The Power of Massage

Last Friday, I was gifted a surprise massage by my wife. No, we did not have a couples massage even tho I asked. This was a gift for me. I've never been to a professional massage in all my 50 years and now was a better time than ever. The establishment is called Massage Envy located in Redwood City. As I walked in, the surroundings reminded me of another beautiful and serene facility called Watercourse Way in Palo Alto. Both, very much zen like and peaceful. It's all about relaxation and I am all for that type of healing. My massage therapist was Cody Lam who has a very gentle way and peacefulness about her. I read her bio located on the table in the waiting room which after talking with her, she stated that the book is at least four years old! Definitely needs to be updated as she is no longer in Massage school. Upon entering my room which was low lit and the tranquil sound of Asian inspired music in the background, I was ready for more peacefulness. I undressed down to my undergarment and slipped under the light sheet and blanket and felt the warm massage table which you can choose to have added before your massage. A few minutes later, Cody entered the room and spoke quietly on what I would like to have done today. I asked that my upper back, shoulders, arms, hands, upper neck areas to be targeted. I would have liked the whole body massage but I really wanted to have specific areas to be her focus. My whole being in those areas ached tremendously and to have her work her magic hands on me was delightful and healing. The firmness of her hand strokes were soothing yet powerful. Each stroke rhythmic and balanced like a painter to her blank canvass. My deep breaths seduced by her movements, the distress in my aching muscles commanded her attention and the feeling of contentment eased my discomfort. My grand wish list would have this delicious elixir of movement every week for the rest of my life. Maybe even twice a week! This antidote would cure most ills of the world, one can only hope.

Signed, Sealed and Delivered!

Finally found a car, not a truck, but a nice little car to call my own since my auto accident Dec. 14, 2012. My insurance paid me out for my 1995 Chevy truck, just a little over $3700. My wife's friend, Judy, wanted to sell her Suburu Outback. After she and I looked up information about the car make and model and researched reviews, we made a decision to look it over last weekend. Driving to Pacifica was beautiful, cool, brisk and a rare sunny day. It was Maverick's weekend where world class surfers from all over the world gather to surf for big waves and big money. Along with that is the hundreds of people that converge on this tiny town for this once a year event. Crespi Beach and Rockaway Beach parking lots were exceeding full capacity and wanting to see the picturesque view and catch sight of the huge waves predicted. It's a beach town and I do miss it sometimes but when the fog rolls in, I am very glad to be living in Redwood City and a much warmer climate. Judy and Michael have a beautiful home with two big loving dogs. They are long time residents of Linda Mar and know all about Montara mountain. Hiking, biking and walking is a good place for that. After test driving the Suburu and getting to know it's idiosyncrasies, drive style, smoothness, cooling and heating elements and of course looking under the hood, our verdict was made. After some friendship banter and parlay, monies paid and bill of sale signed, WE HAVE A NEW CAR!! I am very happy to have it. I do have to thank Enterprise Rental and my insurance, USAA for taking care of me while my truck was at the adjusters, Cooks Collision. I also thank my friend Greg K. for loaning me his car which was a sprightly little 5-speed Blue Toyota Matrix. It's been a busy week of car searching, physical therapists, doctor visits, mounds of paperwork and going back to work. Exhilarating, excited and exhausted all summed it up for me this week. Life is crazy and I'm loving it. I thank the Good Lord for watching over me everyday. Amen

"I Have a Dream"

"He was against all policies based on race. The basis of his attack on segregation was to judge us by the content of our character, not by the color of our skin". Peter Schramm, a conservative historian and former Reagan Administration official This video was taken in 2009 on the "Martin Luther King Freedom Train". Mama Diane Evans and I traveled this historic ride with hundreds of other passengers aboard the Cal-Train into the City of San Francisco to attend peaceful demonstrations and a video account of who Martin Luther King was and what he had accomplished in his very short life. Mama Diane Evans is the colorful turban wrapped woman singing in this video. She is the mother of my co-worker and good friend, Carmen. I dearly love this lady and the whole of her body exudes warmth and spirit akin to mine. Her stories of struggles, life and love keep me entranced and am glad to know that she is in my life.

"Mental Ward"

     That statement resonates in the back of my mind and brings me back to when I was a young girl of 10 years old.  My family was vacationing in Oahu, Hawaii visiting with my mother and fathers huge extended family.  My mother has 5 brothers, all but one brother,  is deceased.  My father has 19 brothers and sisters,  all but two remain living.  One beautiful bright warm Saturday morning in Laie,  we were going to visit with Aunty Pua at the Hospital.  I remembered hearing in hushed whispers, "Mento Ward" in Hawaiian pidgen language amongst my aunts and uncles.  "You going Mento Wahd go see Aunty?" They knew who she was without saying her name outright.
     The drive was not long,  sitting in the back seat with my brother Doug, sister Laurie and a few cousins along with my mom and dad in the front seat.  I can still relive that day as if it were yesterday.  We were so glad to finally be out of the car as we ran around the parking lot of the Hospital.  Our sound of laughter broke the silence of the trade-winds as the sun beat down on us.  Mom and dad "shushed" us as we walked towards what looked like a Grand Mansion with beautiful white columns and the ocean blue as it's background.  How can this be a Hospital?  I thought it to be of someones home, it was my Aunty Pua's home.  After weaving our way through a myriad of doors,  I remembered coming out of a door onto an open Lanai (patio) looking out towards the ocean and great massive trees spreading branch to branch as if shaking hands and breathing the warm scent of gardenia and plumerias into my body.  That moment of serenity was broken with shrieking and screaming and then laughter but not of children,  they were people like my mom and dad's age.  I turned to see old people, young people,  people rocking back and forth facing a wall or a window,  people chattering on and laughing at the toy rocking horse.  Nurses in white uniforms, cleaning and speaking with their energetic charges.  Frightened,  I quickly searched for my mom and dad who were not too far and was sitting and talking with an elderly woman.  I remembered her face and eyes hanging so low and sad but she was happy to see my parents and us children.  I saw my dad petting her hand and she had her head on my dads shoulder.  This was the Aunty Pua we came to visit.  Fearful,  I stayed close to mom and dad.  I could hear my mom speaking with Aunty Pua in Hawaiian, crying and heartbroken.
     Today these "Mental Wards" have politically correct names now.  Psychiatric is the word most commonly used.  Hospital and facilities to also mark the place or residence of a "Patient" and not Koo-Koo, idiot or Crazy man/woman.  My daughter Pua, has been a resident on the 3rd floor of the Psychiatric Unit at the San Mateo General Hospital for several weeks now.  Her pregnancy was terminated on Thursday Jan 17th in the afternoon.  When I received her conservatorship paperwork from the County of San Mateo to let me know of their procedure known as "Therapeutic Abortion",  my memories overwhelmed me with thoughts on how we used to view the mentally ill and how we used to shut them away, "out of sight, out of mind".  I'm very glad for our progress and cures and how far we have become as an American Nation.  We have moved forward from this stigma that many countries still discriminate against it, ridicule,  lock people away and even put to death.  God Bless America! 

"Terminate"

my pregnancy" states my daughter, Pua, as those words ring over and over in my mind. I am restless at this hour when I should be fast asleep in REM stage dreaming about images that I never remember.  After this weekend of listening and singing about the River Jordan in church and wondering why parishioners construct  a light kneel as they pass in front of Jesus who hangs up high in the church on a cross.  Gazing upon this figure that is repeated millions of times in countless Churches of all religions,  I can feel the comfort of his spirit letting me know that all will be well.   I've come to believe in miracles no matter how small they are.  I've come to believe that Heavenly Father hears us all and that our prayers do count.  I believe that talking with my soon to be 28 year old mentally ill daughter has some effect on her to the point of thinking about the harsh reality of continuing with her pregnancy and carrying a baby to term in the hopes of caring and loving a child with the fierceness of a lioness as she cares for her cub.  Something so powerful that only a female can only know.  Or to painfully make the decision to abort her child while in her first trimester because she realizes that her body is demanding the potent medication needed to keep her depression, schizophrenia, paranoia and the once subdued voices who are all rallying around her as if reuniting with an old friend to entertain, at bay.  She phoned me to tell me of her agonizing decision to terminate her pregnancy because of our talks of her possibly going on welfare, section 8 and relying on the Federal social system for help and no help from the father.  She tells me that she is young and she can have children anytime as I verbally agree with her.  I know in my heart that this can never be and am deeply saddened by how she feels as a young woman.   Her birthday is Jan 16th and it is time for a visit.  To comfort her, to hold her and to tell her that I love her very much.  I am very proud of her strength and the woman who she is today.

Susceptible

sus·cep·ti·ble

[suh-sep-tuh-buh l] 

accessible or especially liable or subject to some influence, mood, agency, etc.: susceptible to colds; susceptible to flattery.

    A visit to my Primary Doctors this week proved uneventful.  It was mainly to see how I was coming along on my Physical Therapy treatments on my soft tissue injuries due to my car accident.  Doc Yan stated that since I have Rheumatoid Arthritis,  I am susceptible to any injuries lasting normal than what a healthy body would be.  Meaning that my healing time would take much longer,  well, DUH!  These doctor and Physical Therapy visits including only being able to work 1 day since the accident, compiled on top of my dealing with  insurance company has been leaving me in a depressed mood all week.  Stress, anxiety and low energy has been giving me low grade headaches that I normally don't get.  I'm off for one more week until Jan. 21st. 

     My daughter Christiana is at San Mateo General Hospital and has been there for a few weeks to help get her own medication for her mental illness up to speed which she has forgone because of her pregnancy.   She has been calling me almost everyday to come and see her or bring her something.  I thought to just take a time-out from her life and get mine in order.  Seems that I never get a chance to deal with my life but I deal with everyone's  first.  Since all of my children have moved out of my home,  I would think that would be the ideal time for myself, WRONG!  No matter what age my children/young adults,  they will always need something,  guidance, wisdom, small talk, money, material things and most of all, love and support.  I helped her social worker, Kelsey move all her belongings from the Sequoia Hotel in Redwood City to my home and house her items until she is well enough on her own.  In the meantime,  her boyfriend, who is the "baby daddy" is in his own world and one of whom I don't want to associate with because of his own addiction to Crystal Meth and a bad host of crap that I don't want to be a part of.         

Total Loss

is what USAA insurance told me yesterday.  I can't get anything more for my truck than what my insurance offered me, $3744 and some change.  $1000.00 of it they will withhold until I mail the salvage company my title which I keep in a folder full of receipts I used  for it's upkeep.  I was expecting the worse and I almost had a tiny little bit of hope that Cooks Collision would repair my truck.
      I stopped by to pick up the rest of my belongings in my 1995 Chevy Pickup and saw the extent of the damage for the last time from my hit and run auto accident that happened almost one month ago.  My poor old truck was littered with numbers and "cant open hood" written on it and other foreign objects thrown in the truck bed.  I saw the front end extent of the damage in better lighting today than I did on that cloudy day of the accident.  I felt sad.  Upon opening my driver door and looking inside,  there was definite evidence of someone hastily looking through what ever was left in the truck and not finding anything of value to take.  Luckily I tried to pack up everything I valued at the time of the accident.   I felt violated on my trucks behalf and said my last goodbye's as if saying goodbye to an old friend which this truck has been to me.  I've been through approximately 4 moves and a host of other moves helping friends and family in need of a truck, long trips up the California coast for camp-outs and everyday commutes to work.  I depended on "Betty".    I originally bought my truck off of Craigslist for $5000.00  from a man who needed a bigger vehicle for his growing family.  The truck gave me very few problems compared to my other cars.  So to say goodbye to an object such as this truck is significant to me.  Now,  the process begins for me to look for a new "used" vehicle.  Wish me luck!

Happy New Year

     Just a few more hours until I am fully on my way into the New Year, 2013.  I am still off from work due to my pinched nerve in my left shoulder preventing me from lifting heavy bags.  There are a few jobs that  my company can put me in the "light duty" department aspect of what I do.  I see my primary doctor tomorrow and will follow up on the out come of when i go back to work with another physical therapy appointment on Thursday.
     My daughter Pua called and left a message on my phone from San Mateo General Hospital where she had to self-admit herself last week due to her not taking her medications for her Mental Illness causing her "voices" to come back with a vengeance.  Her reason for not taking her medication is that she is three months pregnant and did not want to harm the baby with these strong drugs.  Throw in her somewhat mentally ill boyfriend. Adolpho,  who takes her medication and Crystal meth and whatever else he needs to self-medicate himself with,  she is going to have a long, hard road ahead of her.  I've always suggested to her to write her own memoirs and thoughts into a blog,  she prefers journals.  Her young life has been disturbing and harrowing.  I,  and only I,  am the  reluctant involuntary passenger into her  wild ride of the fearful and dark unknown.  There is no happy ending,  only switchbacks to where we first started this perilous journey which repeats itself like a phonographs skipping needle on a warped record,  over and over and over and over again.