A Lasting Impression

At this point in my life, there are very few things that I have had since I was single. Of course, there are the mementos that have been purposefully hidden away, things I remember from my youth, which have been acquired from family members and even the odd pair of earrings that I have somehow not lost in all this time. However, after 24 years of marriage and raising kids for 22 years very few items from our single days are part of this household. If an item has survived this long, it has become part of the backdrop and I do not even notice anymore.

One of those items is a print by Camille Pissarro. If you asked me about it yesterday, I would have said, casually, "Yeah, I guess I’ve had this a long time." Today the story is different because yesterday I saw the actual painting for the first time. It was on display at the Birth of Impressionism exhibit at the deYoung Museum. (see yesterday’s post) When I saw it, I realized that this print is something I treasure. The painting is called Red Roofs and looks like this:

I received the print as a gift in 1978, when I was 22 years old, from friends returning from Paris. It was a grown up gift, a quality print. It was the very first thing I paid to have nicely framed. At that point, my life was in flux, as are the lives of many 22 year olds. In 1978, I graduated from college, left Los Angeles and returned to San Francisco. I then moved to Boston for a year and returned to San Francisco. I worked for a few years and moved a few more times. The print always came with me.

In 1982, I moved to Sacramento and started law school and the print came with me. In the fall of 1983, I lived in a terrible one bedroom furnished apartment in Sacramento. If you have ever lived in a furnished apartment, you know what I mean. Everything is functional, but nothing is aesthetically pleasing. The only thing that was “me” in that apartment was the Pissarro print hanging in the living room.

I met Steve that fall and we started “dating” (if that is what you call two law students with zero time) right around Christmas time. He came to my strange little apartment for dinner one night and went right to the print. He then asked the question that almost ended the relationship where it started.

“Did this come with the apartment?”

Uhhh, no. that is mine. (Thinking, are you KIDDING me?)

Then, in a save, he said, “I thought it was nicer than the rest of the stuff.” (I knew he was BS’ing me, but I appreciated the effort.)

From that point on, we have always referred to the print as “apartment art”

We graduated in 1985 moved back to San Francisco and married in 1986. The print was in our house on West Portal. In 1987, we bought this house and hung the print in the living room where it has been ever since. The room has been painted several times, but the print always goes back. I am not even sure when the last time I looked at it was. It is just always there.

For 32 years, it has been part of my life and I did not realize how much I loved it until yesterday.

When I returned home from the museum yesterday, I gave the print a good hard look. After seeing the original I realize how faded it is. The “Red Roofs” are no longer red. The flowerbeds on the hillside are almost indistinguishable from one another. I should probably replace it, but I doubt I will. It is my “apartment art “and it is a part of me. I have faded along with it and that is just fine.

Different Impressions

On Wednesday Maggie and I continued our commitment to at least one big outing a day. Her health continues to improve and I would say she is about at 98% of her baseline. (Translation: she is just about back to normal).


For our Wednesday excursion we went to the fantastic “Birth of Impressionism” exhibit at the deYoung museum (www.famsf.org). This is an exhibit from the Musee d’Orsay in Paris. We live very close to the deYoung and we walked over there in a drippy fog, hoping to beat some of the crowds. It was indeed crowded, but with our membership, we received the next viewing time, which was 4 minutes after we arrived. Perfect.

We go to the museum a lot and Maggie enjoys it, but she needs the running banter of conversation to stay involved. Because I was so enthralled with the exhibit, she was not getting enough entertainment. As I gazed upon the original of Whistlers Mother (or, La Mere de l’auteure), Maggie started using her communication device to get more attention.

Maggie, via communication device: MOM!

Me: yes Maggie I am right here, don’t you love this?

Mag: SLAM, (her fist comes down on her tray which is her “No” response.)

Me: Well that is too bad because we are here now and we are going to enjoy this.

I moved on through amazing painting from Renoir, Monet, Cezanne and, my personal favorite Pissarro. I was amazed and delighted. . Maggie? Not so much.

At one point, her chair strayed over the line on the floor, behind which the spectators were supposed to remain. The guard was on us in a moment. I apologized profusely and told Maggie to “watch it, sister” That was highly entertaining for her. However, out momentary encounter with the security guard could not sustain her interest.

As we looked at a series of Monet’s works, Maggie said, “Mom, I go home”.

I said, “sorry chicita, we are here for the duration.”

Pause. (She works on another sentence on her dynavox, which takes several moments to complete) Mom! I go my house now, mom.

Me. No dear, we are getting cultured. This is something you can always tell people you saw.

Pause. (works some more)

As she was working on, I came across a painting by Pissarro that I really love. I have had the print in my house for years, but it was the first time I ever saw the actual painting. It took my breath away. I have a separate post in the works regarding this work (I know, you cannot wait for that)

As I gazed at this lovingly, Maggie finished her sentence.

“Mom, outside, please mom”

Ok. I gave up. We were having two completely different experiences. I will go back without my teenage smarty-pants. We walked back home through the rain.

Guess what? Maggie was bummed out when we actually went home.

I told her, be careful what you wish for, smarty Marty.

Swing for the Fence

I have adopted a (frightening) philosophy: set your goals low and feel good that you achieve them. You get to pat yourself on the back for doing what you set out to do. It is ok to do more than your goals, but you always know you will achieve specific goals for the day. However, when you do not accomplish the miniscule goals you set for yourself, you feel stupid. Yesterday was one of those days.


My goals or “must do” list for yesterday had only two things on it. Get Maggie to her 4:30 appointment on time and sign for a package that was about to be shipped back to the sender. (They tried to deliver it when Maggie was in the hospital.) Staying in the house all day made that easy. Or so one would think.

Up to the time we had to leave for her appointment, Maggie and I stayed in all day yesterday trying to get both of us healthier. I should have made this one of my goals, but it was not a “shoe in” so it did not make the list. I am happy to report that Maggie no longer needs supplemental oxygen during the day, hence staying in was a good decision.

The nurse arrived at noon and worked with Maggie while I went into our downstairs room, which houses the laundry and all the junk we do not know what to do with. I started throwing things out and filling boxes for donating. I was down three for three hours and finished the laundry too. Quite the accomplishment, and it was not even on my “must do” list.

Because I have a tremendous head cold, my energy was sapped. At 3:45 PM, I sat in the living room with a late lunch and promptly fell asleep in the chair. I woke up at 4:10 and had to scramble to get Maggie ready to go to her appointment.

I decided to leave a note and my signature for UPS to leave the package or deliver it to a neighbor. As I went to tape it to the front door, I saw the post-it note indicating he had already been there. ARRGH! He must have come while I was downstairs. The nurse was with Maggie on the main floor, but she never heard the door. There is always a suction machine or nebulizer going which makes it difficult to hear anything. It is also possible my doorbell did not work, it is a bit fussy.

That package will now be returned to the sender. I cannot worry about it. I did not order this stuff, one of Maggie’s therapists did. It was supposed to be delivered to the school or directly to him, but they shipped it to us. Now it will be another couple of weeks before we get them, but c’est la vie.

I had to shake off this dashed goal so that I could accomplish my other miniscule goal of getting Maggie to her appointment on time.

We were 10 minutes late.

Today my goals are attaining world peace and cleaning up the oil in the Gulf. I figure if I am going to fail to achieve goals, I might as well swing for the fence.

Deep Breath for Monday!

I have to admit I'm a little relieved to see Monday arrive after such a busy weekend. We have a long boring week at home now. Good for me, not good for Maggie. I have to make sure we get out every day or she will go out of her mind. It's a balance, though. We can't go out too much; Summer school starts next week and she has a ways to go before she could attend school.

Maggie's health is improving everyday. She is still needing supplemental oxygen, but the amount has decreased. She can't quite get over the hump and kick the habit, but we will continue to try. We measure her "sat" or the oxygen saturation in her blood. Normal healthy folk have a sat between 95 and 100%. If we can keep Maggie above 92, she doesn't need supplemental oxygen.

When she was her sickest last week the O2 was going full blast. If it was off for a second the numbers would drop immediately and precipitously. (like down to the 70s) Now I remove it for 20 minutes or so and she hovers in the high 80's. She's getting there. She is building her stamina but it takes a while after such a nasty infection. She just doesn't have the capacity yet.

Steve was in bed for three days last week presumably with the same bug. I was hit Friday afternoon, but on me it's just a bad head cold. I still made it to Coghlan Beach, for a drink with some friends and to two graduation parties, but I took a lot of naps and drank a ton of water. If I hadn't gone out to all of those things I'd probably be over it, but each was important to me. 

Maggie stayed in most of the weekend, but she made the trek on Sunday when we returned to Coghlan Beach to show my sister Mary the new sign. The path is newly accessible so we thought Maggie should get to come. Her grandfather would love this shot. (But looking at it made me realize how pale she still is, even though she's wearing the oxygen.)

Maggie had a great time getting out and it seemed to invigorate her a bit. We will have outings every day this week even as we launch "operation lung capacity." It will be good for both of us.

Maybe I can ditch the afternoon nap.

Weary Weekend Warrior

I am wiped out from all the extra work caring for Maggie this week. She is improving every day, but still needs supplemental oxygen. That requires extreme vigilance by us because she yanks the tube off at least 20 times an hour. At this point she is strong enough that she doesn't get into trouble immediately if it's off, but she will not improve without the extra "O's". The poor kid is bored out of her mind. I did tell her I would take her to school today to visit becasue it's the last day. She is out of her mind with excitement over that. She keeps making her talker say "mom, mom I am happy I go to school please mom." Over and over and over again. Like 30 times in the past ten minutes.

Darling.

Steve is also sick and has been for three or four days. We assume it's the same virus that put Maggie in the ICU, but we cannot be sure, so I'm keeping him away from her. That means all the extra work falls to me, which is fine, but tiring. Now I feel the tell tale signs of an oncoming headcold. Blargg. Steve was supposed to take his dad out of town for the weekend to celebrate my father in laws' birthday, but Steve's illness postponed that trip. He can barely get out of bed; a road trip is out of the question. He seems to be improving, so if I DO get this, he can take over with Maggie. (We still have to figure out something for my fil's birthday on Sunday).

I can't get sick because there is so much going on this weekend, which will involve alot of family togetherness. It started last night with a a dinner for my mom's birthday. My sisters Kate and Ellen, my brother Pat and I took her to dinner. Then it's graduation parties. My brother's daughter Emma and my sister's son Vinnie both graduated from high school and there are two separate parties, one Saturday and one Sunday. (Emma will attend my alma mater, UCLA, and part of her gift is a vintage UCLA sweatshirt that I have been saving low these 32 years. It even has a small hole near the shoulder. I'm sure she will be thrilled. )

The coolest thing, though is set for later today. There is an officiall/unofficial dedication of "Coghlan Beach"" in honor of my late father, Frank Coghlan. (I wrote about that here http://sfmaggie.blogspot.com/2009/07/coghlan-beach.html#links)  I  say officially/unofficially, because the swimmers form the South End Rowing club are donig this, but they don't own the beach. The sign may be down in a week. Apparently they have contracted the city and officials are interested in the story, but I'm pretty sure that's federal land, so the city doesn't have authority. Even if it does, nothing has been done to get this approved. Sometimes, though, you have to create a reality so that the government can accept it as such. If there's a sign called Coghlan Beach, then that's the name.

This was a last minute thing, but we will head down there for the ceremony. Twenty five bay swimmers will stand around in their speedos, we will affix the plaque and they will all jump in the bay and swim back to the South End Rowing club - a distance of maybe 1.5 miles.

The Coghlan family will wave at them from the shore. My father's prowess as a Bay swimmer apparently skips a generation.

Glass Half Full

There was one particularly curious circumstance while Maggie was hospitalized. We had to be protected from the medicine, but not from the disease.

Because Maggie had a flu virus, the medical personnel had to take "droplet precautions".  That means they had to put on a mask when they came into the room. Also anyone who was going to touch Maggie had to also put on a gown and gloves. The reasons for this are obvious. Maggie's virus, like all viruses, was contagious. Keeping masks and gloves on protects the health care workers and the other patients form contracting the virus.Steve and I did not take those precautions. We had already been exposed anyway and we were not in contact with any other patient.

We were, however, required to wear special face masks when they administered the tobrymyacin because it is done via nebulizer and the medication is in the air. If one had sensitivities or allergies to that drug and didn't wear the mask they could have a reaction because they would be inhaling some of it. So we protected ourselves form the medication. Steve looked particularly good doing so, though, don't you think. I believe he's watching the Giants game in this photo. (Note Maggie laughing at him while she gets her treatment)

Maggie continues to improve, but also continues to need the oxygen supplement. The most difficult thing is getting her to keep it on. She yanks it off and various connectors go flying. I never did find one of the pieces last night.

But in the "lemonade from lemons" department, I did discover that the oxygen tank makes a perfect coaster for my glass of Cabernet. (For some reason Steve took issue with this and moved it as soon as I took the picture)  

Now THAT's what I call a glass half full.

Naptime post

Sneaking in a quick post while Queen Maggie snoozes in her chair.


It is good to be home. We have a lot to do to deal with Maggie’s illness, but it is always easier when we’re in our own house. The hardest part is keeping the oxygen on her. Maggie is constantly ripping the tube off. (I’ve fixed it twice since I wrote these two sentences.) Usually I see it happen and put it right back. Other times, like now, I look over and she is very white.

It is unfortunate that Maggie has to miss the last week of school. She had a great school year and would love to take part in all of the end of the year festivities. Oh well, summer school starts on the 15th, I think. She should be close to fighting form by then.

Maggie has had well over 100 hospital admissions in her lifetime. We are veterans. I know the routine and many of the professionals who work there. That is helpful because it eliminates a lot of guess work. We get enough surprises with Maggie’s ever-changing health status, we don’t need any from unfamiliarity with the system. In addition to understanding how the hospital systems work, I also know a lot about Maggie and her numerous conditions. Maybe too much.

Knowing this information is both good and bad. I can tell you this: the hospitalizations never get easier. When she’s in the ICU – or anywhere in the hospital – I’m just like any other mom, scared out of my wits.

It’s good to be home.