If you could know....

Something I've been pondering today (since it was cloudy and cool and I had not one thing I 'had' to do) is this: if you could know the date and time of your death, if some omniscient being could tell you...would you want to know?

I'm pondering this because I'm 69 and have outlived my mother by 6 years. My father was 83 when he died and I guess I could take heart in the old wives' tale than your age matches the parent of your gender. I'd get to be with my yet to be born 4th grandchild, Ellie, until she was in her teens. And I'd see Morgan, Emma out of college and Tegan graduate high school. That would be wonderful.

People who  have 'bucket lists' (things they want to do before they die) would probably want to know so they could time things better. But how about other folks...would they want to know?

I haven't come down on either side yet, but I'm wrestling with it.

What about you? Would you want to know?

Ponder it and see what you learn.

Irony I don't like

I am a big fan of 'irony'. I would use 'ironic' as one of the words to describe myself. "Irony Rules!!" in my book.

But the irony of Dallas is not something I like at all.

From all reports, the Police in Dallas are on the forefront of making reforms to make policing color blind in meaningful ways. Their chief is Black. Large numbers of their officers are Black/Hispanic. They are, it seems, a model for how to police in a diverse society.

There was a demonstration against police violence yesterday in Dallas. It was about the murders of black men in New Orleans and Minnesota.  It was totally peaceful. The police have been praised by the demonstrators for their helpfulness. The crowd--a real diverse group--even felt the police of Dallas by-in-large supported their peaceful march.

And then a sniper killed and wounded a dozen or so members of the Dallas police.

How ironic that at a peaceful protest against police violence in a city whose police are seen as a model for what 21st Century 'policing' should look like, someone would kill and wound the police.

Tragedy is bad enough--as in New Orleans and Minnesota--but 'ironic' tragedy, as in Dallas, is even more senseless and troubling.

Deep breath, everyone. We've got to figure out how to get this right.

We've got to. All of us.

doctor visits

So, tonight I went to see a 'sleep doctor' and he agreed I should get my CPath machine replaced without a sleep study (sleeping in the sleep center hooked up to stuff). The chip from my dead machine convinced him I was both using it correctly and needed to use it. They took my vitals and my blood pressure was 120/64. Bern's food choices are working beyond well!

I know I told you about my urologist yesterday. But hang in there, I have a kidney cat scan and a colonoscopy coming up next week.

When you're 69 you have lots of doctors in your life. Just the way it is.

I'm really feeling fine--a tad sleepy, but a new CPath machine will fix that.

I really do hope, when I come to die (as I will, beloved, though I dread it) that I'll be able to blog about my last days. I'd like to do that so I wouldn't be going through it alone.

But that probably consigns me to some long, drawn out death where I'll be in pain but able to type.

I don't fear Death, but I am concerning about the 'dying' part. I can handle being dead, I'm just not sure about the transition.

I remember a joke I like.

"I'd like to die in my sleep," the joke goes, "like my grandfather. Instead of screaming like the other people in the car he was driving."

I've gone back and forth between dying in my sleep and dying screaming.

I'm not sure which I would prefer yet.

Ponder that, if you have the time.

Urology

I know all about Urology.

I had prostate surgery, radiation and a round of hormone therapy. That was years ago now. But I still see a urologist yearly.

Today she looked into my bladder.

The two words in that sentence that should catch you are: 'she' and 'looked'.

My urologist is a woman--Dr. Wong. Dr. Kurz retired and it was easier to stay with the practice since Dr. Wong took over. She treated me in the hospital once--the only time I've been in the hospital since my surgery. It was for a urinary blockage (don't even think about it!) she cleared it right up.

Today she looked into my bladder.

There's only one way into a bladder from the outside. Obviously there's a way in from inside the body but only one from outside.

I commented while she had a camera 'up there' that it was hard to have thoughtful conversation in that situation.

She laughed. I like her a lot.

I don't like her looking into my bladder.

Or anyone for that matter.

I almost passed

Bea, at the Cluster Office got a call about a patient in Middlesex Hospital that we had never heard of. She said she was a member of Emmanuel, Killingworth though she was on no lists and people Bea had contacted from Emmanuel didn't recognize her name. The message also said she was 93.

Working in the Cluster I know more people 90+ than I think I've met in all my life before. My last 3 funerals were for people in the upper 90's.

Something in that country water, maybe.

I got lost looking for the hospital because the normal exit was closed for construction so I wandered around Middletown for a while. I almost gave up and went home. But I didn't.

I parked in a clergy spot since it was open though I don't have permission. A year or so ago I asked the Chaplain for a permission to park there. He asked me to prove I was clergy, since I'm never dressed like a priest. My offer to 'bless something' didn't cut it, so I still don't have a clergy sticker.

The hospital has North and South elevators and I took the wrong one and had to wander through a labryinth of hallways to find the room.

I almost turned back because the room had visitors and I didn't want to make a 'cold call' with witnesses. But I didn't.

Bea and I had found the woman on line and she was from West Haven, so I wasn't sure she really asked for a priest from the Cluster and almost left. But didn't.

She was delightful. Very alert and engaging. Her daughter and her daughter's husband were there and I soon learned she was the mother of one of the very active members of Emmanuel and was going to live in Killingworth when she got out of the hospital.

I gave them all communion and anointed her and realized how much I would have missed had I just 'passed' on the visit.

I've long realized that those 'uncomfortable moments' can be the best moments of all if you just move into them.

This was no exception.

Thank God for 'cold calls'--they end up warm and wonderful.

As of yet

Given the number of serious terrorist attacks in the past few weeks, I've been really worried about the huge gatherings of Americans at 4th of July celebrations today. If I were Isis what could be a better target than an 'Independence Day' fireworks in a major city.

It's after 11 p.m. Eastern time and nothing yet.

So, here is what I want you to ponder: how effective is our anti-terrorist and security in the US?

We'll never know what the NSA and others are doing to keep us safe.

I just hope they keep doing it.

And I have a great debt of thanks to all the people--Federal, State and Local--who look out for us.

I am a socialist and left wing nut. And, I want whatever is being done to secure us to continue to be done--even though much of it might offend my political views.

So, I've said it.

And I stand by it.

And believe it.

Keep us safe all you alphabet groups, by doing what you need to do to do that.

Just that.

The 4th the way it should be

We were home by nine p.m. It's an hour later and only the occasional 'boom' outside yet. It will get more frequent. believe me. One lucky thing, we have a dog who is oblivious to fireworks and thunderstorms, couldn't bother him in the least. One of Jack and Sherry's dogs, Vivian, was already wound a little tight from a couple of firecrackers nearby.

It was just 7 of us--Jack and Sherry, Brandy, Sherry's sister, Mike, their next door neighbor we know well, Maureen from Sherry and Bern's women's group and Bern and me. The table in the back yard has 8 chairs...one for the bucket of grilled corn and one for each of us.

Jack did some amazing New Orleans shrimp to put on toast. I made my famous deviled eggs (requested by Sherry, so at least famous with her and she always is at our house for Easter when I do the eggs). Cheese and red/white and blue braunswieger  (sp--my spell check is down: liver cheese with red, white and blue stuff on it) hot dogs (withe every imaginable topping), corn, Mike's potato salad and Jack's American flag cake with blueberries, cherries and pineapple smothered in whipped cream.

Parties in the neighborhood spilled sound over. One group was playing basketball after several beers--not a bad way to celebrate our nation.

But we were quite and all hate Trump and like Hillary and can't explain why we have to have an election if Americans (who celebrate their independence this day) are smart enough to deserve this country.

Great food, good friends, wine and bourbon and breezy weather and three dogs (2 Jack and Sherry's, one Mike's) and two new kittens for Jack and Sherry, and being free to do what we want.

It doesn't get much better than that. And going to bed before the real fireworks--which I can sleep through, believe me...a perfect way to honor our nation.