Great garage sale finds, Nicole! I love shopping that way. Congrats. That hutch was a STEAL, I tell ya, a steal.

The last day of May. Where have the days gone? Soon it will be the first anniversary of my accident - June 27. How to commemorate? A friend suggested a jeep ride up a hillside, um, I don't think so. Maybe a hike up a hillside would be appropriate to celebrate being alive...having two legs...love of nature and life. Just no jeeps!!!!
When I go for long walks on my own, I think of so many things to write about. Stories of fiction as well as fact come to mind as I stroll down to the beach or up into town. But, my inspiration leaves me too soon. Back at home and ready to write, my mind is a blank. I should bring a recorder with me and voice my ideas. Or, maybe that's just how it's supposed to be, these thoughts like bubbles appear in my head and then are gone, taken over by other ideas. Perhaps walking is like meditation. Your subconscious becomes freed and visions, thoughts, "brilliant" ideas spew forward for their momentary day in the sun and then are gone, the bubble gets popped. Where do they go??? Do they get stored in your brain, compartmentalised for some future time? Like memories, maybe ideas are triggered by an event, a word spoken, a face, a gesture.

Another lovely day with no solid plans...ah, such bliss. I think I may take Emma to the beach, if she can behave herself. She's still a puppy, and more importantly, untrained. She takes off on leash and jerks my left (and only!) arm. Birds are her obsession and nothing will stop her attempts at snagging one. I hate to disillusion her but she will never get one, at least on my watch. Hope lives on in her little doggie mind. Of course were she with Tim when an opportunity arose to snag a bird or two she may get lucky. Tim dotes on her like she is a child and lets her do just about anything she wants because, as he says, "She likes it." So, therefore, training, especially on leash, has been minimum. When I complain about her behavior when I walk her and say she needs to be trained to not pull and to walk beside us, he says, "Go ahead and train her. I won't be doing it." What, I ask you, can I do? Ceasar Milan, I need you.
Tim is off on his first physical therapy visit, followed by his first dose of radiation. He didn't want, nor need me to go with him which I think is a good sign. I am free to take care of things here at home and then go with Emma to see what we shall see.

We met with Tim's radiologist yesterday at CHOMP (Community Hospital of the Monterey Peninsula). What a great doctor/guy! He was very personable, super easy to talk to, and amazingly accomplished. The good news is that Tim won't need a lot of radiation, about 2 1/2 to 3 weeks, five days a week. We were picturing a few months worth. He also won't get a lot of rads as the type of mass he had in his shoulder responds very well and easily to radiation.
After, we drove to Salinas for my retirement party. No gold watch for me, not that I wanted one. It was a very nice, simple party with everyone there having a great time. Besides my retirement, we were celebrating two others. Marsha, who has been the principal at Laurel Wood for the last four years, and Cheryl, who has taught for well over 30 years. Both women are very dedicated and excellent teachers, the kind you'd want your children to have. They presented us with gift certificates to a local spa, a very nice, and well appreciated gift. I got a little emo when giving my short speech, didn't want to go there with the tears, it's not really me. However, I do feel a real loss at this major shift, this final decision, as it wasn't planned, and it happened so quickly. The decision was made for me in a few seconds on that hill in Wyoming.
I am excited about my new life, this one I'm experiencing now. After working for so many years in such a tiring and stressful career, I can now do what I want and I am excited about the opportunities that are unfolding.

Yesterday was one day from hell. Tim and I went to see his oncologist and were there for three hours. Two were spent waiting, one with the doc. He will need radiation on his shoulder, followed "probably" by chemo. We are taking it one step at a time, doing what needs to be done. Not the best news, but the long term prognoses is still good. Anyway, I had two more appointments yesterday after the oncologist. One was at two, which I canceled as I knew we wouldn't be done on time, and one at 3:45. Since the appointment at 3:45 was very close to the oncologist's office, we had lunch and killed time instead of going home. I showed up and they told me it was the WRONG DAY! A completely frustrating day all around.
Today, on the other hand, has been much better. Tim, our puppy Emma, and I went to the school I had been teaching at until my forced retirement this year. It's a sweet, little school with nice kids and, for the most part, supportive parents ~ a rarity in Salinas. We went there for an award ceremony. Last year the students did so well on the state tests we were awarded a Distinguished School Award. Only two other schools in the county got the award, one is a charter school, and the other is Carmel River School. Both schools have students who come from upper middle class backgrounds and whose parents are well educated professionals. A far cry from our school's population which makes it a well deserved, hard earned award.
My final year of teaching (last year) was a very, very difficult year, very stressful and tiring. The one thing that made it more tolerable was Emma. We had gotten her when she was eight weeks old, which was right before school started. Because the principal is a real animal lover she agreed to let me bring Emma to school one or two days a week. It was wonderful. Emma is such a friendly, social dog and I think that's because she was exposed to so many kids early on. She was a star today, all the kids coming up to her and petting her. She loved it and so did we.
Now that I'm officially retiring as of the end of this year, I am of two minds. I am happy to be done with the stress, fatique, and frustration that comes with the job of teaching. However, I miss the kids and my fellow teachers. Looking back on my career I am proud of the job I did and in the knowledge that I touched so many children's lives. It is, in a way, a shock to so suddenly close that long chapter in my life, to be finished with something I had done for eighteen years.

Ok, now six days out from Tim's surgery. Still taking meds, but at least he is eating and sitting up reading and watching TV for longer periods of time. He is getting a little depressed too, I think from the meds and boredom.
I got out to go to the doc's today!!! Yippee! I am not used to being indoors for such long periods of time and I don't like it. What can one do? We have an appointment for Monday with T's oncologist who has been suspiciously absent since we came home from Stanford. Not sure why but she has been very difficult to reach, even after repeated calls. We finally touched base with her assistant yesterday who blamed it on phone tag. Well, we will know more of the treatment plan on Monday.
So much has happened, it's almost comical. My right arm, Tim's right shoulder. Between the two of us we have one pair of arms and both lefties at that! At least Tim's will get better over time to a point where he can use it. Mine, not so. Tim's orthopedic surgeon at Stanford, upon learning of my accident and loss of my arm, told a story of his mentor who'd also loss his arm. Apparently, he was "dynamite fishing" (I know, why?) in Africa and thought he had a stick of dynamite with a long fuse. He was wrong and it blew up in his hand, severing his arm. After I'd said that I was 8 1/2 miles down a dirt road, no towns for an hour and a half when I had my accident, he said his mentor had to drive two hundred miles by himself to the closest hospital.
My reply to his story was, "OK, I'm trumped. My story is nothing compared to that." The point of this grisly tale is that his mentor's motto is, "There's nothing you can do with two arms that you can't do with one." I ALMOST agree with him. As time goes by I find myself more able to do things. It's all very difficult, but I am adapting.

It has been five days since Tim's surgery. He has been in terrible pain, which is just now beginning to subside. The first three days were spent in bed, no food, just massive quantities of pain meds. I played nurse, setting my alarm to go off every two hours to administer the medication through the night. He is now sitting up in the living room, reading the paper, definetly better, but still in pain when he moves his right arm.