquarium, University of Miami's marine school and NOAA's lab on Virginia Key; and Bear Cut in between, this is the perfect place. The campers fished in the ocean; seined in the bay; studied sea turtle nests; paddle boarded, kayaked, and snorkeled; tagged fish; and learned about sea slugs in the lab.

The first week, Clara and I walked over to the Key B Community Center where her camp met. She was able to walk home on her own. What a luxury to have a safe place to live. Her goal is for me to allow her to walk to the grocery store by herself. Maybe next visit. The second week, we rode our bikes the 2.3 miles to and from the nature center. I was feeling very virtuous, especially since another parent sat in her running car with the AC on while we waited for the campers at the end of the first day. Who sends their kid to nature camp then wastes gas like that? Guess I needed to test "pride goeth before a fall", because the next day on the way to camp, Clara's tire blew out a valve stem.

Naturally we were halfway there. Go back, and get the car? Walk on to camp? The first one was the right answer. I chose the second. Clara pushed her bike, and I pushed mine. She tried riding my bike (seat too high, no tools to lower). We traded bikes to push. We trudged on. Perhaps I should have locked both bikes to a palm tree and just walked to the camp. At the time, it seemed easier to push bikes than to carry Clara's camp gear.

Eventually we made it, 15 minutes late, while all the campers and the counselors waited. All we could do was apologize.

Not A Neighborhood Yet

When I grew up in Naples, FL, it was a small town of locals that trebled in size during the winter months with the winter visitors. These weren't tourists on vacation for a week, although there were some. They were wealthy people who owned homes in town but would never have said they were from Naples. Beginning around Thanksgiving, cars with Michigan, Indiana, and Ohio licence plates would be stuck in traffic with us Floridians. They stayed until about Easter, then headed home to the north. Snow birds.

Although Naples depended on their money, it didn't ask for their loyalty. No donations to the art museum, no participation in local politics, no roots put down. Now that has all changed, and Naples is awash in retirees that serve their new community well.

I think Key Biscayne is like Naples in the 1950's. Many of the people living here are from away. Only 26% were born in Florida; 54% were born out of the US, according to AreaVibes which claims the 2016 US  Census as its source. From my observations, most are South Americans, which jibes with AreaVibes claim that 65% speak Spanish as their main language. I would love to practice my Spanish, but they immediately switch to English to help me along and to avoid the pain to their ears. Only the cashier at Winn Dixie suffers with my attempts since I told her I'm working on improving my gringa espanol

What does that mean for my future here? So far, the majority of seniors at the community center has been Snow Birds. Most have already flown, the remaining leaving after the 4th of July (tomorrow). Many are New Yorkers heading back to the city. I did meet a woman from Scotland who is going to North Carolina for July and August.

Are there people who are interested in making new friends? If so, how can I connect with them, especially in the summer when being outdoors is impossible? It is officially hot with record temperatures being hit in Miami. My granddaughter and I have enjoyed riding our bikes to and from her nature camp at Crandon Park in the morning and evening, but midday is inside only. We are curled up in our cocoon of air conditioning, awaiting our emerging in the fall, a long time away.