The Caregiver’s Tales: A Blog

I never dreamed I would become a fan of creams and lotions. But I have. My aging skin is thinning, and doing what old skin does. But I have an ancient influencer known as a doctor, a dermatologist, one who specializes in skin care, and she has recommended treatments, based on science, I assume. I follow them as best I can, especially when the north wind blows and the air dries out and my skin dries out even more and the itching comes. It’s a torment.

I can see the frost in the moonlight. That would be bad news if I had an orchard, but my peach tree passed a while back, so the plum is the only fruit tree left, and it’s never fruited. It had lots of blooms this year for the first time, however, so I’ll check when the sun comes up to see if anything fruity is going on. My persimmon is a male, which means lots of flowers but no fruit. That’s probably a good thing because persimmons stain.

At the moment, it’s fair and 41. Yesterday we hit the nineties. One day you’re up, the next day you’re down. At least it’s not snowing, but we might touch freezing tonight. Not what the new buds on the plants need. But it’s only for one night, and it might not be long enough to do any damage. Most of the trees have been through this before. They’ll bounce back.

I painted yesterday. One of my least favorite things to do, but I’d priced it out and figured when you have as much time as I do, painting a room, really isn’t that difficult. Unfortunately, I’m a can short and I’m not sure why I didn’t realize I might need two gallons of paint, especially since I had to paint the ceiling. So, now I have to wait until Monday to finish up. That’s okay.

Sleep these days has become an exercise in pain management. My hips hurt, my shoulders hurt, my foot hurts, old hernia repairs hurt. I pulled something in my right arm moving a dresser. It now hurts. I’d like to think there’s a way out of it, but I’m pretty sure it’s just my lot in life. I occupy an old frame and even though I’ve tried to treat my body with respect things just happen.

Well, I’m a new grandpa. My daughter had a son yesterday. In days gone by my wife would have been there to help, but she’s gone. So, the job fell to her sister. There’s not much a dad can do in this situation, because it’s all about the experience of childbearing. Moms do it, not the dads. The girl needs a female compatriot, and she has one. My wife’s sister had two children of her own.

I saw a bird. Pyrrhuloxia. Actually, two. They flew from bush to bush right in front of me. They were too fast for me and my camera, but I saw them clear as day and so did my friends. I last spotted one at Falcon Lake State Park in 1987. The recent sighting was just outside Persidio. I guess I could have found one sooner, but I’m a birder in the same way as I’m a geologist or a plant lover or a dabbler in physics. Incidental. I like to know what I’m seeing or reading, so I try to figure it out.

On my most recent trip to Big Bend, we drove in to Presidio to look around and eat lunch. A big sign on El Patio, where we dined, welcomed the transmigrantes. At first, I thought it was all about the truckers hauling goods into the US from factories in Mexico, or vice versa, but the dictionary definition says the phrase describes people hauling used goods from the US to Latin America. The key word there is used goods and the destination isn’t Mexico.