The Narnian Lamp-post
"Today's Hat" from Sunday night's shift:
The cowboy hat looked best with the pink shirt. I don't care for cowboy hats but it's good to try new things.
It was fairly busy at the hat shop. Jameson and his friends came to visit in the first hour of my shift. It's funny how you get into "work mode" and kind of see things differently (does this happen to other people or is it just me?) Like, I greeted Jameson as a customer and had to stare at him for seconds to realize, "Oh, that's my boyfriend!" because I was in "Retail Mode." I showed him around the store, he gamely tried on some hats (a fedora, a Panama, and a novelty.) Like me he is not a hat person, but I did enjoy seeing him in the Panama :)
After he left we did really well on sales. I sold another Tilley, and also my first Panama hat! The Tilley was $100 and the Panama was $200. In the end we met our sales goal for the day, exceeding it by $1300! This is very cool because we get an hourly bonus when it happens. Yay!
Closing was not hard, it was just organizing the hats by size, sweeping and mopping, wiping counters and windows, finalizing registers. All the things you'd expect. I was home by midnight where Jameson and I checked in with each other and fell asleep eventually.
----------------------------------------------------------------
I didn't sleep well because of nerves about my Papa Pal visits. Wish I were a less anxious person! There is nothing to be nervous about.
After breakfast I grabbed the tiny orchid, the rice pudding cup, my packed lunch, and drove downtown.
Visit One
The first visit was at a nursing/assisted living/memory care facility, it was REALLY nice. I'd retire there (if I could ever afford it, HA HA HA HA) Checking in was quite the kerfluffle plus there were people in front of me who took forever, so I was an embarrassing 15 minutes late. I checked in with the social worker on site and went up to the room...
...where I found out it was just as well that I'd been late, because my resident was getting cleaned up...you know, TOILET stuff. If I had shown up earlier we would've had to stop whatever we were doing anyway. So I waited patiently in the hall for another 15 while nurses got her cleaned up (they were very kind, gentle, and sterile from what I saw.) When they were finished I went in and began the visit.
This resident was, unfortunately, a dementia patient and "not all there." She was also primarily Spanish-speaking. This was a bit awkward for me as I didn't want to be patronizing; she could say "yes" and "no" but that didn't give me an indication of her cognitive function, and with a language barrier we couldn't have a discussion. I tried offering some juice, and then the rice pudding I'd brought, but she clamped her mouth tightly shut. I asked if she'd like me to read to her and she didn't respond. On the way out the door I'd grabbed a deck of cards with holographic images of different birds on them. I brought that out and showed them to her, describing the birds and what they were doing, the types of branches that they were standing on or prey that they held in their talons (these were Audubon drawings.) She watched for a while, then when I got near the end of the pack she closed her eyes.
I had the idea to try streaming an audiobook in Spanish, and chose something familiar that I'd be able to follow despite the language barrier: "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe." I played about 20 minutes of the first chapters, stopping twice to offer water, pudding, or the option for a different activity. Once she took water, but the other times she seemed to ignore me and closed her eyes again.
But when it was time for me to go, I had to stop the audiobook before the end of the chapter. It was about the time in the book where Mr. Tumnus's little cave-house is broken into, and the children are deciding what to do next.
I stopped the audio and started to pack up, and immediately her eyes popped open and she gave me SUCH a look of indignation. I wonder if she'd gotten invested! I'd be annoyed too. I said goodbye and promised to visit again IF I could.
Downstairs the on-site social worker stopped me to say how much he'd appreciated that I'd visited. I described the activities we'd done during the time, and the only way to describe his reaction was "flabbergasted." According to him, the usual Papa Pals who visit normally do nothing with her, just sit and play on their phones because she's mostly unresponsive. My response to that was, "Well, I figure she has nothing to do all day except sleep, get poked and prodded by nurses, and stare at the wall for hours. She can do all that stuff when I'm gone!"
He insisted, I mean INSISTED, that I consider social work. Maybe it was just because the facilities are always shorthanded and need help, or maybe it really was because I "have a knack for this" as he told me. But either way I'm not really interested in caretaking. Maybe I'm naturally inclined toward emotional support...but definitely not caretaking or wellness management or group activity planning. Still, I took his card and offered that I could visit regularly if he'd arrange that through Papa Pal.
Visit Two
The next visit was at a hospice facility. Checking in was much more relaxed; I met briefly with the social worker and found the room easily too. It was a shared room and the minute I stepped in the other resident, whose name was Fran, started griping at me about her food. She showed me her sad plate and I agreed with her that it sure did look BOILED, and offered to forward her complaint to the front desk. "Oh no dear, I just needed someone to listen."
I understand that.
I focused on my resident in the next bed. She was very emaciated and weak but looked like she'd been kept clean and as comfortable as possible. I introduced myself and asked if she needed anything, a drink of water perhaps, and she said no. She said it was hard for her to talk or move so she preferred not to. I asked if she'd like me to read to her and she said yes, pointing to the Bible next to her bed.
I picked it up and asked if she'd like to hear any particular verse. She asked for Psalm 91.
Which happens to be my favorite one. I'm not a religious person, I don't go to church. But that psalm is always on a tab on my phone, so I can look at it any time. What a coincidence...but it's probably a favorite for many people. I read it, and felt a bit emotional, but that's to be expected.
We talked between Bible verses. She told me that she had cancer, and that she was dying. I said that I understood, told her that my mother had died of pancreatic cancer. When she repeated "I'm dying!" several times, I said, "I'm dying too. You're just going to get there a little bit ahead of me. But we are all going to the same place. It's unavoidable. Soon I will be where you are now. And after that, you and I will both be wherever we go next. We'll both have left this earth, and will be...wherever is next."
She looked me dead in the eye and nodded solemnly, then closed her eyes and asked me to read some more.
(See, this is why being emotionally cold can be good for this type of thing. Truth trumps emotions. You can feel however you want but it changes not one goddamned thing. And those who are staring inevitable Death in the face, are actually staring at Truth. She was facing her truth with every breath she took...and I wanted to meet her there, and show her that I saw what she was facing, and was facing it with her. At least for today.)
Soon my voice was hoarse from reading and talking with her (and with Fran, who popped her head around the curtain from time to time just to be involved I think) and then it was time for me to go. My resident seemed sad that I was leaving and asked when I'd come again. I told her the truth, which was that I didn't know when but I'd try to make this a regular thing on Mondays. She told me that the priest only visits once a month. I replied that I had no power to make him visit more often, but that I'd pray he'd be here on the day that she needed him, in her moment of need.
Before leaving I showed her the tiny orchid, and made sure to point out the four buds that would become flower blossoms. I put the flower where she could see it, and said, "Each morning when you open your eyes, check to see if any of the flowers have bloomed for you." The idea was to give her something to look forward to. Something to anticipate...a tomorrow, even if she doesn't have one.
Also before leaving, I snuck to Fran's side of the curtain and slipped her the rice pudding cup that my dementia patient had rejected. You know, because she had been so deeply disappointed with her BOILED plate of food. She gasped with joy and said, "Oh, aren't you WONDERFUL!" and beamed from ear to ear. I squeezed both women's hands, said my goodbyes, and left.
I had worried about wasting money on the pudding and the orchid...but had followed the directives of my soul, and bought them anyway. And it turns out they were exactly what was needed.
Another point in the "Things Happen for a Reason" column.
On the way home I stopped at Whole Paycheck for sushi for Jameson and I, since it was on the way.
I got home and told Jameson about the visits...well, I told him in the most limited and PC way possible, leaving out things that I knew would break his sweet sensitive heart. And even so, he teared up and got quite visually emotional.
I have always thought that there must be something wrong with me for being so emotionally cold; I never cried for sappy movies, I rarely cry at all except out of fear or frustration, and I didn't even cry at my mother's death (well, not for the first few months anyway.) But perhaps this is in some ways a gift. Death and illness frighten me; thinking about the unknown of death and the pain and terror that can precede death, frightens me. Trying to wrap my head around EITHER eternity/endless existence OR finality/ceasing to exist, absolutely terrifies me.
Yet it's what waits for us all.
SOMETHING waits for us...we just don't know what it is.
There's no POINT being afraid (though I am) because every single one of us will end up there.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Anyway. The rest of the day was quiet. Jameson worked until dinner, I packed lunch and prepped stuff for the hat shop shift.
My rooting hormone showed up in the mail. I miss my lovely glowing flower nightlight and am looking forward to taking a new cutting on Wednesday, my day off.
But for now, I visited my petunia outdoors. We have lots of ambient lighting: string lights, pathway lights, street lights, etc.
Yet you could see the flowers glowing clearly with the naked eye. So cool.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Tuesday, I felt exhausted. Maybe emotional tension does impact me physically.
Breakfast and generally chilling out until it was time to go to work.
It was a normal day. New-to-me events included spending 15 minutes at the sock kiosk (yes, the company does socks too) and also doing part of the store's inventory. I like to learn new things.
Today's hat:
I got MANY complements on it, probably because it was so unexpected to see. But it felt nice anyway.
Back home I started to put the firefly petunia out again to acclimate, but changed my mind and kept it inside tonight. I've missed seeing it at night, for one thing, and for another I'm taking cuttings tomorrow and figure that will stress the plant enough.
With the light on, and off:
The whole plant from farther away:
Close-up of the two brightest flowers tonight:
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Wednesday after breakfast I took cuttings from the petunia.
(BTW, sorry for all of the firefly petunia content lately, it's just the most interesting thing going on with me at the moment. At some point I'll chill out about it.)
The weather is a bit cooler this week which is quite exciting, but it's also supposed to rain a lot, good for the bananas but maybe not the petunia. Still, it's time for it to begin living outside.
The larger of the two cuttings (the other wasn't really a "cutting" but a piece that broke off last week that I've kept in water.)
When I was done I put everyone under the grow lights, then did errands. Bagel shop, Moe's for queso dip, grocery for dinner ingredients, lunch when I got home, packing lunch for Disney tomorrow, practicing trombone, and cleaning both bathrooms. After that I was tired so laid down for a bit, Jameson had a migraine and took a nap too. He's been getting more frequent and painful headaches and it's worrying me.
Dinner was taco salads, improved with the queso dip.
At night I put the little cuttings on my night stand where they glowed softly, making my heart hurt for colder weather.
I fell asleep thinking of the Narnian lamp-post, shining alone in the woods and the swirling snow.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thursday: A rehearsal day at Disney, which I'm very grateful for.
Friday: Some chores + night shift at the hat shop.
Saturday: A day off.
Sunday and Monday: I don't know.
The cowboy hat looked best with the pink shirt. I don't care for cowboy hats but it's good to try new things.
It was fairly busy at the hat shop. Jameson and his friends came to visit in the first hour of my shift. It's funny how you get into "work mode" and kind of see things differently (does this happen to other people or is it just me?) Like, I greeted Jameson as a customer and had to stare at him for seconds to realize, "Oh, that's my boyfriend!" because I was in "Retail Mode." I showed him around the store, he gamely tried on some hats (a fedora, a Panama, and a novelty.) Like me he is not a hat person, but I did enjoy seeing him in the Panama :)
After he left we did really well on sales. I sold another Tilley, and also my first Panama hat! The Tilley was $100 and the Panama was $200. In the end we met our sales goal for the day, exceeding it by $1300! This is very cool because we get an hourly bonus when it happens. Yay!
Closing was not hard, it was just organizing the hats by size, sweeping and mopping, wiping counters and windows, finalizing registers. All the things you'd expect. I was home by midnight where Jameson and I checked in with each other and fell asleep eventually.
----------------------------------------------------------------
I didn't sleep well because of nerves about my Papa Pal visits. Wish I were a less anxious person! There is nothing to be nervous about.
After breakfast I grabbed the tiny orchid, the rice pudding cup, my packed lunch, and drove downtown.
Visit One
The first visit was at a nursing/assisted living/memory care facility, it was REALLY nice. I'd retire there (if I could ever afford it, HA HA HA HA) Checking in was quite the kerfluffle plus there were people in front of me who took forever, so I was an embarrassing 15 minutes late. I checked in with the social worker on site and went up to the room...
...where I found out it was just as well that I'd been late, because my resident was getting cleaned up...you know, TOILET stuff. If I had shown up earlier we would've had to stop whatever we were doing anyway. So I waited patiently in the hall for another 15 while nurses got her cleaned up (they were very kind, gentle, and sterile from what I saw.) When they were finished I went in and began the visit.
This resident was, unfortunately, a dementia patient and "not all there." She was also primarily Spanish-speaking. This was a bit awkward for me as I didn't want to be patronizing; she could say "yes" and "no" but that didn't give me an indication of her cognitive function, and with a language barrier we couldn't have a discussion. I tried offering some juice, and then the rice pudding I'd brought, but she clamped her mouth tightly shut. I asked if she'd like me to read to her and she didn't respond. On the way out the door I'd grabbed a deck of cards with holographic images of different birds on them. I brought that out and showed them to her, describing the birds and what they were doing, the types of branches that they were standing on or prey that they held in their talons (these were Audubon drawings.) She watched for a while, then when I got near the end of the pack she closed her eyes.
I had the idea to try streaming an audiobook in Spanish, and chose something familiar that I'd be able to follow despite the language barrier: "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe." I played about 20 minutes of the first chapters, stopping twice to offer water, pudding, or the option for a different activity. Once she took water, but the other times she seemed to ignore me and closed her eyes again.
But when it was time for me to go, I had to stop the audiobook before the end of the chapter. It was about the time in the book where Mr. Tumnus's little cave-house is broken into, and the children are deciding what to do next.
I stopped the audio and started to pack up, and immediately her eyes popped open and she gave me SUCH a look of indignation. I wonder if she'd gotten invested! I'd be annoyed too. I said goodbye and promised to visit again IF I could.
Downstairs the on-site social worker stopped me to say how much he'd appreciated that I'd visited. I described the activities we'd done during the time, and the only way to describe his reaction was "flabbergasted." According to him, the usual Papa Pals who visit normally do nothing with her, just sit and play on their phones because she's mostly unresponsive. My response to that was, "Well, I figure she has nothing to do all day except sleep, get poked and prodded by nurses, and stare at the wall for hours. She can do all that stuff when I'm gone!"
He insisted, I mean INSISTED, that I consider social work. Maybe it was just because the facilities are always shorthanded and need help, or maybe it really was because I "have a knack for this" as he told me. But either way I'm not really interested in caretaking. Maybe I'm naturally inclined toward emotional support...but definitely not caretaking or wellness management or group activity planning. Still, I took his card and offered that I could visit regularly if he'd arrange that through Papa Pal.
Visit Two
The next visit was at a hospice facility. Checking in was much more relaxed; I met briefly with the social worker and found the room easily too. It was a shared room and the minute I stepped in the other resident, whose name was Fran, started griping at me about her food. She showed me her sad plate and I agreed with her that it sure did look BOILED, and offered to forward her complaint to the front desk. "Oh no dear, I just needed someone to listen."
I understand that.
I focused on my resident in the next bed. She was very emaciated and weak but looked like she'd been kept clean and as comfortable as possible. I introduced myself and asked if she needed anything, a drink of water perhaps, and she said no. She said it was hard for her to talk or move so she preferred not to. I asked if she'd like me to read to her and she said yes, pointing to the Bible next to her bed.
I picked it up and asked if she'd like to hear any particular verse. She asked for Psalm 91.
Which happens to be my favorite one. I'm not a religious person, I don't go to church. But that psalm is always on a tab on my phone, so I can look at it any time. What a coincidence...but it's probably a favorite for many people. I read it, and felt a bit emotional, but that's to be expected.
We talked between Bible verses. She told me that she had cancer, and that she was dying. I said that I understood, told her that my mother had died of pancreatic cancer. When she repeated "I'm dying!" several times, I said, "I'm dying too. You're just going to get there a little bit ahead of me. But we are all going to the same place. It's unavoidable. Soon I will be where you are now. And after that, you and I will both be wherever we go next. We'll both have left this earth, and will be...wherever is next."
She looked me dead in the eye and nodded solemnly, then closed her eyes and asked me to read some more.
(See, this is why being emotionally cold can be good for this type of thing. Truth trumps emotions. You can feel however you want but it changes not one goddamned thing. And those who are staring inevitable Death in the face, are actually staring at Truth. She was facing her truth with every breath she took...and I wanted to meet her there, and show her that I saw what she was facing, and was facing it with her. At least for today.)
Soon my voice was hoarse from reading and talking with her (and with Fran, who popped her head around the curtain from time to time just to be involved I think) and then it was time for me to go. My resident seemed sad that I was leaving and asked when I'd come again. I told her the truth, which was that I didn't know when but I'd try to make this a regular thing on Mondays. She told me that the priest only visits once a month. I replied that I had no power to make him visit more often, but that I'd pray he'd be here on the day that she needed him, in her moment of need.
Before leaving I showed her the tiny orchid, and made sure to point out the four buds that would become flower blossoms. I put the flower where she could see it, and said, "Each morning when you open your eyes, check to see if any of the flowers have bloomed for you." The idea was to give her something to look forward to. Something to anticipate...a tomorrow, even if she doesn't have one.
Also before leaving, I snuck to Fran's side of the curtain and slipped her the rice pudding cup that my dementia patient had rejected. You know, because she had been so deeply disappointed with her BOILED plate of food. She gasped with joy and said, "Oh, aren't you WONDERFUL!" and beamed from ear to ear. I squeezed both women's hands, said my goodbyes, and left.
I had worried about wasting money on the pudding and the orchid...but had followed the directives of my soul, and bought them anyway. And it turns out they were exactly what was needed.
Another point in the "Things Happen for a Reason" column.
On the way home I stopped at Whole Paycheck for sushi for Jameson and I, since it was on the way.
I got home and told Jameson about the visits...well, I told him in the most limited and PC way possible, leaving out things that I knew would break his sweet sensitive heart. And even so, he teared up and got quite visually emotional.
I have always thought that there must be something wrong with me for being so emotionally cold; I never cried for sappy movies, I rarely cry at all except out of fear or frustration, and I didn't even cry at my mother's death (well, not for the first few months anyway.) But perhaps this is in some ways a gift. Death and illness frighten me; thinking about the unknown of death and the pain and terror that can precede death, frightens me. Trying to wrap my head around EITHER eternity/endless existence OR finality/ceasing to exist, absolutely terrifies me.
Yet it's what waits for us all.
SOMETHING waits for us...we just don't know what it is.
There's no POINT being afraid (though I am) because every single one of us will end up there.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Anyway. The rest of the day was quiet. Jameson worked until dinner, I packed lunch and prepped stuff for the hat shop shift.
My rooting hormone showed up in the mail. I miss my lovely glowing flower nightlight and am looking forward to taking a new cutting on Wednesday, my day off.
But for now, I visited my petunia outdoors. We have lots of ambient lighting: string lights, pathway lights, street lights, etc.
Yet you could see the flowers glowing clearly with the naked eye. So cool.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Tuesday, I felt exhausted. Maybe emotional tension does impact me physically.
Breakfast and generally chilling out until it was time to go to work.
It was a normal day. New-to-me events included spending 15 minutes at the sock kiosk (yes, the company does socks too) and also doing part of the store's inventory. I like to learn new things.
Today's hat:
I got MANY complements on it, probably because it was so unexpected to see. But it felt nice anyway.
Back home I started to put the firefly petunia out again to acclimate, but changed my mind and kept it inside tonight. I've missed seeing it at night, for one thing, and for another I'm taking cuttings tomorrow and figure that will stress the plant enough.
With the light on, and off:
The whole plant from farther away:
Close-up of the two brightest flowers tonight:
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Wednesday after breakfast I took cuttings from the petunia.
(BTW, sorry for all of the firefly petunia content lately, it's just the most interesting thing going on with me at the moment. At some point I'll chill out about it.)
The weather is a bit cooler this week which is quite exciting, but it's also supposed to rain a lot, good for the bananas but maybe not the petunia. Still, it's time for it to begin living outside.
The larger of the two cuttings (the other wasn't really a "cutting" but a piece that broke off last week that I've kept in water.)
When I was done I put everyone under the grow lights, then did errands. Bagel shop, Moe's for queso dip, grocery for dinner ingredients, lunch when I got home, packing lunch for Disney tomorrow, practicing trombone, and cleaning both bathrooms. After that I was tired so laid down for a bit, Jameson had a migraine and took a nap too. He's been getting more frequent and painful headaches and it's worrying me.
Dinner was taco salads, improved with the queso dip.
At night I put the little cuttings on my night stand where they glowed softly, making my heart hurt for colder weather.
I fell asleep thinking of the Narnian lamp-post, shining alone in the woods and the swirling snow.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thursday: A rehearsal day at Disney, which I'm very grateful for.
Friday: Some chores + night shift at the hat shop.
Saturday: A day off.
Sunday and Monday: I don't know.