It’s funny what a body, ok ME, will put up with to avoid going to the Emergency Room - at least THIS ER.  Alright, maybe it's not so funny.  Intriguing, at least in a “humans can be really stupid sometimes” way.

I'm prone to periodic kidney infections and ovarian cysts.   The cysts have required decades of maintenance medication and several surgeries.  For months now, I've been suspicious there is a new significant growth.  My approach has been, "if I ignore it, maybe it will go away".  Don't laugh, sometimes this works.  For two days now, I've felt that familiar pain that comes with a kidney infection. By yesterday afternoon I was on the verge of vomiting and nearly doubled over.  Still, I refused to go the ER. 

Why?  Because, there are only two hospitals in this area who take “The Poor Man’s” medical coverage – and the one I’m supposed to go is always packed!  Patients aren’t seen on a ‘first come first served' basis. Patients are treated "most urgent need first".  Which makes sense.  But in an area this size, there's always someone else who is sicker than you or more wounded.  Unless you've been stabbed in the face, severed an artery, misplaced your head, arm or leg, you aren't going to be seen expeditiously.  People who just "don't feel good" wait.  I'm talking SERIOUS WAIT.  No one gets out of there - dead or alive - in anything under 12 hours!  Been there a couple times myself (my appendix ruptured before they saw me and that was after almost 11 hours of waiting in pain) and with others and I know it’s true.  And 12 hours is considered ‘making good time’!  People get pissed, really pissed.   This is the only place in the hospital (or any other hospital I've been in) with 2 inch thick bullet proof glass at the reception area and multiple armed security guards.  No lie, no exaggeration. 

The people behind the reception glass know you're going to be there till the turn of the century.  They know you're in pain.  They know you will get even more uncomfortable and lose your patience long before you are actually seen.  They know you will want to shoot them before your ordeal is over.  AND they know they're protected by bullet proof glass. Their concern is minimal.  As soon as you're done registering, before you can ask, they say, “The bathroom is down the hall to your left, no eating allowed in the waiting area and have a seat if you can find one.”  Without looking at you directly they continue, “If your name is called and you miss it, you will be moved to the bottom of the list. Do not come back to this window, we cannot help you.  NEXT!"  So right off you know you're going to be there long enough to need a bathroom and get hungry. You also know you better not miss your name.  And you know you have no recourse if you wet your pants. So now you're sick and paranoid.  

The waiting area has a seating capacity of 50 (I counted).  It’s standing room only with glassy eyed people who are bleeding, coughing and spewing out all manner of toxicity, holding barf bags, crying or who have long since died and are staring off into space while waiting for someone to notice.  The seats, if you get one, are old, flimsy and hard – let us not waste money on comfortable seating here!  They are bolted together in sets of ten - two sets of fives back to back.  Being thus, you can feel the slightest bounce, jolt and movement of any one of the other nine people you're connected to. 

I called my primary care doctor early this afternoon. Two issues, ovary and kidney.  "So sorry, we can't see you for both conditions in the same appointment.”  “Huh?  Are you serious?”  “One is reproductive and the other is general, has to be two separate appointments."  *does anyone out there have an explanation for this stupidness?!

"What?  Two separate issues?!  Both parts are in the same body!  The whole body will be present at the time of the exam.  Why can't I have both parts checked at the same time?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just an answering service Ma'am, I can't answer that.  We have July 12th and July 24th available, would you like to schedule those two days?" 

"Are you kidding me?!  July 12th is in two weeks!  I'm in pain – NOW, TODAY!  Both parts hurt today! I'll take any physician available today." My mind was reeling with the stupidity of what I'd just heard. 

"Sorry Ma'am, our first opening is July 12th.  If you are in pain, I suggest you go to the emergency room."

 "I could DIE WAITING in the emergency room!" 

"Ah, I see you've already been to our emergency room.  In that case, may I suggest a ‘walk-in' visit here?" 

"What day, what time?" I asked flatly.  "We take walk-ins every day of the week now.  Office opens at 8:30 am.  Walk-inline begins forming around 7:45."

"Thank you, I'll take my chances with that."  Here's my catch.  I don't have a car and can't get a ride till Thursday morning.  So, I'm waiting till then.  I don't have a fever yet.  Just pain, intermittent nausea, and loss of appetite. I figure I have enough Hydrocodone to manage the pain through Thursday.  Since I have to wait anyway, I might as well do it in the comfort of my own home.  If I die while waiting there, at least I won't have wet my pants or tried to shoot someone!

Since returning from my trip, I've been trying to get back in the swing of things.  So far am just swinging every which way.  I've done a good bit of writing - would like to be doing MORE, but with my daughter out of school for the summer and us only having one computer I don't get the time I want or need.  I had an idea for a novel this morning and could go non-stop bangers on it, till my daughter gets home tomorrow, but have several other projects I want to finish as well.  Hmmm, which way to turn?  One things for certain.  I have no grace.  I don't mean the feelings kind, I'm talking physically.  It's amazing how uncoordinated I've become without even knowing it.  When I was a youngster, I was hell on wheels with my bicycle.  I had a wimpy girlie bike (wanted a dirt bike) and rode that thing in to the ground.  Dirt hill jumping, ditch jumping , rock climbing, you name it, everything a girlie bike shouldn't be doing - I was doing. I kept getting flat tires, stickers and bent frames.  Eventually my dad quit fixing it. 

While I was in Utah a neighbor fixed the bike we've had for years but never ridden, because, well, it needed repairs.  I sat on it once.  Seat hurt my hiney, it has one of those super slim seats, just a strip that goes up your crack - and it was hard. My daughter's been everywhere on it.  I haven't ridden a bike in over 28 years. 

I took it out for the first time on Wednesday.  Before getting on it I had a brief moment of foreboding. “Silly me,” I thought to myself, “I know how to ride a bike.”  (I'm sooo glad my daughter didn't see this!) Should've known I was way off my game when I nearly dumped it trying to take the first corner.  I recovered my near fall, but not gracefully.  At that point I had enough sense to realize I needed more room than the sidewalk allowed (I know you're not supposed to ride on the sidewalk, but there aren't always bike lanes here), so I took it to the road.  I was waggling down the road, staying as far right as I dared - hitting every GD bump in the road by the way - when I noticed a truck coming straight at me.  He wasn't close enough for me to be frightened or worried but I figured it would be wise to get out of the way anyway.  I coasted toward the sidewalk.  I turned into the first drive I came to, but for some reason, the bike didn’t move the direction I wanted it to go.  The bike kept right on going - BLAMO!  Right into a bush!!!  I'm not talking a light breezy brush by - I mean I plowed that sucker!!  Good thing for me I wasn't wearing shorts and good thing for me no one was home.  Not so good for me - the jolt of the impact raised me off that skinny ass little strip of a seat then slammed me back down with a forward lurch.  Guess what I landed on.  Think about it real hard. Yup, right on my pooty poo!  Oh, it hurt but this wasn't the time to allow pain, I needed to get the heck out of there before anyone saw me!  Trying to wriggle free of the bush I heard someone yelling at me, "HEY!!!  WHAT THE HELL?! YA FRIGGIN MANIAC!!" I quickly glanced around the neighborhood.  I didn’t see a single person.  Then I heard the cries again - the bush was yelling at me!  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I said as I yanked and twisted the bike, that hard skinny little seat banging against my "sits bone" with every jerk.  "WHY DON’T YOU TRY GETTING OFF THE DAMN THING YA IDIOT!"  Oh right.  That might be easier.  So I got off, stepping on branches as I did, "LOOK OUT!!!  GEEZUS LADY!! ARE YOU NUTS?  WATCH OUT!"

"I'm sorry! I'm soooooo sorry little bush!" 

"WHO YOU CALLING LITTLE? I'M AS BIG AS A BARN, HOW COULD YOU MISS ME??!!!!" 

"Huh? Big as a barn?" I don't think so, "but I really am sorry!"  By now I had myself and the bike free of its hold. I hop, hop, hopped back on, "This is my first time back on a bike in decades, I’m sorry!" 

"YA SHOULDN'T BE ON ONE NOW!"

"That's harsh." 

"HARSH?! HARSH?!!"  The bush was waving its branches at me as I pulled away, "YOU AINT HEARD HARSH YET YA FRIGGIN PSYCHO!"  Moving faster now, I could still hear it yelling, its voice diminishing with the distance, "YOU'RE A MENACE! YOU GOT NO BUSINESS ON A BIKE!!" 

"Bye!" I called back over my shoulder.  His voice finally trailing off, "YA FRIGGIN loooser! . . . . . . . . ."   

In the end the only thing damaged was my ego, my ass and my pooty poo.  But here's the problem now.  It is faster to get around on a bike, so I've braved it a few more times.  There's no forgiving the angle, position, or hardness of the seat.  It's bruising me. I've tried side cheek sitting - can't pedal that way.  I've tried standing up to pedal, can't handle it very far, my legs are too weak. So now I'm just bruised.  Bruised and callused - and thinking about taping a pillow to the seat.  My daughter just leveled deadly silent glares at me when I suggested this.  Enough said.

A while back I was babysitting the usual kids.  Libby (an over the top 3 year old) asked me for the third time if I had children.  I said, "Of course I do, remember?  I told you Sweetie, I have four kids who are grown up now."  I asked her if she wanted to see their pictures.  She did so I showed her.  She was puzzled and didn't say anything.  "Don't you believe me?  Don't you believe these are my kids?"  She finally said, "If your kids are grown up then you're not their Mom anymore."    

"I'm not?" Now I was puzzled.  "What am I then??"

 "You're their Big Sister".

Ah, Libby.  Close, but not quite.  No Sweetie, as you will find out for yourself one day, the MOM will always be the MOM, but the relationship changes.  Mothers, and their daughters - after they grow up - can become kind of like sisters and they become peers.  And it's a beautiful, wonderful thing. At least that's been my experience.  Both my grown daughters have become new mothers since I saw them last.  I found it interesting and pleasant how many times our conversations came back to the old stories, stories they'd heard a hundred times.   "What was your labor like with me?" "What was I like as a baby?"  "What was it like for you when we were little?"  "Who was there to help you?"  I told them again, and they listened again.  But this time they heard with new ears and new hearts. The words were no longer filtered only through ideas.  This time they had personal experience – which changes everything. Their own experiences of pregnancy, labor, delivery, caring for a tiny helpless infant while trying to recuperate themselves, and then feeling the weight of the magnitude of their work to come is humbling. They saw me now, not in a distant way.  They saw me up close as a flesh and blood woman, who sacrificed her own comfort, sleep, and sanity, endured pain and feelings of inadequacy and soooo much more for them.   They have a greater understanding of what I went through as a single mother raising four children alone – all that weight, all that responsibility and no one to share the load – or even the guilt.  And there were tears.  Tears of deeper understanding and enlightened appreciation.  There was gratitude that I’d hung in there with them and loved them no matter what they did.  They also expressed gratitude I hadn’t killed them as teenagers – they were concerned there might have been a moment or two when the thought crossed my mind.  There was even deeper gratitude on my part for their forgiveness of my faults, mistakes and shortcomings. There was quiet wonder, awe and humility as together the three of us watched their beautiful baby daughters sleeping and playing. 

As a peer, I know where my daughters are, what it feels like.  As their Mother, I know the stages and phases that lie ahead.  I KNOW their journey with these new babies will have moments (sometimes hour after hour) of exhaustion, confusion, frustration, and heartache. But mostly they will know joy, a joy that comes in no other way. I see the promise for one heck of an adventure in the eyes of my granddaughters.  I call it DNA – and it makes me smile. 

To be a Mother is an overwhelming responsibility.  They feel this now more than they could ever have imagined.  And so far, they’re both meeting their responsibilities with sensibility, tenderness, strength of heart, HUMOR (thank God!), organization, and gentle grace. 

On the way to the train station Veda asked me, “Ok, Mom, any last minute advice?  ANYTHING you can think of we need to know and do?” My brain scrambled for bits of wisdom to comfort them with.  I compared everything I knew to what I'd seen them doing over the last two weeks. I came up with nothing they didn't already know.  How amazing is THAT?!  The only thing I could come up with was, "Don't ever be too busy to look at your daughter, to see her, to love and appreciate her.  You will be so busy trying to meet her physical needs and those of your household that it becomes easy to overlook her soul.  Don't do it.  Look at HER every day."    "Mom - we already do that."  And it's true, they do!  What else could I say?  "Anything beyond what's most important, will be situational.  What's best for teething, for diaper rash, discipline and teaching, experts change their minds about all that from month to month anyway so my ideas may be outdated.  You can still ask though, cuz I just may know some stuff."  I think they were kind of disappointed I didn’t break out the secret code that will make everything good and right and perfect.  I didn’t because there isn’t one.  When it comes to mothering, you just have to hold on tight, do the best you can, be very brave because sometimes you have to make hard decisions and do gross things, then love, love, love like crazy!  I did remind them to be good to themselves - and to each other!  “You need each other," I said.  They already knew this too.

In case my journal posts are new to you, I've been gone for the last two weeks.  I’ve been out of state helping my daughter with a brand new preemie baby and visiting my other children and their babies.  I returned two days ago. Each time I take a trip, if I'm not the one driving, I keep a "traveling letter", basically a running narrative of what I see, think and feel along the way.  This trip was no different.  As a matter of fact, this trip was so long (22 and a half hours going, 20 on the return) I actually got sick of writing - if you knew me well, you'd know that was a first!  Before I retired my notebook I managed to record 8 pages of thoughts. Don't worry, this is the trimmed down version.

First of all – June 3rd, 2011, the day I left - Special THANKS to the snack bar attendant at the train station who informed me, today June 3, was "National Doughnut Day".  Further, any and all doughnuts consumed on this day are calorie and carb free!  "I Didn't know that, I'll take two please."  And we were both happy! Very pleasant way to begin a long journey.  Of course, I texted this news to all my Homies so they could partake and celebrate in their own ways as well.  As a general rule I share whatever joy comes my way.  Special THANKS also goes to the sweet Asian lady who recognized "FIRST TIME TRAIN TRAVELER" stamped in my facial expression and helped me find the right platform, the right car and then explained all I needed to know about storing luggage, the ticket process and bathrooms.  Blessed Lady!

So, to the trip - the first word that came to mind as we started out and intensified as we rumbled on, was "INTIMACY".  Not physical intimacy between passengers but an intimacy with the landscape not experienced when traveling by air or freeway.  This was a "back yard" kind of intimacy.  When you're traveling on the road, you see the fronts of homes, apartment complexes and businesses. Because this is their face, what you see is kept clean and well groomed, you know, best foot forward, often times a mask.  What you see from the train is mostly behind the scenes, back yards - America with masks removed. Back yards are where things get tossed, discarded and piled.  Clothes lines, dog houses, swimming pools, gardens, dumpsters, old sheds, broken down cars, boats and motorcyles - garbage and graffiti.  I suspect these behind the scenes spaces reveal more about the people living there and the lives they really lead than anything you'll see from the front.  A small percentage of back yards were well groomed, neat and tidy.  But the vast majority seemed to reflect an emotional fatigue, disregard and in some cases a sense of despair.  I was saddened by the amount of trash trapped and heaped against the fences that separated the tracks from the townships. I was also surprised and saddened by the high number - there were so many - of make shift shelters constructed within sight of the railways by homeless persons. I admit, in my presumptive ignorance, I thought circumstances like these blew away with the Great Depression. I've seen homeless people on the street but I've never where they retire to at night. Bits of bright blue tarp, rope, broken umbrellas, discarded furniture, wilted cardboard boxes, rickety old crates of every make and size trundled together to create some sort of shelter or dwelling.  I ached at the site of them.  So many questions raced through my mind - who are these people? What had their lives been like?  Why is there a problem like this in our country?  Many of these images, two scenes in particular will stick with me forever I think.  A group of four people, what my youngest child might call "Hobos", gathered in the dark around a popping campfire.  Three make shift shelters rested on the outer edge of firelight.  Their ‘shelters' were formed from misplaced odds and ends but their area was tidy.  There was a welcome mat at the door of one.  Their clothes were visibly filthy, hair unwashed but they smiled and waved a friendly greeting.  What was the real condition of their spirits?  What was their story?  The next scene I won't easily forget, a person living on a remote spot of beach far inland on the San Fransisco Bay.  His tent was constructed of blue tarp and cardboard boxes. A dirty, tattered American flag proudly displayed from a bent pole, in spite of it's condition, just to the right of the tent.  A fishing pole, held together by tape was firmly planted next to the flag with a line running into the bay.  A ragged T-shirt and shorts spread neatly on the rocks above hoping for the sun to appear and dry them. What was this man's story?

Other images will remain with me as well.  The beauty of lakes, tree lined ponds dotted with graceful ducks, swans and geese.  Full thriving orchards, fields overrun with wild flowers, herons tall thin and white standing in small water inlets, massive awe inspiring bridges - testament to the human capacity for creativity and hard work.  Vast expanses of sage with blue mountain ranges mighty in the distance, clear mountain streams, fast running rivers far below in a gorge, a family of Canadian geese waiting to cross the rails, valleys viewed from high above, a father holding up his young son in his arms to wave to the passing train, a man grimy from work sitting on a back dock of a worn out warehouse, using a pocket knife to clean his fingernails - he waved, a barely noticeable gesture as we passed.  For all of these experiences and memories, it was worth it.  Every American should see our country by rail at least once in their life. 

On the train, for the most part, the environment is peaceful, serene and stress free – unless of course, you have the misfortune of being exposed to an obnoxious passenger.  Or until you get bored.  There’s not much doing on a train, so once you hit BORED, there’s no place else to go but nuts!  If you’re wondering, trains have by far more leg room than airplanes or busses.  The leg rests rise almost level to the seat and seats recline.  It’s a lot easier to get comfortable.  Also important to note – trains have more bathrooms, four to six per car! There are even fresh water spouts on each level to fill water bottles from.  It's nice to be able to get up and walk around, and the observation lounge is especially nice.  They even have outlets to plug small electronic devices into - phone chargers, IPADS, laptops etc.  At night it's a bit like riding in a moving dormitory, most people want to sleep, a few want to whisper or read but it's pretty much lights out and dark.

A word or two concerning train travel - if you're going to travel by train, EXPECT DELAYS and plan accordingly.  One frequent train traveler told me after a brief 'vent' about our delays, “Trains are perfect if you don’t need to get anywhere.”  It never occurred to me before but, what happens when you have two trains on one rail and the one in front breaks down?  You sit and wait for the train rescue crew to clear the tracks, that's what you do. There's no "reverse" on a train, and there's no 'passing lane' or 'slow vehicles keep right' options.  Multiple trains - freight and passenger alike - share the same tracks, cross overs and switch offs.   The Train Captains keep careful tabs on who else is running on their track, who will reach the cross over first and who will have the right of way.  There are frequent stops and delays while one train waits for another.  The trip going we experienced at least two and a half hours of delays - missing a connection and having to reroute once.  The return trip was delayed less than half an hour.

Things that are helpful to know:

There are no assigned seats, only assigned cars. "Conductors" have charge of one, or multiple cars, keeping track of those passenger's destinations.  They check your destination when they check your ticket and place a sticky note above you indicating where you need to get off.  This is so they can wake you up and you don't miss your stop.

If you're traveling for an extended period of time, bring a pillow and a blanket – I learned ear plugs could be very helpful when needing to tune people out – would have given ANYTHING to have a pair on the return trip.  That's a whoooole other post-coming soon!).  Also bring things to occupy yourself, cards, books, video games, projects etc.

Traveling WITH someone is good, IF you ENJOY their company a whole, whole lot.  I would have enjoyed having my Sweetheart along immensely. 

It costs to “check” baggage.  You're allowed two carry-ons.  These are stored on secluded luggage racks that everyone has access to - padlock and mark them!  Remember where you leave yours, all the luggage racks and cars look the same and since you are able to move around and probably will, it’s possible to forget where you leave your bags.

Meals are included in ticket cost ONLY when you purchase a sleeper cabin.  Passengers with sleep cabins are served first in the dining car.  Seating is also limited in the dining car.  Passengers traveling coach may not get a chance to eat a meal in the dining car. Coach passengers have full access to the snack bar.  The difference between dining car and snack bar is like the difference between a 7 Eleven and a sit down and order real food restaurant.  Bring your own food and beverages.  Hot water and ice are free.  Food purchased at the snack bar is very expensive.

Talking on cell phones is highly annoying to other passengers - especially at night.  Text instead - with the volume off.

The lounge/observation car has BIG windows nearly top to bottom and edge to edge, therefore feeling more open and getting more sunlight.

Be ready for an adventure – because it is!