My Day

It actually started at 1:30 a.m. as I struggled with the mask on the cpap machine.  Cpap, you say? Yes, after the fire my favorite doctor had to close up shop and I had to find a new doctor. The new doctor, and even the old doctor, wanted me to start using a cpap machine for sleep apnea.  I finally figured, “Why am I going to these guys if I refuse to follow their advice?” So, a couple of months ago I met with a respiratory therapist as she explained how to use the contraption to me and two other new clients. After explaining the do’s and don’ts, she gave each of us a copy of our sleep study. The old guy at the end of the table blurted, “Wow, 15 episodes an hour. I need this.” The middle age guy in the middle then looked at his and said, “Wow 17 times I stopped breathing in an hour!” The old guy looked quite concerned for the middle age guy. Then they both looked at me with that look, “We showed you ours, now you show us yours.” The therapist, who for some reason, I immediately had disliked also looked me, even though she knew what my results were. I folded from the peer pressure like a deck of cards and looked at my report. “It says… uh, 47 times an hour I stopped breathing.” The other 2 guys stopped breathing as they tried to process what I had just shared. So, yeah, I have been trying to use the cpap machine for at least 4 hours a night for 21 days of the month. The first night I used it, it reacted poorly with my skin and it created a pimple on my cheek that was so big people could not help but to comment on it. It simply could not be ignored, not even for politeness sake. You can guess what kind of mood that put me in. Yet, I now have completed 2 months.

Around 5:30 a.m. I started stirring in bed. The first thing I do is to slowly move my foot to see how bad the pain is. I have completed 10 appointments with the physical therapist – who I like much better than that respiratory therapist – but things have not progressed as we had hoped. In fact, the PT seems like she’s kind of given up on me and believes surgery might be my only option. We decided 4 more sessions and then if not getting better we’ll quit physical therapy. However, I won’t choose surgery. That solution requires detaching the achilles tendon, shaving down the heel spur, and re-attaching the tendon. Instead I am going to find one of those old time travelling tent revivals and “get a healin’ ” straight from the preacher’s hands.

At 7:30 a.m.  I thought “Hey, it is not hot yet, maybe I’ll try to go for a very short bicycle ride.”  I returned home at 7:32 a.m. with a flat tire. This is actually quite common with me and bicycles.

At 9:00 a.m. my son-in-law came over and helped hook up the auger to my tractor and we proceeded to did 23 holes. In those holes, we planted 7 olive trees (Manzanila variety), 5 cedar trees, 1 Gingko, 1 Maple, and covered up the rest of the holes with boards for future planting.

At noon, I had a tomato sandwich from tomatoes out of the garden. Yep, two slices of bread, big juicy tomato, a little mayo, salt and pepper and I am good to go.

At 12:30 p.m. I picked beautiful Crenshaw melons from the garden – vine ripened, awesome fragrance.

At 1:00 p.m. I had to drive to Chico, CA to do some banking before the holiday tomorrow. Also, went to Home Depot to get some oil for a weaving loom that I got for my wife’s birthday. The wood needs to be protected before I assemble it.

At 3:00 p.m. I turned on the tv and  I watched my favorite baseball team continue to lose, but I still love my San Francisco Giants.

At 5:30 p.m. we drove ten miles up the road to Corning, CA and had dinner at a place called the Olive Pit. I had a turkey sandwich and dang if that wasn’t one great sandwich. Also, did some olive tasting in their store. Well, I tasted one olive. It was good. Corning is the self proclaimed Olive Capital of the World, although I am certain somebody in Spain or Greece might disagree.

Instead of heading straight home, we took as many side roads as possible. We drove by farms and orchards and corn fields.  I got a thing for old barns, love ’em to death. Just wanna pinch their cheeks…no, seriously, old barns are the coolest thing in my book. We came across several of them on the road less traveled.

At 8:00 p.m. I watered all the trees we planted today and suddenly two baby goats ran up to the fence. They started dancing like only baby goats will do and I just stood there with  a hose in my hand… and a big ole grin on my face.

At 8:30 p.m. I got into the swimming pool, floated around, and just looked up at the most beautiful – one of those ‘the cow jumped over the moon’ moons…waxing or waning, who cares. It was set in the sky at about 30 degrees above the western horizon and embedded in a cloudless sunset. I love my cloudy sunsets, but there is something so wonderful and mystical about a clear sky and the colors from yellow, orange, light blue, and a darker blue and then a midnight purple – all on the same great big palette.  There are no boundaries, no edges. It is just a seamless flow of color. Floating on my back, looking at that sky and that moon, I thanked God for My Day and then I thought, “I wonder if there is any ice cream in the house?”