What a frustrating week it has been. On Friday April 13, 2012 I was feeling a little short of breath and I had a slight fever. Anticipating the worst I packed a bag and my daughter, Becca, made an appointment with my primary care provider. Just as I had expected I was hospitalized with pneumonia again. Who says that it's superstitious to believe that nasty stuff happens on Friday the 13th?

 was hospitalized until Tuesday April 17, 2012 and they sent me home to recuperate. Unfortunately they sent me home on oxygen and forced bed rest. So I have another tether that limits my mobility around and especially outside the  house. I am getting really tired of this. And what is even worse is that the doctor told me that this is what I can expect for the foreseeable future, chronic pneumonia resulting in my need for oxygen gradually extending to the point that I will need oxygen continuously.

I have made a conscious and deliberate decision to try and be mindful, optimistic, and grateful; but I have to admit that sometimes it is a challenge.

Now I am faced with cancelling several things I was planning on doing during the next two weeks that I was looking forward to, most importantly, a Buddhist retreat, a Sesshin. Attached to an oxygen tank, as well as a feeding  pump is just too much to manage and be able to be in meditation for long periods of time, not to mention walking or working meditation.

I'm not sure that this is good for me, but I am feeling a little angry and sorry for myself today and just felt like I needed to share it with someone.

Life Is Good ... Again

I taught my daughter to make Cresca, my great grandmother's traditional Easter bread, which is more like a quiche, this past Saturday. It was a great success and everyone loved it. I have such fond memories of enjoying this treat every Easter and have not made it for years. Even though I could not eat any, I think I enjoyed passing this on to my daughter almost as much as I would have enjoyed eating it.

I have been trying, for years, to practice the Law of Attraction, what you project is what comes to you. It's really hard to assess the effectiveness of something like that because the universe is a random place and practicing the Law of Attraction doesn't mean that you will never experience any bad things, only that you will be better able to cope with the bad things that you do experience.

I do have some difficulty accepting that the Law of Attraction explains how everything works. I don't think that children are abused or neglected because of their negative attitudes about life or that people who die unexpectedly are somehow responsible for their demise. But I do think that cultivating a positive attitude and practicing a life of mindfulness, being truly and completely present to each moment, does produce tremendous benefits.

I had been dreading the phone call I made yesterday. Last week I submitted a sputum sample for testing. I was mentally preparing myself to have to go back on IV antibiotics, which is yet another tether and might mean I would not be able to attend my three day Buddhist Sesshin later this month. At the same time I was consciously trying to have a positive outlook and thanking the sacred for the gift of the health that I do have.

When I called my doctor yesterday and spoke to his nurse, she gave me some very good news. The sputum sample that I submitted last week grew only "natural flora," and there were no pathogens at all. That means that I am healing well and won't have to be on IV antibiotics. I was so happy and light that it made my afternoon zazen a little challenging but so enjoyable.

It is interesting to me that I was able to hold two contradictory thoughts in my head and heart and soul at the same time - dreading what I anticipated happening and simultaneously feeling, or trying to feel, confident that there would be a good outcome. I find that I do this in life and I think I have seen other people do this too. I have done it so long that it just feels natural to me now, but when I stop and think about it, it seems a little crazy.

I am celebrating my good news with a cup of coffee. My wife, daughter, and I have all agreed that there is a delicate balance between quality of life and quantity of life and that I will not sacrifice the certain quality of life for an uncertain quantity of life. So I get to have an occasional cup of coffee or a cold beer with no regrets or shame or guilt. And I have to say that the coffee is particularly satisfying this morning.

It is intriguing how little thingss like sharing something special from your heritage and experience with your daughter or getting good health news can buoy a person up. Yes, life is good ... again.

Buona Pasqua

I am teaching my daughter Becca to make my great grandmother's traditional Easter bread, the Cresca, which is much more like a quiche, this weekend. In order to make the Cresca we have to make our sausage, which we will do today. It is so much fun for me to teach my daughter how to cook, especially Italian foods.

I have such great memories of waiting each year for Easter so I could have the Cresca, which my grandmother called gavetsone. It was one of my very favorite foods of the year. I loved helping to make it too, especially making the sausage. The Cresca is filled with almost a dozen eggs, a generous helping of ricotta cheese, Parmesean cheese, and pepporoni, all baked into a bread crust.

The soft squares of Cresca, usually served cold with strong coffee on Easter morning, are so full of great Italian flavors; the salty and spicy sausage, the creamy almost bland ricotta, the musky pepporoni, and the Parmesean - the king of cheeses. My mouth waters just remembering, which is almost all that is left for me now. Almost all, but not all. Still left to me is teaching Becca about my Italian heritage and in particular, how to cook.

I think Becca is not nearly as excited about this as I am but I suppose that is a father's perogative.

Happy Easter everyone, or should I say, Buona Pasqua!

Random thoughts

It is now officially official. I am retired. My last day on the books was March 31, 2012 and as of April 1, 2012 I am no longer an employee of the State of Washington Division of Child and Family Services. Friday was my retirement party at a local coffee shop, my favorite, Caffe Mela. Three tables were reserved and people came to the party and said the most generous and thoughtful things. I was particularly touched by my supervisor, Liza Sterbick's, comments. It was so touching that I had to consciously try not to cry. I loved my job but it is clear to everyone that I can no longer continue in that position. The work is too stressful and my health is too fragile. The job requires concentration, an ability to focus, and an ability to organize and remember details. All of these are victims of my health. I am also gradually loosing the ability to speak clearly and forcefull, which is an integral part of what I used to do. What will I do now? I am finding things to fill my days and even fill a sense of purpose and meaning in my life. I have been doing some writing. I am still active in Toastmasters. I am involved in Occupy Wenatchee and I am becoming more active in my church, the Cascade Unitarian Universalist Fellowship (CUUF). I am a Pastoral Care Associate and I am on the Social Action Team. Yesterday at church we had a social action workshop, which was so energizing and empowering. I was and remain excited about the energy for a commitment to social action that is building in the fellowship. I left that meeting with really good energy. It reinforced what I have been learning - if I am involved in something energizing, my energy is renewed. If I am involved in something that is energy sapping I get tired more easily. That seems such an obvious thing but apparently I have to learn and re-learn that periodically. Teaching my daughter to cook has also been energizing for me. It is something that is bringing us closer together and that we can share. This weekend we will be making my great-grandmother's traditional Easter bread, which is more like a quiche, with ricotta cheese and sausage and salami ... When I could eat it was one of my very favorite foods. This has been a little rambling of a post but I really feel the need to blog every few days and I hadn't done so for a while, so I disciplined myself to start writing trusting the inspiration to follow. It works most of the time, but I guess not today.

A Student Again

As my official day of retirement, April 1, 2012, approaches I have mixed feelings about this involuntary retirement. I would have chosen to keep working and yet I am thankful that there are resources to help me when I no longer can work. I am still feeling challenged by episodes of guilt and shame for not working, even though I know that there is no guilt or shame attached to my situation other than what I impose on myself. I am doing things around the house which helps to make me feel useful and productive, and I am doing some writing and a lot of reading too. I really don't think I have actually starteed my grieving process yet. It all still seems so sudden and unexpected to me and I keep thinking that something miraculous is going to happen and change everything. Intellectually I know that is not going to happen but apparently my intellect never told my emotional self so part of me is still waiting for the surprise ending. One of the things that weighed heavily on me was the way in which I left work. I went to work on February 2, 2012, wasn't feeling well so I went home. Later that day I went to the doctor and was hospitalized. I have not been back to work since. There was no ritual or ceremony to my retirement. I really never thought of myself who values ritual or ceremony but I found that there was no touchstone for this transition in my life. The other day I was informed that my office is throwing me a retirement party. I was very pleasantly surprised. I am looking forward to the party (Friday March 30, 2012 at 5:30 at Caffe Mela in Wenatchee). I am touched, yet again, by the support of my colleagues and friends. I have been truly blessed even though it is hard to think so whenever I have to attach myself to the pump or see another doctor or submit to another medical procedure that gradually erodes what is left of my dignity. In the end I believe that my life is full of gifts and treasures and that my health issues are what they are. Becca has a job interview today. She is excited and nervous and then later on today I am teaching Becca to make scampi, Alice's favorite Italian meal. It is another gift to me that I get to teach my daughter to do something that I love, cook. Next weekend we make a traditional Italian Easter bread. So my task for the foreseeable future is to learn how to be retired and to submit to the grieving process. I have always taken great pride in that I am a lifelong learner committed to growth, so this should feel more natural and comfortable than it does right now. More to learn and miles to go before I sleep.

Cooking With Becca

My daughter Becca is 22 years old. I am a real foodie and love to cook, bake, can, shop for food, and eat things I have never had before. For years I have been offering to teach her how to cook. Just a couple of days ago Becca was watching an episode of World's Worst Cooks on the Food Network. One of the contestants said that the reason she was competing was that her grandmother had wanted to teach her how to cook and she was never interested. Now that her grandmother is gone, she wants to try to learn to cook so she can reclaim that part of her heritage. And it must have touched Becca. She asked me to teach her how to cook. Yesterday was our first lesson and as in any good Italian kitchen lesson one was pasta and marinara. I was so excited to do this with Becca. I showed her some basic techniques but she did most of the work. And she was really into it too, not just going through the motions to satisfy me. Becca made the fresh pasta and marinara, though I think that there wasn't enough garlic or onions (as if there would ever be enough garlic or onions for me). When she was done it was a beautiful thing to see the meal my daughter had created. I so much wanted to share that particular meal with Alice and Becca. It would have been the most special meal of my life. I had to settle for letting them enjoy the meal and tell me how good it was. Rebecca wants our next lesson to be cooking shrimp, probably a shrimp fettucine. Becca really doesn't like garlic (how Italian can she be if she doesn't like garlic?) so scampi is out. And for Easter I plan on teaching her my grandmother's recipe for a traditional Easter bread called cresca. It is full of meats and cheeses and, when I could eat, was probably my most favorite food in the world. I will just have to resign myself to the role of passionately interested spectator. Thank you Becca. Asking me to teach you to cook is one of the best gifts you could have given me.

It Is Official ... I Am Retired

I just got word yesterday that my retirement has been approved and I am officially retired. I took this news with mixed feelings. I would prefer to be working and in any case this is not the way that I wanted to retire from my career as a child welfare social worker. I loved my job. It defined me as a competent, caring, compassionate, professional. I had the respect of my colleagues and peers and the people in the community with whom I interacted on a regular basis. On the other hand, I know that I am not physically or emotionally capable of doing this job any longer. I feel weak and ineffectual. I knew my role and took pride in what I did and I know that if I tried to return to work it would be as a weak and ineffectual person, in a field where mistakes can be costly to children and families. And now I am done. Just like that. I never thought I would like some ceremony to mark this transition in my life but the way that this has come about for me is a bit unsettling. I would have preferred to have some ritual to mark my more than twenty years of work being a strong advocate for keeping children safe. This has gotten me thinking back on my career. I can remember specific cases with clarity, while others have been forgotten or I have just vague memories. I can remember specific children and take pride in the work that I did. What will define me in the community now? What kind of respect will I deserve as a reluctantly retired social worker? Can I be a competent, caring, compassionate, professional retired social worker? Will this gain me the respect of my fellow retired persons? It also occurs to me that this should be a happy time for me but there is genuine sadness in my retirement.