ROUTINE CAR SERVICE...AND A WHOLE LOT OF GRATITUDE

Driving 3000+ miles each month for work, the 5000-mile service visits for my vehicle roll around pretty quickly. I bought this RAV4 - the very first vehicle I have ever purchased, and I love it 😊 - just over 4 months ago. This week, Big Red and I logged over 16,000 miles.

Since I want this car to last as long as possible, I'm a stickler for having it serviced on time.

* * * * * 

My sister and brother-in-law gifted me with a re-put-together Yaris ("Little Red") a couple of years ago, so that I would have a vehicle to drive back and forth to school. That janky-looking, patched-together Yaris has 300,000 miles on it now and it runs like a charm. All Little Red has ever needed from me is regular oil changes (shout out to the wonderful folks at Buddy's in Union City) and a new set of tires.

I'm expecting the same longevity from the RAV4.

Anywho, this is not a post about how much I appreciate faithful Toyotas. It's a post about a very special moment I experienced while I was sitting at the Toyota dealership this morning, waiting for Big Red to complete her spa visit...

"Mrs. Kendall, your cabin air filter needs to be changed. Is that something you would like for us to take care of today?"

One of the cool things about having the vehicle serviced at the dealership is that the technician videos everything he does, sends you the video in progress as he is working on your car, and makes comments, suggestions, etc. I'm sitting in the waiting area, and Mark, the service manager, comes through the door (I've just seen Barry-the-technician's video). Mark asks if I would like the cabin filter changed.

I live in an agricultural area. Drive many, many miles each day. Farmers are combining beans and corn in NW TN right now, and the air is, shall we say, "chunky"? The cabin air filter is supposed to be white. I could clearly see from Barry's video that the filter was anything BUT white. It was naaaaaasty.

"Yes, please change the filter today."

My wheels were also out of line. Rural West TN roads...gotta love 'em.

Mark: "Do you want us to go ahead and realign your wheels while you are here? The charge will be $---."

Me: "Yes, please. Thank you."

So, I'm sitting in the waiting area, working on notes for next week's team meeting at the office while I wait for Big Red to get everything properly aligned, and something absolutely magical happens...

I. AM. OKAY.

No increase in heart rate. No cold sweat. No sick feeling in my stomach. No tension in my jaws. No silent tears. No mental gymnastics to figure out how the heck I'm going to swap groceries for car maintenance.

NONE of that. 

I just go calmly back to working on my meeting notes.

* * * * *

I have lived the past several decades under a dark cloud of never-enough.

Having to choose between buying shoes for my children - OR - groceries to feed them.

Having to sit in the ER parking lot praying desperately that 4 Benadryl tablets would counter an anaphylactic reaction because there was no healthcare to cover medical expenses.

The fuel gauge on empty, but passing the gas station anyway because the bank account had only $2.44 in it...or worse, was overdrawn...hoping against hope that we'd make it back home.

I remember one time when an older lady in my church excitedly told me that all the clothing at Goodwill was on sale for 50 cents an item, so I could buy clothes for my kids really cheap! I cried, because I didn't have even 50 freakin' cents.

Some of y'all know exactly what I'm talking about.

That kind of desperation is exhausting.

(There's a reason why if anyone asks me how I'm doing, my answer is usually, "I'm tired." I have so many years of "tired" built up that it will probably be a long, long time before I feel anything different.)

But this morning at the Toyota dealership...

"Yes, please, change the filter..."

"Yes, please, realign the tires..."

And I was okay.

I WAS OKAY.

No anxiety, no panic, no stress, no cold sweats...

So...

In conclusion:

Thank you, Suzanne and Leonard, for the little Yaris, so I could drive back and forth to school.

Thank you, Nate and Abby, for underwriting my education financially.

Thank you, Helen and Emily and Martha, for being my biggest cheerleaders and for giving me courage to hope.

Thank you, Tom and Carly, for pizza on the porch and for mental breaks from school in the kayaks on the lake.

Thank you, Ben, for allllll the prayers.

Thank you, Reuben, for poems that gave me light in the darkness...and for being a soul that made me feel so much less alone in some very desperate places. Thank you.

Thank you, BMH-UC, for my first real job, for your incredible teamwork ethic, and for supporting and encouraging me every single step of the way on this new journey.

Thank you, Gentiva, for work that aligns with my heart, for fantastic team support, for respectable pay, for healthcare benefits, for PTO (what the heck is that, even?!)...

...and thank you for the company vehicle that is coming next week. Big Red will be happy to cool her wheels.

(You may be a home health nurse if your commute looks like.... 😜)

SEASONAL ALLERGIES AND END-OF-LIFE

I live in the middle of a very weedy hayfield, and the ragweed is blooming.

The ragweed is tearing
me up right now.

This means that even though I'm on two different medications for allergies, I still cannot breathe very well, my brain feels like day-old oatmeal, drainage leaks continually from my nose, and I sneeze often.

Not a pretty situation for someone working in healthcare, especially with a new strain of Covid going around. Who wants a nurse who looks like a walking contagion?

Speaking of the job...

When I have a few spare minutes, or when I reach the end of my work day and I'm not so completely exhausted that I can think of nothing more than dinner and early bedtime, I like to look up videos, lectures, podcasts, etc., about various diagnoses. What kind of symptoms are associated with a particular diagnosis? How does this disease progress? What does end-of-life look like for a person dealing with ---?

Anywho, one evening I was watching a lecture about Parkinson's Disease. The presenter talked specifics about PD progression and symptom management, but he also made this statement: "I tell my PD patients the same thing I tell everyone who is 18 years old or older: You need to have a will. You need a Power of Attorney. Do you have an Advanced Directive?"

If you are 18 years or older, you need the following:

Durable Power of Attorney: This allows you to designate someone to make legal decisions on your behalf in the event you become incapable of doing so yourself.

Power of Attorney for Healthcare: This allows you to designate someone to make healthcare decisions on your behalf in the event that you become incapable of doing so yourself. NOTE: A Power of Attorney and a Power of Attorney for Healthcare are NOT the same thing.

Living Will: This is a document in which you write out what you want to be done regarding healthcare decisions, should you become unable to speak for yourself.

You also need a Last Will and Testament, which states what is to be done with your personal possessions if you die.

It would also be helpful if you write down your wishes for what happens to your body if you die, and any preferences regarding funeral services, etc.

After taking care of all these, TALK to someone - your spouse, your kids, your roommate, etc. - and tell them what you want and where these documents are located.

I lost several members of my immediate family last year. Some planned and prepared for the inevitability of death. Others did not. Those who did plan ahead gave their survivors a tremendous gift: there was no confusion about "What did ---- want?" and no cause for disagreement or tension between surviving family members regarding medical decisions or disposition of property.

[I am not kidding, folks - I got called to do a death visit in the middle of writing this post. Friends, NONE of us knows the day or the hour we will die. Even if you are perfectly healthy and have no medical issues, GET THIS STUFF DONE.]

CARNIVAL RIDE

 The county fair came and went last week, and I did not catch so much as a peek or a peep of it.

Fairs past, I spent hours in the ag pavilion alongside my kids as they showed hogs and lambs. Or in the Junior Exhibits Building, helping display children's sewing projects and judging baking entries.

Many years ago, I worked in the high school marching band concession stand, selling hamburgers and Cokes to hungry patrons. (I played French horn, if you're curious.) I was even coerced once as a teenager to participate in the Fairest of the Fair Pageant...one of THE most miserable nights of my teenage years, given that I suffered from crippling shyness and was most definitely not a beauty.

I drive a lot for work. A LOT, as in 15,000 miles in the past four months. All that driving provides much time for thinking...and for remembering fairs past.

As a child, one carnival ride I wanted to be absolutely certain to go on each year was the Hunted Mansion. For starters, it didn't make me sick to my stomach, like the tilt-a-whirl. But more compelling, I felt like the fact that I survived that jerky, box car ride along the tiny twisting track each year and came out alive somehow proved that I was stronger and braver than I felt.

The funny thing is...

I never kept my eyes open. Not once. Year after year, I rode the entire ride with my eyes squeezed tightly shut and my hands over my ears. Terrified, but so determined to prove to myself and others that I was brave.

Fast forward several decades.

Sometime between childhood and now, I don't remember when, I revisited the Haunted Mansion. I rode the entire ride with eyes and ears wide open.

It. Was. Stupid.

I came out thinking, "That was IT? That's what I was afraid of all those years ago?!"

* * * * *

Sadly, I have lived much of my life like that scared little child on the Haunted Mansion carnival ride. Closed in, eyes tightly shut. Afraid...of what? Afraid of failure, ridicule, not being good enough. Afraid of disappointing others, or myself. Afraid of looking ridiculous. Afraid of the negative, critical comments of others.

Thankfully, I am gradually learning to open my eyes. To risk being a failure, not good enough, and ridiculous. It's scary sometimes, to take these chances, but I am finding that the longer I open my eyes, the less scary life becomes.

IT'S SEPTEMBER!

I am loving that September begins with a holiday weekend this year. Well, sort of a holiday weekend...I'm on call Monday evening, so no wild parties on Monday for me. But still, the idea of a holiday weekend is a nice start to the month.

September 2nd miscellany...

A friend at work shared some homegrown peppers with me. They are beautiful. I do not remember the name of this variety of peppers, only that it has the word "peach" in it. For pepper connoisseurs, these peppers have a "fruity" flavor. Jesse said they have a heat level similar to habaneros.

The peppers are beautiful, obviously, so of course I took them. But there's a problem: I don't do spicy hot.

Soooo, timid me had the idea of toning things down with a few additives. I used the peppers to make a peach-mango salsa.

Fresh peach-mango salsa

This stuff is DELICIOUS. Peppers, mangos, peaches, fresh tomatoes, cilantro, garlic, lime, red onion...YUM.

I was having so much fun playing in the kitchen that after making salsa, I tried another new recipe: New England Iced Tea. It's like Long Island iced tea but with cranberry juice and lime instead of cola and lemon. Soooo good. I'm on my second glass.

Anyway, since this is technically a holiday weekend, and since the just-past work week was such an absolute bear, that means I should be able to do fun things besides getting groceries, doing laundry, loading the dishwasher, paying bills, and feeding the people in my house, right? Right?!

Somebody, please tell me that's right...

For me, doing something fun, something besides the never-ending list of grown-up-people responsibilities, means...I get to have some time to write. I LOVE to write.

So here I sit, sipping on my second New England iced tea, with Ryan Gosling's I'm Just Ken looping in my brain, waiting for the muse to speak...

What a wonderful beginning to September.