An Update

   At the tail end of July (grandson) Max and I left our temporary home at (son) Mark’s home in Los Angeles for a few days in San Francisco, where I was to meet old friends and visit old haunts. The train ride, mostly along the coast, was both pleasant and interesting, especially the varied plantings in huge manicured fields. I was in awe of the herculean work that had to be done to create table flatness where there had been natural wrinkles of all kinds and sizes. That our trip was interrupted near Salinas because the train had killed a person did not only lead to long delays, but turned out to be a kind of omen. Erstens kommt es anders, zweitens als man denkt. [In the first place things happen differently, in the second place, than one thinks.]

   I did see some of my old friends, if not in the ways that had been planned, but mostly, this—surely my last—San Francisco adventure got twisted into a quite different scenario. Later in our first full day, with the morning devoted to a San Francisco sightseeing bus, I was felled by an incident that turned out to be a gall stone that had to be removed. So, instead of San Francisco festivities, I was drowsy in the hospital until Mark picked me up and drove me through the night back to LA, as far as I could tell, mostly at eighty miles an hour.

   I think of my gall bladder as a time bomb. But more acute—and not about to go away—are urination problems that lead to nefarious doings in those nether regions. My visit this morning to the urologist for a more extensive examination led to a welcome reprieve from the surgery he had tentatively thought I needed—a good thing—but also to the conclusion that I would require what is rather innocently called self-catheterization until nature takes over again, if it ever will. Not so good a thing: I find the prospect scary and will soon get a taste (surely not the right word!) of the new  reality.

   I am today, August 12, 2015, exactly 88 ½ years old and quote, for the umpteenth time, Bette Davis’s (the actress) witty and accurate saying, “Old age is not for sissies.”