Virtual-Doug

The Mom Report: Rehab

When last I reported, Mom had fallen and broken her left hip.  Surgery fixed her up, and she was recovering in the hospital, then she was moved into a rehabilitation facility.  Fortunately, the place commonly cares for Alzheimer’s patients.

Well, this is Week Two for her to be in the rehab center.  The obvious question is:  “How’s she doing?”

The answer is not so obvious.  She is still very confused.  Any conversation with her is an attempt to make sense of what she says.  That does not mean she doesn’t know who I am, nor that  she doesn’t know she isn’t home, but her thoughts are not joined together in any coherent way.  She complains about the place a little, but not a lot.  She isn’t crazy about the food, and I do wish she would eat more.  She does not like the lady physical therapist, but really likes the “nice young boy.”  I noticed the first small signs of depression when she said that she wondered if she would ever walk again.

Physically, she seems to be doing okay.  They keep her in diapers because she cannot get out of bed by herself and she forgets to use the call button.  She has no pain, but of course, her body has deteriorated somewhat from inactivity and laying in bed.  She gets physical therapy every day except on weekends.  They work her hard, too.

I thought this photo of her reading the art work from some of her great-grand kids would tell you something about her.

I asked her to smile when I took the picture, but before that, she had opened the envelope and I asked her what it was.  Her reply was “just stuff.”, then she started to put it back into the envelope.  I don’t think she was able to link the contents of package with the pictures of her great-grand kids that is on the wall in her room.  Once I made that connection for her, then she took interest in the art work.

Do not interpret what I just wrote to mean that she does not enjoy mail – she does, and does very much.  In this instance, it was her inability to link unusual mail with people she knows and loves.  Regular letters are recognizable to her so she is able to connect a letter with a person, and she talked for some time about letters from two of her friends in Florida. 

I will end with a story to illustrate her mental state.  A few days ago, she told me that “the man” had her walk to the nurse’s station and back three times.  I’m thinking that this is excellent progress in using her walker – the nurse’s station is about four rooms away.  However, there is a different real story.  I was talking with my friend Michele, a lady at church we’ve known since we came to South Texas.  Michele is wheelchair bound herself, and was visiting a friend across the hall from Mom’s room.  Yes, Mom went to the nursing station and back three times - - -  but she did it in a wheelchair accompanied by Michele.

But she still tells me I am a good boy, so I’m happy.

Girls’ Sports in America: High School Softball

As I mentioned recently in the post about basketball, Americans love sports.  I admit it, I do too.

On a nice spring afternoon recently, there was a high school girl’s softball tournament nearby.  Thirty two teams from the area competed for the winner’s trophy.  I drifted around and had some fun taking pictures.

(As always, be sure to click on each photo to see a larger version.)

McAllen High School (known locally as Mc Hi) is one of the oldest in deep south Texas.  Most of the sports team have been legends, and it would seem this young lady would like to continue the tradition.  Her pitching style was classic, and she could fire the ball in there, but her control left a little to be desired.  She did a little bit more than “brush back” a batter from Mercedes High School and gave the opposing batter a free stroll to first base.  After I took these photos, the pitcher’s Dad approached me and asked if he could have any of the pictures I took.

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The caliber of play was surprisingly high.  This tournament hosted the first games of the season for many of the teams and it would have been expected if play had been a little sloppy.  This was a very nicely done double play that ended an inning. 

While taking shots at another game and standing along the first base side, I suddenly realized I was very near a player in the on deck circle.  She was concentrating deeply on her turn at bat.  There was a strange incongruence in seeing her pretty face encased in a hard plastic helmet with metal bars on the front.  She heard my camera click, looked at me, then turned in the other direction so she could think about her game without being distracted.  It turns out, she’s a good athlete.  Here’s the beginning of the triple she slammed to left field.

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For this last photo, you be the umpire – was the runner safe or out?  You decide.

Cycles

Life is lived in cycles, and this week, the Mystery Guest Blogger and I celebrate the completion of a cycle.  In this case, the cycle is the Christian liturgical calendar.  Every three years, the scriptures and the written prayers read in our church are repeated.   It’s not something that most people dwell on, and I dare say, most people don’t notice the cycle.  Three years is a long time to remember what scripture was read on a certain date.

But we remembered.

This past Sunday, the Gospel reading was from the book of Luke.  Most people who have ever been to Sunday School as a kid will recognize the Beatitudes – the series of “Blessed are the . . .” and “Woe to the . . . “  that can make you feel either joyful or scared, depending on your own circumstance.

Go ahead – read it.  Luke 6:17-26.

On Sunday, February 15, 2004, we were in church as per the norm.  That same scripture was read.  Our pastor at the time (a recovering attorney) admitted that when he got to the part that says “"But woe to you who are rich,  for you have already received your comfort”, he gets nervous.  While not as rich as Bill Gates, he certainly had a lot more than the people he saw in Mexico who live in cardboard shacks.  The passage made him uncomfortable.

Then he said this: “God speaks to us in our discomfort.”

Literally – at that exact moment – I took pen from pocket and wrote the letters “VN” on the service bulletin.  When I went to show it to the MGB, she was already in tears – she had heard the same thing I did at the exact same moment.

The rest, as they say, is history.  By May we had found an agency to send us, by August we had been accepted, and by November, we received our assignment to Huê.

Makes me wonder what the next three cycle will bring.

America at Play – College Basketball

Americans love sports!  I mean, this is a sports crazy country.  And, it is crazy for many sports, not just one.

America is unique in that universities and colleges play sports against each other.  Yes, I know there are a few schools in Canada and Mexico that have intercollegiate sports, but nowhere near the extent that Americans do it.  If you are a good player at a sport, there is a good chance you can get a complete scholarship to attend university and play.

One of those college sports is basketball.  Both women and men play it, and at many schools, basketball is a huge moneymaking enterprise.  The nearest school to me is the University of Texas-Pan American and they have both men’s and women’s basketball teams.

No huge crowds here – just student athletes who work hard for the love of the game.  There might be 750 people at the game (some schools will regularly have 15,000 attend a game), but the athletes work just as hard.

(Be sure to click on each photo so you can see a larger version.)

The home team wears the white uniforms and are playing a team from Utah Valley State University.  The player in the green is trying to put the ball into the “basket” which can be seen at the upper left.

The basket is 10 feet (over 3 meters) high – even tall men have to jump high to touch it, so most of the time the players “shoot” the ball – throw it in an arc so that it goes through the basket.  If they do that, they get two points.  If they shoot the ball a long ways away from the basket, they get three points.  Of course, the idea is to have more points than the other team at the end of the 40 minute game.

The rules state that basketball is a non-contact sport, but anytime you have ten people moving quickly, collisions do occur.  The reality is that basketball can get rough sometimes.  If one player commits a foul against an opponent, then a penalty occurs.  The score keeper tracks the number of fouls a player commits, and if he exceeds five, he is thrown out of the game.  But, the person he fouled (usually) gets to shoot the ball with nobody opposing him – a free throw.  If he puts the ball through the basket, he gets one point.

Sometimes its hard to avoid fouling.  The rules say that if one player has his feet in one place on the floor, than an opposing player cannot run into him.  In this case, the player with his hands in the air is “planted” and the player with the ball is running into him.  He will be received a foul for “charging” and the ball given to the other team.

Basketball is a game of athletic grace and fast movement.  Its fun to watch the players soar into the air as they run towards the basket.  Its one of the reasons why college basketball is so popular in America.

Its so popular that the college championships are often referred to as “March Madness.”

The Mom Report: Broken Hip

I was a bit puzzled as I got off the plane returning home from Việt Nam.  I expected to see the Mystery Guest Blogger waiting for me.  Instead I saw her brother – and he had a hard look on his face.

The MGB did in fact come to the airport to greet me, and brought my mother too.  She had delighted in telling people at church I was coming home.  But, as she walked through the parking lot, she got her feet tangled, fell - - - and broke her left hip.

Now you know why the posts have been a bit scarce since I returned home.

From the airport to home (to drop off my luggage) then on to the emergency room.  I found her and the MGB, then we talked to the doctor about surgery, and I approved it.  The next few days were interesting.  It wasn’t the surgery per se that caused problems – it was how the various medications and anesthesia exacerbated her Alzheimer’s.  The MGB and I took turns sitting at bedside.  It was a bit strange to listen to her talking to imaginary friends and invite them to sit down, and stranger still to hear her talking with my father, who died in 1966.

But, after a few days, she snapped out of it.  Well – “snap out of it” is a relative term, but she did return to almost the same mental condition she was in before she fell.  She is no longer delusional, she is back to just plain confused.  Physically, she seems to be recovering, though it will take a month (or so) of physical therapy to regain full functionality.

Her progress both physically and mentally will determine if she ever lives in her own home again.  Time for making decisions.

I’ll keep you posted.

(Oh  - I took a couple of cell phone pictures, but I don’t think she would appreciate them being put on the web.  Lets just say she doesn’t look ready to be in the Easter Parade.)

Planting Season

Photo galleries of Việt Nam almost always have pictures of peasants working in the fields.  I suppose such pix are a bit of a cliché, but of course, everyone needs to eat, so the photos are also accurate representations of life in Việt Nam.  Most farmers own their own land, but villagers cooperate rather than compete with each other.  They work hard, though I noticed they seemed to be having a good time giving the westerner with the camera a welcoming but teasing hello.

They arrive at the fields by bicycle, though many of them walk.  These fields were quite large, but I could see three villages in the area – nobody would have had a terribly long walk to get to work.  Of course, working in the fields requires tools, and it mattered little if they brought tools by bicycle or on a shoulder.

Obviously, they are not working in rice paddies.  The Vietnamese diet includes a lot of vegetables, so these farmers were planting veggie fields like these.  They should be able to get two harvests a year.  The younger folks do the heavy work, such as hoeing the plowed rows and doing the stoop work of  planting seeds or young plants.  That leaves the less arduous work of applying fertilizer to the older folks.  Of course, age is relative – I saw one lady using a hoe who seemed to be about my age, and I’m no kid.

So, the next time you see a shot like this of a Vietnamese farmer in a conical hat working in the field, remember that its not quite as much a cliché as you might think. 

After all, most peasants in cliché photos aren’t wearing pink pants.