Readability

Saw this over at Lynda's blog and decided to check it out.

Get a Cash Advance

I don't know if I should be bummed that my writing is so juvenile, or happy that my blog is so readable.

I guess I'll choose the latter.

~ Keith

Gossamer

Washing dishes
Tiny spots of food
Stick to the plate
Jet nozzles blast fiercely
Water drops mercilessly pelt
And
Stuff stays stuck
Yet
Ever-so-lightly touching it
Single fingertip barely brushing
WHOOSH
Away it goes

I wonder

How can something so tough
So resilient
Be
At the same time,
So very fragile?

Autumn's rainy arrival
Spiders' webbed bridges everywhereWinds blow fiercely
Large drops mercilessly pelt
And
Gossamer strands
Hold firm
Yet
Ever-so-lightly touching it
Fingertips barely brushing
WHOOSH
Away it goes

Still I wonder

How can something so tough
So resilient
Be
At the same time,
So very fragile?

Two Hospice admissions
Two patients so similar
Family dynamics blow fiercely
Disease symptoms mercilessly pelt
And
Two gossamer lives
Hold firm
Yet
Ever-so-lightly touching it
Divine Fingertips barely brushing
And
WHOOSH
One life goes away
But
Temporarily
Miraculously
One life lingers

Again I wonder

How something
So very fragile
Can
At the same time
Be
So unbelievably tough
So amazingly resilient?

~ Keith

It is such a secret place, the land of tears.

Crackberry

My job as a Home Hospice Nurse has me driving all over the boonies in Polk County, Oregon. All of the 100+ folks on staff here carry a Blackberry 7250, and we are constantly in communication via eMail -- I get around 40-50 eMails a day on it, and I'm new here, so it will go up as I get more busy.

It is also my work cell phone, and our company has an unlimited data plan, so my Blackberry also carries my gMail, Google Maps, Google News, and Google Search apps, plus access to WeatherUnderground and 2 push-messages a day from AccuWeather. Yes, I'm a geek, but it is also handy to know what weather to expect as I am driving around in it all -- especially as the rains have now hit hard, and winter is still over two months away.

It is really nice to be out and about in a new area, and have the world at my fingertips. As such, I now use it even when I am off duty. I have become "that guy" with the holster on his belt. No, I have not stooped to wearing black socks with white tennis shoes or wearing a belt with shorts -- and I've never worn socks with sandals.

But I am now gloriously, hideously, happily addicted to having it with me at all times.

It is, indeed, my Crackberry.

~ Keith

Even When Bad Ideas Seem Good...

...they are still bad ideas.

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
has long been a favorite movie of mine.

But this is so true...
~ Keith

The Glory of Bedpans

...religion is totally integrated into all that we do and think, but never forced on anyone. It is there, largely without words. Florence Nightingale, I think, is the one who said "You should carry the bedpan for the glory of God." Many would prefer to say, "I'll carry it for the dignity of man." But, you know, the two belong together.
~ Dame Cicely Saunders

~ Keith

Quotation from The Moment of Truth: Care of the Dying Person -- full bibliography here

Anger & Depression

Sometimes well-meaning people respond to someone else's grief by trying to give advice.

When that happens I want to respond in grace, knowing they meant well and trying to believe the best about them. That's fine, on one level -- I don't want to be mean to people who are trying to help and comfort me...

But I know myself and in making more grace for others at this time in my life, I run the risk of placing myself in a position of trying to be the nice person for them when I am the one hurting. That is not healthy for me. This is a season where it is OK for me to be overly sensitive.

So instead, I'm allowing myself to feel the anger and depression and sense of abandonment when people...just. don't. get it.

If you're trying to think of how to relate to me at the moment, please allow me to give some advice of my own. Left to me, I would use profanity and offend you, so instead I'll use the words borrowed from someone who can express it more eloquently than I can right now:

Now Is The Time For Tears
by Charlie Peacock

Now is the time for tears
Don't speak
Save your words
There's nothing you could say
To take this pain away
Don't try so hard
You can just simply be
Cry with me don't try to fix me friend
That's how you'll comfort me

Heavenly Father cover this child with mercy
You are my helper through this time of trial and pain
Silence the lips of the people with all of the answers
Gently show them now is the time
Now is the time
Now is the time for tears

~ Keith

Orphaned

Joseph Clarence Seckel
13th April 1930 -- 3rd September 2007

My dad died this morning. He was 77.

Two pieces of irony:

• Today is Labor Day. My mom died on Memorial Day in 2002.
• One week ago today, I started work at a Home Hospice agency.

Weird.

My sister says he was not in a bunch of distress, and was in good hands when he died. It was his heart.

So now my sisters & I are orphans. Here's a picture of me and my dad and some other family at breakfast a couple weeks ago. I'm glad I got the chance to see him.

I'm also glad that now my parents are together again.








Lots of happy memories.

But mainly I miss my dad~ Keith