Evie set up the coffee pot last night so I could have a cup before I left for work this morning. Sounds normal right? Ha!

This is my first cup of home brewed coffee for almost a year. I had a few café cups of swill but nothing like the taste of a home brew.

I got up, let my dog out, flipped on the coffee pot and staggered to the shower. Had some steaming hot water and homemade lavender glycerin soap while Honey Bear, our Shi-Tzu, watched. Weird damned dog! Lays by the shower until I come out then gets all animated, jumpin’ around and talking dog talk until I come into the living room. Flipped on the scented oil warmer and shortly the Dragon’s Blood drifted through the room. Fixed up a cup with cream and sugar and sat down to chill for a moment.

Just like I used to do so long ago before therapy.

A simple routine just brought a smile to my lips and lightness to my heart! I’m getting well my phriends!

Took a couple of bottles of IBC Root Beer from the fridge and took them with me to work for later. As I left the house I woke evie, gave her a kiss and told her the coffee was ready for her and she pulled herself outta bed. Gave her a big hug and another kiss and left.





On the way in I cranked up ZZ Tops “Fandango” followed by Lonesome George Thorogood’s “I Drink Alone”. Finally I pushed The Dead into the cd player and kicked back, set the cruise control to sixty-five and sailed the fifty miles into the Medical Center. Got GDRadio.net on the lab computer now I'm listening to Jerry singing “Knockin’ On Heavens Door”.

So glad I feel good today!

I have so many of you in my heart, hoping for an end to your pain, suffering and a clear path to your recovery. You pholks have done so much for me and evie and we cannot begin to express our thanks in its fullness. You are a special crew for sure!




The holes in my memory are still there but I’m beginning to fill them in bit by bit. Emailed a field collector in France for a reference for the fossils he has been sending me and he replied with a PDF file of the text he uses, all in French, and I suddenly remembered that I already had it! Sometimes When evie and I are talking I end up pantomiming the idea that I’m trying to get across but the word won’t come. It’s getting better…



Sending my momma a jar of local organic fig preserves today and a few little things to help her along. She is always sending me seeds to plant of cuttings to grow.

Well it’s been fun but I gotta get after my QA & QC for the day and prepare for my first patient.

Wishing all of you peace, love and light!

Whitey-x & Evie Moonflower

My dog does the same thing (gotta love dogs).....much happiness and blessings to you and Evie brother and sister

Sounds like a great morning! Thanks for sharing and hope the rest of your day is just as good.

Peace to you Whitey!

Brought a smile to my face, Have a Great day!

It was great to read your post ~ so nice that you are appreciating the little things, because they are really the things that make life worthwhile.

Took me quite awhile to figure that out. ; D

~ Peace to you ~

Totally agree about the little things. Sometimes you have to go through a lot of darkness to really see the light.

In August of '05, my 84-year-old father was suddenly hospitalized. Apparently, he'd been on the phone with a friend and started making no sense at all. It might have been a stroke or the result of a fall, but the upshot is he was diagnosed with dimentia. In retrospect, there were certainly signs but he was a smart, successful guy and he'd done a very good job of hiding the true state of things.

So began a journey that just got rougher and rougher. In life, my dad had been an alpha wolf, a military officer, one of the original international businessmen. He actually had a big heart but had found it effective to be a hard ass and expected this dominant stance to keep on working. Certainly his kids weren't going to tell him what to do.

Long story short: My sister and I were able to get him out of the large, multi-level house we'd grown up in. But any talk about moving into a facility was met with vicious hostility -- a not uncommon trait in dimentia patients. So he moved into another, smaller house. And once he was taken out of his familiar enviornment, he began to fall apart. He came to believe the army was landing helicoptors on his front lawn. At other times he believed the house was a men's club he'd once belonged to. Eventually he came to believe his cat ws talking to him.

My sister folded in the face of this and told me in no uncertain terms that her kids came first. Again, this is also not uncommon with dimentia. So his care fell to me. Everyday I was over there, trying to make sure he was eating enough, trying to keep him grounded. Ultimately, this became my full-time job for the better part of two years which created plenty of financial uncertainty and tension with my wife. The stress on me continued to mount as my dad began to lose control of his bodily functions. Some nights I would sit in my house, feeling my heart almost pound out of my chest, desperately praying for the strength to keep on.

Of course this situation couldn't last forever. In May of '09, my dad fell, broke his hip and was put in a rehap center where he declined and died in early August. At one point a nurse asked me how long I'd been caring for my father. When I told her, "About three years," she said, "Wow. You're strong." When I asked "What do you mean?" she told me that a large number of dimentia caregivers drop dead before their patients. I found that pretty easy to believe.

So now it's about a year and a half later. The mess that is my dad's estate has almost been sorted out. I'm still sorting out my conflicting feelings of love and mourning, and relief that the nightmare is over.

There are some things I do know for certain, though: There are mornings when the sun is so clear and bright it takes my breath away. There's a woman I'm more in love with than I've ever been before. There are songs, so many songs, that absolutely thrill me each time I hear them again. And there's a sense that life -- just the simple process of living and feeling and being -- is without question the best thing that could possibly happen to me.

Thank you for sharing... What a positive post to start this thread and shining ones to follow. It's certainly what I've been seeking from the online community. Inspiration!

That's a very nice story. Thanks for sharing. It's the simplest things, that can be the glue that hold our lives together.

Pat on the back and hats off to you Equinox. I am lucky in that my folks live right around the corner. We are called "The Sandwich Generation" for a reason.

Love that coffee Doc. HEHEHE You probably know why I am snickering. Ain't it cool?

((((Whitey))))