Where is my watch?

My father wasn't always Dr. Kelly's husband.  But when I was growing up, that was what people called him.  It seemed to me that everyone knew my mother; she was a woman doctor in a time when there were very few women doctors.  She graduated from medical school in 1943.  As one of her two daughters, I was very aware of her importance in our community.  We couldn't go to the grocery store without what seemed liked hundreds of people coming up to us with, "Dr. Kelly!!!  Dr. Kelly!  Do you remember me?  You delivered my babies!  Oh, are these your daughters?  Aren't they pretty!  You look great, Dr. Kelly!  I am so grateful to you for all the care you've given me and my family.  Blah, blah, blah..."   But this blog isn't about her; it's about Dr. Kelly's husband, my father, Cyril Francis Kelly. My father insisted that my sister and I call him Papa; he thought that Daddy sounded too much like Dada...and that really bo...

  My patio is what I love the most about our house.  It's a covered patio, with fans, lights, a table and chairs, and lots of plants.  It's not screened, so we are open to the nature that surrounds us.  Just sitting out there cheers me.  Sometimes we are visited by critters, including lizards, frogs, raccoons, armadillos, and lots of birds. Occasionally, birds will nest in a plant on the patio.  I watch as the mom and dad busily build the nest; I wait for the appearance of eggs, mom and dad taking turns sitting on the eggs, babies hatching, mom and dad feeding the tiny arrivals.  I hear the faint chirping of the newborns and hope that I will be around to watch as the parents urge the little ones to leave the nest.  I've seen that nest-leaving operation only once, but it was a beautiful and life affirming event.   A few months ago, I noticed the frantic activity that accompanies nest building.  Two Carolina Wrens were tearing back an...

My husband has an enlarged heart, also known as Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy.   In the past few years, he has noticed increased symptoms associated with that condition, especially a shortness of breath when he plays tennis or mows the lawn.  His cardiologist recommended surgery to reduce his symptoms.  She referred us to another cardiologist who has performed the surgery, a cardiac ablation, hundreds of times.  While the cardiac ablation was explained to me many times, I confess that I still have trouble understanding all of it, so here's a reference if you are interested:  Cardiac Catheter Ablation (baptisthealth.com) .  The bottom line, and most significant detail about this procedure, is that it is minimally invasive; it should require at most an overnight stay in the hospital for observation.  This all sounded good to us, so the surgery was scheduled.  I won't bore you with all the details of every test, exam, paperwork, bloodwork, MR...

I've noticed that my memory has been failing a bit over the last couple of years.  There are lots of reasons for this, I'm sure.  I'm getting older, which is certainly preferable to getting dead.  I'm no longer challenged by daily tasks that I faced in my career.   I was a librarian and an administrator at the college where I worked in the last twenty years of employment.   I retired two and a half years ago.  I have to say that  I miss my colleagues, I miss the challenges and the laughter, the projects, the successes, and even the failures that never failed to teach me something.   Between my retirement and the pandemic, my social interactions have diminished significantly.  That has been hard.  But, back to my memory concerns.  I discussed this with my primary care provider.  She encouraged me to have a "neurobehavioral status exam" to assess my knowledge, attention, memory, and assorted other brain related fun...

I admit that I spend more time than I should thinking about how I look.  I don't know about you, but I was indoctrinated at a very early age.  Like many newborns, I had blonde hair at birth.  That blonde hair usually doesn't last.  It didn't last on me.  I don't know exactly when it happened, but I remember that my mother poured peroxide over my hair when it started getting dark.  Now, my mother was an educated woman; she received her Doctor of Medicine degree from the University of Illinois in 1943.  But, even an educated woman apparently wanted her first child to remain a blonde.  For years, she went to the drug store to get some Miss Clairol Blonde formula with which to keep me bright and beautiful (in her eyes, anyway).  I don't know how she found the time, but it must have been quite the priority for her.  This was a woman with a medical practice in our home who was very often called away to deliver babies.  Looking back, I am ...

I love cruise vacations.  What's not to love? There's lots of good food and drinks, beautiful scenery, and you go from one destination to another without packing and unpacking.  When my husband and I took our first cruise, we were on our honeymoon.  We didn't have a lot of money to spend, so we got a cabin in the bowels of the ship.  It was very small and dark with a porthole that didn't offer much light.  We were very happy, though.  We didn't know any better, and we didn't care.  Forty plus years later, I need my balcony, thank you.  Yes, I am a spoiled brat now.  I admit it. We wanted to celebrate our fortieth wedding anniversary with a cruise.  Due to the pandemic, our trip had been canceled and rescheduled multiple times.  Finally we got our cruise a few weeks ago!!!  Hooray!!! The ship was less than 50 percent occupancy, which was actually nice. On the first night, I had some intestinal issues (use your imagination; I'm n...

  Marriage isn't always easy, and it can be particularly challenging when opposites attract and commit to one another.  My husband and I are about as different as two people can be.  These differences were never more evident than during the pandemic and the Presidential campaign season.  There were many times when I had to leave the room, and sometimes the house, just to avoid saying or throwing things I would regret.   As I wrote in a previous blog, I am not a calm person.  Things get to me.  Sometimes I get so upset or nervous or worried that I become physically and mentally incapacitated.  Really. There have been a few times (not many, but enough to haunt me) when I became so overwhelmed that I lost my ability to speak.  Looking back, one of those times was when my husband had moved to Maryland for a new job and I was home in New Jersey with my three- year old daughter and my newborn son.  My husband called to check in and I was ...