PAUL PLAYS FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE - REVISITED

Paul - A Real 'Angel of Mercy'

There is nothing like 'illness' to bring to the fore who your real 'mates' are...

Nothing prepared me for all of the acts of kindness that Paul would show me during my recent surgery and after.

Where do I begin?  For starters, Paul made sure that I arrived at hospital on time on the day of surgery.  He acted as my ears and helped navigate the filling out of forms and passing on information.  Being used to my deafness, he knew just how to get the information to me.  Paul sat with the old geezer before the surgery and came back to collect me when it was time to go home.

When the blood flow from the operation filled the protective cup covering the ear, he changed the dressings multiple times, rang the doctor, fetched more dressings and kept me calm.  He covered the bed so that the blood would not ruin the linen and set up water and pills and other needs to help me get comfy.  Not wanting to leave me unattended, Paul made up the couch in the living room so that he could check on me through the first night and was quick with a wash cloth to clean me up when the blood leaked out and covered me face and neck.  Made sure I took the pills to fight infection.

Paul prepared light food to eat, even though I could not taste it.  More on that later.

Day after surgery, when his vehicle would not start, rang up a taxi to ensure that appointment was kept with doctor to do follow up, and got us back home.

Paul ,is no spring chicken, and has his own problems with a bum leg, so to put himself out for this old geezer was touching to say the least.  I have not known Paul for ages, and being room-mates does not mean he signed on to play Florence Nightingale.  He could not have been more of a comfort and it was all very touching.

This old geezer has had a much easier time of it due to Paul and his care.  Who would have thought?

Just when you thought you knew who care about you the most, something wondrous comes along and makes you realize that you are much cared for in a quarter least expected.  Along with Paul, there has been the dry wit of Alan, along with his prayers, The Big Kahuna with his wicked sense of humour,

This old geezer can be a bit much for some to take, and for Paul to take the time to 'sign' (or some form of), talk loudly and do all of the small acts of kindness, has not gone unnoticed.  I do not know where to begin in my effort to thank.

Since I first wrote about Paul, there have been a few other entries on the blog about Paul.  Some were not kind, due to his drinking.  Sadly, I received word today that Paul lost his battle with the bottle.

Paul was the worst kind of alcoholic.  He drank in bars to have people he hardly knew join him in having fun.  Paul was very generous in bars.  He drank heavy and made sure that all in the bar drank heavy as well.  They did, on his dime.  Barkeeps made a small fortune keeping the alcohol flowing.

Paul would buy the barkeep everytime he needed his glass filled, and pass over a generous tip.

I knew Paul for 4 years.  During the four years, I got to hear all of Paul's stories.  You know the kind of stories, where I lived, what I did for a living, who my folks were, how much money I spent and the people I loved.

Paul knew at early age that he was homosexual.  Paul also knew that being homosexual in rural Nevada was not going to go over well.  Paul learned very early on to hide his true sexual self.  He did that all of his life and only came to realize how heavy a price he paid too late in life.

Like most closeted homosexuals, Paul was convinced that no one knew.  When he tried to beat back the alcoholism later in life, he joined AA and starting to talk about some of the reasons he drank.  He told one meeting that he was homosexual and was shocked when members told they already knew that.  Seems Paul was not very butch when he drank...

Paul got lucky twice in life.  Came into family fortunes twice.  All of that money allowed Paul to visit the casinos in high style.  Paul was a BIG SPENDER.  Follows that the casinos were more than willing to pander to him to get his cash.  They did twice.

I got the feeling from talking with Paul that he resented losing all of his money, never got over it.  Mind, his alcoholism did not seem to be to blame.

Paul started to lose control of his drinking some time in 2013 and it got much worse in 2014.  Multiple trips to hospital revealed that if he dd not stop, life would end.  Paul would stop for a few weeks and then return to the bottle or more a day habit.

I had a ring side seat to just how bad alcoholics get.  Not bathing, not eating.  Complete lose of self esteem.  The filth.

One Christmas I went to visit and try and cheer up Paul.  Paul had been drinking all day and was in the crying stage of the bender.  Paul told me that he envied me.  ME.  I asked why.  Paul told me that he admired the fact that I had lived an open life.  I had lived for me and not others.  One of the great sadnesses of his life was hiding his true nature and never allowing love to happen.

Truth be told, I have made my share of mistakes.  Things could have been different but as a whole, I am pretty happy with life.  It was very sad to hear Paul tell of his unhappiness with life.

Paul drove most of his friends off.  The drinking and his filthy living conditions did not encourage people to visit.

I stayed close to Paul for a long time.  Actually was happy to have place thousands of miles between us, as I could not face seeing him doing terrible things to self.  There were telephone calls.  Telephone calls that Paul made drunk and went nowhere.  Paul just made me sad.

Paul died on July 30, 2015, weeks shy of 73rd birthday.

I will alway remember Paul taking care of me when my ears went bad.  Paul was very kind.

That is the Paul I will remember.  I hope Paul has found the peace he was so desperate to have.

PRESIDENT REAGAN 'TOUCHED' ME

Ronald Reagan

I want to always remember a President of the United States that I both admired and respected greatly.

During the time that Ronald Reagan was President of the United States there were many who thought him a simple man who was 'out to lunch' most of the time. Folks called him thick as a brick and out of touch with what was important in this country. The names called were not just reserved for him but spilled out onto his wife, Nancy. To many, President Reagan was an object of ridicule. Ronald Reagan was 'President of the United States' but many wanted to believe that he was not 'President of ALL of America'. That Ronald Reagan was just interested in that part of America he saw.

Long before Ronald Reagan died MOI would tell folks that when the time came for him to leave us, there would be a massive outpouring of love for him. MOI was right.

It is possible that MOI has been far more fortunate than most. In life I have had the opportunity to make contact with folks I reached out to. Ronald Reagan was one of these.

My long time companion died of AIDS. In 2014, it is hard to remember just how horrid it was to be known as a victim of AIDS. When John and MOI were told that John was going to die of AIDS, we did not hide that fact. John asked what we should do. MOI told him that we had an obligation to be open and honest, not to hide his illness. We told one and all.  It was important to know who one's true friends were.

Ronald Reagan was one of the folks we shared with. Moi wrote to President Reagan.  Can just see heads shaking and tongues clucking at the cheek of the old geezer.  Who writes to the President?  More important, who gets a reply? A personal touch?

Truth be told, the old geezer had met Ronald Reagan on several occasions.  True, they were fund raisers and there were loads of other folks in the room as well.  The old geezer was not a close personal friend to Mr. Reagan, but close enough to be on a list somewhere as one who he had met and had got support from.

In short order, a lovely letter came back from. The President was at his home in California and the letter was written from there. What touched my most was that he wrote that both he and Nancy was sad to hear that John was sick and going to die. That John was in their prayers and they sent their best wishes . Ronald Reagan took the time to remember.  Took the time to write a personal letter, one that John was over the moon to have received.

During the course of John's illness there were two more letters received.  One day a large envelope arrived from 'The White House'.  Inside was a beautiful photograph of the President and Mrs. Reagan, taken at Camp David.  The President and Mrs. Reagan wrote some lovely comments on the photograph and both signed.

Many in America want to believe that at a time when President Reagan could have done much for AIDS, he did nothing. That is not true. President Reagan did what he thought was right. He made sure that folks with AIDS received Social Security. He did many things that many will never remember. I will always remember that efforts to write to and draw attention to AIDS were always well received at the Reagan White House. At a time in my life, when I was very down, President Ronald Reagan and his wife reached out to and made me realize that not only John and myself mattered but were a part of the American family.

I rather think that President Reagan saw the best of America and never lost sight of that.

Many years later, AIDS is still here, folks are still getting infected and many will die. There will always be some who believe that no one cares.  That America let them down.  I am not one of those people.

Life is a very personal experience.  My feelings for President Reagan are not political, they are deeply personal.  Thoughts in recent days of John made me remember what was felt of Ronald Reagan and how kind he and his wife had been to us.

'We mourn the dead but few mourn the living dead,'

'I am all alone and don’t seek human help. I still don’t know why I was born, I have this impression that I was just a prop, moved from place to place, whenever it was needed,' she said. 'Living alone, abandoned by the humans and judged often as an old nitwit, I have experienced moments of miracles and ingenuity.'

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2726565/Old-age-curse-I-feel-like-half-dried-rug-purpose-rung-Heartbreaking-words-woman-outlived-loved-ones-lost-zest-life-dying-kitchen-floor.html#ixzz3AaGaO5jo
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ANGEL OF DEATH WILL COME SOON ENOUGH

In Roman Catholicism, the archangel Michael is viewed as the good Angel of Death (as opposed to Samael, the evil Angel of Death), carrying the souls of the deceased to Heaven. There, he balances them in his scales (one of his symbols). He is said to give the dying souls the chance to redeem themselves before passing as well. In Mexico, a popular folk-Catholic belief regards the Angel of Death as a saint, known as Santa Muerte, but this local cultus is not acknowledged by the Church.


This old geezer went to hospital some years back to have major surgery.  Having bad bones, it was time to have hip replaced as well as part of one leg bone.  Nasty business.  I arrived at hospital day of surgery(that is how they do it, you walk in, they carry you out), was made ready and was taken to the operation theatre.

I am a Roman Catholic and had made plans to have a priest come and give Sacrament of the Sick before going under the knife.  The good father was late and the doctors were quite keen to get started.  I made them wait until I had seen me priest.  That done, I made sure that all was ready, as any operation is serious business.

I had placed a NO CODE on medical chart, in case something was to go wrong.  I did not want any heroics done to save me life.  I was ready to go.

After surgery, I was taken to a ward to watch as I was in very much pain.  The staff at hospital gave me a large dose of morphine.  Being one who does not take drugs, I re-acted badly to the large dose.  I am told that it was very clear that I was going to die.  The hospital got my mate who had my 'power of attorney' on line and told that I was too young to die, and they knew how to correct what was happening.  My mate allowed them to save my life.  I found out all of this later in hospital room when all came to tell what had happened.  I was pissed, to tell true.  I was ready to go.  Not believing in suicide, I had to continue living.

The Angel of Death did not collect me, he just smiled and reminded me that he could return at any time.  I saw him as a friend and made self promise that the time given would be put to good use.  That is when I started being more of a community activist.  I already was, just went to the max with it and made it me life's work.

You may well be asking what all of the above has to do with the here and now.  If you allow me to proceed in me wordy fashion, I will tell...

There is a lovely chap living who is coming to the end of his days.  The battle with cancer has been a long and hard fought one.  He has out-lived the time the doctors had told he had left by many months.  He has got his affairs in order.  He has done all of things possible to make his passing comfortable, not just for himself, but all round.

In all of the time I have known this lovely chap, his world has been the one viewed from the hospital bed in the living room of the flat.  He can see a bit of sky from bed, and with the front door open can hear the signs of life round him.  He has a massive telly to watch, and this past Christmas treated self to one of the fancy games to play with.  The sort that allows one to bowl and other things.  This old geezer even was got to play.  You could hear the pure joy in his voice at all of the folks having fun at his bedside.

My dears, do you have any idea how hard it is to be confined to a hospital bed month after month?  To have others do all things for you?

Were I the lovely chap, I do not think I could handle it so well.  I would pull an Oscar Wilde and quote; "Either the wallpaper goes or I do."

Sadly, some of the folks who pay a visit to the lovely man are not very nice.  They come and fill the air with tales of the woes in their lives.  I can not pay rent.  I have no cash.  I have no food.  I am being forced to move.  Woe is me.  They turn the living room of the poor chat into the Wailing Wall.  Bit hard to get round in there what with all of the folks hanging from crosses.

I told folks that it was horrid that they carry on like this.  Here is a man soon to die and he does it with grace and dignity.  How dare they burden him with the petty concerns they have.  Show a little class in visiting.

This old geezer worked as a volunteer in the beginning of the AIDS plague.  Did hospice for many.  Saw that death is not greeted by all in the same manner.  Some are angry.  Some fight and curse.  A few are afraid of what awaits them.

Then there are the folks who face death with a smile.  They would rather go on living but it is time.  They have nothing to fear and they have made sure that all is made ready for the visit from the Angel of Death.  Many is the time I sat holding hands as Death came and saw the wondrous smile on faces of  the newly departed.

I do not know what come after death.  I do know that having seen many die, it must not be a horrid place.  There are too many smiles.  Like the lovely chap down the road from me, I will greet the Angel of Death as a friend, I will not fight but go quietly to what happens next.

KILL THE TASTE OF FAT AND SUGAR

The poor chap featured in the snap is a very large 750 pounds.  The doctors tell him that he will die, just like his father and sister, if he does not take off the pounds.

I gather the chap is taking part in a telly programme that features folks who weigh more than 600 pounds.  He wants to lose some weight so that he can have the surgery to staple or cut his stomach.

This old geezer never weighed so much.  429 pounds was the largest and it was horrid.  I took off a great deal of the weight with diet.  Was still rather large when I had an operation on my ears.  During the operation, the doctor cut the nerve that controls taste.  I will never be able to taste food again.

The real plus of not being able to taste is that I no longer crave sugar or fat.  I was just over 270 when I lost the ability to taste and now am at a very comfortable 170.  I have no problem with food.

As drastic as it may sound, if I were the chap with the weight problem, I would run to the doctor and tell them to cut the nerves that control taste.  Unless this poor chap really reforms, he has a long history of over eating and has comes from a family of over eaters that have died.  The odds are not in his favour.

I wish him luck.

SAD NEWS

Andy Whitfield - Dead at 39 years

Was a shock to read in the Daily Mail that Andy Whitfield had lost his battle with Cancer.  He was but 39, and was of the opinion he was winning the battle.

The Big Kahuna once asked me if I like 'gladiator' films and I was quick to reply; "I do indeed."

Andy was Star of the telly series "Spartacus" and I, along with millions of other fans, watched it with delight.  Pure rubbish telly, but what a feast for the eye it was to see Andy do battle in every episode.

It will be the only thing to remember of the series.  Mind, there were costumes and a story line that held one glued to telly.  But it was Andy Whitfield's acting that made it very believable.

Whatever comes off in the continuation of the series will never quite take the place of his being gone.

He leaves behind a family in OZ and I do so hope that they do well in the future.  He will be missed.

A GENTLE MAN LEAVES US

There will be many who will remember the story told of this old geezer playing Easter Bunny last year.

One of the most memorable moments of me life was to see the undiluted pleasure on Larry's face as he greeted the Easter Bunny.

Larry had been confined to a bed for over a year, his condition was terminal and he was playing out his days with grace and dignity.

There are other moments remembered and each and everyone of them that had to do with Larry Greathouse were all brilliant.

Larry was in great pain, but he never complained.  He tried to buck up the spirits of his wife and all who entered his small world.

It was a privilege to know Larry Greathouse and to know that many this old geezer called a brilliant friend felt the same.  Sheriff Steve Durfor came round to meet as did Supervisor Andy Vasquez.  Both left gifts for and seemed touched by his 'grace and dignity'.  I remember Larry's pleasure at receiving the special pin from the sheriff and the Christmas Tree from Andy.

I also remember Larry smoking 'medical cannibis' with pleasure.  One of the few the old geezer thought it was so right to do.  It helped with the massive pain and loss of appetite.

Larry Greathouse was my friend and I shall miss him much.  I do not grieve for, as the old geezer passionately believes Larry suffers no more. He has gone to his spot in the tall grass, to sleep and sleep and sleep.

What follows is the post done when this old geezer went to visit Larry;

EASTER BUNNY HOPS FOR LARRY
Avid readers of this blog are 'au fait' with Larry.  He be the the brilliant chap who lives in a flat with his lovely wife, Victoria.

Larry is on "Hospice" and can not get out and about as he might like to.  That does not stop him from being keenly interested in the goings on that happen at the Linda Villa.  What would have Easter been like if the Easter Bunny failed to hop over to visit?

Barbara had gone out and got special treats for the basket and it was hoped that Victoria would not 'spill the beans' and spoil the surprise visit planned.  She did not.

Easter Bunny helpers knocked on flat door and told Larry that a special visitor was coming and asked if he was well enough to receive company.

When the door to flat opened and the Easter Bunny entered, Larry exploded with laughter.  So loud was his laughter, it was heard at the office.   With a smile as big as Texas, Larry grabbed his belly and just shook with merriment.  For a moment, the Easter Bunny thought that Larry would roll off his bed.

Larry is one to not be greedy and assumed he was to take but one item from the offered basket.  HA, little did he know that it was ALL for him.  Gobsmacked he was...

"This is the best Easter of my life, and I had to wait until I was 60 to get it", told Larry to the Easter Bunny.

My dears, humble it makes the Easter Bunny to know that Larry continues to LIVE each and every day to the fullest.  Truth be told, the Easter Bunny will long remember Larry and his Laugh.  MOI should be so lucky to live so well.

SLEEP WELL MY FRIEND...