That's All Folks

Dear Jim:

Well it has been a week since our two-day Centennial golf event, and I guess I’m now coherent enough to drop you a note. As you know I have been on the winning team twice, come second and third once and usually won a boatload of money each year with my team of 20 years or so.

This year, after explaining to each other all our pains and deteriorating body parts, teed off with great expectations.

On the first hole we were 4 over par. OK. Lots of golf to play.

Since we didn’t have any balls in the fairway for most of each hole, we drove our carts like a Moroccan car rally team. By the time we finished there was no battery life left in either cart and I vowed to wear two gloves the second day as I had blisters from making abrupt turns to avoid running in to trees and rocks.

We did have one natural par when a pebble redirected one of our putts in to the hole but other than that we played like we were firing a shot gun in to a flock of geese hoping to hit something.

At the end of day one we were 6 under par or so having given up 4 shots on the last hole. The leaders were 20- under! Just wait till tomorrow.

Day 2 arrived with temperatures over 100 degrees F and no wind. Perfect.

Our playing had deteriorated overnight, and we found ourselves   12 over par with 5 holes to play.

I looked over at my teammates. One was biting on a stick to stop from screaming out in pain every time he swung the club, I was crying, another was hitting himself with his club and I thought a broken ankle was imminent. The fourth was muttering to himself that he never played like this.

I was so hot I thought I was going to have a stroke and wondered how long it would take to turn on that cellular phone, get a signal and call for help. My big thought was wondering if the photographer had taken my picture which would serve as the last known picture of good old Bill to be shown at a celebration of life. What a great bar story. “Did you hear he died playing golf?”

At that point I decided to invoke the over 70 rule and called a team meeting.

Is anyone enjoying this?..nope.

Does anyone see any reason for continuing?…nope.

Does anyone care that we are about to lose a lot of money?...nope

 Then since we are over 70, we don’t have to do anything we don’t want to do.

 To the clubhouse at speed.

 We were the first to park our carts this year and that’s all I can say.

We left our wounded team mate to pay off our bets hoping that pity would inspire a debt forgiveness. HA!

Those vultures, with one exception took our money and ran off giggling like a bunch of 7-year-old school girls. We have kept their names and stored them in the cloud in case we ever get a chance to show our compassion to them.

As for the black-tie dinner where noise levels hit a decibel level not on any chart and you can’t have any plastic items on you since they will melt from the heat, we didn’t go.

My black-tie suit has been seized by the McCord Museum as a heritage piece and my regular suit is on loan to a bunch of clowns who jump out of a small car at summer picnics and amuse the kids. Since I don’t dance or drink or read lips trying to understand someone shouting over the racket, I have decided to declare the Centennial dinner a past memory once and for all. 

Like most things we used to do that seemed a lot of fun I fear that Centennial is over for us. If we all live another year, we may feel differently but aside from watching the young new members or the perennial sandbaggers walk off with a 40 under winning score there isn’t much hope or fun left for our team.

If you can think of some other activity that can be done without any physical skill or stamina let me know and I will make the switch before it is too late.

Sincerely

Bill Meder

Oh Boy

Dear Jim: Oh Boy

When Sally slipped on a piece of ice a few weeks ago and badly broke her arm you were probably wondering how anyone with eyesight and half a brain could be so careless. Although I didn’t say it out loud, “Bozo” was on my lips more than once as we dealt with the consequences.

On Friday, as I’m crossing the parking lot downtown, I find myself on a particular ice path and I remind myself to be extra careful. As I come to the end of the path, both feet fly out from underneath me and I come crashing down on my arm and hip. The arm and wrist immediately start bleeding like a tap and I’m sure my arm is broken.  In addition, my hip is signaling excruciating pain and I’m sure it is serious.

An attendant comes running over and asks if he should call an ambulance. I said, there is no way I could endure the embarrassment of breaking my arm and my hip slipping on the ice after my wife broke her arm doing the same dance a few weeks ago. Just carry me to my car and point it in the direction of the highway and I will go home and hide out until I heal from natural herbs and teas, out of the site of anyone I remotely am acquainted with.

Turns out my bones were not quite broken, and the bleeding stopped in a day or two. I haven’t told anyone this story so keeps it to yourself as I don’t want Sally to think she has the upper hand.

As for being a caregiver I have done quite well.

Sally’s arm is healing, and, in a few weeks, she can start driving and washing my car.

If you are thinking of helping someone in the shower there are a few problems, you have to deal with. Sally and I decided many years ago that no one was going to see either of us naked again except for the operator of the Crematorium when the time came. This makes it difficult to aim a hose when you have to keep your eyes closed. Safety tip…. a power house is a bad idea in case you were wondering.

Meals have been superb if I do say so myself and although Sally has lost a lot of weight, I’m going to let her have solids again next week when she can handle both a knife and fork herself.

 That should be the end of that issue.

All in all, not a bad experience. It didn’t bother me nearly as much as I feared, and I can hardly wait until our last hospital visit.

 After two hip replacements and now a broken Arm Sally has been out of the stores for many weeks in the past two years. This means I can extend her retirement program for a year longer than I had planned for her. So, all good.

Next year I am told I have to buy boots with snow cleats and anti skid nails. I will be sure to order a pair on the internet from my condo in Florida and have them shipped to the house in case I have to come home.

Bill Meder

Billmeder.blogspot.com

Don't slip on the ice

Dear Jim:

So Sally slipped on the ice, broke her arm near her shoulder, lay in the parking lot for 45 minutes in the pouring rain waiting for the Ambulance. Really inconvenient as it was on Friday night during rush hour and I was already home. Had to drive in heavy traffic.

And, her coat and suede pants were ruined, and I don’t want to tell you about the blouse they cut off of her at the hospital. I will replace all those items at XMAS.

At any rate, please don’t think I am insensitive to poor little Sally who couldn’t get a cast because the break was so high on her arm and has to wait 6-8 weeks with no support for it to heal. I mean lots of people don’t pay attention to ice underfoot and slip and break things, right?

I’m learning a lot about one armed wives.

If you were trying to sell one in a third world country, you wouldn’t get any takers for sure. They really are quite useless and if they are moaning and groaning a lot, they are annoying as well. However, we have to do what we have to do and although she is struggling to do her chores and make me happy, for my part I’m going to be very tolerant of substandard performance.

As you know I am a lousy care giver.

I have always been a net receiver of services and never bothered to learn how to do anything.

If I lived alone, I would never make my bed. Who cares? Discussions on this subject are on-going.

Yes, I can order in a pre-done dinner and warm up the oven to 350 degrees like nobodies’ business. I also can serve it and now that I know you can’t cut food with one hand, I am only buying soft squishy stuff suitable for a single fork or spoon. Feeding problem solved. Except I’m not good at vegetables and fruit so there is a danger that Sally will develop scurvy over the longer term. One day at a time.

Helping with dressing etc. is a bigger problem. When I was a highly motivated teenager, I didn’t have the ability to unhook all those items of clothing that women wear. Now with my motor skills completely gone I have turned getting ready for bed in to a marathon event. My swearing skills are getting better with new phrases popping up daily.

Because there is no cast, I have to be careful not to move her arm as I move around. Gentle doesn’t work for me and it is amazing how easy it is to forget which arm is broken. In fact, I doubt whether we have made any progress in healing this first week.

The next 8 weeks promises to be the ultimate test for both of us. Luckily, I can get out of the house and will leave at 5.30 am and return at 6.pm. Sally is trapped and this isn’t going to be a great spring. At least Sally can look forward to lots of physio when the weather gets better.

Thanks to all my friends for their suggestions. I think getting her a snow blower since she can’t shovel was the best idea I received.

I will keep you posted

Bill Meder

Billmeder.blogspot.com