Oregon Coast- (Astoria to Tillamook) & Random Thoughts

This is the grand finale of our holiday on the West Coast. Literally on the coast... It's been about seven or eight years since I was out there so this was quite a special treat for both of us. Time flies, it's remarkable. To think that I'd been gone for five years and returned. Things feel different and the same.

Just yesterday at work, two of my old coworkers from Kaiser (who are married) showed up in the window at Costco, neither of us knowing the other was there. What a surprise! What a reunion! We hugged for minutes. Old friends. Enveloped by love. What energy and goodness it was.

I received an email asking if I'd like to do another Germany military adventure. I knew in my gut I didn't want to, but asked Justin if he did. He said no. No surprise there- he's more of a homebody. I'm also tired of moving and if we could just stay here until I die that would be fine with me. I'm even fine just taking trips to the woods to go hiking and to the lakes for some paddling... I couldn't imagine a better life. Sometimes living quietly is an adventure in itself.

Last weekend we came upon the wreck of John Iredale, an occasion from 1906. What a glorious, majestic wreck it was- metal rising from the sand in a misty haze of fog. I kept taking photos, entranced by its beauty and the idea of a shipwreck. We are all shipwrecked here. Until we are not. The idea is to enjoy the time we are shipwrecked. Stuck on this earth without any particular reason why.

Often I've wondered if I picked the wrong career. Lately I've felt it is as good as any. Knowing that I'm able to help some people every day. To give of myself a bit. To learn from my patients. To accept love from them also. More often I am giving but not always. And I'd say overall it's a positive thing in my life.

So these are small worries. And I am thankful.

Every day I think about my cousin's daughter, Kayleen. Every day I hope there is a miracle. Every day I can't figure out why there is so much cancer in this world. I wish I could take that away from her and make her into a normal third grader again. I don't know what it is like to lose your child at 9. I don't think anyone should know.

Forever, I've thought of age 34 as a marker. 34- when my dad died. Carrie is 34. I passed it. Molly is on her way. Now 34 seems so much older, so much luckier. Such a longer life. I mean, my dad got to have daughters and a wife and college graduation.

There is so much to be thankful for in this short, sweet life.

Quinault Rain Forest, Olympic National Park, Washington State

"But trust in life does not mean trusting that life will be free of grief and pain. It means trusting that somewhere inside yourself you can find the strength to go forth and meet what comes and, even if you meet betrayal and disappointment along the way, go forth again the very next day."

What we've seen the last two magical days: 

Night thoughts

Pounding bass. I'm falling asleep. This is something I didn't imagine when I was younger- napping at a rock concert. But then somewhere along the line, I slid into my late thirties and here I am wishing for a blanket to crawl under. But who am I kidding? I was the person to fall asleep and get kicked out of the bar in optometry school, too tired those late nights out and never able to handle my liquor.

The last few days skittered along, a series of events reminding me what life is about. It's constantly on my mind, the randomness of life. Everything reminds me of it.

My cousin's nine year old daughter Kayleen was sent home from the hospital. To die. The treatments have failed. I don't understand how this can be. I keep imagining her playing in the yard. Riding her bike. Her parents watching out the window. Wondering how they can even breathe knowing she is dying. It makes no sense. Tears drip out of my eyes when I try to imagine. I can't.

Kayleen

The day after Kayleen was sent home, my cousin's wife Amy got another clean MRI after having a brain tumor removed. She had something like a ten percent chance of survival when diagnosed at 33. She's now 37. Same age as me.

Amy & Chris

Who decides who makes it or not? It seems so random. There is no answer.

Then the most happy news: my sister Molly had her third daughter, Hazel Rose, yesterday. Named after grandma Hazel and Molly Rose. She was perfect and came the day before Molly was to be induced. Three girls. Just like us. Three sisters. I'm so thankful for mine. Joy at a safe delivery. Happiness and excitement.

And so the world keeps spinning. Life goes on. It doesn't really make sense. None of it. But I guess we are here to give it our best shot and be as loving as we can. I take it for granted. But I know how precious and short and unpredictable this life is.

Hazel Rose!

Sunlight sneaking through the clouds

[Oatie, the incredibly spoiled, overly doted-on chihuahua, in the Gorge]

The rain had been avoiding Portland, but our fake-summer is over and the water from the sky is back upon us. I don't mind. It's near sixty most days and the rain drips from the sky without wind. Sometimes the sun even shines through, which is a surreal effect.

We spent today on all things bikes. First to a bike swap, which we'd hoped to find a used bike for Justin, but instead was mostly high-end new bikes, way beyond our feeble budget. We're looking in the $500 or less range. The situation on used bikes here is a bit high-end anymore, as there are so many cyclists. I've discovered that bike shipping is reasonable, and I'm going to send 1-2 of my bikes from Iowa to here for about $80 each. When I first came out I wasn't sure what I was doing, so I left most of my stuff in Iowa. Now there are a lot of things hiding in my mom's basement that I'd like to have.

I recently finished a book about the history of the bike lanes and how Portland came to be USA's cycling city (called Joy Ride). It stated that 28% of Portlanders bike commute at least one day a week and that 14% of traffic here was by bicycle. So apparently we're not the only ones interested in the foot-pedaled mode of transport. But there's safety in numbers, and in the years since I've been gone, there's been a noticeable increase in bike lanes, bike friendliness, and courtesy of cars towards bikes. More often than not when we are at an intersection, cars will stop or wave for us to go. I still remember being yelled and honked at in the past and nearly run down by a Trimet bus. We've experienced none of that since returning this time.

We've been having the best time being together out here- the first time in our relationship when we were together and working and having fun and having a normal life. All the time before, things were pieced together in a semi-long-distance relationship. Removing ourselves from family and living a more normal existence has been so relaxing. Sometimes you don't realise the stress that is carried by being surrounded by family (or sort of trapped on a small island). We both love music and arts and nature and people. Spending time at coffee shops, wandering around town, heading out into the trees, sharing time with Carrie & Oatie... it's all been better than I ever imagined.

When I packed up and headed 3000 miles across the country, I had no idea what was in store next. I only knew that I had to do it. I cried for the first 1500 miles, until I got to Iowa. After I got here, there were long nights of emotional conversations. It was not an easy road. But I think it was the right one.

We're doing good. We sleep like babies together. Everyday we wander around town, and spend time on the couch. There's not a day that goes by that I regret what I did, and I'm happy every day to have Justin here. I'm thankful for this time also with Carrie, the two of us getting to spend time with her. Knowing that Carrie and Justin were out at the farmer's market and trying on vintage cowboy boots while I was at work on Saturday seriously warmed my heart (even if I was a little jealous). I told Justin I was glad that he was hanging out with her, that it made me happy and thanked him. He said they have a good time together, that it was no big deal. It was fun for both of them. That made me so happy.

I have nothing but thankfulness in my heart for life right now.

“Every morning we are born again.
What we do today is what matters most.”
Buddha.

Enjoy your gift of now. It's all we have. - JD

Making less, living more?

It's not without emotion. I mean, I have a pretty good amount of freedom. But you trade one thing off for another. More money is more freedom in one way- more time is more freedom in another. Somedays it's a little scary to earn way less. But then you weigh the pros and cons. A day in the sun on bikes/ hiking in the trees/ visiting with friends vs more money/ more prestige/ more supposed security. It is a little tricky to wrap your mind around.

I'm still in a career where I'm sequestered to a black windowless room for most of the daylight hours to earn my money. It's hard to commit to any more days than I'm doing- I feel trapped in there and exhausted with patients' burdens most days. Recently I was out to lunch with one of my friends who is a social worker and she said, "Look up Secondary Trauma and Mindfulness Training." I haven't done this but maybe I should. Maybe I should look up "Caregiver Syndrome". I remember one of my friends saying she would ask herself, "Do you like to be the martyr?" I sometimes wonder too.

Years of taking on family burdens and then adding patient care means that I spend too much time trying to do things for other people to make their lives nicer. It is often without equal reciprocity and I end up feeling drained. This is a good part of the reason why I don't want to add more days in the clinic. Patient care is a one-way energy drain for the most part. I find it overwhelming.

At home today I tried to switch the places of the trash and the recycling because I keep hitting my head on the low cabinet over the recycling. You would think after five to seven times of hitting my head on the cabinet I could learn that it is there and stop hitting my head. But apparently I am proprioceptally challenged and cannot learn this. So I tried to switch the locations of the bins but this was overruled. So I am left with either never touching the recycling or probably hitting my head again. I don't know what else I can do.

Sometimes it is the small things like repeatedly hitting your head that sort of makes you hit the wall and think what the hell is this life about? Here I sit and try so hard, for what? And of course it is all meaningless. And you never know when the shit is going to hit the fan so why even try?

But the next morning comes and maybe you forget. So you make your coffee and head to work and do it all again. Until the day you hit your head again and think it is a stupid life.