Mrs. M

A longtime family friend went into a dementia unit of a retirement home today. She woke up in her bed of fifty years this morning and now has a new bed and a new home. Her husband will be selling their house and moving into the same community.

There is no way to wrap this post up in a bright package tied with a coordinating bow. Although she is exactly where she needs to be, and it is long overdue, it is nothing but sad and heartbreaking for those who know her and love her.

Tonight I will attend my nephew's winter concert. He is in fourth grade and will stand on stage with his classmates singing his heart out. It will be a lively, sweet event, an affirmation of one of the few things I know for sure: life goes on.

On the way to and from, I will pass our dear friend's new home and I will say a prayer that she isn't scared or upset, that the bastard of a disease that has put her there will at least grant her peace.

Ded Moroz Roulette

Today I played a dangerous game of  Ded Moroz Roulette:

Black Friday, Cyber Monday, Black Friday, Cyber Monday? Do I Christmas shop online today or wait until Monday? What to do? Is that jingle bells I hear in my head? I could really eat a turkey sandwich right now. Oh look, a Botched marathon is on E!  That lady's boobs are huge! Black Friday, Cyber Monday? . . .  

I decided to just go for it today. Any opportunity to squelch any of the voices in my head is a good thing. Got some good deals but mostly I'm happy to have some gifts ordered and on their way. And besides, I've seen all the episodes of Botched.*


* Please hold all judgement until January. It is, after all, the holidays.

A Day Of Thanks

So much to be thankful for

and it all starts

with a 90 gram bird

In-vow-uable Friendships

While running errands with my husband, wishing I could drive, the phrase 'in sickness and in health' popped into my head. I thought about the medical challenges we recently faced, his cardiac crisis and my vision loss. Although he and I confronted those obstacles together, we were certainly not alone.

Those five words, part of traditional wedding vows, apply to my closest friendships as well as my marriage. We haven't stood in front of our loved ones in a special ceremony, wearing a beautiful dress, pledging our love and lifelong promise and yet our dedication to each other is just as strong.

Social and religious doctrines lead us down the aisle to the person we have decided to spend our lives with, while our hearts also quietly bring us to these equally important and enduring partnerships with our best friends. Without the grand ceremony of a wedding and reception, we enter into these relationships over crayons and recess, study hall and cafeteria lunches, college dorms, corporate desks and the legendary water cooler, our kids' schools. We go out for a drink, then dinner, the spa, we text all day, every day, we take girls trips together. We appreciate each other, we love each other. We share good times and bad times, for as long as we both shall live.

Do I think that's a commitment? I do.

"I'm Going To Need To See Your Photo ID And Frequent Shopper Card, Ma'am"

I was pushing the cart and navigating through a crowded grocery store. The aisles were narrow, there were lots of employees and vendors stocking the shelves. There were a lot of clueless shoppers who seemed to be just standing there, seemingly waiting for the products to miraculously jump from the shelves into their carts parked in the middle of the compressed aisles. Yes, I said middle.

As I was traversing through an especially complicated obstacle course, requiring serpentine moves and expert precision, a gentleman stocking shelves said, "You're a good driver". I smiled at him and said thanks, while thinking to myself, You can't tell by looking at me but I'm legally blind and haven't driven a car in three years. 

There was no radio or moon roof and no seat belt required. There was no wind in my hair or sun coming through the windshield. But being behind the wheel and recognized as a skilled driver sure felt good.

(Watching The) AMAs

(Made me feel) OLD

Love Means Never Having To Say, Well, Anything

If you could ask your feather or fur baby one question that they would be able to answer, what would it be?

I asked a friend what she would ask her dog and she said, Do you have any idea how much I love you?

Our neighbor wonders if animals will have the ability to speak in heaven. 

My husband said he would ask Piper, Are you happy? 

Instantly, I myself had two questions for my little guy, Is there something you want or need that you're not getting? and What was your life like when you lived with the other family? (Piper had lived with another family, along with three other birds, before he was surrendered to the bird rescue where we found him.)

In considering both, the first question seems more for Piper and the second one more for me, although I do think knowing more about his past would help me care for him now. 

I wonder what Piper would ask me. I hope I'm an open book to him; I am home most days and he is my steadfast companion and I his. I talk to him all the time, about things of no consequence but also serious and weighted subjects. And I tell him how much I love him, how happy I am that he is here with us and what a good boy he is. 

At the end of the day, like every other relationship, it's often what's not said that can be most telling. Piper is a good eater and yearly well-checks with his avian vet assure his overall health. He plays with toys on his own but also with his daddy and me. He makes bird noises and sounds and although not my first language, I speak pretty good bird. He can be full of piss and vinegar but also give kisses and cuddle. And if we go upon the simple idea that a picture paints a thousand words, then the above photo tells us all we need to know. 

Sexiest Fibber Alive

Does every visually-challenged woman's husband
tell her he is in

People's Sexiest Man Alive issue

or is it just me? 

That Was Then, This Is Now

My past haunts me in that I miss my old life before my vision loss so much that sometimes it physically aches when it comes rushing back, filling every crevice of my mind. The irony is not lost on me that these memories are in full color and crystal clear.

I don't know their origins, but I recently heard two statements about the past that I keep thinking about:

You need to free yourself of the past so you can fulfill your destiny

and

That was then, this is now

In thinking about it, I always felt that my past wouldn't be so present once I forged my new path and began doing something that fulfilled me the way my former career did. But maybe, as the above sentiments suggest, you have to draw a line in the sand, and really let go what once was to make room in your life, and in your heart, for what will be. 

Like a house guest coming to visit, I've got to clean out the spare bedroom and empty some drawers. Destiny's coming. And I've got to be ready for her. 

Fantasyland Breakfast

If yogurt tasted like ice cream,
as I have expected it to every morning
for the last 25 years,

I wouldn't want to feed it to my unicorn.

Working THROUGH The Weekend

Back in the day, when I was young and a little wild, I would drag myself into work on Monday  morning. Copious amounts of coffee were consumed and conversations at the coffee urn were polite,  subdued and quick. It was "too soon" to herald the old, marrieds with my youthful, single escapades.

What I didn't know then, but certainly do now, is that these seemingly boring over-25's were more exhausted than me. While I was out late all weekend, gallivanting  about, they were making things happen, perpetuating the civilized world. Cooking for the week and cleaning and laundry and groceries and other errands and a hundred other things that the work week didn't allow for. And if you went out to dinner or stopped to read a magazine, oh the guilt!

Back then, Friday at 5 p.m., I would zoom out of  the parking lot in my little red hatchback, off to the local bar. Radio stations would play Loverboy's Working For The Weekend, the perfect soundtrack to my work week exit. What I didn't realize then was that many of my associates were headed to their other job, being responsible adults.

If I could go back, I would offer to deliver coffee to their desks. They needed the coffee more than me. So this morning, I raise my coffee mug in salute to them, to us. I am now an over-25. Times two.

Day 6

Today is my sixth day home. I have not been out of the house since Saturday night.

My captor:  My vision loss

My rescuer:  Me

And that, my friends is the meaning of life. 

If I Knew Now, What I'll Know Then

Why is it so much easier to look back than it is to look forward?

It's As Plane As The Nose On My Face

I saw on TV a man who lives in a former commercial airliner in Oregon. As he was giving a tour of his home, all of a sudden I was overcome with an olfactory memory. I was remembering the smell of an airplane: stale air, cold and hard plastic, old coffee, the bathroom cleaning product they should just name "Lavatory". And this was just the smell of the aircraft itself, as you first board the empty plane before everyone's perfume and moisturizer and offensive meals they carry on, newly purchased in the concourse. 

I haven't been on a plane in three years, but it came rushing back, filling my brain and seemingly my nostrils, too. And all at once, my life and specifically my career and love of travel were all that I could see in my mind's eye and smell in my head. 

It was all consuming and with the sensory overload I felt incredibly sad, and had to force myself to come back to the present, back to my chair, positioned close to the TV so I can see enough, in black and white, to follow along. 

This happened a few days ago, and although not as strong, I continue to have flashbacks of my air travel. One sense begets another, along with smell, there is sight and sound: the click of the overhead bins, the holding of my breath while hoping no one cones to sit next to me as I search the eyes of the passengers coming down the aisle, praying to the Seat Assignment Gods that none of these eyes look at the row placard above me then instantly to the seat beside me in recognition of where their behind is headed. And, of course, the sound of a baby crying. Always a baby crying. 

I hope that these memories go back to where they came from soon. Carrying  them around as I have been the last few days has got me down. It may seem a little extreme to miss flying this much; I mean, who really wants to be belted to a Petri dish of germs at 600 mph, so far off the ground I can't even conceive of it so why put a number here, with 500 strangers, many of them rude and inconsiderate?

Me, my nose and I.

*****

To read about the man spearheading the movement to recycle planes into homes, click here

November 10, 1990

A man walks into an apartment, dressed in jeans and a blue and white long-sleeved Oxford shirt, hands on hips and says, in his best Joey Tribbiani voice, "How you doing?".

His heart was healthy. I had my full vision. Our grandparents were alive. My mom was alive and would walk me down the aisle two years later. His dad was alive; we got married on his birthday.

I think it's wonderful that when I look back at the past 25 years, I think about people and not things. Of course, I wish they were all still here with us, but I'm sure glad they were there in our beginning.

As for that man and the woman whose apartment he walked into? We're a little grayer, a little heavier, and a little worn around the edges from life's most recent events. But we're still together and we're still laughing. A LOT.

The word 'blind' entered our lives three years ago wrought with so much negativity. Twenty-five years ago today that word also brought us each other. We met on a blind date.

Pinch-To-Enlarge Help

I AM NOT WRITING THIS IN CAPS BECAUSE I AM VISUALLY CHALLENGED BUT BECAUSE THIS IS MY WAY OF SHOUTING FROM THE ROOFTOPS!!!

OK, I realize that is super annoying. But I ask that you imagine me screaming this to you.

I have been having an issue for months with pinch-to-enlarge on my iPhone.it had always worked and then Google went to their "mobile-friendly" platform (since this blog is hosted by Google I will keep my ironic thoughts, specific to the word "friendly", to myself) and there was no more pinch-to-enlarge on Google searches and many other sites. I would have to take screen grabs, then go into my pictures and enlarge the images there. A frustrating and inefficient way of using the web.

But at least our iPad had remained both pinchabe and enlargeable. Then, KLUNK! Last week, the other shoe fell. Seemingly right on my head. Size 14s, at least. The iPad now had the same limitations as my phone. By the weekend I knew I would have to search the web for help. Using screen grabs and pictures. I was dreading the logistics of the expedition and also worried I wouldn't find a solution.

Early yesterday morning, the house quiet except for the leaves rustling in the wind outside, husband and bird still sleeping, second cup of coffee at the ready, I Google "unable to pinch to enlarge on ipad and iphone". 

And a miracle happens. I see this result:

How To Re-Enable Zoom For Websites That Block It In Safari For Your iPhone

I don't hesitate. I click on it. I am able to enlarge this website and what I read ignites hope in me. I can do this. This might work. 

I make my way through the steps which are clear and very easy to follow. There are images that show you what you will see and do at each stage of the instructions. I first tried it on the iPad. SUCCESS! I can hardly believe it. Choking down my excitement and optimism, poorly I might add, as I had bonafide goose pimples, I move onto my iPhone.

2 FOR 2!!! 

I could go on and on here but I see by the length of this post I have to stop. Besides, I want you to have your own experience of taking back a piece or your life if you are low vision like me. If I could, I would have a ticker tape parade for Mr. Aguilar who wrote the article and thereby changed my life.

Here is the link. Let him change your life, too!

Click here for instructions.

Two more very important things:

• Don't be intimidated by these instructions. Follow along, take it slow, take it one step at a time. You can do it. You have to do it. 
• Adding this feature to your device is for anyone wearing reading glasses. You don't have to have a more severe vision challenge to benefit. 

And finally, I promise, I thank Mr. Aguilar. I can no longer drive a car because of my poor vision, but now I can motor down the information superhighway freely, speedily, independently and gratefully. 

Daylight Piper Time

Fall-ing back an hour is always an adjustment, not just for us parronts, but our feathered friends, too.

Piper gets a snack every day at 6 p.m. The time can vary a bit depending on what's going on, but believe me, he knows when it's snack time and has no problem letting us know he knows. He makes a sqooing noise,  a cross between a squawk and a coo, a sound he only makes at snack time. "6 p.m., people! Chop, chop!"

And now it's 5 o'clock to us but to him it's still 6:00 p.m. Piper is not governed by clocks or the time on an iPhone, instead his internal timer is dictated by the laws of nature. He will become accustomed to the change and we will follow his lead. After all, everyone else may follow Daylight Savings Time, but in this house, it's Piper Time. 24/7. And we wouldn't have it any other way.

Book 'Em, Danno

I always feel like I'm getting away with something when I renew a library book. Where else in life can you extend a deadline with no repercussions or buy yourself some time at no cost to you?

That's right, no unmarked bills in a paper bag exchanged hands, there was no secret handshake and I made the transaction from my TV chair in the light of day, not a dark alley on the seedy side of town.

I didn't finish the book in the three weeks they gave me when I checked the book out. For a reader like me, that's the crime.

My Vote For His Stripper Name: Bambi

While out running errands yesterday with a friend, I heard myself saying about my husband:

"He isn't going to rehab tonight because he's working the polls."

My straight-laced, teetotalling husband is not working a 12-step program nor is he collecting dollar bills while wearing 7-inch stilettos. He is taking back his heart health via cardiac rehab and going above and beyond his civic duty by manning the voting machines every Election Day.

That's what we (by "we" I mean me) here at SisterRain.net do. Strip away the rumors and get to the heart of the truth.

You're welcome, America. 

Sister Rain, In Depth

I have very poor depth perception because of my vision condition which makes curbs and steps a challenge.  I also have difficulty pouring liquids, because I can't tell when I'm getting close to the top. I've overfilled many times.

I just got this great little gadget, the Say When Liquid Level Indicator. It hangs from the lip of a cup, glass, etc. and an alert will sound when the liquid level has nearly reached the top of the container.

 

Three years into this journey, I am finally getting the tools I need to help me along. No matter what you're going through, keep asking, keep researching, and keep being an advocate for yourself. Believe me, I know some days you won't have the energy or the fight in you. On those days, get your Say When and pour yourself a cup of coffee or tea and be kind to yourself. Then get back to it the next day. More tools and gadgets await! 

Osmosis Blood, Sweat And Tears

The weekend revolved around a half marathon and a football game. Neither of which I competed in.

So why do I feel every mile and every tackle today?