February 8, 2008. Getting Along

Another reason Ken and I get along is that we think very differently.  I am a well organized plodder while Ken is a rabbit always chasing after some new idea.  If you think about it, that is a pretty good combination.  Two examples tell it all.

We were fairly newly married and a friend at church asked us for help with his trigonometry .  Now Ken and I both passed the same course, but me with a much higher grade.  We offered to help,so the student came to our apartment in Toronto over a hardware store to get our help.  We three sat down at the table and I couldn't even remember the questions, let alone figure out the answes, while Ken just figured out both the questions and the answers.  Lesson #1 to Ruth.  Ken thinks very differently than me.

Another example is my interest in figuring out how things could be done better, whether I am involved or not. Ken and I were at Lake Tahoe along with David and Suzanne and Andrew and Christina.  We were all in the ski shop getting outfitted with gear.  It was taking a long time.  Suzanne and I were finished and to get out of the way we sat up on the high platform that is used to measure so we could see the whole operation.  We reorganized the whole operation in our minds.  We cut out staff, moved locations of counter tops, and generally made for a smooth quick operation.   Finally when everyone was ready to leave, Suzanne and I offered our suggestions to them.  But they were not interested at all.  And all our family thought us slightly daft.

You can see the value in a family with these two skills.  Of course it still comes as a shock to me when I find the pantry unorganized, but I have learned to ignore things I don't control.  The part of Ken's brain that a normal person(meaning me) would sort and organize  in Ken is just not working.  But with the two of us, we are a good team.

February 7,2008, Chevy Chase. Cacoon

These past two weeks Ken and I have been wrapped in our own little cacoon.  First in the hospital for six days and then in the apartment for ten days we  have been together in the same space.  This is a very unusual situation for us.  But we have survived and thrived.  I keep projecting forward twenty years when we are both in some tiny apartment both house bound. I wonder.  I went to the office today for a short time, and I must say the real world looked mighty good.  Ken is getting better bit by bit.  I still hear those "ah shit" from time to time tho.

Ken and I have been married for almost 50 years, and I must say that many friends who knew us when we married had grave doubts that we would ever stay married for 50 years.  I think the key to our marriage was that we both had our own separate work worlds that we didn't share much.  We were like railroad tracks parallel to each other, tied together with the children,our travels and our friends, but both with a whole world of responsibilities ourselves.

The other thing we have always done was switch tasks.  Ken paid the bills for a few years, then I did.  I cooked for 25 years, then Ken cooked for 25 years.  Somethings never changed .  Ken was responsible for the outside and I for the inside of the house.  So we worked it all out.  We are also very stubborn.  So for Ken and I to be together for two weeks is very unusual.  We operate at differing speeds; we think along differing patterns;  but it worked.  Now Ken is getting better.  And this is a good thing.

February 6,2008, Chevy Chase Cleaning Silver

Cleaning silver is not such a bad job.  In fact, the  results out weigh the actual work.  Firstly the objects put back in place make the whole apartment brighter.  And secondly touching each object is a reminder of how and where this piece was acquired.  I polished the water pitcher given to my parents for their 25th anniversary.  I can't recall who gave it to them.  I polished my Aunt Miriam's best silver flatwear.  Next up was four expresso cups, given to us by our David for Christmas.  They are beautiful little silver cups and saucers with china inserts.  We love them.Unfortunately we don't drink expresso coffee at night so ever since he was 13 when he gave them to us he has thought that we do not like them.  He still is of the same opinion, but now we all laugh.  I polished an old butter knife with' Mother' on the handle.  I don't know if that would have been my mother or grandmother, but I enjoyed polishing it.  Two sauce dishes were not easy to clean.  I purchased them along with a full set of  Austrian silver in Toronto.  I couldn't carry them home to Gill's house, and I had trouble getting a taxi.  All the while I was sure these expensive(for me) objects would be stolen before I could get a rider on our insurance policy.  The real question I ask my self is how it took me two years to polish that same silver.  I have no answer.

The Wilson Quarterly is a splendid periodical.  Thankfully it is published quarterly.  This issue has an article on the African revolution .  The article is about the farming revolution in Africa, and the fact that many small farmers in Africa are doing  very well indeed.  This is the first time I have heard of it.  Frances Itani is another fine Canadian author.  I am reading "Deafening".  My friend Wendy is keeping me supplied with reading material and for that I am grateful.

February 5, 2008,Chevy Chase, Maryland

Dr.Corcoran, Ken's surgeon, says that Ken is on the way to living 110 years.  Ken on the other hand is not happy with all the fluid being retained in his body.  But he is able to walk longer distances without getting too short of breath, so progress is being made, just slower then on Ken's schedule.  I don't know if my memory is faulty, or that people are nicer to us now that we are old.  But folks in Surburban Hospital are much nicer than I recall hospital personel used to be.  But no matter...the good folks at the hospital could not have been better to us.

I think Surburban Hospital has worked very hard these past ten years to upgrade all their services.  Everyone was helpful from the medical staff to the cleaning service.  That is not an easy task, to have all the staff care about Ken's care.  For instance, I was pushing Ken in a wheel chair, about to go through a closed door.  One of the cleaning folks say my efforts and came to push Ken through the door.  And with a big smile too.  All the time I spent in the hospital I kept trying to figure out how this change in attitude and  helpfulness came about.  Did they have classes in how to be nice?  Or do they give prizes when the patients give an excellent rating?  I know the whole medical faculty has been upgraded, since the affiliation with N.I.H. and Johns Hopkins University Hospitals, and it shows.  The heart center is now the number one place for successful heart surgery.  What a good thing Ken waited till now.

Here are several bits of gold that has come our way.  We have visited with Christina and the three girls every day.  They come over for tea with Grandpa after school.  I have spoken with my brother David every day, sometimes for long periods of time.  David and Suzanne call us from Texas every day.  We urged them not to come up for the surgery as Andrew was very attentive while in the hospital.  Our friends brought us food . And they stopped by to say hello.And then the cards.  They cheer Ken up.  Ken says I am a pretty good nurse too.  So the gold continues to come our way.

February 4, 2008, Chevy Chase, Maryland,

Every young family need a Picnic Group.  Yesterday my friend Wendy came to visit Ken.  Sometime in the early 70s she joined Picnic Group, and we've been friends ever since.  In 1970, Mary and Bertie, friends from graduate school,moved with their families to Bethesda.  They were delighted to see each other because both had no families or friends locally.  Bertie suggested they meet once a week with their children at a local park and bring a pot lunch, and both were free to invite any one else.  The thinking being if there was not a specific date every week, they would get busy and they would never see each other.  So in the summer of 1971 Picnic Group began and fllourished.

In September 0f 1971, Andrew attended  three year nursery school, the same Berties sons attended, and when Bertie found out I was a Canadian she invited me to picnic group.  Of course I said yes. I had a two year old and a three year old and I accepted any and every invitation.  Especially if it included other children and outdoor play.  The Canadian part was important because the group had the pot luck picnic every week rain or shine in summer and winter.  The group sometimes was made up of 6 Mothers and sometimes 15 Mothers, but it didn't really matter because every one brought food and everyone shared.  

February 3, 2008, 2008, Chevy Chase, Maryland.

My Father once told me that as a nurse I made a good plumber.  He was recuperating from a heart attack, and in 1954, the treatment was to stay in bed.  My Mother was the care giver, but she was doing her duty  by speaking at a  Salvation Army function that had been arranged many months prior.  It was my turn  to look after Dad.  He was a good sport and thought my incompetence as a nurse was humorous.  He giggled away when I couldn't get his pillows arranged comfortably  , and did not enjoy my choice of lunch.  But what brought on the chuckle about me as a plumber was when I spilled a whole glass of water over him.  The good thing was we both thought it was funny, not that I had been a total dolt.  It did help me in my choice away from the Medical field.  And I do not recall my Mother asking me again.

My Father was an interesting man.  His family came from Yorkshire in 1910 and settled in Calgary, Alberta.  His father Harry was a shoe maker "Buckley Shoe Repair" was the store.  But he drank too much, which made life difficult for Alice,his wife and the three children.  The result of that experience on my father was enormous.  First off he became a life long non-drinker, second he became a Salvation Army Officer,a job that let him help people, and thirdly he instilled in his two daughters the need to be able to make our own living.  

The results for Dad was mixed.  Not drinking any red wine did not help his heart.  My father was an business man and an independent spirit and that spirit served him well when he was out in the field but when he moved up the ranks and was assigned to Headquarters in Toronto his  spirit just kind of withered.   In a military organization the person on top if key, and unfortunately the Commissioner in Canada at that time was dumb and arrogant.  So my father died at age 62.  But his influence on my sister and me was ahead of the time, but has been very helpful to us both.  

My Father was a very able man.  He could preach and teach, play his trombone, organize concerts, raise money for the Salvation Army,tell great jokes, but what he could not do was fix any thing at home.  My Mother on the other hand was very good at doing everything in the home.  Her Father was an architect and builder, and Walter Houghton could do everything in the home.  Mother thought that my Father could do things if he would try, so every so often she would give Dad a task.  Now they got along very well and so my dad would oblige her by trying.

So here is the scene.  We lived in Vancouver and the main floor sink was leaking.  Mother asked Dad to replace the washer. So he did.  But he forgot to cut off the water before he took the faucets apart, with the result that Dad is standing at the sink with the water shooting up to the ceiling and hitting him on the head laughing at the top of his lungs and calling for Mother.  Mother came to see his distress and laughter, but refused to turn off the water.  Her words to Dad were "Turn  the water off yourself. Next time you will remember your self."  I of course thought it was a great joke too. My Father was a wonderful man, and I am grateful for his influence on my life.  But he would not approve of me drinking red wine!

February 1, 2008, Chevy Chase, Maryland.

Today is the birthday of Mary Frances Dickie, and she is eight years old.  She is a great joy to her grandparents, but her teacher thinks she falls off her chair too often.  Who cares about chairs anyway.

"Ah shit".  Since Ken has been home I've heard that expression many time coming from another part of the apartment.  And I bet I hear it softly from afar many more times too.  We have been given the same advice from lots of friends, that the first six weeks after this surgery is very uncomfortable, but when I question them about the specifics, I get no real answers.  Even the doctors and nurses are somewhat vague.  Other than you loose your taste, you get depressed, and hurt like hell.  Ken I figure that the memory has all been suppressed as to the specifics.

Ken and I have been in this apartment for two and a half days together.  I think it is a first.  Ken calls me a true housewife.  I am surprised I can fill my days.  It rained almost all day so it was a good day to stay home.  So other than doing three trips to the laundry downstairs, we have been home together for these days.

I was reminded of a quote from a character in a book by Alexander McCall Smith "the sum total of human happiness are little acts. Small things. A word of encouragement. A gesture of encouragement. So easy."  He is the writer of the Isabel Dalhousie novels, and the No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency series, and two new books now being reviewed (where I was reminded of the quote).  He is so prolific it makes your head spin.  You can tell I read a lot during the day when Ken is sleeping. 

Ken is doing well but not well enough to keep him happy.  It's the magic 6.  In 6 weeks you will be more comfortable.  In six months you will feel better than you have in ten years.  Every one has the same story.  We both hope they are true .