My Personal Reflections on 2018

2018 started out well for our family. Our son was the last of his siblings to get an advanced degree, but the first with a Ph.D. Shortly thereafter he proposed to his girlfriend, and became engaged. Both of them grew up in Southern California, but they had to move across country in order to meet. The religious will tell you that it was no coincidence that they never knew each other when they lived only a few miles apart from one another, and only met when both were living across the country. Rather, it is G-d's way of remaining anonymous. They then moved back to Southern California, and our family was all together again. It looked to be a promising year. We made plans for a trip back east in early October to visit "the boys" in Jersey. One of the boys always puts us up - it saves on hotel expenses, and we have a great time together. Then there's the added benefit of being able to rant about politics one on one with our hosts. I am sure they love it. :\

At the beginning of the year, our miniature Schnauzer became ill. Neither the vet nor the specialists were able to get a handle on it. But his "Mommy" cooked special meals for him, and nursed him as best as anyone could. I believe, and the vet agreed, that he would not have survived his last six months but for my wife's efforts. In July, Trooper died at only 10 years old. It was a painful loss for our family. This pup worked his way into everyone's heart with the love and affection shown to us all.

As we all know, our plans do not always work out. There is said to be a Yiddish proverb: "Man plans, G-d laughs." Come September, my family was not laughing. (Many of you know this next part, but with my email issues I am not sure how many got the story. Also, I have added some details.) What started on September 1 seemed to be a cold; although a few days later it felt like a flu. Then I was unable to keep anything down - for days. Two trips to an emergency room resulted in no improvement in my condition. On September 7 my family had to call an ambulance - I had a 104.5 degree fever and was unresponsive. My daughters were so concerned that each of them called for an ambulance, not knowing the other had. I have no recollection of the ambulance coming nor of much of my week in the hospital. Our planned October vacation had to be canceled.

With a diagnosis of meningitis, the doctors needed to determine if it was viral or bacterial. The test would be a spinal tap, but that failed as they were unable to penetrate through the spinal fusion I had at age 17. So the doctor ordered that a picc line be put in and that I get 10 days of antibiotics through the picc line, just in case it was bacterial meningitis. Although their suspicions were that it was viral. The picc line was actually a blessing as my arms were starting to look like a battlefield with all the IVs and constant drawing of blood. Everything could go through the picc line, and blood could be drawn through it as well. So, the IVs came out and the poking for blood stopped.

During my hospital stay my fever came down from the extremely high 104.5 degrees to mostly normal. My blood pressure, however, remained exceedingly high, with my systolic readings regularly being in the 180s. I do not recall what additional medications they were giving me beyond my usual ones. I had lost so much weight, about 15 pounds in 10 days, and was so weak, that I was unable to walk unassisted. While the doctor said I was ready to be discharged from the hospital after a week, he did not want me discharged to home. Rather, he thought that I should go to a rehab facility. I admit it - I panicked. I simply was not comprehending what that would entail or how long I would be kept there. Fortunately for me, our son's friend's wife works in that hospital and came to speak with me. I just wanted to go home, but she explained why that was not a good idea. My irrational fear that I might not be released for a month or more was eased when she explained it would be two weeks maximum, but likely one week.

One week it was, as I made good progress with the help of my therapists. I continued physical therapy through the end of the year. My left leg still feels weaker than the right, so I do use my cane for walking longer distances. Some of you know that I had about a 90% hearing loss in the hospital, but thank G-d the hearing has returned. The blood pressure came back to normal, or at least my normal of slightly elevated. My severe fatigue lasted for over two months, but then my energy returned. However, my endurance for lasting all day, including working after dinner, is not yet the same. Of course, I am not exactly a young guy, either.

The comfort that my family felt in my coming home was then tempered by the death of my wife's Aunt, the only sibling of my mother-in-law. It seemed as if we were destined to continue with bad news.

During my combined two weeks in the hospital and the rehab hospital, my wife put in her own extraordinary efforts. Once I was out of danger, she was again working daily in my office, while visiting me nightly, regardless of her level of exhaustion. She also spent weekends with me, and I cannot thank her enough. We discussed getting another dog, knowing all along we would eventually do so. While there were mixed feelings about the timing, on October 13 my wife visited an animal shelter with her sister, and brought home a little 13 pound cutie. Our vet estimates that she is two years old. We think that she is a Schnauzer/Shih Tzu mix. The shelter said she was a stray, but it was immediately clear that she had lived with people before. She knew to sit, shake and do her "business" outside. Her first day with us she was very nervous, even shaking. I do not think she spoke (barked) for a full week. A couple of times I bent forward to pet her and she backed away. Our suspicion is that some person of the male persuasion was mean to her and maybe hit her. But she knows she is loved here.

My wife has always done the baby naming in our family. I give my input, but if she disagrees... With this little addition to the family, it took her about ten days to settle on a name - Ruby. But with all the nicknames already I wonder if she knows her name. Rubis. Rubic. Rubala. And "Little One." I loved this pup from day one. In mid-October I was still going to bed between 8:00 and 8:30 pm as a result of the fatigue. Ruby just knew something was amiss, as she would jump up onto the bed (she is quite the jumper) and stay with me. Now, she waits to go bed until her Mom does. But she did that for me for weeks.

Only a few weeks after Ruby came home to us we were evacuated because of the Woolsey fire. The smell of smoke permeated our entire house. The sheriff drove down our street using their bullhorn/loudspeaker to tell everyone to get out. It was the only way I was able to convince my wife we had to go. We packed, put Ruby in the car with us, and headed off for our youngest daughter who lives in a one bedroom apartment. She is very sweet and let us sleep in her bed (for four nights) while she slept on the couch. She loves Ruby and Ruby loves her so Ruby had a good time on her big adventure. But we were heartbroken by the number of people who lost their homes, while being sad, yet grateful, that the number of deaths was kept to three. It could have been far worse in such a fast moving fire. We love our firefighters!

While the only long term side effects for me are the left leg weakness and lack of staying power, I continue to worry about and pray for a number of friends. One of the boys in Jersey, the one we stay with and my dearest friend, is on dialysis and needs a kidney. One of my college buddies had his own serious infection resulting in multiple complications, from which he is still recovering. And another friend has just completed his 12 sessions of chemotherapy following a third bout with cancer, but with good test results. Yet another had a major heart attack. I know, we are not getting any younger. But I thank G-d that all of us are alive. And I continue to thank G-d for each day - for myself and for these friends.