Tag Archives: alzheimer’s disease

May 17, 2009 · 19:29

Rest Recovery and Reaction- Thoughts on Returning Home

The events of the past week have been a blur.  The trip was non-stop action with a lot of stress built in.  I am thankful that I was able to get a few moments to catch up with my brother and old friends over a couple of beers.  The day on the links was really enjoyable.  The pain of my sunburn is slowly going away.  I hope to get out a couple of times in the near future here.  If I actually play more than once a year I might actually be pretty good.

I have received much support from my friends and for this I am grateful. To know that one is not alone in times like these is a great comfort.

I found that I still have some of my PTSD reactions to noise light and crowds, especially in airports or crowded airplanes.  I get anxious and can actually feel the anxiety.  When I get trapped in a big crowd in a confined place it is really noticeable.

I wrote something else over the past few days regarding the way people on the political right and left use and abuse the military and veterans.  I’ve been stewing about it after the remarks of a prominent former elected official about a retired General with a distinguished record last week.  I’ve put off publishing it because I want to make sure that when I do it that I haven’t said something that will piss everyone off.  I’m sure that there will be some who take offense, especially when I criticize certain media personalities who are iconic.  I want people to see that it is wrong to in one sentence to praise the military and in the next criticize it when either the institution or members of the institution active or retired disagrees with their agenda, no matter what it is.  I have been pleased with President Obama protecting our troops by blocking the release of photographs which the ACLU wanted published.  Of course he realized that the photos could only put our troops in danger and inflame an already volatile region.  Likewise he is continuing to increase the size of the active duty Army and Marine Corps and has halted the reductions in the Navy and Air Force.  I think he gets the picture and is looking out for us.  I do not know when or if I will publish that article but I am going to hold off on it at least for a while.  I have become a lot more prudent about such things than I was in times past.  That being said I don’t care if the person being an ass and treating honorable men who serve faithfully in a shabby manner are liberals or conservatives.  If they want to criticize honorable men who have served the country faithfully in peace and war and they have never served I will not hesitate to call them on it.  My brotherhood with those who have served is deeper than any political party. I don’t serve Red States and Blue States but the United States.  I’m tired of people who use their influence in the media to stir up hatred and discontent and question the manner of how we do the jobs they send us to do.   Likewise for them to  question our honor and integrity, especially when most of them have never served a day in uniform is way below the belt.  May the Deity Herself preserve this miscreant Priest.  To quote Colonel Nathan R Jessup in A Few Good Men:

“Son, we live in a world that has walls and those walls need to be guarded by men with guns. Who’s gonna do it? You? … We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use then as the backbone of a life trying to defend something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said “thank you,” and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest that you pick up a weapon and stand a post. Either way, I don’t give a damn what you think you are entitled to.”

Peace, Steve+

Post Script:  I didn’t get to recover last night.  About midnight I had to take Judy to the ER.  She is not one to usually need to do this but she developed some kind of infection that was keeping her from swallowing and possibly threatening her airway.  After a bunch of IV antibiotics, steriods, pain meds and a CT scan they decided not to admit her, though that was a near run thing. She should be fine but I didn’t get home until 0400.  To those not in the military or Germans that means Mickey’s Big hand is on the 4 and his little hand on the 12. Following this I had to go to the DMV to replace my license plates which had been stolen off my car from in front of my house.  This was not the way I thought the return would be.  God bless and thanks for the kind words, thoughts and prayers. Peace, Steve+

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May 16, 2009 · 23:00

Last Visit with Dad, Beer with Breakfast and Musings on my Visit to Mudville

Me and last last pic

Dad and Me 15 May 2009 in our matching Giants Apparel

I got to the airport I had a better time checking in that my trip out.  I had time to get breakfast in the Home Turf Sports Bar. As readers of this blog know I do not do travel or airports well since I came back from Iraq.  I used to travel quite frequently and while I can do well I have a lot more anxiety in crowds and lines.  Thankfully Sacramento is not too bad today.  Even so I decided to get breakfast.  Had scrambled eggs, bacon and home fries washed down by a couple of pints of Sam Adams Boston Lager. I find that a good beer takes the edge off of the anxiety and taste a lot better than Xanax.  The first time I did this was in between flights going to and from Bahrain at Heathrow in London.  A pint goes very well with breakfast, which over there included eggs, potatoes, toast, tomatoes and rashers of bacon. Despite this when I got into the crowded line I have a decent anxiety attack.  The flight to Chicago is full and there are a lot of less experienced travelers and families with small children on board. Thankfully none of the kid’s has started screaming….at least yet, may the Deity Herself keep the kiddo’s quiet.  The most miserable fights I have been on have been the ones with the screaming kids.  I really don’t like the beer on aircraft since it is always in cans.  Beer doesn’t taste as good out of a can, even decent beer.  I prefer beer on tap or in a bottle.   However this afternoon I decided I could use a beer.  The crowed flight was beginning to get on my nerves, especially the young gentleman sitting in front of me who kept adjusting, readjusting and bouncing in his seat. He had almost caused me to spill my Diet Coke.  I went back to the aft galley and the flight attendant when he saw my military ID gave me a complimentary beer and thanked me for my service to the country. That was pretty cool, and though it was a brand I might not normally drink, it tasted better than any domestic beer I have ever had on a flight.   Way to go Southwest.

I do not know when I will get back to Mudville.  I assume that it will be sooner rather than later given my dad’s condition which is obviously deteriorating fairly quickly now.  At least we have gotten some of the hard things done.  My brother and I have continued to grow close and continue to find just how much alike that we are.  The only thing that we might disagree on is our taste in beer, that however is nothing to fret over.  I love his family, he’s a great dad.  Somehow all of us will get through this time.

A couple of other high lights of the trip were having a pizza, salad and beer over at my nephew Eric’s pizza parlor.  The place is called appropriately enough Eric’s. He bought it from the previous owner who had hired him as a teenager.  Then it was called Rick’s and it is still a local fixture in Mudville. Eric runs a great place and frequently is recognized as having the best pizza in Mudville.  As a pizza expert I can say that it is some of the best I have ever had.  Truthfully I like what I like better, Eric’s crust is a bit more substantial than mine, I like the really thin, light and soft New York crust.  Eric’s is definitely a New York Pizza and incredibly good, if you go to Mudville he’s on El Dorado Street.  Tell him I sent you.  He also serves Newcastle Ale on tap. That is also a major selling point for me. He has good taste in beer.  Whenever I go there we always have a nice talk.  He’s a good family man and business man.  It is hard to believe that I have known him since he was 8 years old.  I had dinner at Arroyo’s Café one night.  For the unenlightened Arroyo’s has some of the best Mexican food around.  If you are in Mudville it is worth the visit.  The portions are good sized, taste good and the prices are very affordable.  Finally I had a great time with my buddy Rob from elementary school and junior high school.  I hadn’t seen him since 1979 or 1980 and it was good to reminisce as well as catch up on things.

Today also marks a milestone.  It was 13 years ago today that I was ordained as a Deacon.  I’ll write about that experience another time.  Like most things in my life it was not an ordinary day or boring event.  I guess the surprising thing is that I survived 13 years as a Deacon and as a Priest.  Once again the Deity Herself continues to protect this miscreant Priest.  From the moment that the Blessed Sacrament was lifted high out of the Paten by a gust of air from an errant ceiling fan before the horrified eyes of the blue haired ladies at the cathedral where I was ordained, my service as a Deacon and Priest has not been ordinary.

I’ll get back late tonight and head over to Gordon Biersch with Judy for dinner and a couple of Marzen’s.  Tomorrow I’ll try to take it easy and rest.  I look forward to Monday night and the Tides game.  It has been over 10 days since I’ve been to a game.  Thankfully the Tides were out of town for most of this time.

Thank all of you again for your kind words, thoughts and prayers over the past week. They have been most encouraging.

Peace, Steve+

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May 15, 2009 · 23:42

Mulligan Stew…Adventures on the Golf Course and the Bar

Me at the 18thMe at the 18th after a Day of “Mulligan Stew”

I have not golfed since last August when I was last out here.  My shoulders and tendonitis which have bothered me since my return from Iraq have been too bad to play the game despite having a set of clubs and a city golf course less than a mile from my home in Virginia.  Today was interesting.  I went out with Jeff and his friends Steve and Frank.  Great guys all of them.  I enjoyed the hell out of the day.

Now as far as my golfing goes…It is safe to say I’m never going to be on the PGA or even the LPGA tour and never going to give Tiger Woods a run for his money.  In fact it might be hard for me to compete against Larry Curley and Moe.   Despite this it does seem, at least according to what my brother and his friends say that I have a pretty good swing for someone who golf’s as little as I do.  Apparently the Deity Herself gave me a great amount of grace.  Now to be honest I had some pretty good shots as well as some incredibly bad shots.  I lost 4 balls in 18 holes, 2 to water and 2 to grass that was so I that I dared not venture into it.  I guess the environmentalists are trying to ensure that some vermin has a place to live.  I also left a pitching wedge at the 9th hole which I did not recover. Thankfully it was an old club that only I might use when I come into town. My right shoulder began to hurt pretty bad by the 9th hole and for a while until I figured out the mechanics of what I was doing I was not doing well.  Thankfully after Iraq I can sense what my body is doing better than I could ever before I went there.  I was able to adjust much faster than usual and I was able to do pretty good, actually scoring a legitimate par on the 16th hole.  My drives and fairway shots got better.  Depending on a very forgiving 2 Wood I started hitting some very nice shots from the tee and the fairway. My approach shots to the green, especially with the pitching wedge or sand wedge after I lost the pitching wedge became very consistent and my puts started getting the range.  All in all it was not a bad round.  Now I while the rest of the foursome kept score I did not.  I took a lot of “Mulligan’s” when things were not going well in order not to slow up the game for everyone else.  Now the true golf aficionado would condemn me to golf hell for such infractions but despite my Scottish last name I do have a bit of Irish in me. I have just enough Irish in me not to take bad shots too seriously, especially when I have not golfed more than 5 times in the last 7 years.  Simply realizing that made my day enjoyable.  I was able to enjoy conversation while working on my game.  In all the day was simply great.  I think I surprised Frank when I suggested that he “bean” one of the golfers ahead of us who were going to slow for my taste so that we could play through.  He was shocked to hear a priest say such a thing, but I had to admit that they were going far too slow.  Heck, even I was playing better and faster than them and they had more expensive clubs and gear than I did and he was horrible.  He deserved it.  Thus I fall back to my old defense: “If they deserve it is it still a sin?”  Sometimes I wonder.  My confessor told me that it was still a sin even if here were extenuating circumstances, but sometimes I wonder.

Following the round Jeff and I got with my high school buddy Jeff and had a blast talking about life over at Maxim’s restaurant and bar.  I had a couple pints of Newcastle’s and we split some very gooey nachos.  It was good to see my friend Jeff again.  We went to high school together and did several cruises as NJROTC cadets while at Edison High School.  Jeff spent three years in the Army after high school serving in Korea, Texas and Kentucky.  After this my brother Jeff and I went to his house where we had dinner with his wife and kids and my mom.  That too was a good visit and after a nice visit I went to pick me up a bottle of Burt’s Bees Aloe and Linden Flower After Sun Lotion to sooth my lobster like skin.  Despite having bought two tubes of Banana Boat Sunscreen, one when getting my coffee this morning I forgot to put the damned stuff on.  It does very little good to purchase good sunscreen with a high SPF if you forget to put it on.

So now I sit writing this post and watching the Giants play the Mets on TV.  Soon I will be packing and putting myself in bed so I get see dad on the way to the airport.  As always thank you for your thoughts, kind words and prayers.

Blessings, Steve+

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May 14, 2009 · 17:28

Alzheimer’s Disease, Ghost Fleets and Waiting for the End

Note: I want to thank all who have been offering words of encouragement, expressions of support and kindness as well as prayers this week. They are deeply appreciated. The week has been good but emotionally draining.  Tomorrow after I visit dad in the morning I hope to have some time decompressing with my brother on the golf course. Following that we’ll get with an old high school NJROTC buddy for a beer or two and then a cook out at my brother’s house. Tonight I’ll see an old buddy from grade school and junior high and have a beer together.

hancockDad’s Last Ship, the USS Hancock in better times

I went and saw my dad today. It was not as good of visit as the previous two days.  It was more depressing.  He looked worse and though he recognized me he was not as “with it” as he was before. He wasn’t really interested in talking. He had me wheel him to his room for a few minutes and then take him back to the dining room where lunch was about to be served.  He showed little of the interest that he showed in the last couple of visits and seemed down.  It is hard to believe how little is left of him and how week that he is.  Yesterday he had me help him into his bed from his wheelchair.  He cannot manage this himself anymore, when he gets free of his wheelchair seatbelt he usually falls down.  It was actually pretty sporty trying to get him to the bed.

jeff dad and me at ca capitolBetter Times: Dad with Jeff and I Outside the California State Capitol

Talking with the staff they say that he is becoming more combative and resistant to what he needs to do.  Today he asked if I could take him home with me.  I told him there that was nothing more that I would like to do but that it was not possible.  If it was possible I would take him in a heartbeat, but the level of care is beyond what I could provide and my two story townhome would not be conducive to his situation.  It hurts to see him like this.  He’s too much for mom and way beyond her capacity to care for him. He doesn’t understand this.  He actually thinks that he could go home and lead a normal life including driving.  Alzheimer’s dementia is a terrible thing.  It robs a person of who they are long before their body dies.

coral sea scrappingAn Unkind Fate: USS Coral Sea Being Scrapped

He kind of reminds me of a decommissioned ship that is awaiting disposal either through scrapping or sinking. If you have ever been to a Naval Reserve Fleet or facility where decommissioned ships are laid up you can probably picture this.  Decommissioned ships which are no longer being maintained for possible reactivation are usually stricken from the Naval Register.  They are then referred to as the “ex-USS name the name of the ship.”  Weapons systems and anything of value is removed. The ship is then allowed to rust away while awaiting disposal.  About the only thing that those working at the facility do are to ensure that the ship is neither sinking nor leaking any toxins into the water around it.  Apart from that it sits moored to a pier or out in a harbor basin with others like it.  The James River Maritime Reserve Fleet and Suisun Bay California are prime examples of this.  They are aptly known as “ghost fleets.” The vast majority of the ships at these locations will never sail again, except to be towed to a scrap yard or to be sunk as a reef or a target.  On rare occasion one might be taken for restoration as a maritime museum, but this is rare.   As a whole most people don’t even want to look at the ships in these fleets.  They are considered unsightly and even dangerous.  Their history is often ignored or unappreciated by those who look upon them, save those who served on them or have a special interest.

oriskany24USS Oriskany, Hancock’s Sister Ship Awaiting Her Disposal as an Artificial Reef

In a sense that is how my dad is doing.  He is like one of the ships in the “ghost fleet.”The Alzheimer’s has taken away his ability to function in any really meaningful way.  His body has deteriorated so badly that he is hardly recognizable as my dad.  He is now in hospice care at the nursing home.  In a sense he has been stricken from the Naval Register and is awaiting his fate.  He will not be reactivated for service in this life.  Only the timing of his death is undetermined. The hulk that once, and still in a sense is my dad is moored to his wheelchair or bed.  An alarm is attached to him in case he gets loose.  He gets enough care to keep him afloat.  Now he is getting excellent care, but still there is a limit to what can be done.  It is sad that there are so many like him tucked away out of public view and forgotten by most.  Now we wait for the day when this man, who lived such an active and productive life, breathes his last and passes to the next world.  His memory will go on as my brother and I will pass that memory on to others.

I meet men who like my dad are in the end stage of Alzheimer’s frequently in my ICU.  Some still have some capability of remembering things from early life, even if they can’t remember what happened five minutes ago.  With them and with my dad I try to find those memories so they can at least be in touch with something.  I believe that their lives and stories still matter and that they need to be treated respectfully and as much as adults as possible.  If you have a parent, family member or friend with Alzheimer’s disease, please treat them with as much care and dignity as possible.  Also know that there are others who like you are walking this path.

Peace, Steve+

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May 13, 2009 · 18:29

An Anti-Christ does Funeral Homes, Walk-Offs, Donuts and Banks and Visits His Dad

Note: To fully understand the reference to me being the Anti-Christ, please see my posts “Saturday Morning Distractions-Jehovah’s Witnesses at the Door” https://padresteve.wordpress.com/2009/04/04/saturday-morning-distractions-jehovahs-witnesses-at-the-door/ and “So This is What it Feels Like to be the Anti-Christ…Cool.” https://padresteve.wordpress.com/2009/04/07/so-this-is-it-what-it-feels-like-to-be-the-anti-christcool/

While I may be the Anti-Christ to the Witnesses this in no way implies that my dad is the Devil, well again dad was in the Navy, donated a ton of blood and loved his country.  Peace, Steve+

Today started out a bit weird.  Being the Anti-Christ can lead to some interesting situations. The juxtaposition of various events that occur when you are travelling as well as dealing with really serious matters that deal with the end of life get strange.  It’s almost like I am living a Seinfeld episode.  As you know I am out working with my mom and brother to take care of various end-of-life issues, funeral arrangements, financial matters, hospice and the nursing home.

Anyway, yesterday I spent the morning with my dad and then in the afternoon took my mom to De Young Funeral Home in Mudville. This is a trip that she had planned to take with a friend to make pre-arrangements but her friend had the audacity to suddenly die before they could make the trip.  Since then my mom has been putting it off as my brother has not had the time to go with her.  Let’s face it, this is not everyday stuff and can be quite upsetting when you are not in good shape and have to do it for your spouse as well as yourself.  Thankfully I have been through this before working with my wife to make arrangements for her parents.  My mom had no idea all that went into making these arrangements, especially for cremation. Thankfully the De Young people are really good.  The manager there, aptly named Mr. Nice was really good in helping my mom and was fittingly very nice.  My mom was not happy about my father’s desire to be buried at sea.  However, as a retired military wife she is also eligible for this just as if she was being interred with him at a National Cemetery.  When she found out that there was the possibility of burial off the coast of San Diego with my dad, she had a noticeable change of heart.  We were stationed there when I was kid and she always remembers it as one of their best tours in the Navy.  We agreed that when the time comes that they will be buried together at sea from a Navy ship.  It is fitting for a couple who spent 20 of the best years of their life in the Navy to be honored in this manner.  Thankfully as an active duty Navy Chaplain I will be able to arrange the details on the Navy side.  This being accomplished mom and I got dinner and went back to her house.

After resting for a while I went out to the living room where mom was watching the Giants play the Nationals.  It looked bad for the Giants. In the top of the 7th the Nationals took a 7-5 lead.  The Giants for one back in the bottom of the 8th on a Benji Molina home run and held the Nationals in the top of the 9th.  The first two batters went down and the Giants were down to their last out trailing 7-6. The Edgar Rentaria singled up the middle. Emmanuel Burris followed with single putting runners on first and second.  Pablo Sandoval, who in the 7th tripped on the base path trying for a triple came to the plate. I looked at mom and said. “Time for the walk off.”  Mom said “I hope somebody does something.” Somehow I knew going into the inning and even after the second out that Giants would win.  There is something special about this team that the experts don’t see.  I knew they were going to win. The count went to 2 and 2 when Sandoval blasted a shot over the left field wall.  It was the kind of home run that the instant that it was hit that you know is gone.  Sandoval was mobbed by his team mates as he crossed the plate.  Walk offs like that are part of the baseball magic which the Deity Herself has given us.

This morning my mom, Jeff and I went to the bank to take care of administrative issues dealing with the family trust, an adventure that took almost two hours but again was helpful.  A young lady was quite helpful and again though it took time she made it comparatively easy.  Following this I was once again blessed when visiting my dad.  Today it took more work but I was able to keep engaged for about 20 minutes before putting him in bed.  We talked about baseball and the Navy once again; I described the walk-off from last night.  He still does love the Giants.  We talked about the Navy, specifically Navy uniforms.  He was happy to hear that I wore brown shoes with my khakis and that the Navy was possibly going to bring back the Dress Khaki.  This was one of his favorite uniforms.  I was also able to get Judy on the cell phone for him.  He had really taken to her over the past 7 or 8 years following the death of his mother who Judy was quite close to.  He had asked about her on both of my visits and it was good for them to talk, even if only for a couple of minutes.  I do hope that they will see each other again.

So anyway while most of this does not really fit as un-Anti-Christlike, I was reminded once again today that I am the Anti-Christ; or according to the Jehovah’s Witness one of the many such nefarious creatures.  Can you spell “Beast?”  However as I have noted in other posts I have a high rank among the multitude of Anti-Christ’s.  I am first and foremost a Priest and according the Witnesses all Christian ministers are Anti-Christ’s.  Second I am a Navy Officer serving the government which according to the Witnesses is of the Devil.  Finally I am a chaplain in a Naval Medical Center ICU which routinely tanks people up with blood and blood products. I am like Osama Bin Laden or maybe even Hitler to the Witnesses.

I picked up some Donuts for us at the Mudville “Donut King” on Pacific Avenue. Those not from California really don’t understand really good donuts. We have a lot of “mom and pop” donut shops out here.  Donut King I think is the best in Mudville. I have been going to them since I was in high school. If you go down to San Clemente there is “Surfin’ Donuts.”  These are belly busters; there is enough sugar and fat in these things to fully charge the youth of a third world village to the point where they would need to be put on Ritalin. Add some coffee and we’re cooking with gas. These mom and pop stores put all the chain donut shops to shame.  Of course the hot and fresh “Krispy Cremes” are to die for, but all other donuts are also-rans compared to these.  As I came out of the 7-11 near my parent’s house with my 24 ounce French Vanilla coffee with 4 French Vanilla creamers and 4 Spenda’s, a man got out of a Mercedes Benz SUV.  I thought at first that he was a business man stopping in for coffee when he strode up to me and out came the Watchtower. I was momentarily surprised and he said “Would you like to hear the good news about Jehovah?”  I looked at him and said very bluntly, “No thank you, I’m the Anti-Christ” and continued walking to my car.  The look on his face was hysterical; you would have thought that I had hit him upside the head. He was stunned.  As I got into my car I saw him slink back into the passenger side of the Mercedes, a fine automobile, I must say, as the other occupants, a man and two women glared at me.  Obviously they were going to wait for another target, so I drove off.  It is so cool to be the Anti-Christ to these guys.  Some of my former Fundamentalist friends on Facebook probably think similar thoughts but might at least grudgingly admit that I might get to heaven. If they would admit me I might be out in the visitor’s bullpen but at least I’d be there.  The Witnesses don’t even give me the chance at Hell since they don’t have one. Guys like me get to be instantly annihilated, do not pass go do not burn in Hell. Dante would not be impressed.  So, what the hell?  I’ll have to chat about this with the Deity Herself tonight over a beer.

As always I thank you for your prayers, kind words and thoughts.  Still some more left to do here.

Peace, Steve+

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May 12, 2009 · 15:56

Connecting…Baseball and Having My Dad Back for a Few Minutes

San_Francisco_Giants_logo

I visited my dad this morning at his nursing home and it was a good visit. The Deity Herself must have intervened, and I am glad about that.  Alzheimer’s is really a terrible disease.  It robs people of their mind long before they physically pass away.  Dad looks terrible and after yesterday I did not expect much, but I wanted to connect somehow.

On the way I picked him up a San Francisco Giants hat and shirt.  Dad has been a Giants fan since coming to the west coast back in the late 1950s.  When we moved up to Mudville in 1971 he would occasionally take us over to Candlestick Park to see them play. Admittedly this was a pretty decent trip so we didn’t go as often as I’m sure that he would have liked.  The first baseball game that dad took me to was in the summer of 1969 Seattle Pilots at Sick Stadium. I don’t remember what day it was, only that it was either a Saturday or Sunday day game which happened to be “Bat Day.”  In those days teams gave real bats to the kids.  I got one with the signature of Pilot’s First Baseman Mike Hegan.  I had the bat for years.  I think I finally broke it playing a pick-up game in the 1970s.  Dumb me; the damned thing would probably be worth a fortune now.   When we moved to Long Beach in 1970 we went to a lot of California Angels games.  This was in the time before they went through the crisis of what to call themselves.  You know, The California Angels, The Los Angeles Angels, the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim and finally now the Anaheim Angels.  Those were great times.  Dad was awesome in getting us to the game, helping us shag foul balls and teaching constantly at the game.  If we were not at the game we had it on the radio.  I still enjoy listening to baseball on the radio.  I mostly now listen to the Norfolk Tides when they are on the road.

Me and Lefty Phillips

When we moved to Mudville, dad like I said would take us to Giants games.  The most memorable of these was on August 24th 1975 when in the second game of a double header against the New York Mets, Ed Halicki threw a no-hitter.  That was cool; dad took me to see a game where a no hitter happened.  It was magic.  We would also attend Oakland A’s games.  This was back in the days of Charlie Finley’s ownership and the dynasty team that included Reggie Jackson, Sal Bando, Rollie Fingers, Vida Blue, Jim “Catfish” Hunter, Joe Rudi, Bert “Campy” Campanaris, “Mudcat” Grant and Paul Linnblad.  We saw a couple of the playoff games against the Detroit Tigers at the Oakland Coliseum in 1972. The A’s won both, Rollie Fingers picking up a win in relief and Blue Moon Odom shutting tehm down in the second.  In Mudville we would go see the Stockton Ports of the California League who at the time were part of the Baltimore Orioles farm system.

halicki no hitter

While we went to a lot of games it didn’t stop there. Dad from as early as I could remember would take me out to the back yard, vacant lot or school baseball field to teach me to pitch, throw and field.  When I saw the movie For the Love of the Game starring Kevin Costner there are old clips, home movie clips of Costner and his parents with his dad playing ball with him.  Those clips sent me back to my childhood when dad did that with me.

oakland a's 1972

Today I had my dad back for about five to seven minutes. They were a good five to seven minutes. The visit yesterday was not so good.  He was not very with it and very anxious.  Today he was calmer and I gave him the Giants hat. When he saw it his eyes lit up.  Then I gave him the shirt, and he smiled.  I then told him the Giants had taken two of three games over the weekend from the Dodgers and he said simply “Good.”  Dad is not a Dodgers fan unless they are playing in the World Series, then he is not a fan, but simply a National League partisan.  I told him about my season ticket with the Norfolk Tides and he said, “I wish I could go with you.”  I then thanked him for all that he taught me about the game and how he taught me to love it.  He said “at least I taught you something.”  I then told him that he had taught me a lot more about life than he might remember.  He smiled.  I told him how he used to take me to the back yard and play catch, teach me to pitch, and to field a ball cleaning as we played pepper.  I said “I still remember you telling me to keep my butt down and keep in front of ground balls.” He said “you have to do that.”  I told him any time that I was in the infield that I could hear his voice telling me to “keep your butt down.”  I did mention that he didn’t teach me how to hit and he said something that surprised me.  He said: “Son, to be a hitter takes a natural gift, a lot of people can’t hit.” I then said, “Well I’m one of them” and he smiled.

He asked me about the Navy and we talked for a minute or two about it.  Then he then started to get anxious and ask me to take him to the recreation room.  They were getting ready for an organ concert.  I wheeled him beside an older lady and he said. “That’s my son…He’s a Navy man too.”

I promised that I would see him again tomorrow.  I don’t know how he will be doing then but at least for a few minutes today I had him back.

Peace, Steve+

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May 11, 2009 · 19:15

The Journey to Mudville

Friends: I wrote this in several parts over the day on my trip. I do thank all those who have expressed sympathy as well as voiced prayers on our behalf. Thank you. Peace, Steve+

There are those times in life where one wonders what the hell is going on.  I sat in my seat between two other gentlemen on the fully booked Southwest Airline flight to Chicago. This was the first stop on my journey home to Mudville, sometimes known as Stockton, California.  The legend is that the poem Casey at the Bat is set in Stockton, and for a couple of years the Stockton Ports were reflagged as the Mudville Nine.  So in a sense I can claim Mudville as part of my baseball lineage.

The journey had begun inauspiciously enough when my cell phone’s alarm clock went off at 0430 to the tune of John Foggarty’s Centerfield.  That’s military time for 4:30 AM, or too frickin’ early… even by my standards.  Now true this is only 15-30 minutes earlier than I normally arise, but I have never been a morning person.  If I had been able to get to sleep at a decent hour this might not have been too bad.  However, I had spent a full day trying to get my shit together on Sunday and did not get to bed until after midnight.  Thankfully my sleep meds worked and I did get to sleep.  When the alarm went off I got my sorry ass up and set the snooze for ten minutes more. Molly the dog glared at me.  Evidently this was too early for her as well.  I finally got up and out of bed, showered and went downstairs to call a cab.  Of course the cab company couldn’t promise a cab before 0600 and since my flight was scheduled for 0645 I knew that this was definitely a no go.  Molly the dog decided that it was now time to come downstairs and demand to be let out so she could do her business.  This being done she collected her payment of a Milk Bone and went back to bed.  After having paid off Molly I loaded my suitcase and backpack into my trusty 2001 Honda CR-V and started off to the airport.  After Iraq I now consider airports as the gateway to hell.

Radio tuned to ESPN Sports Radio 1310 AM I received the news that my San Francisco Giants had beaten the Evil Dodgers at Chavez Ravine 7-5 in 13 innings, taking two of three from the now Mannyless Dodgers. While the Norfolk Tides had taken 2 of three from the hapless Buffalo Bisons which in the Mets organization had once been the Tides. The Mets as usual have decided to treat their AAA farm team badly and people in Buffalo after years of competitive seasons as a Cleveland Indians affiliate are opening complaining.  With the good news I stopped by my local 7-11 for a 24 ounce coffee with 4 French Vanilla creamers and 3 packets of Splenda and zipped off to I-264.  It was then that things started to get interesting and not in a good way.  I managed to find every stoplight and get behind every timid driver who couldn’t drive anywhere near the speed limit.  I’ve driven the Autobahns of Germany and cut my teeth in L.A. and a lot of people in Hampton Roads can’t drive nails, much less cars. I put my CR-V into warp factor eight, set the cloaking device and dodged in and out of traffic and took the secret wormhole into the airport to avoid even more stoplights.  It is patently a good thing that I know such things as I would shortly discover that I would need every second.

I pulled into the parking garage and saw that there were 26 spaces available on the second deck. I drove onto the deck and discovered that there were not 26 spaces but a big fat zero spaces available. Muttering a few things about the questionable parentage of the idiot who couldn’t count the difference between 26 and zero I drove my CR-V up to the 3rd deck.  The sign here said 16 spaces available…good I thought, certainly they couldn’t screw up two floors.  Damned if I wasn’t screwed again.  Here again the parking space counter of the previously mentioned questionable parentage had miscounted.  Instead of 16 spaces there were…you guessed it, zero, nada, nicht eine, yea even nary a single space available. Now calling to mind the probable oedipal practices of the individual of questionable parentage I moved up to the 4th deck.  Here I found success; albeit at the end of a row far from the terminal, but I had my spot…at least I didn’t have to keep going up.  I looked at my watch and knew I had to run. I did the O.J. (racing through the airport, not killing my wife) and I got down to the ticketing area where I was greeted by the sight of at least 250 people in the Southwest line.   I now only had 50 minutes to my flight departed.  Normally with Southwest this is easy. They are efficient and the line, if they have one at all it tends to move fast.  Today was like something out of the hell known as the Orlando International Airport.  Some group of 100 or so people had bumped everyone else aside. Likewise one of the big TSA baggage X-rays was down, turning this into a nightmare is grumbling people stewed wondering if they would make their flights.  I uttered some more #*@#%! words under my breath and then asked the Deity Herself to give me a break. Thankfully the Deity and the good people at Southwest ensured that line moved fast.  We received some help when the group who had gooned up the line was finished.  Then the agent called for my 0645 flight.  At this point all of now very late passengers stormed the ticket booth like revolutionaries storming the Bastille. Thankfully I had good position based on my position in the line. Expert that I am I weaved through the lesser experienced travelers. I slid into a self serve kiosk that no one else had spotted like Ricky Henderson would slide into second. As I got my boarding pass a pushy woman tried to bump me out of line. I didn’t like it; she was trying to crowd me out of line when I was there first.  Thankfully she was too dense to know that she needed to check her bags despite having a boarding pass in her hand.  The Southwest agent told her to get in a different line and I got my bag checked.  That task completed I did the O.J. and flew up the steps to the TSA checkpoint.  Jumping over a bank of chairs I managed to pass about 50 people only to discover that the nefarious group of 100 was already at the TSA checkpoint.  Once again the pushy lady tried to elbow her way through the line.  Since she obviously was a narcissist with no sense of propriety I cut her off. She looked at me like I was stupid, forgetting that we had had this little discussion just a few minutes before.  I said “ma’am, most of us are on your flight and are ahead of you.” Her jaw dropped and a TSA agent told her to get back echoing my words.   She looked at me and said “Will they hold the flight for me?”  To upset her, having faith in the Deity and Southwest, I lied and said, “Probably not.” Of course I didn’t believe this with so many of us in the same predicament. Yet I kind of enjoyed the look on her face as she moved back to her rightful place at the end of the line. Not the nicest thing to do, but some things need to be done.  I’m sure it was a sin.  As I asked one priest in confession: “Is it still a sin if they deserve it?” He told me: “Yes, but there may be some mitigating circumstances, but that is still a sin.”  Well there’s some more extra innings in Purgatory for me. Thankfully I am an expert traveler now, so when I got to the screening station I flew through it. Looking at my watch I knew that I had to be screwed. I had heard the final boarding call in the TSA line and it was past time for departure.  I raced down the concourse I saw that the Deity had already spoken to the kind folks at Southwest and had them hold the aircraft for all of us…the pushy lady included, proving that the Deity even cares for pushy narcissists. I guess that the rain falls on the just and the unjust alike.  Somehow I got through this episode without having a PTSD meltdown despite not having either a Xanax or beer to calm down.  Lot’s of deep breathing I guess helped this time.  Had I not made the flight I might have cracked, but the Deity Herself looked after me.

We arrived at Chicago Midway a little bit late, but in plenty of time to make my connecting fight to Sacramento, the alleged capitol of the State of California.  I say alleged because though there is much in the way of a state government in it there is painfully little evidence of effectiveness, despite having the Governator. Getting to Sacramento I picked up my luggage, which thankfully despite the lateness of my check-in got through.  If I had done the same on either Divided Airlines or U.S. Scare I’m sure that the luggage would not have made it on my flight, but would have ended up God knows where.  While waiting for my bag I had an e-mail from my mom about a run in that she had with a lady from hospice.  She was pretty spun up and my brother confirmed this.  I got my rental car, a 2009 Black Nissan Altima and headed down I-5 to Mudville.

When I got to Mudville I stopped by Raley’s to pick up the flowers that I told my mother would be arriving through a special arrangement with the florist.  Since I figured I should play this up for all that it was worth I decided to call and let her know that I had gotten her message.  She immediately launched into what was wrong with the world as I sat in my car in her driveway. I assured her that my brother and I would take care of things and that everything would be okay.  I knocked on the door with my phone in hand still talking to mom.  She told me someone was at the door and I said I would call back. She looked out the blinds which cover a window by the door, and then closed them, and then in disbelief opened them again. She was floored and stared in disbelief as I stood at the door, flowers in hand. I took her to the nursing home to see dad.  Somehow my nephew’s and niece managed to keep the secret the last two weeks. The surprise was total. He was glad to see me and immediately asked where Judy was.  He was disappointed that she was in Virginia. Unfortunately he looks in a lot worse shape than he was last year.  After the visit which included talks with the nursing staff and billing office I took my mom to Chile’s.

Now the hard part really starts.  Have to go up and see my dad.  I’ll be getting mom to the funeral home as well as make arrangements with their church for the memorial service at a date to be determined.  Following this I will be helping my brother with selling my parents old grave plots back to the cemetery in Napa where they lived a few years back. Then I will work on insurance issues between the insurance company and the nursing home.  The insurance company is being stupid right now.  The first 6 months they paid and now despite no change they are claiming that the nursing home is entering the wrong billing codes and say that they have the case “under investigation.”  However, since they have set precedent they should keep paying.  If they don’t start soon my brother and I will have to sue their sorry asses for putting my mom through hell.  If dad was with it he would be pissed.

So now that I am in Mudville I have work to do.  Take care and keep us all in your prayers.

Peace, Steve+

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May 10, 2009 · 12:14

Mixed Up Mother’s Day

This is a weird Mother’s Day for me.  I’m getting ready to fly out to California to help my mom make funeral arrangements other end of life decisions and nursing home/ insurance company billing issues for my dad.  Dad is probably in his last couple of months of life.  His doctor is amazed that he has lived as long as he has.  However, dad was always a scrappy fighter and remains so despite his end stage Alzheimer’s disease and probable cancer.

Mom has had a tough go of it.  Dealing with my dad’s deteriorating condition the past five years and not having retired life turn out the way that they planned has worn her down.  She is not doing well neither physically or emotionally.  Sometimes her emotional state leads to difficult situations for my brother and me.   As with most independent minded older children my  relationship with her has been at times mercurial.  Mom wanted me to remain in our home town and be a teacher.  That didn’t happen.  As readers of this blog know, I am that Navy Brat who never grew  up and lives for the adventure of life and discovery.  When my dad retired from the Navy in 1974 I thought life was over.  The adventure of seeing new places and discovery seemed to stop.  When I finished my first two years of college I moved away, only to return for visits as I have ambled about the world.  I know that she has had a hard time with this but some things can’t be helped. It is interesting because she and dad did the same thing.  They joined the Navy and never went back to their hometown except to visit.

Mom has always been a bit special.  When my dad was in the Navy she was a rock.  Once a neighbor threatened me and mom went down and blasted him.  It was kind of cool to see my barely 5 foot tall mom take on a man who was 6 foot 6.  She would have had no hesitation to clobber him had the man laid a finger on me.  She endured a lot in life.  Her dad was abusive and controlling.  She endured frequent separations from my dad when he was in the Navy.  She worked hard in the house and outside of it.  We didn’t lack for anything.   She experienced the loss of many friends when the aircraft carrying the Marshall University football team crashed in 1970.

At the same time she is her father’s daughter.  She has always  known how to get my dad, my brother and me into rages.  She knows our buttons and can push them at will.  Thankfully my brother and I have become much more adept in recognizing what is going on and only occasionally have flare ups, a credit to our self discipline as well as a touch of help from the Deity herself.   Our family in better times was much like the Costanza’s in Seinfeld.My brother and I understand George completely.  At times we resemble Ray Romano’s family in Everybody Loves Raymond. Back in 1998 when I was the installation chaplain at Fort Indiantown Gap Pennsylvania Judy and I were watching Seinfeld. George’s parents were screaming and Judy looked at me with wides eyes and a shudder ran through my body.  She said “My God that’s your parents.”  I responded “I know but we can never tell them.”  The next night we got a phone call from mom.  She asked me: “Did you hear what Jeff told us last night?”  I said “no.”  She then said “Jeff said that we were just like Frank and Estelle Costanza on Seinfeld.”  I was stunned and started laughing out loud.  I then said “Mom, we were watching Seinfeld last night and thought the same thing.  But we weren’t going to say anything….but since Jeff has brought it up, you are just like them.”  She cried “Nooo!”  We later have had a lot of laughs over this but sometimes I think that  Jeff and I each in our own way are George Costanza or Ray Romano and our wives like Raymond’s wife played by Patricia Heaton.

My brother and I were born almost six years apart.  As such for most of our younger lives really didn’t think that we had that much in common.  Over the course of the past 10-15 years we have found that we are much more alike than not. Our views on politics, religion, how we react to different stressors, how we do life are surprisingly similar. He works hard as a school principal and is very involved in his family’s life.   His oldest son evidently has at least some of my personality traits and at times I am reminded by Jeff  that he never thought that he would be “raising his brother.”

Anyway the relationship that we have with mom is interesting, especially now.  She’s not doing well and I wish that we could get her back to where she was five to ten years ago.  However, that won’t  happen.  Certain medical and physical conditions never get better.  Mom is grieving dad, the man that she spent 50 years with is gone, even though his body is still alive.

I am going to surprise her tomorrow.  My Mother’s Day Card is intentionally late.  I have it to take with me.  Instead of the usual flowers sent through an online service, I will pick them up on the way to the house.  I’m telling her that I expect the man bringing her gift and card to get to the house about 12:30 or 1:00 her time.  However that man will be me.

I do appreciate your prayers this week.  I imagine it will be difficult.  Pray for my mom and dad.

Peace and blessings, Steve+

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April 17, 2009 · 20:08

Long Goodbyes- Letting go when a parent has Alzheimer’s disease

jeff-dad-and-me-at-ca-capitol1Better Times: Jeff, Dad and Me in front of California State Capitol around 1972-1973

We all hit times of transition in our lives.  Sometimes these involves moves, job changes and relationship changes.  However the hardest seem to be the passage of generations, especially when we see our parents passing away or in their final months. Alzheimer’s disease makes that process different, it’s not like a heart attack or stroke although strokes can have a similar effect, cancer or renal failure.  Alzheimer’s takes the person that you knew away long before they die.  It is the longest of goodbyes.

My dad has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s for some time now.  He has been going down bit by bit for the past several years.  It started slow, in fact we didn’t initially notice it.  He started not remembering things and having minor fender bender accidents which we found out about later.  As he continued to go down his mental status, nervous behavior and lack of awareness increased.  As this happened my mother tried to take care of him herself, she tried hard, but was unable to cope with him.  Eventually she began to wear down.  When he fell down and broke his arm in several places last year it was the beginning of the end for him, an end that is likely fast approaching. Since he broke his arm his mental status and physical condition have deteriorated significantly.  Additionally his disease process has affected my mom, who has not taken care of herself the way that she should.

I saw him in the spring of 2007 just before I went to Iraq, and last year after my return from Iraq I made three visits to the California from my home in Virginia.  I anticipate a trip out in the relatively near future.  Neither my dad or my mom are the parents now that I grew up with, the disease has taken a toll on both of them. Of course we all think about the patient, but the closest caregiver is often worn down to nothing by the process.  This has been a process of a long goodbye for all of us.

Diseases such as Alzheimer’s are hard to deal with.  They are slow moving and because they are rob the person of who they are, difficult to watch.  Those closest to them seldom realize what is happening until things start really getting weird.  Such was the case with my mom.  my dad was having auto accidents and other problems before his diagnosis. Before this dad was active, involved with community groups and an avid golfer.  He loved all kinds of sports and to travel.

His deterioration has been most remarkable to me.  This is perhaps due to my distance away from where my folks live.  I don’t see him everyday.  Thus when I go back my benchmark for how I see him is different than that of my mom and brother.  I can see the major changes in every visit because of the distance.  Likewise I can see the deterioration in my mother’s condition with each visit.  I can see the toll that my dad’s disease has taken on her. She is not the same as she was even a few years ago.

Even though I am not in the same town, I am reminded of my parents on an almost daily basis.  In my work in the ICU of a major Naval Medical center I get to spend time with a lot of people who are a lot like my folks.  My parents are retired Navy, my dad retired as a Chief Petty Officer back in 1974.  I am a quintessential “Navy Brat.”  I grew up in it, I lived and guess that I still live for the adventure of military life.  I find that there are a couple of major sub-groups of military brats.  Those who loved it and somehow continue that type of lifestyle, and those who don’t and as soon as dad retires never look back.  They never move again if they can help it.  My brother is like that, he has remained and been very successful as a teacher, and now school principal in the town that we retired in.  He has a wonderful family and it turns out that we are a lot more alike than we are different.  I see a lot of this where I work.  It seems that a good number of the patients and families that I get to know in our ICU are my parents generation.  Their kids are often “Navy Brats” like me. We have a shared experience of life that you do not find in many other places.  It is like we are family.

While I spend time with these folks, many going through end of life situations, I often see my parents.  Every old retired Chief, or retired Chief’s wife reminds me of my folks.  They remind me of the good times and the bad.  They remind me that I am awaiting my time to be be at my parents bedsides, not as the Priest, but as the son. With every one of these visits  I am back home.  During clinical pastoral education training you are taught to recognize what is your stuff and what belongs to the patient and the family.  I’m pretty good at doing this, but even recognizing this fact, the feelings can run pretty strong.  Like the Romulan that I am I am not a big fan of emotion.

This is a long goodbye.  Alzheimer’s ensures that you do not wake up and find that your parents died suddenly and unexpectedly.  They die a little more every day. With each visit I have returned to my home and duty station wondering when I will hear that either mom or dad has passed away.

This week was hard.  I got a call from the nursing supervisor of the place where my dad is being cared for.  His condition has gotten worse, his weight is dropping rapidly, 10 pounds in the past month despite increases in diet and nutrition.  The call came at a unusual time, when I saw the number I thought that it was the call that said he had passed away.  The lady who called is an old high school classmate who not only is concerned about my dad but also my mom and she let me know that dad has lost 4 pounds in the last week. His doctor is surprised that he is still alive.  He is down to 116 pounds, and even when I saw him at 130 last year he looked really bad.

We made the  decision yesterday to make my dad a hospice patient.  He will remain where he is, but will now will receive hospice care.  The decision was another watershed.  My brother and I both have known and made our peace with the fact that my dad is in his final months or maybe even days.  The end is coming, and is sooner than it once was. It has been harder for my mom, I don’t know if she will recover, she had somehow hoped beyond hope that he would somehow regain himself.

The goodbyes to my dad have been said, but they are not finished.  When that will be is still uncertain.  Until that day things will remain in this no-man’s land between life and death.  I know that there are millions of others going through similar situations and to them I say “you are not alone.”

Peace, Steve+

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April 2, 2009 · 21:37

Baseball is more than a Game, it is a Gift from my Dad

Baseball, it is said, is only a game. True. And the Grand Canyon is only a hole in Arizona. Not all holes, or games, are created equal.” George Will

Baseball has always been a source of enjoyment for me.  I’ve noted in numerous other posts that God speaks to me through baseball.  For me there is something mystical about the game.  It extends beyond the finite world in some respects and there is a symmetry to the sport unlike any other.  George Will’s quote at the beginning of this post is dead on.  Not all holes or games are created equal.

The game captured me in 1970-1971 when my dad began taking us to California Angels games while stationed in Long Beach California.  Well before that he planted the seeds watching games on a black and white TV, playing catch, teaching me to throw, field and run the bases.  While my dad thrived on all sports, baseball was the one that he gave me as a gift.  He gave my brother golf, another spiritual game, which Zen masters love, but which is not to be compared with baseball because it is not in its purest form a team sport.

Other major sports such as football, basketball, hockey and soccer are limited to rectangular playing surfaces of set dimensions determined by their leagues. With the exception of a couple of old hockey rinks there is no individuality to these venues, save perhaps for team or sponsor logos.  All of the other sports play a set time clock.  If a team gets way ahead early, it is likely that the game will be over.  While it is possible that a game could go into “overtime” the overtime in these games has different rules than regulation time.  “Sudden death” “Shootouts” and truncated times show that these games are not meant to go past regulation time.  It is an aberration from what is considered “normal.” In these games a team with a big lead can simply sit on the ball and run out the clock.

Baseball is not like that.  In order to win you have to throw the ball over the plate and give the other team a chance to come back. The nine innings could in theory go on for eternity, as they nearly do in in W.P. Kinsella’s The Iowa Baseball Confederacy, A story which is patently eschatological, though not in a pre-millennial dispensationalist manner.  Foul lines in theory go on for eternity, only the arbitrary placement of the outfield wall and the physical limitation of hitters keep the game within earthly limits.  I’m sure that outfields are a lot more spacious in heaven.

Save for the late 1960s and early 1970s when fascists took over the design of stadiums in order to make them suitable to play football on, baseball parks have had their individuality.  Outfield dimensions, type of grass, the kind of infield and warning track soil which is used, are all determined by the team.  Some fields cater to hitters, others pitchers.  And with the overthrow of the stadium fascists at Baltimore’s Camden Yards, the baseball park regained its dignity.  Gone were the ugly, drab oval stadiums, fields covered in  often shoddy artificial turf.  The unsightly and even hideous venues such as Riverfront, Three Rivers, Veteran’s Stadium and others, even dare I say the Astrodome and Kingdome were demolished and made nice piles of rubble, replaced by beautiful ballparks each with its own unique charcter that reflect the beauty of the game.

Tomorrow I go to Norfolk’s Harbor Park to see the Commonwealth Classic an exhibition game between the Baltimore Orioles and Washington Nationals.  This is one of the first of the new generation of minor league parks.  Since the Tides were then the AAA affiliate of the New York Mets, the outfield dimensions are nearly identical to the former Shea Stadium.  The outfield backs up to the East Fork of the Elizabeth River, shipyards and bridges dominate the view.  There is not a bad seat in the house.  Showers are expected in the morning but expected to be gone before game time.

Tomorrow the gift that my father gave me begins to unfold again as it does around this time every year.  This year is different, my dad is in a nursing home in the end stage of Alzheimer’s disease.  Last year he still knew enough of what was going on to talk about the Giants and diss the American League. Dad was always National League fan. He called the American League the “minor league.”  He told me stories about the greats of his childhood and he was an avid fan of Pete Rose, Rose’s banishment from baseball hit him hard.  I guess it was for him like the banishment of “Shoeless Joe” Jackson. 

Dad gave me a gift, a gift called the game, the game of baseball.  Sure, it’s only just a game.  Right… in the sense of the Grand Canyon just being a hole and the Pacific Ocean a pond.  Peace, Steve+




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