I'm still unpacking in my new apartment, which is overrun with books, boxes, laundry, kitchen gear, and just about everything else you might imagine -- I'm making SLOW progress, but the emphasis really is upon the slow. Worst part is that I can't get a clear WiFi signal there, despite having specifically checked that out before deciding to move! So once again I'm back to unplugging the laptop and taking it with me for the afternoon to the other tower, and setting up camp in one of the public lounges where I can still get a signal. Eventually all these problems will be resolved. But it still takes a very long time, and has pretty much been life-consuming. Did manage to hire a new Director of Religious Education in the process though, who will be introduced to the congregation here next Sunday. And my medical news still seems to be stable as well -- no changes, good indications, and most of my day to day incidentals under control. I am awfully tired a lot of the time, and my emotions are still very close to the surface...but my appetite is good, my pain control is good, and my mobility gets better and better almost by the day. My Physical Therapist still kicks my ass every time we go Wii bowling, (the Wii is a video game which simulates normal athletic activities, like bowling, baseball, golf or tennis), but I'm walking and climbing stairs better than ever. One more chemo session in another couple of weeks, and then another big MRI to see how we're doing. That test represents my next big milestone. So pray and light candles for stable or shrinking tumors.
Had a nice visit with my new Primary Care Physician today as well, who checked me out "from nose to toes" and confirmed some of the things I'd been thinking about this one year milestone -- basically that my five year survival statistics shoot up dramatically, especially given the relatively good state of my health beforehand. And he also prescribed some anti-fungal cremes for me to put on my skin and feet, which happen to be the SAME over-the-counter cremes women use to treat yeast infections. So if you see some strange tubes in my medicine cabinet next time you visit, don't be too shocked! It's all for a good purpose. Of course, hopefully the medicines will do their job and I will be rid of them before too long. My medicine cabinet is already pretty crowded as it is.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
"Died in this Ministry...."
It's all public now, at least the part that needs to be, so I guess it's OK to write a little more about my "weird weekend" the week before last. As I approach the first anniversary of my life as a cancer "survivor," I've also started thinking a little harder about my future plans -- how much longer I intend to keep serving in this ministry, and what I plan to do with myself afterwards. So much of this past year has been consumed by the challenges of getting my disease under control, and recovering enough of my strength and mobility that I could return to work and contribute in a meaningful way...and the progress I've made in both of those areas has really been remarkable. But I'm also acutely aware of how tenuous this all is, and how easily my health could turn bad again in a relatively short time.
And apparently I'm not the only one whose been thinking about these questions. Still, it came as something of a surprise to me when the outgoing President of our Governing Board phoned to ask whether she cold stop by my apartment the Friday before last (thankfully NOT the 13th!) to tell me that she that she'd been reflecting about the future direction of First Parish, and thought that because of the uncertain nature of my health it would be best for the congregation if I announced my intention to resign from my ministry here at the end of this program year.
I say surprise because even though I'm also intimately aware that nothing involving cancer is ever certain (and even been thinking that we need to begin searching for someone to succeed me sooner rather than later), my thoughts were more along the lines of the model used so successfully by First Parish for much of the 18th and 19th centuries, of settling a "colleague" minister who would at first work alongside me before eventually taking over completely once I had "died in this ministry" (or at least determined that I still had a few more things left on my "bucket list" that I wanted to get to too). Not only did I write a doctoral dissertation in which this type of transition in ministerial tenure plays a prominent role, but I am also reminded of it every Sunday, when I wheel into the Meetinghouse and see the memorials which frame both sides of the High Pulpit, and recall how the Reverends Thomas Smith, Samuel Deane, and Ichabod Nichols faithfully served this congregation in sequence from 1724 to 1859, each first serving as a colleague to his predecessor before eventually taking over entirely following their deaths.
As it turned out, after that conversation (and a few other exchanges of phone calls and e-maisl) we ended up sending a joint letter to the entire congregation, signed by myself, the out-going President of the Governing Board, the in-coming President of the Governing Board, and both the Chair and the Treasurer of the Board of Trustees, informing them that we were beginning deliberations about the future course of my ministry here at First Parish, and wanted to hear their thoughts and feelings before making any decisions. And now that I've had a chance to sit with the idea for a little bit, I can begin to see some of the benefits of ending on a high note, BEFORE my declining health eventually forces me to leave. And this alone puts me in complete agreement with those who believe we need to begin searching for the next minister NOW, with the expectation of having them called and settled by autumn, 2010.
Like all UU ministers, I serve at the pleasure of the congregation, who are always free to call and settle whoever pleases them, and to dismiss their clergy as well whenever they cease to please. Furthermore (although I was not aware of this at the time), according to my Letter of Agreement, the moment my Long Term Disability claim was accepted I ceased to be the settled minister at First Parish! So in effect I continue to work here now on a handshake deal, and it will require some sort of pro-active decision on the part of the Congregation (even if it is something so simple as approving a line item in the budget for my continued compensation, benefits and expenses) for me to remain here beyond the end of this fiscal year.
So the real question still resides with the congregation. What kind of on-going relationship (if any) does First Parish desire to maintain with me after June 30, 2009? What does that look like, and how does it influence the kind of search we conduct in order to bring in another new minister in 2010?
For my own part, I am simply trying to stay calm, and keep my own stress levels to a minimum, while I savor every moment of ministry life still gives me, and adjust my own attitude so that I can see all the advantages of each of the alternatives. Knowing that this is no longer really MY decision, but rather God speaking to me through the whirlwind of congregational polity, I am listening carefully for that still, small voice that will explain to me why the decision that eventually emerges will indeed be the right path for us to follow.
It's also important to lift up the points on which we all agree:
• Everyone involved in this process wants what is best for the Church. We may not always see exactly eye-to-eye about what that might look like, but the more we talk with and listen to one another in an honest, safe and trusting manner, the more likely we are to see and appreciate perspectives other than our own.
• We also all agree that we would like to begin searching for my eventual successor sooner rather than later, with a goal of having someone in town and settling in by August, 2010.
• It's flattering for me to read about all of the good things people associate with my ministry here, and humbling to recognize how hard so many people have worked in order to support me in my efforts to return to the pulpit at First Parish. Their great generosity inspires in me a deep sense of gratitude, as well as the desire to reciprocate in whatever way I can, whether that ultimately entails either remaining here or moving on.
No doubt I will have a lot more to say about all this in the days and weeks ahead, as I continue to contemplate what is best for the congregation, and how that fits with my own desires for the future. I have many good options available to me regardless of which path I choose -- a choice that will ultimately be informed by what the congregation tells me is best for them, and my own limitations as a person living with a terminal cancer diagnosis. Having survived now for an entire year, my five year survival prognosis leaps from a scary 3-5% to a whopping 13-33% (depending on whose numbers you use), and there are lots of other things about my demographic profile that make me believe that my own odds are even better than these. Ever since I was a child, I've pretty much been in the 90th percentile in everything I've undertaken; I don't see any reason why cancer should be any different. Then again, I never expected to contract cancer in the first place, despite the approximately quarter of a million cigarettes I foolishly smoked when I was younger (but still old enough to know better!). 250,000 smokes, and not one of them tasted as good as simply a good breath of fresh ocean air first thing in the morning. And still, so much of our lives are in God's hands. And the sooner we realize that, the easier it becomes to live and live well with whatever life may bring us.
And apparently I'm not the only one whose been thinking about these questions. Still, it came as something of a surprise to me when the outgoing President of our Governing Board phoned to ask whether she cold stop by my apartment the Friday before last (thankfully NOT the 13th!) to tell me that she that she'd been reflecting about the future direction of First Parish, and thought that because of the uncertain nature of my health it would be best for the congregation if I announced my intention to resign from my ministry here at the end of this program year.
I say surprise because even though I'm also intimately aware that nothing involving cancer is ever certain (and even been thinking that we need to begin searching for someone to succeed me sooner rather than later), my thoughts were more along the lines of the model used so successfully by First Parish for much of the 18th and 19th centuries, of settling a "colleague" minister who would at first work alongside me before eventually taking over completely once I had "died in this ministry" (or at least determined that I still had a few more things left on my "bucket list" that I wanted to get to too). Not only did I write a doctoral dissertation in which this type of transition in ministerial tenure plays a prominent role, but I am also reminded of it every Sunday, when I wheel into the Meetinghouse and see the memorials which frame both sides of the High Pulpit, and recall how the Reverends Thomas Smith, Samuel Deane, and Ichabod Nichols faithfully served this congregation in sequence from 1724 to 1859, each first serving as a colleague to his predecessor before eventually taking over entirely following their deaths.
As it turned out, after that conversation (and a few other exchanges of phone calls and e-maisl) we ended up sending a joint letter to the entire congregation, signed by myself, the out-going President of the Governing Board, the in-coming President of the Governing Board, and both the Chair and the Treasurer of the Board of Trustees, informing them that we were beginning deliberations about the future course of my ministry here at First Parish, and wanted to hear their thoughts and feelings before making any decisions. And now that I've had a chance to sit with the idea for a little bit, I can begin to see some of the benefits of ending on a high note, BEFORE my declining health eventually forces me to leave. And this alone puts me in complete agreement with those who believe we need to begin searching for the next minister NOW, with the expectation of having them called and settled by autumn, 2010.
Like all UU ministers, I serve at the pleasure of the congregation, who are always free to call and settle whoever pleases them, and to dismiss their clergy as well whenever they cease to please. Furthermore (although I was not aware of this at the time), according to my Letter of Agreement, the moment my Long Term Disability claim was accepted I ceased to be the settled minister at First Parish! So in effect I continue to work here now on a handshake deal, and it will require some sort of pro-active decision on the part of the Congregation (even if it is something so simple as approving a line item in the budget for my continued compensation, benefits and expenses) for me to remain here beyond the end of this fiscal year.
So the real question still resides with the congregation. What kind of on-going relationship (if any) does First Parish desire to maintain with me after June 30, 2009? What does that look like, and how does it influence the kind of search we conduct in order to bring in another new minister in 2010?
For my own part, I am simply trying to stay calm, and keep my own stress levels to a minimum, while I savor every moment of ministry life still gives me, and adjust my own attitude so that I can see all the advantages of each of the alternatives. Knowing that this is no longer really MY decision, but rather God speaking to me through the whirlwind of congregational polity, I am listening carefully for that still, small voice that will explain to me why the decision that eventually emerges will indeed be the right path for us to follow.
It's also important to lift up the points on which we all agree:
• Everyone involved in this process wants what is best for the Church. We may not always see exactly eye-to-eye about what that might look like, but the more we talk with and listen to one another in an honest, safe and trusting manner, the more likely we are to see and appreciate perspectives other than our own.
• We also all agree that we would like to begin searching for my eventual successor sooner rather than later, with a goal of having someone in town and settling in by August, 2010.
• It's flattering for me to read about all of the good things people associate with my ministry here, and humbling to recognize how hard so many people have worked in order to support me in my efforts to return to the pulpit at First Parish. Their great generosity inspires in me a deep sense of gratitude, as well as the desire to reciprocate in whatever way I can, whether that ultimately entails either remaining here or moving on.
No doubt I will have a lot more to say about all this in the days and weeks ahead, as I continue to contemplate what is best for the congregation, and how that fits with my own desires for the future. I have many good options available to me regardless of which path I choose -- a choice that will ultimately be informed by what the congregation tells me is best for them, and my own limitations as a person living with a terminal cancer diagnosis. Having survived now for an entire year, my five year survival prognosis leaps from a scary 3-5% to a whopping 13-33% (depending on whose numbers you use), and there are lots of other things about my demographic profile that make me believe that my own odds are even better than these. Ever since I was a child, I've pretty much been in the 90th percentile in everything I've undertaken; I don't see any reason why cancer should be any different. Then again, I never expected to contract cancer in the first place, despite the approximately quarter of a million cigarettes I foolishly smoked when I was younger (but still old enough to know better!). 250,000 smokes, and not one of them tasted as good as simply a good breath of fresh ocean air first thing in the morning. And still, so much of our lives are in God's hands. And the sooner we realize that, the easier it becomes to live and live well with whatever life may bring us.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
A week and a day....
And this past week has been one of the strangest of my lifetime, although unfortunately I don't really feel like I can go into all of the details at this time. But it has left me flabbergasted, as well as with a whole new perspective on ministry, the church, and my own future in it. But I'll get back to that some other time. Meanwhile, for those of you who are wondering what ELSE I've been up to this past week, preached another strong sermon Sunday about the authority of religious experience, "Mystics, Skeptics, and Dyspeptics," then attended a "Pageant summit" with members of the Worship Committee and the Pageant Committee to discuss the possibility of updating the words of some of the Carols in order to reflect contemporary Unitarian Universalist Beliefs. Finally, I interviewed a prospective candidate for our open Director of Religious Education position, and eventually caught a ride home from church at about 2 pm. Even more exciting news from my daughter later that night, who informed me that I can expect to become a grandfather this August! Here's the link to HER new baby-blog, Little Sullivan-Bowen along with a photo of the little "Mexican Jumping Bean" at 11 weeks.
Anyway, Monday and Tuesday were pretty much taken up dealing with the on-going weirdness I mentioned earlier, but Wednesday was really remarkable. Left the wheelchair at home, and equipped only with my trusty "Rollater" (a fancy walker with a seat and wheels) rode with my colleague Kitsy Winthrop to the Minister's meeting in Saco -- only the third time I've been able to attend one of these meetings in the past 12 months. It felt very liberating to be out of the chair for such a long time (basically, the entire day), and also reassuring to see so many other colleagues, and to reconnect with them for mutual support and encouragement. These are hard times in a lot of churches -- budgets are tight at precisely the moment that people seem to need the church most, and are flocking to them in ever greater numbers. I just hope we are up to meeting the challenge both here in the short term, and over the long run as well.
After the meeting Kitsy and I decided to have lunch out. My first thought was the vegetarian restaurant on Congress Street, but Kitsy was concerned about that parking...so we actually ended up going somewhere very different: Wild Willy's Burgers, a western-themed hamburger place where Kitsy had the Bison Burger, and I enjoyed the original "Wild Willy" -- basically your standard high-quality bacon cheeseburger with lettuce, tomatoes, red onions and such. Hand-cut fries, batter-dipped rings, Raspberry Lime Rickeys, a real grease-feast...so out of character for Kitsy, and these days more and more a rarity for me as well.
And then after THAT, since we were already out, we stopped by the hospital to visit one of our parishioners who has been there now for two weeks, and is expected to be there for at least three more. A full-blooded Navajo Indian and US Army vet, he had been living on the street (or actually, in people's gardens) in a tent and sleeping bag, but has also attended church fairly regularly (when he's in town) for over a year. Last year he broke his leg after being hit by a car, and after they removed the metal rod last October his leg gradually became infected until he was no longer able to walk, which is what precipitated this hospitalization. In any event, it was good to be able to see him face to face; he's clearly feeling restless being confined like this, but he also appreciates that he needs to heal, and is working with a caseworker about better housing and the like when he is finally discharged. So I'm hoping for a happy ending, but I'm still not sure what that would really look like.
Tomorrow is Lincoln's 200th birthday, as well as the 200th birthday of Charles Darwin...pretty amazing, when you stop to think about it. And a week from that, Thursday February 19th, will be both the one-year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis, and also "moving day" for me, when I will leaving this small suite of rooms I've been living in since last summer, and moving into a similar-sized apartment where I will no longer have a balcony, but will enjoy both a full kitchen and in-unit laundry. So I'm pretty excited about that. I'm not certain how much surviving a year improves my own statistical long-term survival rate, but I imagine it's pretty significant. Not that I really care -- I've always assumed that I'm going to be in the 90th percentile anyway, and am hoping to live another 15-20 years. Why not? Somebody has to live that long....
Anyway, Monday and Tuesday were pretty much taken up dealing with the on-going weirdness I mentioned earlier, but Wednesday was really remarkable. Left the wheelchair at home, and equipped only with my trusty "Rollater" (a fancy walker with a seat and wheels) rode with my colleague Kitsy Winthrop to the Minister's meeting in Saco -- only the third time I've been able to attend one of these meetings in the past 12 months. It felt very liberating to be out of the chair for such a long time (basically, the entire day), and also reassuring to see so many other colleagues, and to reconnect with them for mutual support and encouragement. These are hard times in a lot of churches -- budgets are tight at precisely the moment that people seem to need the church most, and are flocking to them in ever greater numbers. I just hope we are up to meeting the challenge both here in the short term, and over the long run as well.
After the meeting Kitsy and I decided to have lunch out. My first thought was the vegetarian restaurant on Congress Street, but Kitsy was concerned about that parking...so we actually ended up going somewhere very different: Wild Willy's Burgers, a western-themed hamburger place where Kitsy had the Bison Burger, and I enjoyed the original "Wild Willy" -- basically your standard high-quality bacon cheeseburger with lettuce, tomatoes, red onions and such. Hand-cut fries, batter-dipped rings, Raspberry Lime Rickeys, a real grease-feast...so out of character for Kitsy, and these days more and more a rarity for me as well.
And then after THAT, since we were already out, we stopped by the hospital to visit one of our parishioners who has been there now for two weeks, and is expected to be there for at least three more. A full-blooded Navajo Indian and US Army vet, he had been living on the street (or actually, in people's gardens) in a tent and sleeping bag, but has also attended church fairly regularly (when he's in town) for over a year. Last year he broke his leg after being hit by a car, and after they removed the metal rod last October his leg gradually became infected until he was no longer able to walk, which is what precipitated this hospitalization. In any event, it was good to be able to see him face to face; he's clearly feeling restless being confined like this, but he also appreciates that he needs to heal, and is working with a caseworker about better housing and the like when he is finally discharged. So I'm hoping for a happy ending, but I'm still not sure what that would really look like.
Tomorrow is Lincoln's 200th birthday, as well as the 200th birthday of Charles Darwin...pretty amazing, when you stop to think about it. And a week from that, Thursday February 19th, will be both the one-year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis, and also "moving day" for me, when I will leaving this small suite of rooms I've been living in since last summer, and moving into a similar-sized apartment where I will no longer have a balcony, but will enjoy both a full kitchen and in-unit laundry. So I'm pretty excited about that. I'm not certain how much surviving a year improves my own statistical long-term survival rate, but I imagine it's pretty significant. Not that I really care -- I've always assumed that I'm going to be in the 90th percentile anyway, and am hoping to live another 15-20 years. Why not? Somebody has to live that long....
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Thank God for Prescription Drug Benefits
And for the third month in a row now, my Pharmacy has screwed up my scripts. This time fortunately it's not nearly so complicated as it was the previous times, and I should be able to get it cleared up with a phone call -- gave me the wrong amount of one of my meds, and then filled a script which my oncologist phoned in but that I didn't need to have filled because I already had the same pills available from a previous chemo treatment. But what the hell -- now I'll have them for next month, and won't need to worry about it then. Still, it concerns me -- I'm not sure whether it's miscommunication between my Doc and the Pharmacy, or if the Pharmacy is doing this all on there own, but I'm starting to feel like I'm going to have to start counting every pill now, rather than just counting on them to get it right and catching only their most egregious mistakes.
Admittedly, I take a lot of pills -- nine different drugs routinely, plus some over-the-counter laxatives and vitamins, and a few extra anti-nauseals at chemo-time. 21 pills a day, not counting any breakthrough painkillers or my nausea meds. Price tag for these drugs every month? Approximately $1765, of which I pay only 228.63 in co-pays (not counting the OTCs, which are really inconsequential in the greater scheme of things). And let me tell you, I sure am happy not to have to spend that extra $1550 every month. Now I just wish I actually had that money in my pocket!
Meanwhile, I feel more than a little uncomfortable basking in my own good fortune when I think about the situations of so many others within my little church "community." Like any urban church, we have people in the congregation every Sunday who are homeless, or maybe just one paycheck (or welfare check or disability check) away from being homeless, who also have serious other needs, some of them medical... And I/we (because I think most of the congregation feels the same way) want to help them as best we can -- and not just with a warm welcoming place on a Sunday morning where they can come in out of the weather and worship with us, then get a bite to eat and some hot coffee afterwards before heading back out into the winter; or even with the twenty or fifty or perhaps sometimes even a few hundred dollars I can come up with out of my discretionary fund in order to help out with a pressing bill or two, or to get them in to see a medical provider for some long-overdue treatment. Something both substantial and empowering, which leaves them in control of their own life but makes a small but significant difference in their own spiritual journey from where there are now to where God wants them to be.
Is that naive? Presumptive and patronizing? It's a little different situation from those folks who just go around from church to church hitting up the soft touches like me for a hand out. The policy now in those situations is simply to give them a $20 gift card to our local supermarket (which has already been designated to exclude alcohol and tobacco), and to have just enough red tape in place to discourage abuse -- ID if they have it, plus they have to sign for the card and perhaps even be photographed for our digital database (an extra step that was still under discussion when we decided on the rest). But I'm not in the office often enough these days to know whether this policy has even been implemented yet, much less evaluate whether it is working.
But these other folks are different. For all intents and purposes, they are members of the congregation just like the rest of us: they attended services regularly, sing the hymns and listen to the sermon, participate appropriately in the candlesharing, and sometimes even contribute to the collection. And that's part of what makes our Meetinghouse Sacred Space -- that fact that ANYONE can show up and for that hour at least put all of the differences of race and class, income, educational background, what-have-you in the background, and just BE together. Sure, it's an illusion and it doesn't last. But with a little gentle practice, maybe it will find a toehold OUTSIDE the Meetinghouse as well. And if we dare dream it, it might even usher in the Kingdom of Heaven....
Oh boy, it's getting well past my bedtime. Sweet Dreams!
Admittedly, I take a lot of pills -- nine different drugs routinely, plus some over-the-counter laxatives and vitamins, and a few extra anti-nauseals at chemo-time. 21 pills a day, not counting any breakthrough painkillers or my nausea meds. Price tag for these drugs every month? Approximately $1765, of which I pay only 228.63 in co-pays (not counting the OTCs, which are really inconsequential in the greater scheme of things). And let me tell you, I sure am happy not to have to spend that extra $1550 every month. Now I just wish I actually had that money in my pocket!
Meanwhile, I feel more than a little uncomfortable basking in my own good fortune when I think about the situations of so many others within my little church "community." Like any urban church, we have people in the congregation every Sunday who are homeless, or maybe just one paycheck (or welfare check or disability check) away from being homeless, who also have serious other needs, some of them medical... And I/we (because I think most of the congregation feels the same way) want to help them as best we can -- and not just with a warm welcoming place on a Sunday morning where they can come in out of the weather and worship with us, then get a bite to eat and some hot coffee afterwards before heading back out into the winter; or even with the twenty or fifty or perhaps sometimes even a few hundred dollars I can come up with out of my discretionary fund in order to help out with a pressing bill or two, or to get them in to see a medical provider for some long-overdue treatment. Something both substantial and empowering, which leaves them in control of their own life but makes a small but significant difference in their own spiritual journey from where there are now to where God wants them to be.
Is that naive? Presumptive and patronizing? It's a little different situation from those folks who just go around from church to church hitting up the soft touches like me for a hand out. The policy now in those situations is simply to give them a $20 gift card to our local supermarket (which has already been designated to exclude alcohol and tobacco), and to have just enough red tape in place to discourage abuse -- ID if they have it, plus they have to sign for the card and perhaps even be photographed for our digital database (an extra step that was still under discussion when we decided on the rest). But I'm not in the office often enough these days to know whether this policy has even been implemented yet, much less evaluate whether it is working.
But these other folks are different. For all intents and purposes, they are members of the congregation just like the rest of us: they attended services regularly, sing the hymns and listen to the sermon, participate appropriately in the candlesharing, and sometimes even contribute to the collection. And that's part of what makes our Meetinghouse Sacred Space -- that fact that ANYONE can show up and for that hour at least put all of the differences of race and class, income, educational background, what-have-you in the background, and just BE together. Sure, it's an illusion and it doesn't last. But with a little gentle practice, maybe it will find a toehold OUTSIDE the Meetinghouse as well. And if we dare dream it, it might even usher in the Kingdom of Heaven....
Oh boy, it's getting well past my bedtime. Sweet Dreams!
Monday, February 2, 2009
So how many years do I need to eat Vegan...
in order to make up for the veal? Stop smirking; this is serious. I want to be an ethical eater, and the demands of my new 'cancer diet' create all sorts of fresh opportunities for me to integrate more healthy eating practices into my daily meals. But there are limitations too. So long as I'm living where I live, for example, I'm pretty much stuck eating whatever it is that the nutritionist has decided is healthy, and the chef has decided to prepare. There are choices, of course, but I don't know that "vegan" is really among them). Kosher, maybe. Diabetic almost certainly.
If I had my own kitchen, that would change a little, although probably not a whole lot right from the start. There's a place like that available here now, for only a few hundred dollars a month more than I'm paying right now, and I would still be able to eat one meal a day in the common dining area. Of course, it adds in all of the additional complications of grocery shopping, and meal planning, and the like...but there is also a built-in dishwasher and in-unit laundry which I suspect will make a huge difference in my sense of independence and quality of life. Nice walk-in shower with a built-in shower seat...it really is beautiful. But as they also say here in Maine, "Two hundred dollahs' is two hundred dollahs..."
Speaking of meals, strange STRANGE encounter in the elevator today after supper...was waiting patiently to get on the car, the car arrived, the door opened, the woman in front of me got in, and then REFUSED to slide over in order to make enough room for me to get on too. I was flabbergasted! Wheeled my chair halfway into the car, and was basically going to refuse to let the elevator go until she made room for me to get on...then my grown-up brain took over and I just let her have her way. Like I said, flabbergasted, especially considering how courteous we typically are in the elevator on my usual side of the building. But I'm also feeling a little like the young monk at the riverbank, still upset that his old companion carried the woman across the river. Need to learn how to set it all down again and let it go. Just let it go....
If I had my own kitchen, that would change a little, although probably not a whole lot right from the start. There's a place like that available here now, for only a few hundred dollars a month more than I'm paying right now, and I would still be able to eat one meal a day in the common dining area. Of course, it adds in all of the additional complications of grocery shopping, and meal planning, and the like...but there is also a built-in dishwasher and in-unit laundry which I suspect will make a huge difference in my sense of independence and quality of life. Nice walk-in shower with a built-in shower seat...it really is beautiful. But as they also say here in Maine, "Two hundred dollahs' is two hundred dollahs..."
Speaking of meals, strange STRANGE encounter in the elevator today after supper...was waiting patiently to get on the car, the car arrived, the door opened, the woman in front of me got in, and then REFUSED to slide over in order to make enough room for me to get on too. I was flabbergasted! Wheeled my chair halfway into the car, and was basically going to refuse to let the elevator go until she made room for me to get on...then my grown-up brain took over and I just let her have her way. Like I said, flabbergasted, especially considering how courteous we typically are in the elevator on my usual side of the building. But I'm also feeling a little like the young monk at the riverbank, still upset that his old companion carried the woman across the river. Need to learn how to set it all down again and let it go. Just let it go....
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