My husband's been misplacing his cell phone quite a bit lately. 3 times, in the last month. Yesterday he lost it again. Seems he had put it on the bumper of the truck while loading the trash and then drove off to the dump with it still on the bumper.

Enter the Good Samaritan. She happened to see the phone laying in the road, stopped her car and picked it up. Amazingly it still worked after it's little ride down the road.

My husband didn't even know it was missing until after he got home from the dump and running a few other errands and found messages on the home phone from different people giving him the Good Samaritan's number and one from the Good Samaritan, herself, about his phone.

Seems she pulled up the phone list and started calling people. She left messages on a few phones.

I guess after a few calls and messages, she hit pay dirt. She'd called my sister-in-law's work number. She works for a small company in Nashville. The company got a call from this woman, asking if anyone there knew someone from Virginia and was called 'Sissy' by that person. My sister-in-law said she heard that when her co-worker yelled out this information with the "Hey! Does anybody know...." and thought to herself. "I know someone from Virginia!" "He calls me Sissy!"....IT'S ME, IT'S ME!!! My sister-in-law told the woman who owned the phone and gave her our home number.

He got his phone back, met a neighbor, she lives about a mile from us, and she invited us to their party next Saturday. I love a happy ending.

It was a bit daunting to walk back into a school with me as the student. Summer semester has already started, but this gives me time to get my transcripts and get set up for fall. I'm starting off simple for now. I figure I need to ease back in. Just a certificate for Medical Secretary/ Transcriptionist. It's only two semesters and I can test out of a couple of the classes (Keyboarding and Word Processing) and I'm hoping some of my Emergency Medical classes I took for my EMT certification way back when can count.

I never got a degree. I hopped around from one thing to another but never settled down. Part of the reason was because I could never pass the math placement test and was always told I had to pass the no credit remedial math class first, which I never could. I gave up. Then came marriages, kids....and well the real world...it's that old story.

What's prompting me to do this? Mid-life crisis. For a few months now I've been feeling the seeds of discontent with my life. I'm restless. I want something different. My kids don't need my constant attention. I'm bored with my work. I'm getting those "what have I done with my life" thoughts.

I've taken the last 6 weeks off to try to figure out what I want to do when I grow up. It hasn't helped and killed the checking account. I redecorated my daughter's old room, which now is my 'office'. That was fun, but didn't enlighten me. I threw myself into mine and my mom's gardens. Good exercise, beautiful flowers, but not a solution.

I'm beginning to realize that a mid-life crisis isn't a crisis, but a second chance. A second chance to look at where I've been and make modifications in my life. To again consciously set a direction in my life. Once again I have the time and freedom to focus on me.

It's been a very long time since I've done something that has brought this feeling of excitment and of being challenged in a good way. I haven't had any goals to speak of and it's good to once again look forward to something. It's a small step, but it heads toward reclaiming my life for me.

Who knows after I accomplish this, I might just brush up on my math and try that placement test again. I've always wanted to work in the health care field and now with the additional 25 years life experience, a little more backbone and a stronger will it doesn't seem so impossible. I'm thinking that the 'empty nest' might be fun after all.

Something is wrong with my husband. It's been a very long time since something was amiss. I know it may be minor. I know it needs to be looked into. The tests have all been done and now we wait to see if anything turns up.

I guess there are some things in life you never really get over.

March 11, 2000 I walked into the hospital where my husband was a patient and I was told by 2 doctors, the HMO PCP assigned to that hospital and the ID doctor covering that weekend, that they didn't think he would live through the day. The ID doctor told me in person. The HMO PCP told me over the phone while I stood at the nurses station, as we also discussed my husband's DNR wishes. I wondered if this was the first time he'd ever had to tell a family member someone wasn't going to make it. Maybe that's why he hid behind a phone line.

It's good that my husband and I had talked about all this when he had a Power of Attorney and a Medical Directive done a few months before. Times like that the mind just doesn't funtion up to par.

He spent the day in and out of lucidity. His family was with us. They had gathered from all parts of the country. About 11 that night, my in-laws drug me out of the hospital, telling me I needed to rest. I remember crying myself to sleep...and around 4 I woke up...crying. I headed back to the hospital and fueled myself with more coffee...I had been living on it recently. I checked on him, but didn't wake him in between refills. I walked back into his room around 8 and he was sitting up bright eyed and bushy tailed. I was stunned! Overjoyed, but stunned. It seems one of the doctors had the idea to give him steriods sometime in the night.

The events leading up to this had begun months before. Little stuff. Then they progressed to bigger things and I got to know the ER doctor's at our local hospital better than I would have liked. Mostly they'd run tests, call our doctor, prescribe something and send him home, telling him to see his doctor.

Then came his first admission. I had once again taken him to our local hospital, they conferred with our doctor and it was decided he needed to be admitted. However our local hospital was not part of my HMO, so he was admitted to a hospital in the city my HMO covers...90 miles from home.

He was there for 2 days. He'd had an allergic reaction to the anti-biotic he had started.

I got him home. He was so weak. Then one afternoon, his whole body just seemed to crash. We went through the whole routine again with the ER and the admission. The ER once again released him so we could take him to the other hospital. My brother drove this time. Rush hour. We crawled. All this time my husband laid in the back seat, looking more dead than alive. We got him to the hospital and up to his room. The nurse took his bp...it was 66 over 20. Too low. At this point the HMO doctor had yet to make his appearance. He had been paged, but the nurse's couldn't do anything.

At this point an angel walked in the room in the guise of an Anesthesiologist. He introduced himself and said he had overheard the nurses talking and would I give consent for him to look at my husband. I said "Of course". The next thing I knew he had that room hoppin' and poppin'. He'd told the one nurse to find the HMO doctor, now! He had the ICU resident called up. He was calling for IV's and medications.

In between all that he was rapid firing medical history questions to me. In another time and place it could have been a game show...how fast and how concise could I answer. Beat the Clock.

It wasn't until our doctor got back in town the following Monday, after all this that I was able to really get any information. I was told he had Pneumonia. The doctor said the good news was it was just a bacterial one and not PCP, that he probably pick-up during his hospital stay shortly before...and that drop in blood pressure might have been due to a stroke, but they really didn't know.

His hospital stay was just about a month. During that time, one thing or another would seem to crop up. They had trouble taking him off the steriods after putting him on. His Potassium levels were almost non-exisitant, etc, etc, etc. Our doctor said when a body was as far gone as my husband's was...any little thing was a major thing.

We had many long months of recovery. We battled OI's. I learned how to set the IV drip for Ganciclovir. I dug out my old BP cuff and got good again at taking BP's. I kept track of a mile long list of medications and when to give them. I watched him like a hawk for any little change. I did that for months.

So, now there's something up. His overall health is better now, then before, which should give me comfort. There's nothing to say there isn't an easy fix to this. But like I said...there are some things in life you just don't get over.

However he has now come up with a priceless word.

The other evening we were walking around the yard checking out the dozens of trees he's planted in the last 6 years. I happened to mention I didn't think the Smoke Trees were doing very well. At which point he looked at me incredulously and said "Are you kidding? They're THRIVEISHING!"

I see...I stand corrected. I immediately liked that word. It just says so much more than just plain old thriving.

I've decided that it's a much better goal to shoot for. I don't intend to live and thrive anymore. I intend to THRIVEISH! I suppose that would be the root, but it's hard to know. What I do know is that this little word seems to speak of unbridled exuberance...better than better. Exactly what I want in my life.

I've become a great fan and promptly at 6pm EST I'm down in front of the TV ready to go. After I wrote that line in my blog about 'a boiling cauldron of heady emotion'...it occured to me that the show is certainly has had an influence on me.

My husband doesn't quite feel the way I do about Charmed. His favorite pastime during Charmed is to see how much he can annoy me.

He sometimes breaks out in his little off the wall dirty little ditty's during the show. He's got this amazing ability to rhyme at the drop of a hat. I appreciate that talent, but not during Charmed. He gets shushed by me often. The truth is that they are re-runs and I know what's going to happen, so it isnt' like I'm missing anything. But still...it screws up the flow.

Now we have this friend, Steve. He's quite an eccentric person. He's a truly gifted carpenter that views his work as an art form. He doesn't feel the need for amenities in his life, such as TVs, phones, kitchen applicances ...or running water for that matter. He kinda pops in and out morning, noon or night and I've learned not to expect him until I see him.

Steve is not considered company, but family, so he too has been shushed by me often. If you're at my house at 6, you need to be quiet. Lately I've noticed him appearing right around 6 more and more often in the evenings. He's also started shushing my husband from time to time.

A few nights ago, he appeared about 5 minutes to 6 anxiously asking if Charmed had started. This is when my suspicisons were confirmed. He's hooked. The next evening when he appeared he came with a notepad in his hands. In order to save ourselves time and cut down on talk, he had organized the responses needed for my husband when he interrupts. Steve says all we need to do is deal with him by the number:

1. Shhhhhh!
2. Please, I'm Obsessive-Complusive. I need my Charmed fix.
3. How rude! Can't you see I'm involved.
4. With all due respect and from the bottom of my heart. Please shut up.
5. OK, commerical. You can talk now. Followed by...
6. OK. Be quiet. It's back on.

Steve and I are hoping this new system will increase our viewing pleasure, but I'm not too sure about that. It seems that all this has spurred my husband on to finding new ways to distract us. It's become quite a fun game we play and I think all three of us now spend more time laughing about keeping my husband quiet, then we do watching the show.

Steve said the other night, that it reminded him of when he was a kid and everyone gathered around for 'Wild Kingdom' and Disney on Sunday nights. It was something you looked forward to all week. For those of us that remember when the TV only had 3 channels we know what he means. I look forward to 6 pm. Not only because Charmed is on, but I know that hour will bring a lot of laughter and companionship.

Last week I was merrily driving down the road, when I kept getting a wiff of something sour. Upon further inspection I found a gallon a milk pushed under the back seat and the smell came from the fact that some had leaked out. I had missed it while unloading grocery's. I hadn't even noticed it hadn't made it into the house. Here I thought my son had just gone through yet another gallon when he complained about no milk in the house.

I've tried various things to get rid of THAT SMELL...too no avail. I have scrub, deodorized...FEBRIZED...and of course hoped it would magically disappear. It hasn't. I've been driving my old truck, but today I had to take this one. I opened the door and the smell just washed over me....strong as ever.

Somehow this just doesn't surprise me. I'm the one that walks into a fancy restuarant only to have my half slip...slip down to my ankles because the only one I could find when I need one had a loose band.

I can never seem to get out the door without a least one trip back into the house because I forgot and now.....can't find my keys... purse.... wallet.... coffee... shoes....

I envy organized people. They just have it so together. Things run like clockwork. They always know where things are. "I am aware of things, you need to be more aware" my husband tells me as I ask once again..."Do you know where I put my .....?" What really bites is 9 times out of 10 he does know where I put whatever it is I've lost.

I try...I don't really hold out much hope. Somehow I'm probably just never going to get the hang of being organized and oh so well put together. In the meantime does anyone know how to get THAT SMELL out of upholstery?

I feel much better this morning. I also allowed myself a bit of ranting, raving and screaming last night.

Nothing is settled. But eventually I suppose there will come a resolution.

I just don't understand all this. I've never encountered...much less heard of a situation where 2 people can be legally married, but the marriage not recognized by one of the parties family all because it wasn't in the church. It makes no sense to me.

She went with them on a family vacation for a week. I was hoping things might get worked out while they were gone. Maybe they could come up with a solution while relaxed on vacation, but that wasn't the case. I did however enjoy 'my' vacation from the drama.

Annulment is out of the question in this state. They don't meet the conditions. For a divorce neither can see the other for six months...which they won't do...besides why go through all that and the expense just to turn around and be married again? It seems so simply that the Priest can Bless the Marriage and put an end to this, but even that isn't acceptable to the other mother-in-law. There is a glimmer of hope. It seems his father is starting to accept all this...I don't think he ever had near the problem with it that she did.

So we're still in limbo. He's living at home. She...well, she moved out into a friend of her mother-in-law's, but I see more of her now than I did before. She spends most nights here. Since her furniture and stuff is over there, she's camping out in the basement. I've told her to get her stuff and just move home until this is all settled.

I get so mad sometimes at this son-in-law of mine. He needs a backbone, but then I try to put myself in his shoes and understand that he was raised totally different than my kids and never was taught to stand up for himself. I guess if you've never learned you can't just start.

Well at least the steam valve got loosened for a bit and a little of the pressure is off....for now.

Lord, I hope this gets resolved soon.

I'm fed up. I'm fed up with all this anger. I'm fed up with having my life left up in the air. I'm fed up with two kids that can't take a stand. I'm fed up with the rift this is causing. I'm just fed up.

My post on the Fears forum caused some controversy and there was some debate over the whole thing. It was a topic that needed to be discussed.

But now I think it's time to try and understand the other side.

Lately I've noticed a tendency to be short tempered with the people over on the fears fourm. I am sometimes guilty of this also. I see this behavior, not only in those of us that are HIV+, but in people that have gone through the scary experience of testing and now stay to help. I know some of this has been caused by the nuisance of multiple posters, there is a limit, and they need to be dealt with......but other people are getting caught in the crossfire. People that don't deserve to be.

I first started posting to people that Feared HIV about 5...maybe 6 years ago. When I started, I was going through my own rough time, and following the words of my mother when I was growing up...when you have problems it's sometimes better to focus on other people's problems. You can discover yours might not be so bad. So I posted...and continue to post because I get something out of it. I feel good being able to help people. It helps to put my own problems into perspective sometimes. All of us that post on the Fears forum get something out of it...or we wouldn't bother to do it.

I know the repetitious threads by new people with the same questions get tiresome. We've seen it all and heard it all before. We've dealt with the same topics for hundreds of posters, hundreds of times. It's old hat. We get jaded.

However, for the new posters, this isn't old hat. This is new and scary. Yes, they could see the answers from a dozen different threads for the same exposure, but they feel they are the unlucky one...they are different. If we are honest with ourselves I think we'd all have to agree...we've felt that way at some point in our life.

I know that there are posters that no matter what is said to them will choose to continue to let their fear ruin their lives. They will continue to seek reassurance. Over and over and over again. No, it isn't our job to provide constant assurances. But I wonder sometimes if the 'tough love' is what they really need. They are at a point that they will allow their dignity to be minimized by putting up with insults in order to get any glimmer of hope. Personally it makes me uncomfortable. I wouldn't want to be treated that way...would you?

I know that some of the questions just scream of ignorance about this disease, but isn't that part of the reason the forum exists? Aren't we here to try and educate? To help clear up myths and misconceptions? To teach? I know that's one of my reasons for doing so...again, enlightment benefits me...so I'm getting something out of it.

I know the fears forum is a caldron of heady emotions. Energized with fearful souls. It will sap you. Your patience will wear thin. There are times I wear out on it. I find myself becoming snappy. I know it's time to take a break for a while. Rest up.

Sometimes we can help...and more people than you know...not everyone that reads these pages ever logs in...they quietly get through but can take comfort in our words...have their eyes opened...

Sometimes we can't help...it's beyond our realm...instead of verbally abusing, perhaps it's best to step back quietly and say no more. Sometimes silence is the best help we can offer.

I just think it might make for a more peaceful place if we all remember that sometime, for some reason, in our lives ....we've been that scared person with run away emotions.

We ask that we are heard and understood. We need to be mindful that people with a fear of this disease also need to be heard and understood.

I love these types of days once in a while. I can't get outdoors so I don't feel guilt over things that need to be done. However it also means I don't have an excuse for not catching up on things indoors that need to be done. OK, so I've got a load of laundry started and I made myself sit down this morning and see what shape the checking account is in. It's not pretty and I know I have to go find a job soon. I've taken off the last 5 weeks.

I got tired of commuting into the city. I was on the road 3 hours a day. I signed up with a temp agency out here...we're growing so fast the jobs are getting better....however it seems the health insurance benefits at this place were just a passing after thought...so I quit. I'm on COBRA now and have time, but I will have to get my insurance settled before long.

What I'd love to do is find something at home on the computer with benefits. Wouldn't we all :)

Anyway, that's all to deal with next week. Today, I'm just puttering and figured it was high time to clean out my computer picture files and do a little organizing. The one thing I've found out about digitals....you end up with a LOT of pictures. I thought I'd share some of my favorite pictures with you.

This was one of the first ones I took with my first digital. I didn't realize it had two settings when I turned it on...regular and the zoom. I had put the camera on zoom. Lucky mistake.

We travel when we can. Mostly road trips, but a few years ago we took a cruise over Thanksgiving. One of the ports was Grand Cayman. Not ones to do the 'cruise tours' we rented a Tracker and set off on our own. I think it's a lot more fun...and certainly more adventurous. We came across these carvings. Someone is certainly very talented. I think these are such fun! I smile every time I see them.

A couple of summers ago, we went over to a friend's house. He has a bit of property and in the evenings the deer show up in his lower field. We sat out there one evening waiting for them to show up so I could take some pictures. I took this shot while killing time...waiting. The deer never showed, funny how they only seem to appear when you least expect them, jumping out in front of vehicles...causing adrenalin rushes.

This one was also from the cruise. Just down this old sand road from Costa Maya. Costa Maya was created just for the crusie ship business and we skipped out of there as fast as we could. No Trackers here...but we found some bikes to rent. The very first thing we noticed after leaving Costa Maya was the abject poverty that was all around.

A short way down the road we came upon this HUGE mound of dirt across the road. Upon further inspection we found that on the other side of the mound was a deep ditch about 3 feet wide ...we were standing there scratching our heads trying to figure out how to get across when a woman leaned out the window of her shack speaking rapid fire Spanish. It took a little while for my brain to kick in and remember a little bit of my high school Spanish almost 30 years ago, but I got the message she was telling us to cut through her yard and cross on the other side of her house.

Yard might not be the best term...more dirt and sand. However we walked our bikes around....pass the pig that was sleeping under a tree and got to the crossing. There were several men there, they were the ones hand digging this ditch. They were very nice and help me and my bike across..and continued to walk with me down the road. Me smiling at them, they smiling at me. We were all having a fine time. About then I heard my husband yell....'Hey, what about me?' We'd forgotton all about him and left him behind. He did manage to get across....by himself.

We came across this house a little ways down the road. It just said something to me with it’s mismatched colors joyfully proclaiming it’s existence.

This next picture isn't so great as pictures go, but I like the memories it brings. We had taken the kids on vacation to the West Coast of Florida last summer. We took them canoeing on the Swannee and ventured up in to the swamp at this point. I'm not big on creepy crawlies, gators or snakes. So I was pretty proud of myself for going up there. I was just sure we'd encounter something. My husband took advantage of my weakness and would slap the paddle on the water from time to time, making me jump....Nice guy.

I really don't know what it is about this one, but I like it. There's this junk yard a few miles from us. Everywhere you look you see old junked vehicles.

I hear the dryer buzzing so I'll just show this last one for now.

It's not often you can see a double rainbow. There's one just to the right of the main one.

Well I hope you enjoyed the pictures...and I hope you enjoy the day.

I guess I already had this on my mind. There were 2 posts on the Fears Forum that I happened to read yesterday. In both the word "clean" was used as meaning a person not infected. Clothes are either clean or dirty. Dishes are either clean or dirty. My truck is either clean or dirty....most often dirty. So if clean means not infected, then conversly, being infected must mean you are dirty. It draws a line. Either you are or you aren't.

Now I know that the people that post in the Fears section probably have no idea how this one little word can affect people living with HIV. It's not a big issue, but it keeps coming up....something akin to the 'Chinese Water Torture'.

The other night I happened to watch "Dog, The Bounty Hunter". On this episode they were picking up a guy that is an IV drug user. The issue of him probably having AIDS was brought up and a big deal was made about gloves, and not touching him any more than they had to. Now, I realize that precautions may need to be taken. However while they showed his track marks, I didn't see that he was bleeding anywhere. But they went to the extreme with all the 'Don't touch him' crap...making it sound as if you can't even touch the skin safely. It just sends the message that we are dangerous people. I don't see myself as particularly dangerous person. Certainly not enough to strike terror in bounty hunters.

It's the conversations you sometimes overhear at work. Misconspections being perputuated. You want to open your mouth and set the record straight, but in doing so you risk exposure...so the mouth stays closed and the distance between us all grows greater.

It's these little things that cause us to live in a world of half-truths and double lives. It's these little things, that on their own don't amount to much, but day after day add up to the isolation we all sometimes feel.

Now, my husband and I have found ourselves the 'grandparents' of my daughter's puppy, Cooper. She's moved out. He's still here. The 'girls' are showing their age and are quite sedate at this point, preferring to find some shady spot and just watch the world go by. I had forgotten just how many things a puppy can get into.

Cooper is now about 8 months. He's a pound puppy. He's a mutt, a mix of some larger breeds, with great big ungainly paws. He's pretty smart. Certainly he has learned to stay away from my Calico. She doesn't like him and has really good aim with those claws of hers when he gets his nose to close to her.

He, like any puppy likes to chew....but not just anything...certainly not his chew toys. He seems to like cardboard, plastic plant packs, plants, shoes, furniture, cut up firewood ...and Sandi's ears.

Gardening has been a real challenge this spring. He doesn't know plants are suppose to stay where I plant them.

I've just spent the last 20 minutes or so hunting down my brand new Banana plants. I ordered them in Feb. and just got them yesterday. I happened to notice that the 3 containers were empty. Yep, he got them. Had them spread throughout the yard. I live on an acre so that's a lot of yard to have to hunt around. I can see why he thought they might be fun to chew. Sitting in their containers it looks like I stuck sticks in the dirt. We found them....all over...slightly chewed. The root balls looks unharmed. So I've plopped them back in the planters and we'll see what happens.

He's fasincated with the fish in the pond. I'm waiting for him to fall in. The rocks around the pond are not stable and one of these days he's going to lunge and find himself smack dab in the middle of the pond.

While the older dogs have learned to mostly stay out of the garden beds, the puppy hasn't quite learned that. Of course it doesn't help that Ida has figured out a way to lure him into the beds, while herself staying safely out of them. She then pulls off one of those distinct hound howls causing someone to see what is happening. Poor puppy gets yelled at and Ida walks away with what I swear is a smirk on her face.

I guess that's fair in some sense. Ida and Sandi have to put up with him. He wants to play. Sandi is more willing to play with him, but I imagine she's tired of him chewing on her ears. She puts up with it for a while, then will turn around and snarl at him. Cooper's smart enough to back off for.... a little while...then they're off again. Wrestling with each other.

We also have the added entertainment from the fact that Cooper is not yet fixed. He has urges. The 'girls' are fixed and just find his attempts annoying. We find it pretty funny to watch him keep trying when they have had enough of him jumping on them and they just sit down refusing to budge for him I guess that's the dog version of "Not now, I have a headache."

Yes, he's brought chaos to the household. He's also brought a lot of laughter and energy. The older dogs are playing...that's good for them and we really enjoy watching them. He's just as lovable as can be, especially when he's trying to get out of trouble with 'grandma'. His sense of wonder and excitment at all the new things he encounters, reminds me that it's good to maintain that sense of wonder. That's the really great thing about a young dog, kitten, or child. They energize their surroundings. They shake things up.

I still consider myself a cat person, but I have to admit. I can't imagine how boring it would be around here without my dogs. Especially that puppy.

So what do I hear? You guessed it....Live in the Moment. That was it. I finished waking thinking to myself..."Geeez, how trite." But then I thought...well if you only have a moment to get a message through I guess you'd have to use a sound bite.

Upon further reflection, I figure this really was good advice for me. So much in my life is now out of my control. Worry and I are becoming good friends...and Worry has brought along, Stress, Anxiety, Fear and Depression to keep me company.

So for today, I'm going to give it a try. I can't change my Dad's health. I can't change my daughter's choices. I can however, go unload that truck load of mulch. I can spend that time, feeling the warmth of the mulch. Smelling the goodness of the earth. Enjoying the warmth of the Sun. I can stand and look out on the mountains and sense the subtle color changes as the clouds shawdow the land.

It sure sounds better than just throwing the mulch on the flower beds while wasting my time fretting over things I can't change. Moving like a Zombie through my world, not paying any mind to what's here and now.

I know it won't change anything. These challenges will still be here, but they are for another moment to deal with. For today, I'm going to take a break. For today, I'm just going to try to Live in the Moment....no matter how trite the advice, it's what I needed to hear.

My dad has Alzheimers. He was diagnosis with it about 4 years ago. I've watched his slow progression into this world. I've watched his frustration and pain with knowing he was getting worse and not being able to control his descent. I've watched his world become more and more limited. My dad who once could fix anything, now still trys. He takes things apart, but can't remember how to put them back together. He now can't find his way up the driveway to the mailbox and many times gets lost in the house.

He now also has Cancer. Treatment is not recommeded in his case. The Cancer is going to kill him.

The good news, so says the doctor, is that it's a better way to go than Alzheimers. That may very well be. He won't slip off so far that he becomes a total shell of the person he was. He also doesn't feel the pain of the Cancer because that part of his brain is no longer functioning.

It's that age old issue of Quality vs. Quantity. He's 86 so he's had the Quantity and the Quality of his life has eroded so much over time and will only continue to do so. Sounds so simple. Sounds so easy. Until emotions get in the way....and they sure get in the way.

Last week as I sat at their kitchen table crying over my Girl Gone Wild, scared about the choices she's making that I can't stop, he stood behind me with his hands on my shoulders for a long time. Supporting me. Giving me comfort. Him, telling me that things will work out.

I'm a jumble of emotions. I'm scared about not having him in my life. I worry about my mother. I fear my own future, children of Alzheimers patients have a 25% greater chance than the general public of having it. I worry about how he's dealing with it...or if he's capable of dealing with all this.

Memories of my childhood have been flooding back. Sailing with my Dad. Nagging him to teach me how to operate the big machinery at the family business. Helping him fix things...which consisted of my holding the tools. Dad chasing off a young man he found unsuitable to be in my company. Giving me and my kids tractor rides around the farm in the front end loader.

I got my love of gardening from him. He could get anything to grow. When I was a teenager I had this Baby's Tears plant. I managed to pretty much kill it. It had one green leaf left. Dad brought it back to life.

My Dad is dying and I have to learn how to accept this.

I started to grow a few flowers just because I like flowers in the house and I didn't want to pay the outrageous prices for a bundle of flowers at the grocery store. Since that time my passion for gardening and my need to create my own special sanctuary has grown.

I've spent the better part of the last few months getting the clean up done. The flower beds look very bleak at this time of year. Here's a couple of the beds in the back yard.

Each spring I need to get the dead annuals pulled out. Trim back the dead stalks of the Shasta's , Black-Eyed Susan's, Praire Sun Flowers and the Yarrow....and of course dig out a few more weeds. The battle over weeds is never ending....though a few are allowed to survive in my flower beds if they are striking and don't cause me too much headache. One must learn to co-exist, even with weeds.

As always gardening is my thinking time. I get a bit philosophical about my gardening and have noticed some common things between gardening and life in general.

Planning: Mine starts in January. I pour over seed and plant catalogs. I do a layout of how I want each flower bed to look. What types of flowers...when do they bloom. What colors and textures do I want to put together. The new flowers I want to try have to be worked into the perennials that are already there.

It always helps to have a plan.

Preparation: About March when the weather breaks it's time for me to spend a few weeks getting the flower beds ready. Cleanup. and then I've got to till in thge Manure and Peat. Weed control. The perennials have to be checked and thinned. The annuals coming back from seed must be thinned also. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing.

The work is physical and I spend the first few days nursing aching muscles and back. I start to build callus on hands grown soft in the winter and from here until fall I will constantly have a dozen nicks, scratches and cuts all over them at any one time and I can never seem to get all the dirt out from underneath my nails. But it's all good. It's some of the best exercise you can get. I benefit. The plants will benefit.

To get good results you have to put in the work.

Planting: The reward for all that hard work preparing is the next step. Planting seeds and new plants started from seed chosen from those catalogs back in January.

I take over the garage. We've closed it in and it's supposed to become a game room...but that's another story. Anyway seed trays and Jiffy cups can be found everywhere. The windows glow from the grow lights. I nurse these little seedlings, coaxing them to grow.

One of the most important steps with seedlings is letting them harden off. They need to slowly get use to the environment outdoors with it's strong sun, sometimes hard winds and the changes of temperature.

The preparation and the planting is the time to give these plants the best start possible. After they are in the flower beds, they will have to put down their roots and do their thing.

I guess that's kinda like kids. We have to give them the best start possible, but there comes a time when they have to grow on their own. Something I need to be reminded of lately.

Adversity: Ah...adversity....the biggie.

We live on a low ridge between the Allegheny and the Blue Ridge mountain ranges. We're prone to high winds that rush down off the mountains to the west. This wind pattern also seems to cause the summer thunderheads to pass over us and collect on the eastern range. Many times the sun shines in my yard and I can watch the rain to the east. We live on a well and when it's very dry I can't waste water on flowers...of course that's what my husband says...until I threaten to rip out every plant instead of seeing them wither away...at which point the hose comes out.

We also can get the other side. Heavy rains and strong winds that beat the plants down. Ripping the leaves off, breaking stalks.

Late spring frosts have taken a few hits. Each spring as the perennials start to come out of dormancy, I find I've lost a few to winter kill.

The dogs are no help either. They do their fair share of digging and tromping through the beds. I try to co-exist with them. I've learned not to plant anything in what they consider their short-cuts through the flower beds. At least I know where to put the stepping stones. This year we have the addition of my daughter's 7 month old puppy. He hasn't learned that plants are suppose to stay in the ground. Reminds me when one of the older dogs was young. She seem to feel the pond looked better without the pond plants.

Bugs and weeds are a constant. Sometimes I win over them. Sometimes they win over me. Last year I found the Japanese Beetles had dined on every single one of my Aster blooms overnight. It was a sad sight. Nothing to do, but pull them out and find something to replace the hole left by them.

Adversity is part of gardening and you learned to deal with it. Make compromises. Be flexible and change plans mid-way sometimes....such as with life.

People ask me why I bother. It's a lot of work. I say it isn't work when you love doing it. I love the connection to nature...to the earth.

On days when the breeze is blowing gently, and the sun is shinning down on my back. The mountains are crystal clear and the sky a vivid blue I can't think of another place I rather be. With my MP3 player cranked, digging in the warm earth, watching my garden transform.

It's on these types of days when I feel so connected to the universe, that all feels right in my world. There are no problems to great. There are solutions to every challenge. I only feel peace, happiness, fulfillment. On these days I dance in my garden. Yes, I dance. I swirl, pirot and skip. I'm sure my neightbors wonder about my crazy behavior, but I don't really care. I have to dance. I feel so alive, so connected to other life that I have to express the pure exhilaration I feel, in me and around me. I celebrate life!

This is where my passion from gardening comes from. The end result. It is for this very reason I do the planning, preparation, planting and deal with the adversity. Because the end result is my own sanctuary that I'm free to be me in. A place my very soul can take flight....and that is the very most important lesson gardening has taught me....

It's important to feed your soul.