Rags to riches

Several weeks after Bern getting her M&T bank card (our bank merged with them) I still didn't have a card and the old bank card wouldn't work anymore.

So, I went to the bank on Tuesday and complained.

Then today, I got two bank cards! With different numbers.

So, I had to go to the bank again to figure out which one to activate.

Bern's card is a bank card only.

Mine is a debit card.

Things were so much more simple when People's was still People's and had a branch in the Cheshire Stop and Shop....

But life seldom stays simple.

Just ask our former President....

 

This week's sermon

 First I am giving everyone in the congregation a few mustard seeds....

Mustard Seeds

       Jesus tells us if we have faith the size of a mustard seed, we could uproot trees and put them in the sea.

       As you all can see, mustard seeds are tiny—smaller than a peppercorn.

       So why is it so hard to have a mustard seed of faith?

       In Jesus’ time, there was much dispute within the Jewish community, different interpretations of the Law abounded.

       And the Pharisees and Sadducees were always looking over your shoulders.

       Even the Pharisees and Sadducees did not agree on things. Pharisees believed in some form of everlasting life. The Sadducees didn’t.

       (And that was Sad You See!...Sorry.)

       Plus, the shadow of the Romans fell on everything and everyone.

       It was hard to know What or Who to believe and have even a little faith—faith as small as a mustard seed.

       And what about us today—those of us who want Jesus to “Increase our Faith”?

       Well, first of all, we live in such a divided nation that even Christianity is divided.

       There are Christians who believe in White Nationalism, as hard as that is to reconcile with orthodox theology.

       We are divided over ‘pro life’ and ‘freedom of choice’ in the debate over abortion.

       I heard on the news this week that over half of Republicans want the United States to declare itself “a Christian Nation”.

       I don’t know what that would do to Episcopalians, never mind all the millions of non-Christians who have a different faith—Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, Native American religions, African religions, people with no faith in anything.    

       It is hard to have even a mustard seed of faith with religion in such shambles.

       Add to that the deep political divides in our nation and the multitude of opinions about what ‘democracy’ even means.

       And Jesus’ response to the problem of ‘faith’ is deeply disturbing to us.

       He tells us to be faithful ‘slaves’.

       Talk of slavery causes a knot in our stomachs and a confusion to our minds.

       What can he possibly mean?

       Let’s try this on for a moment. Change the word ‘slave’ to ‘servant’.

       Servant isn’t much better for us, but it can have interpretations that make it easier to bear.

       A priest is a ‘servant’ of the Gospel, of God and of the people he or she ‘serves’.

       That kind of ‘servanthood’ sets us free to do God’s work in the world. To ‘be there’ for others.

To offer comfort and support to the weak and encouragement and praise to the strong.

       Being a ‘servant’ of God is liberating and life-giving.

       That’s what we must seek to do in this chaotic world—serve God and other people.

       And stive to have faith—even a mustard seed sized faith.

       But if we get there, don’t start uprooting trees—start uprooting cruelty and oppression and bring light to this oh, so darkling world.

(Let’s spend a few moments pondering our mustard seeds of faith….)

      

Good News and Bad

BAD NEWS:

*Our bank merged and I still haven't gotten my new bank card--which makes getting money out requires a check and I can't use my old bank card any more.

I've complained and have been promised I'd get it tomorrow.

*The Yankees lost last night and are behind tonight.

Will Aaron Judge sign with another team? Alas and alack!

*I almost forgot to set out the garbage and recycling and did it in the dark.

*I forget a lot lately. I forgot a funeral I was supposed to do at St. Peter's, Cheshire, yesterday.

Maybe I need to get that memory drug...but I forget what it's called!

GOOD NEWS:

*Our furnace is back on, the thermostat fixed by a Hungarian-Italian American, just like Bern.

*I have an appointment Friday to schedule the completion of my procedure at Mid-State.

I'll take a copy of my blog about all that to show the doctor.

*I got my shot today and my blood oxygen level was 98, just as I told them at Mid-State if they''d let me walk around.

*Blog had over 500 views today, making the numbers a bit better for the month.

Life is good. 

(I just have to 'remember' that!)

 

Our Furnace isn't working

It's been a little chilly the last two nights, but it could be January when this happened!

Small blessings but blessings non-the-less.

The furnace guy came and after an hour or so, discovered it was a short it the thermostat and not the furnace at all.

Electricians come tomorrow to fix that problem.

Plus we have a stand up electric heater that keeps the bedroom and bathroom we use toasty.

Walking out of those rooms in the early morning is like passing into another world!

But, all will be well.

(Except for our former President--please God! He gets deeper in and further down every day. And that gives me hope for our country.)

 

numbers, nu;mbers, numbers

I write 'Under the Castor Oil Tree' because I love to.

I shouldn't worry about statistics and who's reading.

But when I turn it on to post I get the numbers of readers.

In August in 31 days, there were 5255 views--an average of 168 a day.

In the first 24 days of September there have been only 1019 views--an average of 40 a day.

How can there be such a difference?

I don't know.

But I ponder it.

I shouldn't.

But I do. 

My awful, Terrible, No Good Week

     Sorry I haven't posted since Tuesday but on Wednesday morning I woke up with the worst pain at the top of my stomach and went to the emergency room at a local hospital where several of my doctors work.

    I stayed in the E.R. for 10 hours as they did test after test and x-rays and drew blood.

    It was determined I had a gallstone blocking the duct it was supposed to slip through and they admitted me to the hospital for treatment.

    I hadn't had anything to eat or drink that morning and the procedure they scheduled for the next morning required sedation and you can't eat or drink before having it.

    So, a full 24 hours without food or drink.

    The procedure was not completed since I have a small esophagus, so they just stretched it and sent me back to my room. (That hospital knew about my esophagus, they told me, and months ago they did another probe with a child-sized implement. But they didn't this time!)

    Since they wanted to finish the procedure they wanted to finish on Friday, no eating or drinking for another 30 hours.

    (I forgot to tell you, though I told them, that whatever was done on Thursday took away all my pain. I felt fine.)

    But on Friday, they decided instead to do a cat scan to make sure they hadn't damaged my esophagus and sent me a quart of scan water that tasted vaguely of lemons to consume. So now, I was sure I could have water and food--but no--they kept me on the same no eat/no drink plan.

    I suppose, though they never told me, that they wanted to finish the procedure on Friday. What they did tell me was that my being sedated vastly lowered my oxygen level in the blood. So, I breathed pure oxygen for the rest of Thursday and much of Friday to correct the oxygen level. It was at 90 and was 98 when I finished breathing it. Still no food or water.

(I know this, in the 10 years I've been taking Zolair shots at Waterbury Hospital, my oxygen level had never been below 98.)

They also told me I had water in my lungs--which is also a side-effect of sedation. The correction is to walk around a lot. 

But I couldn't walk around a lot since I was confined to bed the whole time I was there. They even alarmed my bed so if I tried to get up and walk, it would go off and nurses would come running to put me back. Exercise, no matter how mild, also raises the oxygen level of the blood naturally, but I couldn't lying in bed (which is the worse thing to do if you have water on the lungs!)

Not that I could have walked far. I had so many wires attached to me--IVs and other things--I could have not gotten further than a couple of steps.

On Friday, I asked to be released from the hospital, but the doctor came and said he was afraid I was catching pneumonia and was worried about the damage to my liver that was possible without completing the procedure. (No one had told me of that possibility before! Don't you think I should have been told from the start?)

So, I agreed to stay another night so they might try to procedure again on Saturday. (No one told me that procedure wasn't done on Saturday unless it was life and death!) 

But Friday night was the last straw.

One of the night nurses wanted to give me a blood thinner to prevent blood clots. I had talked them out of it for two days because I have very thin blood already that won't clot except in a major injury. But  I was explaining this to that nurse when she simply stuck the needle in my stomach!

Early on Saturday I called a nurse and got the one good one on night shift and asked her to disarm my bed, promising not to get up without calling her. She did it.

So I got up at 7, took all the wires off and got dressed. I didn't want to be half-naked and talking to people who were fully clothed about releasing me or I would sign out against their orders.

I told the doctor who came all that I've told you, but she refused to sign the discharge papers.

So I signed out against doctor's orders after calling Bern to come get me.

I also had about half a gallon on ice water this morning!

The nurses, except the one who gave me a shot without my permission, were great. But they were locked in by the doctors.

A friend of Bern told her today that the reason they wouldn't release me was voluntarily releasing someone without finishing the promised treatment gets them in trouble with Medicare. Imagine That, Money was the issue!

She also told Bern I had a lawsuit against the hospital for the nurse who gave me the unwanted shot against my  will. I may tell my lawyer son about it.

I'll call on Monday to get an appointment to finish the procedure as an out-patient; even though they never told me--as they never told me so much--what the cat scan said!

But I'm free and eating and having a glass of wine as I write this!

If I ever need anything like this again, I'll go to another hospital and I'll tell my doctors at that hospital why. I'll also tell my GP about it.

Now you know about my awful, terrible, no good week....

 

Pageantry Plus

If you really want to know who does pomp and circumstances best, look no further than the British!

Between Queen Elizabeth's dead and her funeral today, it has been non-stop pageantry plus.

All the processions and ceremonies have been exhaustion for non-British folks like me.

But they know how to do it, you've got to give them that.

All in good--no 'great'--taste, for days on end.

Waiting 14 hours for 10's of thousands to merely walk by her coffin.

The slow and winding road from her death place to London.

The incredible pageantry of the trip to the church and then to the chapel where she will join Prince Philip is side by side tombs.

Of course she did reign for 70 years.

Something big and splendid had to be done.

And they really did it!

I was sore impressed--and I don't even like or agree with monarchies. 

 

What comes next?

The former president (who's name I won't mention) is in a lot of trouble.

Jan. 6, Georgia, NYC, illegally having government documents and some other things.

So, what will happen next?

I want him to go to jail for the damage he did to our country!

I don't care who does it--just do it.

Justice for America.

We still need to clean up the mess he left behind and is still continuing.

MAGA folks planted a bomb at Brigham's Children Hospital in Boston,.

Luckily it was found and someone has been arrested.

What are these people thinking?

A children's hospital, one of the best in the nation.

Why does that upset them?

And have they no respect for truth, justice and the American way?

Probably not.

Alas.

 

Cold all day

            Today, I felt cold all day.

        I hate the cold and Bern hates the heat.

        During the winter we play thermostat bingo most of the day and night.

        Last night, with three layers of sheets and blankets, I was cold.

        I'll find an additional cover  for tonight.

        No reason I should be cold today--but I was.

        Right now I have on a tee shirt, a sweatshirt and a coat as I type.

        It's no fun to be cold.

        Not at all.

 

This week's sermon

WHEN PEOPLE DIE

Intellectually, we all know that we will someday die.

          But I don’t think we know that emotionally.

          Sometimes, I feel eternal, though I know that’s self-delusion.

          So, when someone we admire or love dies, it digs a crater in our hearts and mind.

          When my mother died, on the way from the service to the cemetery, my father said to the mortician who was driving us, “With my wife dead, I have nothing to live for.”

          I was about to ask, “how about living for me?”

          But the driver said the perfect response, “You can’t imagine how many people have said that to me.”

          Death is universal and so is grieving.

          My father lived 12 more years and he did, indeed, lose interest in life. He paid very little attention to his grandchildren when they came to be.

          When I moved him to CT, I discovered all my mother’s clothes were still in his house.

          Most people survive from the loss of loved one. But it takes time and effort.

          I was with him in the hospital the day he died. We had had the most cogent conversation we’d had in several years. After an hour by his bed, I said, “OK, Dad, I’m going home now.”

          And he replied, “so am I”.

          If he had been a parishioner, I would have sat down and held his hand. But he was my father and I assumed he’d slipped back into his dementia.

          By the time I got home, 15 minutes later, the Hospital had already called.

          I turned around and went back to sit by his deathbed.

          The nurse’s aide who had been shaving him when he died, told me he sat up, nearly making her cut him, and said, “I gotta get out of here!”

          Not bad last words.

          I have a poem to share, written by a college classmate of mine. She wrote it for a friend who had died in Viet Nam.

          I was the editor of the student magazine and published it.

          I think it is full of truth.

WHEN PEOPLE DIE

          When people die

          It’s like a bird flying into a window

                   On the coldest morning of the year.

          When people die

          It’s like the bear’s have escaped from the zoo

                   And are eating children on the street.

          When people die

          It’s like a maniac has taken over the power station

                   And the lights go off and on and off

                   And on and off.

          When people die.

 

Now, some other folks have some things to share….