I should have mentioned yesterday that after Linda’s surgery on Wednesday, she recognized Tom right away. There was a danger that she wouldn’t. We’re very happy for her and know that Tom is, too. I’m sure there are some days where she would be OK not admitting Tom is hers, but recognizing him is good.
So, “what’s that all about?” you ask, and rightly so because this surgery had nothing to do with Linda’s head, but her liver. Both Tom and Linda explained how the surgery could possibly cause memory loss, and it made a bit of sense at the time. However, the complicated nature of the surgery and possible side affects were well outside the scope of my understanding so the explanation never made it into long term memory. I was able to keep it long enough to nod once in a while, indicating that I understood, when in fact I didn’t. My main concern focused on the effect on these two lovely people, not the cause. So, as did they, we put our trust into the hands of God and prayed that he would guide the surgeon’s hand. A lot of people were doing that, and it worked. So, there’s something for the heathen’s amongst us to think about.
Last night, before retiring, Diane was feely frisky so challenged me to a game of cribbage, which I won. She then challenged me again, and I won that one, too. We played a third game which she won handily, ending the need for challenges. Throughout the games we laughed like little kids in a manner we haven’t enjoyed in years. It was fun, something we don’t seem to have time for at home and it makes us wonder why. We don’t really have to go all the way to Mexico to recapture that part of ourselves. No sir. We could do that by just going to, say, Fort Stevens, or even the county park by the Scappoose airport. Or maybe we could just go out in the driveway and sit in one of the old Winnebagos and play cards there. I think the point my brain is trying to make is that we don’t have to leave home, really, to experience the fun times. It’s simply that ‘Home’ seems to have replaced the term ‘Work’ in our vocabulary, and work isn’t legally a place to have fun. So we don’t.
I’m going to change that upon our return home. I’m going to have fun every day, whether or not Diane gives me permission to do so. I’ll have fun chipping paint, removing paint from bricks that was placed there by the previous owners who weren’t too concerned about being sloppy. I’ll have fun mowing the grass … no, I do that already … I’ll have fun cutting down more blackberry vines, ripping out bushes that grow in places I don’t want them to grow, painting walls that have never been painted before, finishing Diane’s laundry room, adding fake walls to cover things we don’t want to see, refinishing the wood work around the remaining 12 windows in the house (I’ve already done 4 of them) … gotta stop this, now. My head is starting to hurt and Mexico is looking a lot better with each word …
The birds are back this morning … the gaviotas. There are also a few vultures here and there that soar over us, looking for something dead to clean up. One of the warnings given to us, which I failed to mention, is that at every public place, someone must keep guard and warn if a vulture is coming near. If so, the guard warns everyone so they can start moving around to make sure the vultures know there’s nothing there for them, and they sail away. For some folks, the vultures serve as timers, because they come around on a rigid schedule, causing people to at least turn over so they can crisp up their other tender areas in the hot sun. Kinda like turning a marshmellow at just the right speed over a bed of coals so it turns toasty brown and instead of catching on fire.
Now it’s time to venture outside and take a walk on the beach.
The walk is over and it’s 1450. The sun is hot, but seems to be more tolerable each day. We may move here.
I’m saddened by the fact that I will be unable to watch the Ducks game this afternoon because the sports channels we’ve found are all soccer related. Not actually ‘related’, but specifically soccer, the only true football according to Lydia’s soccer coach. No, to him soccer is the only ‘real’ sport. Lydia found that out when he asked her what position she played and she told him pitcher and 2nd base. Obviously not soccer.
Back to the Ducks – I’ll be doing some searching in a little while to see if I can remedy the problem. I’ve GOT to see that game! My entire vacation will be absolutely ruined if I can’t. Maybe I’ll be able to watch it live on ESPN via the internet. They won’t mind if I spend a few hours in the deli to do that, I’m sure. Might even buy something this time.
Diane’s been poisening me with lactose free leche the entire time we’ve been here. I thought there was something different about how it felt on my tongue, but didn’t question it until I had to go buy some more because we drank what we had. I’m sure I’ll survive, but I feel deceived.
It is now 1717 and we have spent the past 3 hours sitting at a table outside the deli talking with an ex-pat from Ohio who lives on the north shore of Lake Chapala which is south of Guadalhara. Though we heard her entire life story, there’s no way I could remember enough to make it worth sharing. Oh, Carolina’s son, Brian, went to nuclear power school in the Navy, spent six years on active duty, then went to Texas A&M to be a mechanical engineer, joined the Air Force, and is currently the physical ed teacher at the Air Force academy in Colorado Springs. Oh, and her Dad grew up in Western Nebraska, same as mine. Go figure. Another one of those small world ‘things’.
We ate our chili for lunch today so we’re technically out of hot food. We still have bread, peanut butter, and jelly, so we won’t starve, in case you’re concerned. I suggested that we could have toasted PB&J’s for a change, which I’ve had before and found to be quite good. I love crunchy things.
Not much else left for today. Talking with Carol all that time kinda wore me out, and changed the direction of my thought patterns, which happens to me all the time so that shouldn’t be a problem.
Here’s Diane checking her email and Facebook ‘stuff’.
Linda sent good news that she’s home and doing well. Her memory is fine so far and she can’t even forget some of the things, and people, who she would like to forget. So, there was a downside to the operation, after all. Seriously, we’re so happy she’s doing OK. Now that she’s back home Tom won’t have to cook any more.