The Caregiver’s Tales: A Blog

It’s interesting work refurbishing rooms well lived in. The rooms in question were occupied by my son, who now has a place of his own, after many years of helping me during his mom’s illness and after her passing. I’ve already painted one room, and I’m now working on the bathroom where water has proven a formidable enemy. I’ve painted, replaced baseboards, tightened up moldings, and all that’s left to do is caulk.

Ah, the flowers I have known. Their memories dance in the garden of my mind. Azaleas in front of our second home in Pasadena. A lush, full coral vine in the backyard. Antique roses flanking the drive in Alvin. Johnny Jump Ups by the front porch. The Gulf Muhly we planted upon our arrival at our current home. The red rose, planted at the east end of the house, that grew to well over six feet before succumbing to drought.

Over the winter I spread wildflower seeds in my wildflower garden, basically it’s a patch of untended ground given over to what most would consider weeds. The first bloom to appear after the Bluebonnets was a California Poppy. It was a nice surprise. I hope more show up, and I may order some seeds to give it company because it is an attractive bloom, and I think it would look nice in my front yard.

Had my innards scrutinized again yesterday. The annual celebration of my abdominal aortic aneurysm repair. It was me, two techs, iodine, and a CT machine. The process took about 30 minutes. It was a lot easier than last year when it took two days, because machines were down. Doctors will look at these pictures and tell me what they see. I might get a fork in the road, or permission to carry on.

I bought some cut flowers the other day. Carnations. White and red. Friends were coming over, and I wanted a little color in the kitchen. The flowers have done well. They still look fresh. I think I’m going to make a habit of this. Flowers outside. Flowers inside. They were less than $5 a bundle. I’ll go for different colors on the next go just to spice things up.

It’s gardening time again. Yesterday, I planted a patch of Inland Sea Oats a friend gifted me, and I trimmed the deadwood from the Turks Caps along the front porch. The latter was tedious work and previously handled by my late wife. I usually remonstrated her with the remark that no one trimmed deadwood in the forest. But being on my own now, I see the value of the clean lines and a fresh start. I’ll do the lantanas today.

My embrace of the night of two sleeps is playing hell with my mornings. I used to be up at 5:30. Then it slipped to six. Nowadays it’s coming in around 7 or even 7:30. Sometimes I feel like a wastrel. Squandering time by lying about. But I know that time is not really mine to squander, it’s just there to use, and perhaps in the time between my sleeps I now should consider some semi-useful activity.

Winter stopped by the other day, burned the leaves and blooms on a few trees, before realizing its mistake and heading out of town, apologizing profusely for causing a disturbance during the arrival of spring. No one seemed to mind however, because it was nice to get one more chance to wear a sweater, and everyone knew winter wasn’t really here to stay.