Family Updates

 

Me and my little brother John 1947

As some of my regular blog followers may have noticed, I haven't posted in a while. 

I just recently posted the notice of the passing of my youngest brother (77) who has been battling a series of medical issues for the past three years. Sadly that battle ended yesterday with his passing.

I had plans to go to his funeral in his hometown of Greenville, South Carolina. 

I actually had two plans. One was to place Bill in the local hospice respite center for three or four days while I traveled to Greenville for a few days to attend my brother's services. The other was for Pat (my friend in Canada) to come down and stay with Bill and perform minimal care for him while I am gone.

Bill had initially agreed to either one of these plans but last week, when my brother's death was imminent, Bill backed out. He didn't want me to leave. No way, no how. He wouldn't go to the hospice respite center (hotel like accommodations available to me every six months for my respite which I have yet to take advantage of). Or Pat's generous offer to make the trip from Canada to take care of Bill. No way, no how. That's Bill. 

I don't know that I can blame Bill entirely for being selfish. He is used to getting things his way. He throws a big enough tantrum he usually gets his way. Sometimes. Not today when he was looking for a rope to hold up his pants. I instead that he wear a belt. Bill's cognitive issues are getting worse but I won't get into that now. Other than to say he's driving me crazy at night. He's either too hot or too cold. Even now that's he's off of blood thinners, he still complains about the temperature. Lately it's not even making sense so I guess it's a further decline of his cognitive health. 

Bill's getting weaker, albeit slower. Nothing dramatic like you see in the movies. Just a gradual weakness. He's exhausted after his every third day morning shower. Even when we have to change his Depends daily he's exhausted. He's frustrated by his blindness. I'm having a hard time understanding him, most of his speech is slurred. He doesn't realize it. He tries, bless his heart, he tries. Thank goodness he can still walk and go to the bathroom by himself (thank you Jesus) but I can see the day when that goes by the wayside.

I have to tell you folks I'm getting dragged under. What with Putin and Russia invading Ukraine and causing all that senseless death and destruction (for what?) and the constant Fifth Column here of brainwashed Republicans who are convinced Biden lost the election.  Somedays I just want to not wake up. 

But after seeing courage of so many every day Ukrainians fight for their country makes me realize my situation is small potatoes. I actually have it pretty good. So what that I haven't been to a restaurant in over two years? So what that I haven't been anywhere in over two years? I have my Zoom friends and FaceTime friends although I think one has gone by the wayside because I'm not paying enough attention to him. That's too bad but I have enough on my hands right here and now.

And perhaps the worst insult of all I can't even get Facebook's online Scrabble game to load. That was one source of relaxation I had during the day and evening. What IS their problem?

The good news is that my springtime daffodils are up! All that bended knee of the fall is paying off now. And I don't have Russian bombs dropping on me when I take a few minutes each day to walk around Casa Tipton-Kelly to enjoy their cheerful reminder of rebirth. 

Some of this year's daffodil crop

John Lee Tipton

 

Me and my brother John at Flag Pond, Tennessee 2010

My youngest brother, John Lee Tipton, passed away last night. 

He had been ill for the past three years will various ailments.

The chemotherapy finally killed him.

His suffering has ended. 

We, his friends and family, will mourn his loss.

His memory will live on.

Rest in peace dear brother John.

Palm Springs Retirement?

 

Indian lot available in Palm Springs. Sure, I'm going to lease an Indian owned lot in Palm Springs. NOT!

Remember all that talk I've been having about retiring to Palm Springs? Well there is one big "thing" that I forgot about, the high real estate/school tax. For the type of home that Pat and I would like to move to, the real estate taxes would be just too high. It seems that I conveniently forgot that the main reason I moved to Delaware in 2006 was because I couldn't afford to live at our home in Pennsylvania anymore because of the high real estate taxes. 

I came to this brutal realization yesterday when a friend of mine told me he just bought a house in Cathedral City, near Palm Springs. He's paying close to a million dollars for his house but he won't have to pay a five digit real estate tax bill because he's a California resident who qualifies for a lower tax bill. Of course Pat and I wouldn't qualify for lower taxes since we are not California residents who would qualify for that lower tax bill.

Even though I now live in the low tax state of Delaware (no sales tax, low real estate taxes and I don't pay Delaware's income tax because my pensions are below the taxable rate), I still have substantial annual insurance taxes. Even though I have the so called "free Medicare", I still pay over $5,000 a year for Medicare and Medicare supplemental insurance, and that keeps going up. If Bill should die before me, then my sole income is Social Security and my small bank pensions. I probably could go back to work at the hotel part-time but how much longer can I work now that I'm over eighty? 

So there it goes folks, my dream of moving to Palm Springs for my retirement years. I'll just have to get by on an annual visit during Modernism Week in February of each year.

But you know folks, I have to put this into perspective. Look at those Ukrainain refugees who have lost everything they have because of the evil of Russia and Putin invading their country and leveling it for what reason? Just because Putin, who has more money than any one individual in the world is bored and wants to return Russia back to it's former "glory" of the Soviet Union empire. I'm sick to my stomach over that whole mess, the rest of the world is helpless to do anything to stop Putin. What's next for Putin? The Baltic states? Poland? The other former east European countries that the Soviet Union previously occupied after World War II? 

All my life I've lived under the threat of nuclear destruction and it seems as if at the end of my life I'm still living under that threat. But, and this is a big "but", I have been so fortunate to have the wonder life that I've had. I live in a beautiful home in southern Delaware that is paid for. If I can't move to a more beautiful home in Palm Springs, big deal. I am so much more fortunate than those millions of Ukrainians who did nothing to deserve the hell that has descended on them now from the Hell of their Russian neighbor Putin. One thing is for sure, Putin is finished because of what he has done. Unfortunately, he's taking a lot of innocent people down with him. 

A Conundrum

 

Bill in happier times

Good morning folks! 

Haven't been here for a while as regular readers of this blog have probably noticed. 

So what is going on here at Casa Tipton-Kelly? 

A lot.

The past week I was informed by my sister-in-law that my youngest brother is now on home hospice care after three years battling various health issues. 

They live in South Carolina. I want to go to his funeral. Managing that is the challenge. I need someone to take care of Bill while I'm gone. 

I can put Bill in the Hospice Respite care program for a few days but the only snag is that I don't know when my brother will die. The hospice center only has a certain number of beds available and they need a date which I obviously can't provide.

Pat has agreed to come down from his home in Canada to care for Bill while I'm gone. Problem there is he has two different jobs he has to coordinate with before he leaves. He also needs a date. I am caught in a conundrum. 

This morning I had two medical appointments (more blood work and an ultra sound) scheduled for me. 

I'm juggling a lot of balls here folks. Of course I'm trying to stay healthy to take care of Bill. 

This morning while the cold jelly was on my stomach during my ultra sound my friend Lar calls me on my phone. I apologized to the woman performing the ultra sound on my flabby eighty year old body and explained "I'm sorry I left my phone on but I'm keeping in on in case I hear news about my brother." Normally I turn my phone off when I'm in a medical facility. I've tried texting my friend Lar to tell him when I'm not available for phone calls but for some unexplained reason his phone isn't accepting my text messages now. Lary has ALS and is getting more confused every day so I don't know what is going on there but I don't have time to straighten out his problem, I have enough of my own right now.

As of this morning my brother is still alive so it looks like I'll be able to have Pat down here to take care of Bill.

Now, what to wear to my brother's funeral? I pulled out my one remaining suit that I kept specifically for funerals. Guess what? It DOESN'T FIT!  That's the problem when I let clothes hang in my closet too long, they shrink.

Where I used to have a 32 inch waist, it is now 34 inches. I weigh the same, it's just that my flab has shifted. Loose skin folks, what you young folks have to look forward to when you reach the grand old Crypt Keeper age of eighty that I am now.

I took my suit pants to the cleaners this morning and they said they could let out the waist. I parted with $20 on my credit card for the chance that this will work. Better than paying $500 for a new suit that I would probably never wear again.

Now for my shoes, will my Sketchers work?

Exhausting

Blister on palm of hand

 Just finished a few minutes ago getting Bill ready for his day. It's not getting any easier folks.

This morning was especially difficult because I have a blister on the center of my left hand palm. That was as a result of a wart being burned off yesterday at my dermatologist's office. It hurts like Hell. I can't pop the blister, I have to let it heal on its own. This makes it difficult for me to hold onto Bill's hands when I pull him up from his recliner that he has slept in overnight. A blister on the center of your left hand palm makes every thing more difficult. And it hurts like Hell.

Seems like I get one thing fixed on me which always results in pain I have to endure. I have the constant respiratory problem that I've had the past few years. Phlegm builds up on my throat that I have constantly clear. My nose runs constantly. 

My legs are weak and getting weaker. When I bend down to help Bill put on his daily change of Depends I need the help of his walker to get up. And that's getting harder as my arms weaken. My legs have been weak for years, that's why it's so hard for me to walk up stairs.

Now there is a new problem. I have to give Bill pain pills three times daily for his arthritic pain. Already I'm cutting them in half. He's always had trouble swelling pills because of his narrow esophagus. I may have to cut them in quarters. At least that's one problem I don't have, swallowing pills. 

I'm tired folks, tired, tired, tired.

What keeps me going, the carrot at the end of the stick, is that someday I may be able to retire to that beautiful home in Palm Springs. No more snow, no more pain, no more housework, no more lawn work, no more caregiving. 

I'll say it again and again, I'm thankful that I have Bill here at home and able to be his caregiver. I'm luckier than most because my caregiving responsibilities are minor compared to many other caregivers. And I am caregiving for a kind and gentleman who knows who I am an appreciates my caregiving for him. 

Both my brothers were caregivers for my Mother. I knew my turn was coming.

When my friends Bob McCamley and Wayne "The Cajun" Juneau needed a caregiver to take them out of the hospital when I visited them, I demurred.  I've always felt guilty about not taking them into my home even though the hospital wanted somebody, anybody to release them from the hospital. I knew that I couldn't do it because I was already taking care of our whole household if not physically taking care of Bill. But I always knew I would "get my turn." It's "my turn" now folks. And I'm here to tell you, it isn't easy. And please, no suggestions to hire somebody to come in and care for Bill. I can't afford it and Bill wouldn't stand for it. 

I go one day at a time. If I get through the day I count that as a winner. Then tomorrow it starts all over again. It would be nice though when this blister pops. It hurts like Hell.

Final Move

 

"Flair" at Miralon, Palm Springs, California - possibile future home of Ron and Pat

This is a photo of a model house called "Flair" located at the new development in Palm Springs called "Miralon." See HERE:

When we moved to Delaware in 2006 it was partly to escape the high Pennsylvania taxes and to prepare myself for living alone, without Bill. I choose southern Delaware and the Rehoboth Beach area because my good friend Bob McCamley has lived in this area for year and also there was a large gay population, I wouldn't be alone in my retirement. I have no desire to live out my final  years in any area of the country that is homophobic and/or continues to have that undertone where I am considered "less than" and viewed as an unrepentant sinner, existing only to be saved by my "caring" straight friends. Been there, done that and wasn't going to end my days in that environment.

Well, you know how the best laid plans don't always go as you expect? For one thing my good friend Bob McCamley died. 

For another thing, even though there is a large gay population down here in Sussex County, Rehoboth Beach area the majority are lesbians and you know they have very little or nothing to do with gay guys unless the gay guys are in drag or parading on the boardwalk in pink bras or playing volleyball in drag. I think they feel threatened by any gay man who doesn't fit into their stereotype of a gay man who is flitting about doing window treatments for them. I may be wrong but after living here for sixteen years that's been my experience. Of course there are a few exceptions but very few, believe me.

My problem with the gay guys here, for whatever reason I have never been able to form a lasting friendship with any of them. I've met a few, but they either wanted a relationship (no thank you) or were so caught up in their clique (Washington D.C. gays) that they didn't have time for me. Of course maybe it was me, I just didn't measure up. Sorry folks, can't do anything about that. I am who I am. But my experience with the gay community here in the "Gay Capital of the East Coast", hasn't developed as I assumed it would. My fault, their fault, whatever. It just hasn't happened. 

Now that I am the caregiver for my 93 year old husband, who is on home hospice care, I have to consider "Do I want to spend the rest of my days here in the Rehoboth Beach area."  

I know one thing, I don't want to die alone. And if I spend it here I will probably die alone. Not a prospect that I look forward to. Just what I was trying to avoid when I moved from our beautiful home in Pennsylvania to our also beautiful home here in Delaware.

However, I had planned to stay here. After all, all my "things" are in this house. 

I'm very comfortable in our house. 

I can live here by myself and pay the bills. Only thing is I'll be alone. 

While I love my backyard, do I want to be riding my John Deere tractor mowing my almost one acre backyard on a hot and humid August day? Oh sure, I could hire one of the many Hispanic landscapers, they're all too willing to help for a cash payment. For the past ten years I've hired them because I could no longer keep up with my yard work. I like to dabble but I was falling behind. And they do a good job......for cash. Fact is though when I'm alone my household income will be significantly reduced. I won't be able to afford the luxury of hiring Jose to mow my lawn in the dog days of summer. And I would still be alone.

I had considered getting a cat or a dog. But that wouldn't be fair to the pet because I would probably die before they would.

What to do? 

Ever since Pat and I visited Palm Springs California for the first time in 2016, we have returned every year for two weeks during Modernism Week in February. Last year, because of COVID we couldn't make the trip. I couldn't go anyway because I'm caregiving for Bill. This year Modernism Week in Palm is right now. Again, Pat and I couldn't make the trip. Hopefully next year we can resume our annual winter getaways to Palm Springs during Modernism Week.

During our visits, we discussed the possibility of moving/retiring to Palm Springs. I didn't take it seriously at first because I have all my "things" here. Besides, I didn't like most of the Palm Springs homes I saw that were for sale. Small cave like dwellings with eight foot high ceilings. I can't live like that. Our house here has ten foot high ceilings and lots of glass to give that outdoor feeling while living inside. I'm spoiled. I can never go back into living in those little boxy, dark houses that are so prevalent in many neighborhoods.

Pat and I both like modern, Mid-Century style houses that are so prevalent in Palm Springs. Of course many of them have those eight foot high ceilings and low on the windows that let in the light. Maybe they're cave-like because the Palm Springs summers are so hot. Oh, that's another factor I'lll address in a future blog. This posting is getting too long as it is.

The upshot is that Pat and I found the perfect house for us. It's in the new community called "Miralon", built on a former golf course. So many golf course developments in Palm Springs, we don't golf and we don't want to pay a high HOA for the privilege. 

But again, one of my big reservations about moving to Palm Springs is "what do I do with all my stuff?" If I'm moving to a modern designed house, I don't want to take my clunky, heavy, typical older gay man furniture out there. I had to address the hard decision of "what do I do with my stuff?" Well folks, I finally made the decision after seeing this model home and the advice my longtime friend Lar told me when I told him of my dilemma. Lar said "It's just stuff" which he is right. 

I've since developed an multi-plan of downsizing which I'm comfortable with, finally. And after seeing this model home, courtesy of my good friend Glenn M. (who is in the process of moving to Palm Springs now), I'm ready to begin the last chapter of my life. And you know what folks? I always knew someday I would have a private swimming pool which I could slid open the glass doors of my bedroom in the evening and slip my old and saggy body into that lighted water and say to myself "I have arrived."

Beautiful mountain views too from the homes at Miralon! Glad  they decided not to waste those mountain views on a golf course.

Doctors' Appointments

 

I have become my Mother.

I used to tease her about all the doctors' appointments she had in her final years. She would respond "You're time is coming." Well folks, it "my time" is here.

Today I took Bill to the VA Outpatient Clinic in Georgetown for his COVID booster shot. I asked about getting a fourth COVID vaccination for myself and they told me it wasn't ready yet.

This morning I had my annual CAT-SCAN to check up on any kidney stone production my body insists on making despite my pleas to "please stop!" 

I see my urologist next month to go over that CAT-SCAN. 

He also wants me to take a blood test to check my PSA levels. I am a prostate cancer surviver, nine years now since I had my radioactive seed implants. Hooray!

My oncologist's office contacted me yesterday. She said the good doctor wants more blood tests. It seems I have a low oxygen white cell blood count. I'm "right on the border" according to my oncologist. "On the border" to what he's not exactly saying but I suspect it is blood cancer. What else could it be? Lymphoma. My youngest brother had lymphoma. So far I don't show any signs but who knows what the future holds for me? I hope a lovely modern home in Palm Springs with a low HOA on fee land and a fabulous view of the San Jacinto mountains.

My oncologist had also scheduled an ultra sound. 

So here we are, three tests scheduled at three different locations for two different doctors. How about scheduling them all at the same time (morning preferably, I need my afternoon nap), at the SAME location. That is what I did this afternoon. Took some doing but after I scheduled them all at the same time then I had to reschedule when I would see my oncologist who would probably give me some more concerning news. At my age folks, eighty for those of you who don't follow this blog on a regular basis, getting results of medical tests is always concerning. 

I still remember the first time I got the results of my prostate cancer (torture) specimen (took 12 samples of my prostate gland by stringing me up like a woman having a baby) and the doctor very matter of factly said "You have cancer." I felt like the Walter White character in "Breaking Bad", I wasn't hearing what I was hearing, all I could concentrate on was the mustard stain on my doctor's tie but he didn't have a tie. 

So there you go folks, I'm on the medical treadmill again. It gets discouraging but as I always tell myself, it could be a lot worse.