Friday, January 8, 2016

Friday Evening Beach Report: How a walk on the beach is like a lifeboat


 I am stuck. No not literally. Not in the mud. Just the mud inside my head. Still no word from the state of Iowa that my mom has made it onto Medicaid. It's Friday. Why didn't I call the caseworker? I don't know. Because I'm stuck in the mud inside my head.

Meanwhile my mom's dentures somehow got lost at the nursing home. This might be day three of toothlessness. Everyone is looking for them. No one has found them. Lost teeth were a pretty regular occurrence when my mom lived here with me. I'd find them under the bed or in the bed. Once my mom tried to retrieve them from under the bed herself and fell and hit her head. I think that was the time she ended up with a big lump on her forehead that made her look like a Klingon. One day I came home to find her and her caregiver looking sheepish. My mom had dropped her teeth in the sink and a piece broke off and was stuck in the drain. I didn't know whether to call the plumber or the dentist first. It turned out not to be a huge deal. The dentures were fixable and the piece of pink plastic was not big enough to obstruct the plumbing. I was able to do something. Now I'm just able to fret and think of all the reasons why one should not lose one's dentures.

I'm great at menial tasks while fretting. So I fretted and did menial tasks. Christmas lights, cutting up the giant cardboard box that the new ping-pong table came in. Pitching another thing or two into the Goodwill bag.Trying to decide if I should plan a visit to see my my mom soon. Deciding no. Deciding yes. Deciding no. Deciding yes. Getting frustrated for being indecisive.  I couldn't decide whether or not to take a walk either. But I finally did.


The sky looked like cotton batting


And the sand was a mirror for the sky.
Foam was dolloped on the sand like whipped cream.
And if I turned around, I could see the tops of the mountains were white too.





I walked for over an hour until the sky turned red over Santa Cruz Island. I finally got unstuck enough to text daughter C and ask if she wanted to go see her G-ma with me. 

The sunset went crazy and I went sane.

And I've gone through an entire day only being vaguely conscious of my injured ribs. I think I'll try to get back to yoga next week. Another way to be sane.

I came home and bought a plane ticket. I got out the checkbook so I can pay another million dollar bill for the nursing home. I resolved for the billionth time to floss every night so I'll never have dentures. 

It was a perfect day.

7 comments:

Elizabeth said...

These winter sunsets are saving my ass as well. I never, ever tire of them or take them for granted. When will I see you again? I wish you could come down for the book group at the end of the month. Any chance?

jeannine nye said...

Again, what stunning photos you do take.. thank you so much for sharing... mud in the brain is a common cause of forgetfulness in our age I think and do not worry too much about her dentures...when you have a full set like she has, they always slip out or get lost during sleep time... apart from tying them to her jaw, not much can be done, apart from getting new ones again... meanwhile, I am sure she is not starving there** all the best, J

Tanya Ward Goodman said...

Hello dear Denise. Walking is such a balm. January is filled with muddy brain for me as well and I'm taking similar solace in tasks. That sky is amazing. Here is pink with morning and hope for a less muddy day. xx

Ms. Moon said...

I know exactly this feeling. Being stuck. We always feel as if we MUST be in forward motion, GETTING THINGS DONE. What if sometimes what we need is to just be? Not to be woo-woo or anything. Just sort of "to everything there is a season"?
Your body is still healing. Your mind is probably still reeling.
I think that walking and looking at the sunsets is exactly what you need to do.

lily cedar said...

This month always makes me feel stuck.

Those photos are beautiful.

For many years, and still now sometimes, I felt guilty because I couldn't take care of my daughter by myself. Where she lives now is good enough but it's now home and I wish it could be. Sound familiar? It will be okay. Sending hugs.

Karen Pokraka said...

Beautiful photos, Denise, and I always enjoy reading your thoughts. My son is in a nursing home, as a disabled adult, and always losing things. I want very badly to bring him home. But I realize now, that he is safe, has 24/7 around the clock nursing care, and even tho' he wants out and badly to walk again and live independently...multiple scleroses do not heal, the nerve damage can't be undone at this time and he badly needs help. I feel very guilty about not having him at home. I'm praying for a miracle drug. Hug yourself and lucky you live near the beach for the beautiful sunsets. I need to get out and look at them too. And we just lost his younger brother, at 45. I always thought I was lucky up until now.

Unknown said...

Great pictures! Yes, beach walks clear the mud out. Nelson and I walk at least three miles a day to stay sane.
Sending you love dear Denise - Barbara