Holy Hunger and Parkinson's

Hello out there!

I started this Holy Hunger post several years ago and think its about time I get back on this unruly horse of introspection.  Here's what I wrote then...

What do I want at this tail end of living?  Who cares?  Why is it always about me?  Shouldn't I be asking bigger questions like - What can I/we do to tackle systemic racism?  Hunger?  Inequality? Trumpism? etc. etc....  Yeah, I probably should but its just not where my head and heart are nowadays.   

What I'm most interested in and want the most,  (besides the health and happiness of the people I love, which is a given), is, hold your hats, to be closer to God. 

The "hold your hats" comment is a defensive qualifier springing from a deep discomfort talking about God stuff publicly.  I'm now 73 years old.  Up until the age of 18 I was seriously twisted and abused by Catholic indoctrination and control.  I've spent much of the past fifty years trying to recover from the damage done.

Escaping Catholicism has been one of the most important processes of my life.  A difficult but exhilarating discovery of a world  of truth and wonder.  New exciting ideas were no longer threats to my "faith".  Different cultures,  sexual identities,  political perspectives were no longer seen through a narrow Catholic prism.  I could start to see thing more realistically and appreciatively beyond the shadows of judgement and fear.

So that was me three years ago.  Where am I now?  Am I closer to God? Have I found resolution and redemption? Uh, not quite. But....

I think I am more at peace.  If you're at all familiar with my prior blog entries you know how I've struggled trying to find a place of of calmness and acceptance.

What's different?   Did I have some sort of spiritual awakening?  Did my years of meditation finally unlock the door?  Did I finally accept Trump as the one, true Son of God?  Nope.  

What happpened was much more mundane.. I was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease

I originally resisted the diagnosis but I eventually had to accept the fact that I have a chronic, progressive, debilitating disease.   The pace of progression and severity of symptoms can vary widely.  So far my main symptom is tremors and there has been minimal impact on my daily life. There is no cure but there are medications that can help with symptoms.  

 A tough pill to swallow, for sure, but I think it has been good for my restless soul.

The only coping strategy that makes sense at this point (and hasn't this 13 year blog been all about finding a coping strategy?) is to (drum roll) ....live in the present, take one day at a time,  etc., etc.  God I hate cliches.   Oh well.  That's it.  I'm more peaceful and happier because I want to savor the joy of living while I'm still able to.  I've been forced to truly accept my mortality.  How simple!  How liberating!  How grateful I am!    

Don't get me wrong.  It's not easy but it's okay.  And that's a big deal.

So how does this living from moment to moment manifest iitself?

Stay tuned! 

 

Holding Hands in the Dark - Part 2

Its been a long time.  Don't know why I stopped writing last February.  My last post detailed my last few adventurous days in our February 2020 trip to my favorite city,  Oaxaca, Mexico.  

 I just reread that post and I was struck by how far away all of that seems now even though it's been less than a year - but what a year it has been!  Pandemic, isolation, racial unrest, presidential election, impeachment,  invasion of the Capitol.  Its all left me feeling frazzled, fearful and angry. 

I think one of the reasons I haven't been writing is that these events have been so momentous and overwhelming that trying to encapsulate them and their impact on my life would be like trying to wrestle an elephant to the ground. But I do miss writing, so here I am pecking away at the keys trying to say something real, something worthwhile.  Most of the worth is probably as a personal therapy tool but I still hold out some hope that there are readers out there who will find some value in these disparate/desperate scribblings.

Along those lines,  I was amazed when I looked at the stats for this blog.  Since I started Right Now ten years ago there have been 16940 "views".  Yesterday there were 17 views and last month there were 79.  Who the hell are these people?  I haven't posted anything since last February!  Hell, maybe I'm going viral and can start getting paid as an "influencer."  I could start inserting ads for stuff and maybe get free samples.  Golf clubs? Jameson's? Tequila? Guitars? Irish golf trips?

It makes me happy that others are interested in sharing this journey with me.  As I said in my first post in 2010 entitled "Holding Hands in the Dark"

I am starting this blog as a way to connect. Connect with guiding forces which will help me find my way through this tricky end game. The form, timing and content of these hoped for hand holders through the dark are far from being clear. I invite you to be part of this journey and perhaps we can hold each other's hand along the way.

I honestly get a chill when I read these words.  Not because its great prose but because the concept of  us holding each others hands as we try to make our way through the dark captures what I feel is our best hope during these dire times.  Maybe you feel the same way.  

The clearest personal lesson of this past year of COVID isolation  is a deeper understanding of how much I need and long for real, honest human connection. 

  As Bob Dylan said in  "All Along the Watchtower"

There are many here among us
Who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I, we've been through that
And this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now

The hour's getting late, 

Thanks for reading.  I will write again soon. I hope.

Microbes, Muscles, Doctor Z and Gratitude

It's been awhile, nine days to be exact.  A big thank you to a faithful reader for encouraging me to get back in the blogging groove.

Not sure when a groove becomes a rut.  Maybe its still a groove when you can fairly easily lift the needle and switch to a different track.

Reminds me of Leonard Cohen's description of  a "state of grace" which I quoted many posts ago.  He describes it as "that kind of balance with which you ride the chaos around you."

This past week has been a wild ride through a lot of chaos.  Very little balance as the needle screeched across the disc.  Today, thankfully, it seems to have found a resting place and the music is starting to play again.

Things began going awry last Tuesday.  D woke up with a nasty headache.  She said she felt like she was getting a sinus infection and that she wanted to stay in bed resting.  I offered to stay with her and try to find some medical help.  She told me she'd rather be alone and encouraged me to go on a "walking tour" of central Oaxaca which we had planned on going on together.  I resisted but she said it'd be easier being by herself...she wouldn't feel like she'd have to "entertain" me.  Hmmm.

My tour group

I acquiesced and headed downtown to  the Teatro de Macedonia Alcala where I met up with 14 tour walkers and our guide, Deanna. (I'm not positive that was her name)

 There was only one other person from the U.S.  Most of the rest were young people from Norway, Sweden and Spain who were staying at a downtown hostel.  I was the the oldest.  I liked being around these young adventurers who were so full of life and its potentials.

Poster says "We will not forget. We will not forgive."

The free walk lasted three hours and was well worth the time.  (The web link will give you a good idea of the types of places we walked to.) Although I had visited many of these before, Deanna, who works for tips,  provided lots of background info which filled in a many of the historical and cultural blanks.  Highlights, for me, included the Oaxacan Graphic Arts Institute (IAGO) and a Communist print shop.   At the print shop Deanna spoke passionately about the dangers of being politically outspoken in Mexico.  She pointed out that journalists were especially at risk. Last year Mexico surpassed Syria and became the most dangerous country in the world for journalists.



When I got back to the hotel D wasn't doing so good.  She had a headache, a hacking cough and felt warm, as if she had a fever.  She still didn't want me to look for medical help.  She said she wanted to wait until morning.  I went to the pharmacy to get anti-congestants, cough syrup, ibuprophen and a thermometer which showed she had a fever of 99.9 degrees.

In the morning D still had a fever, headache and cough.  She was ready for me to try to find some help.  An internet search led me to Dr. Alberto Zamacona Esparza.  He was highly recommended and spoke English. "Dr.Z" was mentioned often by gringos as the "go to" doc in Oaxaca.

The immediate problem was that it was Wednesday, the one weekday his office was closed and no one was answering the phone.  Panic mode was starting to creep in.  I had to get D some help.  I walked downstairs at the hotel, planning to take a taxi to see if anyone was at the doctor's office. Halfway down the stairs I remembered I forgot something and did a quick about face to start back up.  As I did this I felt a "pop" in my left calf.  I knew right away something had happened and it wasn't good.  I found I could not put any weight on the ball of my left foot without sharp pain.  I could barely walk. Uh oh.

I made my way down to the street and waved down a taxi. I first asked the driver to take me to a place to buy a cane (baston).  We eventually found a medical supply place and I bought a cane.  It didn't help much if at all.  The problem was a bending motion not weight on the leg.

I next asked him to drive to the Spanish school that I attended five years ago.  I had gotten sick then and they had recommended a doctor that I was happy with.  We drove to the school and I slowly and painfully limped into the office where I was told that the doctor had passed away, "se fallecio."

I went back to the taxi and tried to explain but when I said "se fallecio" he gave me a very weird, questioning look.  I'm afraid he thought I was telling him to do an obscene act.  I then said "se murio" (he died) and the driver seemed greatly relieved. 😊

Dr. Zamacona on the right

We finally went to Dr. Z's office and found it was indeed closed.  The driver took me back to the hotel and hobbled up the stairs.   I was getting nowhere and D seemed to be getting worse.

In desperation I called the doctor's cell phone.  His kind wife answered and said she would have the doctor call me back.  He called back and said he'd be at the hotel in about an hour.

 Dr. Z showed up, told D she had a sinus infection and prescribed an antibiotic and several other medications.  He arranged for the meds to be sent to the hotel and told her she would feel better tomorrow.  He looked at my calf and said it would be fine after a week or so.  Just a sprain.

His fee was $50.  There was no fee for a follow up appointment the next day.

Dorthy improved quickly.  I did too. We are filled with gratitude.

Saturday morning recap

Here's what I did this morning.

Got up at 5:30.
Meditated for thirty minutes.
Did HEAs (Health Enhancement Activities).  These involve mostly stretching and abdominal strengthening.  Have been using this euphemism instead of  "exercise" to help me be more motivated.
Took a shower.
Brushed my teeth
Shaved.
Took medications. I'd make a list here but there's not enough room.
Walked with D for about a mile along quiet, cool early morning streets.
Picked up laundry at the lavanderia.  Three pounds for sixty five pesos. ($3.46)
Had breakfast at our hotel.   Huevos revueltos con tocino y jugo naranjo fresco. Breakfast is included with room fee.  Hotel's restaurant "El Pipe" is wonderful.
Went to Intercambio at Oaxaca Lending Library  (The link is to a 2016 post) Spent two hours speaking Spanish and English with Kathy from New Mexico and Luis from Oaxaca.
Bought a fifth of Jose Cuervo Especial at Pidico market. 136 pesos.
Walked to Mercado Social Sustentable
Ate some hand-made mango ice cream
Had a excellent cappuccino at a small shop on Avenida Reforma.
Called Dorothy.  She requested a torta from La Hormiga. (the video that's part of this link is great!)
Purchased a chicken and cheese torta at La Hormiga in Jardin Conzatti  (27 pesos)  Muy saboroso!
Walked backed to the hotel.
Shared torta with D.
Started writing this blog post.
It is now 2:34 PM.
Walking distance so far today is 2.2 miles.  Averaging 3.3/day on trip.
Hasta luego!

Waiting For Nothing

"I want to fill my days with wanting nothing from them..."

This line is from a poem by Fernando Passao which I included in the "Hopeless Refuge" post a couple of weeks ago.  It comes to mind as D and me laze in our hotel room in the middle of the afternoon until the mid-day heat fades. (It's currently 83 degrees outside)

Shouldn't we be doing more?  Wanting more?  We're both quietly content lying on top of our newly maid-made bed (getting under the sheets would be far too decadent and hot)  reading, writing and watching a videos on our iphones.

The room is cool and shady with a fresh breeze coming through an open/shaded window.

Getting comfortable doing nothing is hard work!

We've been traveling for a week so far and I'm just starting to get the hang of it.

On Sunday, while we were waiting  outside the Teatro Juarez before an exciting modern dance presentation.(2 Segundos), we met a man from Maine who lives in Oaxaca four months a year.  He said that each year it takes him about three weeks to really settle in.  He described the process as moving from him "doing Oaxaca" to Oaxaca "doing him."

This made sense to me.  Every time I travel I'm amazed how much time it takes for relaxation mode to kick in.  To find a place of calmness that makes it okay to not always be doing things.

This is our fifth visit here. We've already done our tourist duties.  The things we've seen and done have been memorable and worthwhile but for most, once is enough. (The extordinary Monte Alban is a clear exception to this)

What do we do now?  How do we let "Oaxaca do us?"

At this point, spending this peaceful afternoon in our pleasant room, waiting for nothing, seems like a good plan.

Oaxaca beginning again

Back in Oaxaca

First four days settling in.

Travel anxiety lifting.

Shedding armor.

Slowly slowing down.

Morning walk to get D coffee. \

Empty, quiet streets.

Sky bright with deep colors of sunrise surrounds Templo de Santo Domingo.

Nuestro viaje a Mexico

Hello out there.  Glad to see you made it back.

Response to last post was muted to say the least.  Only direct comment I got was from a golfing buddy who gave me a quizzical look and then asked, "Were you on drugs when you wrote that?"

Okay.  I get it.  Some people may be made uncomfortable by a 72 year old, retired guy, speaking so directly and personally. After that comment I did feel a little embarrassed and considered removing the post. I talked to D about it and she, as usual,  could  only find positive things to say.  She seems to think my writing could save the world.  I ended up deciding to keep the post and not walk away from my global responsibilities 😊, accepting the fact, once again, that being myself can be a real challenge.  I'm reminded of John Prine's song "A Good Time"  with the line "I could of had me a million more friends, all I had to lose was my point of view."

Adelante a Mexico!

Realizations -

Traveling gets more difficult as you get older. Duh.

Por ejemplo,

Shrinking seat width and leg room make my arthritic joints angry.
 Luckily I was sitting next to D and I could straighten my leg out under hers.  It would be tough doing that with a stranger.

Keeping focus in the middle of travel craziness is harder.
When we arrived at Mexico City airport after a five hour uncomfortable flight, it took us about an hour to get through immigration. By the time we were able to get to the baggage carousel there were no bags from our flight. Uh-oh.

I spent about ten minutes looking and finally found our two bags grouped with four or five others at the other end of  the long hall.  During the search I had to ask several people for help and my ability to speak Spanish helped quite a bit.  Would have been a lot more anxiety without it. Nevertheless my stress button was pulsating.

Next we tried to make our way to the main terminal concourse but D was stopped by a uniformed woman with a surgical mask. (Many, many people wearing these masks). She did a cursory inspection of D's carry on and let us pass.  Never asked to look at mine.  (This, by the way, is the second time in a row that D was stopped trying to enter Mexico.  Two years ago she was busted by a drug-sniffing dog that nabbed her for having a banana in her purse.)

Next I tried to get some pesos from an ATM (cajero automatico) while an ocean of people passed by behind me.  It took four or five tries to get the machine to work  I was afraid the machine was going to swallow the card.  Head spinning faster.  I eventually, with the help of a friendly hombre,  was able to withdraw 2000 pesos.in the form of four 500 peso bills.  These are difficult to use because they're so big. 500 pesos =about $25.  I shoved the bills into my back pocket (mistake) and we made our way to Door #4 of Terminal #1, about a half mile walk. Our hotel, Hotel Riazor Aeropuerto,  had said there would be a staff person stationed there to call a van.


No staff person was found. Outside the door it was pure craziness.  Sirens, horns, police whistles, yelling.  A multitude of cabs, vans and Uber cars  trying to twist into a very limited area to pick up people.   I tried to call the hotel but couldn't get the number to work. I asked a guy, who was waiting for an Uber,  to help me call.  He made the call and told me the van would arrive in about 10 minutes.  He said we'd be better off taking an Uber.  "They're 95% safe." In October, Mexico City was ground to a halt by a protest against Uber by 4000 taxi drivers.  This protest included a blockade of airport roads. (picture above is from October protest)

I went back into the terminal and was able to get the 500 peso note changed at a money exchange shop. I put the smaller bills in my back pocket, too.  (mistake compounded) I rushed back to Door #4 where a woman was shouting the name of our hotel.  It turns out she was the staff person we were trying to find. She had been there the whole time chatting with her friends.  She was wearing no clothing or sign to identify her.

The van eventually came.  We careened through 10 PM heavy Mexico City traffic. When we arrived at the hotel I reached into my back pocket to get a tip for the driver and found I was missing a 500 peso note .  It probably fell out of my pocket when I was getting change.  I beat  myself up a bit for being careless. 

We checked into our hotel and went directly to the bar while our bags were brought up to our room.  "Centenario" reposado tequila on the rocks con limon.  Whew!

Despite all this it truly felt wonderful to be back in Mexico.