Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Choose Your Battles

In Missouri, 2017 should be put on the calendar as the year of the Japanese beetles. Sure, we had some last year and they were a nuisance, but this year they are a plague of biblical proportions.

These voracious bugs started on our grapevine—just like last year—then they moved on to the wild roses, blackberry bush, returned to destroy the apple tree and all the apples on it, attacked the yard trees making them look like autumn instead of summer.

It’s a dilemma how to battle beetles. The traps attract more, and it certainly was tedious to pick them off and throw them in soapy water. That might work if you had a scattering of beetles, but when they congregate in huge clusters and there are thousands of them, picking seems like an exercise in futility.

So we sprayed a little Seven on them, but mostly we hoped they would move along like they did last year. But oh, no! They were way cockier than last year. One morning while relaxing with my cup of coffee on the deck, I was horrified to see our rose of Sharon bush covered with the foliage eating monsters. “Okay, they have gone too far!” I told Harold.

I used the remainder of the spray he had mixed, and although it killed hundreds, it seemed that a legion was moving along the front line of the battle to kill the bush. Harold got serious and bombarded the tree with spray. That seemed to do the trick. We had chosen our battle and although they haven’t left entirely, the remaining beetles lost interest in the bush.

As a person who is often out of sync with the opinions of those who surround me, I’ve found that choosing battles has become more important than ever. It isn’t always easy for an outspoken, opinionated woman to do that, especially when so many have lost their sense of civility and respect for their fellow humans.

Choosing battles became an integral part of caregiving. When Jim was in long-term care, I could count some residents’ family members charging into the memory unit just spoiling for battle. Nothing was ever done to their satisfaction. Complain, complain, complain. I might mention that the biggest complainers were the ones who seldom visited their family member. Too often, it seemed that since they felt guilty, they wanted to belittle the aides and nurses that tended to the residents.

These were the same people who saw me feeding, bathing, or providing extra care for Jim who would say, “You shouldn’t be doing that! You are paying to have that done.” In the first place (a) it really wasn’t any of their concern what I wanted to do for my husband, and (b) I saw how overworked and unappreciated the aides were.

There were two kinds of aides: the ones that needed a job so desperately they were willing to try anything, and the majority who had a caring nature and whose job was less of a job and more a “calling.” The people who stayed were not working solely for a paycheck.

Abuse and neglect of  your loved one should not be tolerated. Show up for care planning and provide helpful input. Rather than ranting at the unfortunate person who happens to be nearby, rational conversation with the person in charge is much more effective.

In life, we need to choose our battles. Instead of waging war against fellow human beings, negotiation may be the key to settling problems.

On the other hand, an all-out battle against Japanese beetles is not only totally acceptable, it may be the only way to save your yard.

Copyright © July 2017 by L.S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

Tuesday, July 4, 2017

Company Comin'

My dog goes crazy every time the doorbell rings. She runs through the house trying to get to the front door ahead of us. We have to hang onto her squirmy, wiggly body to keep her from running out the door in her over-excited state. I think she’s always hopeful that the grandkids are at the door, but she’s ecstatic to see the UPS man too.

A few days ago, I took the dog for a walk. We went out the back door, but after walking in the oppressive heat, I decided that we would just use the front door since it was closer. Of course, the front door was locked, and I rang the doorbell so that Harold would let us in.

As soon as I pressed the doorbell, the dog began her happy dance and looked eagerly at the door. When Harold came to the door, she shot through the door running amok in her eagerness. I’m pretty sure, she was wondering who the “company” was, never once realizing it was us.  

When I was a kid, I remember a song “Company Comin’ up the Road.” We lived twenty miles from nowhere deep in the Ozark hills, and company was a rare occasion.

Later, when I became a part of the Fisher family, it was a completely different situation. It was not unusual to have several different families converge on my in-laws’ house. Virginia was an amazing cook, and she could whip up a big meal on a moment’s notice. She always welcomed family and insisted they sit down at her table to eat the mouth-watering meal she prepared “such as it is.”

Family time wasn’t limited to weekends and holidays. Any night of the week might involve a spirited card game, a jam session, or coffee and conversation. Company comin’ was expected and an occasion to rejoice.

Times have changed, and so many of the family are gone now. Recently, Virginia’s baby brother Larry passed away, so one less smiling face will be at the reunion this year.

We lived next door to my in-laws for several years. I always enjoyed the company, but being a person who has to have quiet time, I would sometimes slip away for an hour or so and go to my house. Most people didn’t pay any attention to my comings and goings, but Larry would always smile and say, “You just had to get away for a while, didn’t you?” It was as if he was the one person who understood.

Another time after Jim developed dementia, Larry watched the interactions between Jim and me. “It must be awful hard thinking for two,” he said, having another insightful moment.

Life has gone full circle. Although, we don’t live twenty miles from nowhere, we don’t have a lot of company. Sometimes, the dog hears company comin’ up the driveway, but usually she doesn’t get too excited until the doorbell rings. Today, when she beat a well-worn path to the door, she was dancing with delight as she greeted the grandkids.

After playtime, she was exhausted and ready for a nap. After my busy, busy day, I’m ready for a nap too.

Copyright © July 2017 by L.S. Fisher