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Assisted Living Woes in Kentucky

I’ve been taking a few days to recover from something. Not sure what, but hope it’s not COVID. With half the staff being out with it though I wouldn’t be surprised. The coughing is beginning to get me down after two days of non stop coughing. Not my usual kind though. This one is dry and hacking. And it was all started a few months ago when the administrator kept coming to work while ill. Ultimately she was hospitalized and on a respirator with COVID. The staff members began wearing masks but we were still not informed about the danger she put us all in. Since she returned most of the day staff have been out with the disease as well. Not to mention the dozen or so residents, all hospitalized with COVID. Kentucky law actually does mandate that any health care worker with the virus, or any other communicable disease should self quarantine themselves until they are released by a doctor. Around here two weeks is the limit for time off for illness of any kind.

I have been reading over the original guide for COVID prevention by Kentucky Public Health services and apparently they are no longer valid. At least not here. One part says all common area surfaces are to be cleaned and disinfected daily. Give special attention to high-touch surfaces. When they can’t even keep the bathrooms clean how can we trust areas that are not so blatently obvious. And how do we find the one who, well not a pretty way to say it but here goes, the one who poops all over the toilet area, seat, floor, wall, and doesn’t flush ever. I have my own cleaning products and use them constantly to try to keep a sanitary area each time I have to clean hers up as well. Happy to say I’m not that disgusting, but I sure wish someone could find out who is and start some basic potty training with her. I’ve started photographing the area each time, but will spare you the photos. If anyone in charge would only return my call or come to meet me about this…..

My thanks to Vic Crain for the websites he supplied for trying to get in touch with someone in the Kentucky Public Health services, The Health and Human Services division, and the government site where grievances can be filed — maybe. I have attempted to subscribe as an advocate and a resident in one of the facilities but my application was refused. Only the professionals are invited to be part of the action. They have spoken with residents in some of the facilities over the years but from the looks of it nothing was done to address the concerns they uncovered. And yes, they did uncover several concerns during their interviews with residents.

There is more to come, but for now I am going to the store to get a bucket,, scrub brush and cleaning solution to attempt to get some of the ground in dirt out of the carpet in my room. It doesn’t look as if it has ever been cleaned and I’m tired of looking at it. Is it my job to do this? No! One of the reasons I moved to an assisted living building was to be free of mops, brooms and dust cloths. Another one was the freedom from cooking and doing dishes. Guess what? I’m not actually cooking now but am putting my own meals together. The “nutritious” meals we get three of each day kind of lose something in translation. The breakfast I backed away from in the dining room a couple of weeks ago consisted of one slice of bacon and a pop tart. Not exactly my idea of good nutrition.


On Life and Death

I just re-read Jill’s post about people around us passing away and how so many times we don’t know it, realize it, or sometimes in my case, wonder but don’t know exactly how to find out. I’ve lost a few blogging friends and discovered later they had passed away after wondering where they went. Many of them have stopped blogging due to work changes or family problems, but there are the others I still wonder about. I know how to look for them but keep putting it off because of my schedule or some other lame excuse.

My aunt and I had wondered for years about a cousin (her niece, my cousin) who had fallen off our radar. Just a month ago I found her obituary — dated two years ago. She lived in Texas and our only source in Texas was my brother, but since he also passed away two years ago no one knew about her any more. Or maybe they just didn’t care. She wasn’t one of the more popular relatives, but I loved her anyway. We were kindred spirits during all those years of childhood and young adulthood, losing touch only after old age set in. Not a good time for us to lose touch, but neither of us could travel any longer and we had both had problems with handwriting for several years. Not a good excuse.

When my brother passed away two years ago I was notified by email. My sister sent out the notification. Not a good way to learn about a death in the family, especially when it’s your brother. I would have learned about another cousin’s death the same way if not for my aunt calling me early today about it. We all knew it was imminent, but still, the email that was sent would have been hard to take. Too many memories shared to be disposed of with a few words in an email.

One of the comments I read was to have someone tell you when a blogging friend passes away. Great idea, but I wonder if anyone will notice if I’m gone. None of my kids read my blog. I started it to share my memories with them, thinking they would be interested. Nope! No time for reading nonsense.

Ah, well, I have already planned my funeral so when I get in a mood like this I just write a paragraph telling the funeral home to divide my ashes into three urns and give one to each of the kids with my final instructions that they are to place the urn on the dining table so they will have to eat every meal with me for the rest of their lives. I’m also planning on finding a way back to upset them if they fail to follow my last instructions to them.

I wrote this last month and thought I had posted it. Now I find it in my drafts, apparently unsent. So now, while I’m working on my next post about the Assisted Living facilities in Kentucky I will go ahead and post it all. It was pertinent in December and still is now.

My Mother, deceased, and brother, deceased and notification sent by email.

It’s A Whole New Year

So, today marks the beginning of 2023, a new year to give hope again. Hope for what I’m not sure. World peace would be wonderful, an end to the poverty that so many people are drowning in sounds good too. That no one will go to bed hungry this year. Absolutely.

I don’t make resolutions. Usually they are broken before I even crawl out of bed on Jan. 1, so it just makes better sense to skip that tradition. I simply remind myself all year to watch my errant tongue and always try to remember that my Mom didn’t raise me to be a potty mouth and that I can control my tongue if I stop and think before spouting off. Sometimes that even works. It’s a daily battle for me and one that I mainly lose.

I am working on the updates for the assisted living problems I’ve encountered since moving here four months ago. Gee, has it only been four months? It seems like a lifetime. I do want to remind anyone who is thinking about assisted living facilities that they are not all like this one. I’ve visited people in other facilities that are a world away from this one in cleanliness, assistance from personnel, general appearance, number of staff per unit. Soon I might even have a checklist for anyone who needs to know the questions to ask before committing themselves or a family member to a facility. I am trying now to find statistics for states other than Kentucky for comparison. I have found that Kentucky has one of the lowest standards for these facilities in the country. Depending on how much I find out I might be writing as the Indiana Angel before long. I’ve heard there are some lovely homes across the river.

One of the things I have already found out about this place is that our medicine aides are NOT certified by the state. In fact, all that is required in Kentucky to be a medicine aide is a high school diploma or a GED certification, plus one year experience working with the elderly. There is a new person training here now and she has made mistakes with my meds for the past four nights. Fortunately I caught it the first night and am more vigilant now. It has been a matter of double dosing for two of those nights , caught before taking the pills, Interestingly enough though is that while going through the excess pills I found some I didn’t recognize. Ran the description through a web site that can find the pills and tell you what they are. it seems someone has ordered a different medicine from the ones I have been taking even though I have told them I DO NOT TAKE NEW MEDS, due to the side effects produced by some of them. I had been wondering why I was dizzy and nauseated on several occasions lately. Now I know. So now all I have to do is check everything they hand me now to make sure it is something I am able to take.

On that same problem, one of the reports I read is the fact that there are about 800,000 cases each year of residents in assisted living facilities being given the wrong meds. This is nationwide, not only in Kentucky but in every state. Nice, huh? One of the reasons in this place could well be that the aide has never asked me my name or if there are any allergies to be aware of. She knows my name because of the room I am in, but if she saw me visiting someone in a different room she wouldn’t know even that much. Last night I was given two versions of a stomach pill. One was from a bottle I brought in and the other? I don[‘t know.

Another thing I have noticed is that they change the looks of the meds frequently. I doubt anyone else notices that. Having just received my statement from Medicare though I did notice that they are refilling it all every eight to ten days, at a co-pay rate I’ve never had before. I have always ordered from the online pharmacy provided by my carrier, and by ordering a three month supply they are all FREE of charge. Only one exception, but that is one I seldom take since it is a mild pain reliever and I prefer to limit the number of those that I like to know what’s going on around me all the time. Just bossy I guess. They also switched my blood sugar monitor from the one I opened new about two weeks before coming here to a new one they ordered, or possible had on hand. That little trick had to be to enable them to charge more money to my account for Medicare to pay.. One of the med aides told me they actually order the meds refilled with a one month supply. So, 8 days or one month? By turning it in as 8 days they are receiving four co-pay amoubts for that one month supply. Hmmm, fraud? Anything is possible. I’ll know more after my meeting with the administrator this week.

More to come. For now I am going to the grocery for something I can eat. And that problem is what got me started with this check list. My first meal here was wonderful and I told everyone I would enjoy eating here. Famous last words. But more about that later.

Assisted Living In Kentucky

You may or may not remember that I moved into an Assisted Living facility this past August 27. I’ve been learning a lot about facilities like this one since then. Things I should have checked out, questions I should have asked, records I should have read before committing to this arrangement.

First of all, if it seems like it’s too good to be true, of course it is! I’ve known that all my life, but in my haste to get away from the way things had deteriorated at my former residence I didn’t stop to think about the old “frying pan into the fire” situation. Never for one minute should anyone think that things couldn’t get worse. Take my word for it, they can and they will! Check out any Assisted Living facility closely. Not just the surface, which can be decietful, but look under the surface. If, like this one, they restrict who can view the rooms, and visit you there, ask why? What are they trying to hide?

In the case of this particular place, the room I occupy is 150 square feet, and I am only one person here. Most of these rooms have double occupancy and no privacy at all. No curtain to maintain at least a visible privacy and if you can imagine this small amount of footage with two beds, two 3-drawer dressers, one chair (goes to the first one in the room), one narrow medicine cabinet that must be shared with the other person sharing the room, about six feet of closet space with one shelf spanning the area, also shared with the second person in the room, one sink, with under sink cabinet, shared*******I’m feeling claustrophobic just thinking about that.

Kentucky State law (KRS 194A.707 [11]) requires each room be at least 200 square feet with a private bathroom and shower —- UNLESS the facility was built or under construction BEFORE July 14, 2000. This facility was constructed in 1969. Check out all laws pertaining to your state BEFORE you commit.

There will be follow-ups to this post, but for now, please, please check all laws, certificates of compliance, house rules, staff availability and requirements before you commit! It’s only the comfort of yourself or someone you love at stake!

Back Again!

It’s been a few months since my last post. My laptop broke down and I am just now getting it back. I tried a few times to write using my Kindle, but it was just too difficult to continue. Now I’m back with the Dell, once again operational, once again giving me keyboard fits. My fingers just don’t want to go in the right places after using a stylus to pick letters out one by one. So far, so good.

A lot of things have happened in the past few months/weeks/days. I have a new great-grandson. I know I’ve tried to write about this, but not sure if it ever got posted.

Asher Blake was born a bit over two months ago with some severe problems. He was immediately put on 100% oxygen and sent to Norton’s Hospital in Louisville. He remained there for over a month with Grandpa Mike sending us updates each day. God is good! Asher has recovered from the condition that caused the death of Mike’s baby sister in 1970. The doctors at Norton’s knew what to do and Asher has been home a month, thriving and growing like a weed.

My youngest brother had triple bypass surgery the day after Thanksgiving. He came home the following Wednesday and is doing so well. I truly believe in miracles!

As for myself, I’ve watched a few boats on the river and wanted to sneak aboard and go with them when they left after a day and night docked next to my back yard. I’ve decorated a styrofoam pumpkin for Halloween, added a turkey to it for Thanksgiving, and now decorated a small tree for Christmas. Big deal, huh?

I told you earlier I am now in an assisted living facility. I’m ready now to break out of here and get my life back, at least what passed as my life. This place — well, not much I can say about it. I went to boarding school when I was 15 and had more freedom there with the good sisters than I now have here at 80 years of age. I might have to revert to acting like a two year old to fit in and get through this ordeal. I can’t speak about all assisted living places, but this one is horrible. So, I’m back to looking for a new place to live where I can be myself again. I just hope I can remember who I once was!

Last Night I Crashed!

I have always called it crashing. After several nights of being awake all night I lay down last night and fell asleep. Not just the regular kind of sleep but a very deep sleep that no one could wake me from.

I’ve done this many times in the past few years — maybe longer. But others only saw it happen in the past few years. This time was a little bit different though. I’m living in an assisted living facility now. Ya know — the kind with nurses on duty all the time. One of my friends had come into my room for a visit, saw me not moving, and according to them all I was lying there with my mouth open and barely breathing. I didn’t know about that, but it paints a very unattractive picture, doesn’t it?

Well, Lisa called the nurse in and she later told me I wasn’t breathing at the time. I didn’t know that happened, just that it wasn’t anything new for me. Still asleep at first I didn’t know what all they were doing until I began waking up. Goodness! one of them was pounding my chest while another was using a cold cloth to bathe my face. I tried to tell them to go away and let me sleep but the words wouldn’t come out. Frustrating!

I have always had a soft voice, my inheritance from my Dad, but to lie there and feel them working over me as if I were dying was pretty new for me. And to keep trying to talk and have them ignore what I was trying to say was even worse. I don’t know how long we were doing all of this, but maybe they had just been using the wrong words when they called my name and kept telling me to come back. I then heard another few words — the ambulance is here! At least that brought me to the point of being able to finally start waking up and talking so they could hear.

I have nothing against ambulances. Some of the time they are very comforting, like when I broke my leg. But when I am waking up from a deep sleep it’s a bother to hear that they have called one. I mean really! I was just catching up on all that lost sleep!

The guys had rolled the gurney in by the time I was fully awake, and they kept saying I should go to the hospital to be checked out. I kept telling them I was okay and it wasn’t anything new. It was the first time I had ever heard the details of what I looked like though.

The medics asked a couple of times if I was sure and I finally convinced them that it was a normal thing for me. I’ve always called it crashing, mainly because it only happens after i’ve lost a lot of sleep, but I was kinda afraid to tell them that. They left and I started sit up, only to have Karen, the nurse, push me back down, sit beside me and bury her face in my shoulder and cry. She was having flashbacks of when someone in her family passed away and she thought I was dying at the time. I told her I had been trying to tell them I was just asleep but she said I stopped breathing and my B/P was not readable. So that’s how it feels to be dead? That would be so disappointing. I’ve always heard that you can see a light and walk toward it and you are there! All I saw was a good night’s sleep.

I think everyone on staff last night came in to hug me and tell me they had been so afraid. I finally told them it was not a big deal, it happens a lot and the next time they should just go out and close the door and I would either wake up or not, but if not that’s the way I want to leave this world, in my sleep and peacefully. I have a feeling I will have to write that down for them now. The “living will” kind of writing. I have one but my son has the copy I made. At least I think he has it.

Anyway, that’s how I began my evening yesterday. One of the aides told me I had missed dinner, like I really cared? I asked her what they had but don’t remember what it was. Just remember that I told her I didn’t miss it at all, I wouldn’t have eaten it anyway. She agreed with that! I had been eating a bag of popcorn when I fell asleep and I finished it after removing the safety pins and a couple of chunks of wax they had dumped in there when they came in. I was in the middle of pinning a quilt together at the time and Karen said I was lying on the pins.

So, I finally got an idea of what things look like when I am so sleepy and tired that I crash. My mouth open?!!! Not the attractive picture I always had of it all. I hadn’t even had my shower yet!

One Liner Wednesday on Thursday

I just read Lauren’s post on LSS — and I’ve forgotten the rest. Sorry Lauren. Brain freeze I think. Anyway, it was a story about ancestors and it broke my heart to see that she didn’t get to know most of hers. I grew up around family, so rather than use her formula I’ll just talk about that and what it’s like to be one person in a family of hundreds.

First of all I have four brothers, three of whom are still living. We lost Steve two years ago. There are also two sisters, both living. I have three living children, eight grandchildren and five great-grandchildren. My parents are deceased and the family is scattered but we are still close.

My mother was from a family of thirteen children. No, that’s not a typo, she had ten brothers and two sisters and one of my aunts still lives. She will be 93 on Monday and we will celebrate on Sunday.

Altogether I had close to 75 first cousins, most of us living with a one mile radius of each other. I am including both sides of the family here. My dad had one brother and five sisters, all deceased now, and one of his sisters married one of my mothers brothers. So among these cousins, five are double first cousins.

I grew up on Highway 81, a little known area with a well known name — Rome, KY. Well, Rome is a well known name and the reaction from people if we told them we grew up in Rome was priceless. Most of my cousins lived along that stretch of highway and they were my first friends and playmates. We went to school in a four room brick building — St. Martins School. It no longer exists but the church is still there and as far as I know it’s going strong with several of my cousins still in the congregation.

Our house was just across a pasture from my maternal grandparents and we were in and out of their house almost as much as our own. I can remember crossing that pasture, avoiding the cows and bull when possible, and spending summer afternoons with my grandmother, watching the soap operas on the only TV in the family for a long time but only after helping her with the dinner dishes. For us dinner was the noon meal and the evening one was supper. My grandmother was also a great cook and between my mother and her plus my paternal grandmother I learned to be a pretty good cook myself. We all canned vegetables and fruit in season and enjoyed opening those jars all winter long. Grandmother and Papa had a farm and in addition the cows they had chickens and pigs, all of which ended up on our tables. We also had fresh eggs every day, and after Dad got our first cow and pig and Mother got a house full of chickens we were pretty independent as far as groceries went. I can remember churning the cream into some of the best butter ever. During the autumn season we gathered black walnuts that fell from the tree at the end of our property and produced enough each year for most of the family. Mother sold the extra eggs and butter to the neighbors and used that money for Christmas gifts for all of us. Not much extra money those days but my parents made sure none of us knew it. Since everyone else was in the same financial boat we never knew we were dirt poor. We had what we needed and some of the things we wanted.

My paternal grandparents lived a couple of miles away and had a dairy farm. I loved going out to the milking barn with Mom and Pop, the name they were known as even to strangers. Pop would hook most of the cows up to the milking machines but Mom had almost a dozen that she had raised from newborn and she refused to hook them to a machine, preferring to hand milk them twice a day every day. Dairy farmers don’t get days off, or even a morning or afternoon off. Mom also raised geese and plucked them periodically to make the feather pillows she kept her entire family well stocked with. From her I not only learned to bake bread and fruit cobblers, but also how to save every scrap of fabric to make quilts. I’m still making quilts now even though my family are already well stocked. They each still love receiving new ones once in a while.

We have a treasure trove of stories and some of my personal ones are almost unbelievable these days. I learned to walk and talk by nine months of age and then proceeded to teach my older brother my wicked ways. He soon learned some tricks of his own though and I became the follower while he was my much adored leader. If he said do it I listened. He and a neighbor boy gave me my first haircut one night when Mother was shopping and Dad was “watching” us. Not sure how it happened but Dad didn’t catch the haircutting. We caught it though when Mother got home and saw the results.

After we moved from town out to the house on Highway 81, my brother had the job of burning the trash. I should add here that the land we lived on had been bought from one of my uncles, and he still had a barn full of hay behind our house. His plan was to leave the barn there until he had used all the hay and then tear it down, giving us more space for whatever Dad decided to do. He didn’t get the chance to tear the barn down or even to use up the hay though. My brother watched Dad demonstrate how the cinder blocks our house was being built of wouldn’t burn and brother was watching as Dad lit a match and placed it on a block watching until it burned itself out without burning the block. Brother decided to show me how safe our house was but he used a little bit of imagination there, stuffing the holes in the block with some of the loose hay before lighting the match he had kept after burning the morning trash. That barn full of dry hay went up fast and brother pulled me into the hen house to hide, while they had to pull Mother away from the barn when she couldn’t see us. She kept trying to run in and save us but one of the fire fighters kept her back while others went in to look. That was the worst trouble he ever got me into, but I still followed every place he went. Even after the rest of the siblings grew big enough to play with us, big brother remained just as today, my hero!

When he started to school I did homework with him, so when my turn came to go to the big red brick school and we were both in the same room I already knew the first grade material and again did my homework with him. Only one time did one of the teachers put me in the same class with him and she told me many years later that she wanted to see if I could beat his top scores in everything. I never tried to beat him. If I had I have no doubt to this day that he would have beat me in a much different way.

We had family reunions each summer even though we lived in each others pockets all year. But to get that many people together for barbecue chicken and all the trimings was a treat in itself. Home made ice cream for dessert was the food of the gods.

Lauren mentioned going through to find her family and one of my sisters did that as well. What she found was probably a lot of fairy tales, but according to that we are descended from royalty on both sides of the family. Henry VIII on Mother’s side, and Attila on Dad’s. Not too sure if I should even say that since neither of them had a claim for doing good deeds.

So many memories are coming to me now, but it would take the rest of the week to write them all down. I have been writing some of them down for my daughter since Christmas, one chapter a week and will continue doing so until I run out of life or memory, whichever comes first. My daughter used to sit at my Grandmother’s feet and listen to her stories, my granddaughter sat at my Mother’s side and did the same. I am writing my stories down in journals and online as a way to keep them alive for anyone who wants to read about their past and the wonderful people they are descended from. And I am aware that my grammar is all bad now, but it’s easier for me this way. After all, I’m closing in on 80 years and don’t have the time to worry about grammar now. I still have some quilts to finish

Wakey, Wakey!

That’s what we hear at 6 a.m. every morning lately. I guess it’s so everyone will be awake and dressed by breakfast but there are a lot of days I want to throw something more solid than the pillow at them. Not completely just for breakfast though. At 6 a.m. they also want us to come to the medicine room and stick our finger, not exactly one of my favorite pastimes. My fault though. I just HAD to eat so much candy during the worst of the pandemic and raise my formerly under control level kinda higher on the scale. But what else could I do? I made the candy for my family but they weren’t able to come during those bad days and somebody had to eat it. And really, homemade caramel candy will keep only so long and tossing it because of mold would be a bad idea.

And I forgot to mention the extra pounds, didn’t I. Um humm, no place to go and no one visiting to share the caramels with, all that butter and sugar and sweet cream all cooked together.

I haven’t mentioned Asher this morning but then I haven’t heard any updates from my son today. He will get back to me eventually and I’m learning a lot about patience. According to my mother: “Patience is a virtue, possess it if you can. It’s seldom in a woman, and NEVER in a man! Sorry guys. I didn’t write that, my Mother said it frequently while I was growing up and I have to admit I was not above using it with my own kids.

Oh, joy! The message I was waiting to see just came in. Asher’s lungs still are not opening well so they will continue the oxygen for another 7 to 10 days, lowering it a small amount at a time. But he is resting well as hopefully you will see now.

Asher, resting on his side for a change.

This isn’t exactly the way I wanted it but at least I finally got the picture clear, if not a bit smaller.

This is not working the way I had hoped it would.

My Great-Grandson

Asher Blake Wink was born Monday morning, weighing in at 8 pounds, 7 ounces and 23 inches long. He is a beautiful little boy but! And there always seems to be a “but” in this little boys life, he has yet to breathe on his own. Meconium Asperation Syndrome is a horrible way to start life but at least they now have some ways to treat this once fatal disease. He was put on 100% oxygen and sent to Norton’s Hospital in Louisville. They are equipped to perform miracles that other hospitals are not able to do.;

Today we were told he is improving but slowly and there are so many problems now and possibly for a long time to come, but I believe in miracles and a miracle is needed now. But he has a chance and that was missing in 1970 when his aunt, Jennifer was born with the same problems. They couldn’t save her. She lived 17 hours. This little boy is still fighting after almost five days and that, in my opinion, is a miracle.

First photo, taken soon after birth with his mom and dad, Sydney and Noah.
Thursday morning, early

Yesterday Again

I tried to write this one yesterday but it got lost somewhere in the cosmos — or maybe in the dark cloud that was surrounding me all day. So here’s attempt number two!

Gee, I would try to repeat some of the things I wrote but my mind just went blank. Sure wish I could say that’s a first but, well, I think it’s blank more often than it has something on it — my mind, that is. Must be that missing link where my brain cells once were placed. Just a huge white area now thanks to the advancing MS that is taking over. Not that it was ever all that great, but I kinda miss it anyway.

I can hear some activity in the hall now ….

Okay, that’s all that is left of the post I tried to send out early this morning. Tried for over an hour to get it sent but my computer and WP seemed to be working together to prevent it. It took several hours to find the draft that was being saved and then it was only half of the original post. So naturally I don’t remember anything that was on here after the activity in the hall.

It’s late afternoon now and I’ve lost about three hours just waiting. Once I was a very patient person but now? One month here, playing the waiting game for three to four hours every day when there are so many other things I would rather be doing? I’m quickly becoming a very impatient person.

I really shouldn’t complain. This place is much better than the other one. My laundry is being done for me now and I mean at this moment someone else is doing it! She will bring it back folded and on hangers and put it all away. Maybe that’s part of what bothers me. Sometimes I’m just too independent for my own good. Pampered, nothing I have to do unless I want to, meals cooked and served to me, room cleaned for me, and someone always available to check and make sure I’m not on the floor with another broken bone. What more could I want! Maybe I’m luckier than some of the others when I stop to think about it. I have my sewing machine, my TV (even though the reception stinks most of the time), my laptop restored, my printer working, something to do at all times —- except those hours wasted while waiting for meds, poking my finger for the blood sugar test, sitting at the table waiting to be served…..

And there i go again, complaining about something! I’ll just have to get over it and learn to be patient again. And I guess learn to let others take on my work now. I think I could never live a life with servants doing all the work! Of course that probably means I wouldn’t be very happy if I ever got rich. But then, maybe I could learn how to enjoy not having to worry about money and the real possibility of another injury or something that would put me in the hospital again. Not sure why I even think about that. No possibility of ever being wealthy. No rich uncles — actually no uncles at all still living. I guess it’s just the mood I’m in and the fact that tomorrow is October. I love the weather and the trees turning and things like that, but there is still October 9 to get through. Maybe this year it will be different.

A barge on the Ohio River on the way to who knows where. KODAK Digital Still Camera