Sweet home, Chicago

Posted on by
2

I said I was always a bit nostalgic here. It's bad this time. The weather is fine, the city is beautiful, everything seems great. I know it's no better than Pittsburgh and I would be very lonely without Robin and Steve. Actually, I've already seen all of my cousins except for one who is scheduled for tomorrow night. I'm not sure what I'll do on Wednesday, which is supposed to be my last day. There is certainly more to see and do, just nothing that seems pressing.

I got quite a few comments on my healthcare post. I'm pleased so many people came to read it. I'll try to answer some of the comments as soon as I return home. While I'm traveling I've been working on a variety of computers, mostly very slow. Sometimes keeping the blog is agony, like right now.

As I drove to Chicago I was listening to a book on CDs written by a guy who sold fake Salvador Dalis. Of course, the whole thing was about money. Finally, somewhere near the far end of Ohio all that money talk penetrated my consciousness and I realized I had forgotten money. I took $400 from the ATM machine Tuesday before I left and put it away at home. So there I was, no ATM card, no pin number for my charge card and $60 in cash, $10 of which would be promptly paid to the Ohio toll road people. I started thinking about which of my relatives I would hit up for cash, but it wasn't necessary. I charged gas and restaurants on the Door County part of the trip and my companions paid me in cash. I shouldn't have any trouble getting back to Pittsburgh.

On one of my first driving trips to from Chicago to New York we were stopped by a state trooper on our return trip. I don't remember whether it was in Indiana or Ohio, but it was a scam. We looked very young and he had us. Hauled us off the road to a justice of the peace who wanted $50–a huge sum in 1955. With four of us in the car we had only $35 all together, and he took it. We had to stop for gas and something to eat and forced the gas station to take a check. By the time we got back to Chicago we were down to 88 cents, less than a quarter of a tank of gas and one tire that needed repairs. I haven't thought about that in many years.

Last day in Door County

Posted on by
1

We've had a wonderful time. Aside from my great book I haven't gotten much art work done, but have a few ideas for new projects. Yesterday, between showers, we discovered a beautiful garden called The Garden Door. I took some pictures. Then we returned today so the others could take photos. I was the only one with a camera yesterday.

I love watching the lake. It's almost hypnotic. It rained most of the day yesterday, and the lake kept changing colors. Also the wave patterns change and clouds are continually moving. No rain today, but lots of action on the lake. It really looks like the ocean.

Back to Chicago tomorrow to relatives and friends. I'll post pictures and more stories after I return to Pittsburgh.

My father’s healthcare conversation

Posted on by
9

My father lived to a few days short of his 94th birthday. When he was 92  the nursing home sent him to the hospital because he coughed up blood. They called me; I rushed to the facility, and got there after he had been given a chest x-ray, an electro-cardiogram and no clear diagnosis. The doctor was about to put a tube down his throat to determine where he was bleeding. My father had a living will, a "Do not resuscitate" order and I knew he did not want the procedure. I had a long, terrible conversation with the doctor: What would he do if he found the source of the bleeding? We would not permit surgery. He said Daddy might bleed to death. I asked if it would hurt. On being told no, I was forced to tell him to let my father die. My father was grateful, but the conversation devastated me. Equally awful was the conversation I had with the nursing home.

My father was going blind from macular degeneration and becoming increasingly deaf. I'm know he found no good way to cope with this and wanted to die. I'm sure he died when his life became unbearable. I am pleased I was able to keep him from one more pointless indignity and a bad sore throat. 

My mother lived to 89. She was completely demented; did not know who my father was, or who I was; saw visions and finally spent most of her last days unconscious. My father took care of her until four days before her death, when unconscious and incontinent I insisted she be taken to a nursing home. After two days the doctor called me and asked if he could take her to the hospital. I said no. He then called my brother, who had  little to do with my mother's care, who said yes. For the next two days my comatose mother was enthroned on a kind of pedestal bed with multiple tubes from her body to multiple machines. Then she died. Those two days cost Medicare $10,000 in 1995. Assuming those multiple machines could have saved her, what would be the point? So more money could be spent on maintaining a completely meaningless life?

I think there should be universal healthcare. I think there should be single payer universal healthcare, although I don't believe it will happen in my lifetime. I don't believe the government wants to kill me or keep me from living the fullest possible life. I would like the government and the healthcare system to allow me to die when my time has come.

For a great discussion of the economics of healthcare listen to this program from the Brian Lehrer show on WNYC. Brian Lehrer has many great discussions about healthcare and other matters of pressing interest.

 

http://www.wnyc.org/flashplayer/mp3player.swf?config=http://www.wnyc.org/flashplayer/config_share.xml&file=http://www.wnyc.org/stream/xspf/138579

Door County, day two

Posted on by
1

Last year when we came up here we decided to work on altered books. I began an elaborate effort, which never got finished. Today I started and finished an entire book. It's called The Strange Woman, a title I thought strangely appropriate, but with nothing to do with what I did. Here is a picture of my finished effort:

20001 

It's not much of an effort, but I was pleased to finally finish something. I tried to walk on the beach this morning. The lake is unusually high; most of the sand is gone. None of us had any plans to swim, although it would still be possible. Sandy and I finally walked along the road and over to the bridge over the creek.

200011 

On the little bit of sand.

20002 

More pictures to come.

Wisconsin week

Posted on by
2

Arrived in Door County about four this afternoon. Overcast with slight rain all the way, making for an easier trip than bright sunshine. Anita welcomed us with wine and cheese, a wonderful dinner, then a short studio session for show and tell with a little brain storming. Brains not working too well after all the driving and wine; tomorrow is another day.

I owe at least two posts, which you may, or may not get: nostalgia for Chicago and what I forgot then remembered as I approached Indiana; visiting with Betty and a trip to the Art Institute.  I'll try to get it all in, but it's hard to be sociable and still think about the computer.

I'm going to try my best to get a post ready for Thursday to add to Ronni Bennett's Elders for Healthcare Reform Day. If you don't know about it, read her post here.

Busy, busy

Posted on by
2

I'm driving to Chicago on Friday. I was hoping to have the Japan book to take with me, but it's not to be. I started to print it out and, as with the China book, was dissatisfied with the photos. Finally decided I would get a new printer, probably an Epson. I couldn't find it for sale here in Pittsburgh so I'll wait until I return from Chicago to get it and print out. In the meantime I've been working on the cover. At least I should be able to bring that with me. The French knots are all finished; it looks good. Now I have to make it into book cloth.

Lessons I've learned so far: probably not a good idea to put a photo transfer on silk. Some of it didn't adhere properly. Making it into book cloth, adhering tissue paper with some kind of stiffener like Heat Bond or Wonder Under should probably be done first. I haven't done it yet and I'm afraid I'll remove part of the photo.  I tried it on another piece of the silk without the photo and it worked wonderfully. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

I'll be in Chicago for two weeks. Actually one week in Chicago and one week in Door County, Wisconsin for another "art camp" with four artist friends. I should have some computer access part of the time. I'll try to keep in touch.

Sometimes Pittsburgh is Awesome

Posted on by
1

This weekend was the Pittsburgh Visionary Arts Festival. It's a great show, the brainchild of one artist with help from the Sprout Fund. Here's what the City Paper had to say about it:

A few years ago, Alberto Almarza began making a kind of art he (actually his young son) named pok.
Hand-working clay, using hand-mixed glazes and firing his creations
without electricity or gas, he crafted intriguingly primitive works
from tiny pots to evocations of human mummies. He exhibited them partly
through fellow Carnegie Mellon art student Ally Reeves' Mobile Museum
project, bringing art to neighborhoods via bicycle. It's in the spirit
of both projects that Almarza created this weekend's Pittsburgh Visionary Arts Festival.
It's a new open-air showcase for local artists in any medium — whether
self-taught or merely left-of-center — who have an unconventional
approach and a unique aesthetic. It's also for artists whom you
wouldn't just stumble across, unless you were in the habit of haunting
cutting-edge galleries. With help from the Sprout Fund, Almarza
corralled dozens of artists for a three-day stint in Schenley Plaza.
Familiar names like Mike Budai, Lowry Burgess, Vanessa German, Mr.
Imagination and Laura Jean McLaughlin are joined by such folks as Curt
Sell, whose religiously infused work is created with discarded glass
melted by focused sunlight. Other contributors include art collectives
Encyclopedia Destructica and Unicorn Mountain and noted local "outsider
art" curator Pat McArdle. There are also nightly performances by the
large-scale experimental sound collective HiTEC. Plus, you can meet the
artists at their booths, some of which will host demonstrations or
activities like "scribbler" Connie Cantor's "yoga scribbling,"
featuring actual yoga instructors wielding pencils. Even Almarza, for
his part, doesn't know everything that will happen. "I've told the
artists to surprise me with their ideas," he says. "I think a lot of
them have been keeping the information from me!" Bill O'Driscoll Noon-9 p.m. daily, Fri., Aug. 7-Sun., Aug. 9. Schenley Plaza, Oakland. Free. www.pghvisionaryartsfestival.com

I am enormously impressed with the art, and even more impressed with the fact that one person could accomplish this in Pittsburgh. I doubt there are many "Sprout Funds" in other locales. You can learn more about it here. Be sure to check out Almazara's other blogs–good stuff!

I didn't take any photos of the art, but here are a few photos from the festival.

DSC02725 

The youngest vendor

DSC02728 

Recycled bird–from found objects

DSC02729 

DSC02733 

Making art with yoga postures

 

Another week flew by

Posted on by
3

Mage, I'm just fine. I still have some interesting marks on my face, but they're fading quickly. I've been concentrating on the book so too busy to write. Often I write things in my head as I go through the week. Most of it never gets put in type. Eli thinks some day we'll have a direct hookup from our brains to the computer. I'm not sure I want to see that.

I went to two of my classes last week: stitching and Rachel Carson. Never got to the third one, fabrigami. Instead, I went on an Osher sponsored bus trip to Amish country in Ohio. Spent most of the time on the bus stitching.

Finally got to the plastic surgeon as instructed by both the ER doc and my GP. He was great; looked at my nose, which looks about the same as always, assured me he would fix it if it came out crooked (no age discrimination just because I'm an old lady) and told me he wouldn't do anything in my case–exactly what I wanted to hear. Told me, using other words, this was a 'cover your ass' situation. Ain't American medicine great.

I come away from this experience, as I always do when I encounter our medical system, with many thoughts about it. When I finish the book I'll do another post about health care.

Since this one is for you, Mage, I'll tell you a little about shopping. The most exciting part of it is that I can now get into regular sizes. I'm still under tall, but that's a condition I can never fix. When I was in New York I bought one pair of black pants, two tee shirts, one yellow, one beige, and a jacket I haven't worn yet: white with a black print that almost looks like embroidery, all at Chico's.

Mostly I've been shopping in my own closet. Yesterday I went to Nordstorms with Robin and Charna. I bought, on sale, a very handsome pair of black pants and a black and white print top. This will be for fall. I hate to pay Nordstrom prices, but I like wearing their clothes. The pants are size 16. Years ago, when I was somewhat thinner than now, I would take a 14 or 16 top and 18 pants. That says much more about what's happened to sizes than what's happened to me. Also, the more you pay, the larger the size.

One last thing: I'm back to walking–three miles in Frick Park on Saturday. 

More on the aftermath

Posted on by
3

I'm feeling much better today. Still look awful; the purple color is moving down my cheeks and around my mouth. Gravity, doing its thing. I just put my contact lenses back in. I've been doing without since Friday and getting along fairly well, but each day my vision has gotten a little worse. The contacts put pressure on my corneas and smooth them out. When I remove the lenses the corneas slowly return to their distorted shape. For instance, I see better at night after a day of contact lens wearing than I will the following morning. Yesterday I was able to go to my stitch class on the bus–no problem. I could probably manage to get to class today on the bus, but I'd like to do some shopping: that requires driving, which I'm afraid to do without the lenses.

The real problem is my glasses. The glasses are progressives and give me the ability to see from near to far. The contacts, like my eyes, are set for far. The glasses still hurt when I wear them. BTW, they came through this largely unscathed. Amazing! There is a tiny scratch on the left lens near the nose piece and the frames are slightly worse for wear. I think they should be readjusted, but not until all the swelling goes down.

Exercise can be dangerous

Posted on by
4

I'm not really an obsessive personality, but once in a while something will get to me. I think of these things as waking nightmares. When I lived in New Jersey and worked in upstate New York I constantly worried about being hit by a truck as I crossed the George Washington Bridge twice each day. After 9/11 when my Chicago friends asked me if I was worried about a terrorist attack I realized I was much more concerned about those trucks. Over the years I've had a number of these concerns, most of which never materialized.

When I lived in Chicago my concern was about the possibility of getting stuck in Cabrini-Green, one of those notorious housing projects unwisely built very close to the most desirable areas of the city. On New Years Day, 1985, I went to visit a friend, mistakenly sailed past the North Avenue exit of the highway, and foolishly got off at Division Street, putting me right in wrong place. I was driving a VW something; I don't remember the model, and it had an electrical problem that the dealer hadn't been able to find. Needless to say, as I got to the stop sign in the middle of the area, the car stalled. Two men came over and tried to help me–actually, one tried to help–I wasn't sure about the other. The car wouldn't start, they pushed it to the curb, I gave them whatever money I had (about $25) and left as quickly as possible. I also got rid of that car as quickly as possible.

My most recent waking nightmare is about falling: either on my face or breaking something important like a hip. Friday morning, after finishing my tutoring gig at the library, I decided I would take the bus to the Strip if it came before my usual bus. I got there, had a fish sandwich at Benkowitz, went to the Society for Contemporary Craft to see the current exhibit and continued walking to downtown Pittsburgh. It's not very far, about a mile and a half. I got to Penn Station and decided to take the bus on the East Busway, giving me about another half mile walk on the other end to get home.

The area had been newly fixed up. There was a park-like place in front of the building and the walkway leading to the bus stop was newly paved with red brick. I never saw that the pavement was uneven: my foot hit and I went flying, landing on my knees forehead and nose. My glasses cut into my forehead, my nose was broken and I've never seen so much blood except on television.

I laid there for a moment unable to move, decided I'd better do something or I'd be soaked in blood. A man passing by came over to help me. He was wonderful. I'm sure he must have had some EMT training. He helped me sit up then moved me to a shady spot. He picked up the book and jacket I was carrying and helped me take my bag off my shoulder; picked up my hearing aid, which came off when I took the bag off, and found the case for it in my purse; each time showing me and telling me exactly what he was doing. I realized how vulnerable I was and how very fortunate that he had stopped to help me. I wish I knew who he was. I'd like him to know how much I appreciate him.

Someone else called for help. The police showed up, my good samaritan left, the paramedics came. Everyone was great. The paramedics cleaned most of the blood off my arms: I looked like I had been bathing in it. They took me to the ER at Shadyside Hospital (my choice) where I was cleaned up, CT scanned, (fractured my nose), the cut was glued (not a good place for stitches) and Steve and Charna came and took me home. I look terrible–like one of those Kabuki masks you can see here, but I feel OK, even went out for dinner with the kids on Friday night. So, don't worry Carol.