California memorial service for Ann/Ana

We are having a memorial service for Ann at 3:00 pm, Saturday, September 26, at the Center for Spiritual Enlightenment, 1146 University Avenue, San Jose, California. We hope that everyone can attend. Please help us spread the word about the service.

We will be having a reception immediately following the service at the Los Gatos Lodge, which is just off of I880 (take the East Los Gatos exit, turn right at the very first light). Everyone is welcome we look forward to seeing you.

Thanks again to everyone for the outpouring of love and support. We really appreciate it.

Tim

Services for Ann/Ana

Ana's local church in Hot Springs is holding a memorial service at 4 pm, Friday, August 21, at the Unitarian Universalist church, the corner of Spring St and Norwalk.

We are also planning a service to occur in San Jose, California, date and time TBD, which Ann's dear friend Ellen Grace O'Brien will hold at the Center for Spiritual Enlightment. Stay tuned.

Passing of Ann L. Getzoff

Mom passed away this morning at about 5 am, in her hospice bed, with her best friend Wendy Grudzien by her side. Amy and I awoke on our own around 5 and, not knowing her status, decided to dress and drive to the hospital. Wendy called us just as we were leaving Mom's house, so we knew as we drove over. But, we pretty much already knew she had gone.
Andy and I picked up Mark this morning from the Little Rock airport and brought him back to the house. The surreal continues to collide with the real, and it is difficult to keep my bearings. Humor and family are keeping me going, but waves of grief are crashing over me, tumbling my thoughts and emotions into a muddled mess. Andy sent out a global announcement this morning to Mom's email contacts, and the responses we are receiving are overwhleming in the best way. So much to do, so much to deal with to handle Mom's affairs. My brothers are doctors and I relied heavily on them throughout Mom's cancer treatment for information and counsel. I guess it is now my turn to handle the legal side of Mom's accounts, assets, such as they are. It seems overwhelming. It already seems like she died days ago, but it was only this morning. I know it will only get better, but for now I only want to grieve for my mom.
Tim

10:30 pm.
I'm sorry to write that Ann took a downward turn this evening. She had been about the same most of the day--aware, alert, (demanding!). But around 5 pm she had a low dose of morphine, and then became somewhat delirious and basically out of it. More so than the morphine should have caused, so we thought maybe it was just a reaction of some sort. After a few hours, when the morphine would have worn off, she was the same, so we gave her some Atavan to help her sleep, which it did. She has never regained full consciousness. Roy and Rennie arrived around 9 pm, and she seemed to try and pull herself conscious to focus on them, but I don't know if she ever really saw them. I left her for the night and she was mostly unconscious, drifting in and out of a semi-conscious state, but not really aware. I said goodnight but do not think she knew me. I think the end is very near. It's like her mind and body are withdrawing, turning inward, to take the final journey. Maybe she could be like this for some time (days?). But the speed with which she changed from alert and communicative (most of today), to semi-vegetative (tonight) is not encouraging. I feel bad for Roy and Rennie, having "missed" Ann by a few hours. I feel worse for Mark (arriving tomorrow morning), and Ellen (arriving tomorrow night) who may miss her entirely. Goodbye Mom, I love you so much.
Tim

Ann in hospice - 8/18/09

8:20 am

This is Tim writing. I thought it may be helpful in dessiminating information on Ann to use her blog. Ann was moved yesterday (via ambulance) from the hospital in Little Rock down to a hospice facility in Hot Springs, a few miles from her house. Andy sent out a long email that many of you should have received
To recap, Ann went into the ICU last Wednesday with severe pneumonia symptoms. After several days of antibiotics, they are now thinking it is not infectious, but they don't really know what the cause is. Her main problem is her lungs; inability to get air, so she is on an oxygen mask full time, which makes it hard for her to talk. Ann's condition this morning is about the same as yesterday. Her blood O2 this morning was 91%, which is a little lower than yesterday, but higher than her low point. She is resting comfortably, all things considered. They have her on some basic pain meds, but nothing real serious so she is not too dopey.
Andy, Kim and Jacob drove down from Columbia, MO last Thursday. Wendy Grudzien and Gail Farris flew out from California yesterday. Amy and I drove out from Dallas last night. Ann's brother Roy and my cousin Rennie Lave are flying in later today. My brother Mark is coming Thursday.

Ode to the Mouse in Mi Cocina

I knew you were little,
I knew you were cute.

I could tell by the tiny nibbles in the food packages
in the fruit crate under the side table in the kitchen.
And by the small, cute-little-mouse size droppings.

The first morning I found a new package of cookies opened.
Vanilla wafer cremes, the kind we used to get as kids,
my favorite here in Mexico.

And a tiny hole in a baggie full of pancake mix,
and a baggie full of flour, neither very sweet,
just tasted and rejected.

I looked everywhere under the counters for you.
Where were you hiding?
I would have merely chased you out of the kitchen
with a broom.
And we could have avoided the whole, ugly drama.

So I salvaged some of the cookies from the far ends
of the package ( in case you are carrying a dread disease),
and packed away the other things in a plastic storage box.

I only left a couple of cans,
and an unopened jar of peanut butter
in the crate.
But then yesterday, I bought some Soymilk, one carton plain,
and one carton with jugo de durazno (peach).
And thoughtlessly stowed those down there.

This morning, I found a mess of soymilk in the crate and on the floor.
I think you preferred the soymilk with juice.
It had a slightly bigger hole. I don’t blame you.
It’s really good.

So today in town, after I had the dog clipped
(a 2 1/2 hour ordeal involving me sitting on a cement floor
holding Buddy in place)
and while I was waiting for my car to be washed,
(clean dog, clean car),
I wandered into Foco Loco (a hardware stare),
and asked what they have to entrapar un raton pequino.

The clerk, laughing, went and got a package with a picture
on the front, showing a cartoon mouse
stuck in some sticky goo in a plastic tray,
and trying to extract a leg. Not funny.

A picture on the back shows a hand dropping the tray with
a stuck mouse into a plastic bag.
I made a face and asked the guy if the mouse would be alive or dead
when I found him in the morning.
He asked if I were afraid. “Tiene miedo?”

“No exactemente,” I answered.
How could I explain my aversion to torturing you?.
He said, “por la manana, muerto.” and indicated finished with a
sweep of his hands.

I knew what I was in for when I put the tray in the crate and went upstairs
But the apples making sauce on the stove (they don’t sell applesauce here)
needed to cook a little more.
So I left them on low, thus had to go back down a little later.

I knew when I reached the bottom off the stairs, from the scratching coming
from the kitchen,
that I had a problem.
I peeked in the window to see how big you were.

You were little.
You were cute.
And you were struggling in the goo.
I put the applesauce, which was burnt, in the fridge, trying to ignore you.
You got quiet.
I bent over and looked you straight in your sad eyes.
Your head was stuck in the goo.

“Lo siento mucho,” I told you, with heavy heart,
as I dropped the tray into
a plastic bag and put it carefully out in the yard.

Maybe you’ll get away during the night, I thought.
Most likely, a mapache, nasty creature, will find you
and put you out of your misery.
He would likely suffer from the goo.
But you would be gone when I get up.

Epilogue

In the morning, when I finally got the courage to look,
you were gone!
There was a little hole chewed in the plastic bag.
Maybe a mapache chewed through and ate you
right out of the goo.

But I prefer to think you nibbled a hole in the bag,
and the plastic gave you enough traction to pull yourself out
and run off into the jungle.

On another note:

WHALE WATCHING IN CHACALA BAY

.

Christmas in Mexico

Angel on the malecon in Puerto Vallarta.


Statue of a couple. Muy romantico historia.

Tim, Buddy, and I had a pleasant, relatively uneventful trip from Dallas to Chacala. We almost made it in 2 days and arrived in Chacala about 10 am on the third day, having travelled 1300 plus miles. Tim did the lion’s share of the driving. I drove him to the airport on the 22nd, so he could be home with his family for Christmas.

Christmas Eve is the traditional time of celebrating in Mexico. I had plans to have dinner with some friends at a local beach restaurant, Las Brisas, which is a bit more upscale than the others, and caters to the gringos. They were, in fact, having turkey with dressing, a big salad bar, barbecued shrimp brochettes, and for openers, taquitos and other Mexican finger food.

I drove the car down to the beach, walked Buddy in the spectacular December sunset, put him in the car, and went to the restaurant about 6:00 as we had planned. We had a reserved table, so I sat and ordered an agua mineral con lemon, my usual, visited with a family next to me, and waited for my friends. A group of gringos that I didn’t know, dressed to the nines, were milling about the bar area of the restaurant, visiting loudly. Many of them were French Canadians from a nearby village so they were speaking in French and, as they do, ignoring anyone who is not French.

I waited until about 6:40 and then, feeling more and more uncomfortable, I decided that I didn’t want spend Christmas Eve this way. I was feeling tired and not especially hungry, and didn't want to spend $22 on this elaborate meal. I should say that I have a Mexican cell phone now, which is great for local calls, but I am not in the habit of using it yet, so hadn’t checked for messages. Later, I heard the messages that the turkey wasn’t going to be done until 7:30, so my friends were coming later.

The church bells tolling on the hill reminded me that the priest from Las Varas was coming into town and performing? doing? a mass at 7:00 in our little church here. I decided that would be a lovely way to spend my evening, so I moved the car closer to the church, let Buddy run around a little, put him back in the car and went into the church.


Chacala Church

When I first came to Chacala in 1998, the church was just being built. I remember a huge pile of bricks in the middle of the cement floor, where the arched, herringbone ceiling had been started, then abandoned for lack of funds, and finally fell. Then, for a baptism I think, we sat in the church yard on crude wooden benches and tree stumps.

Now, sitting in the actual inside pews for the first time, I regretted not bringing a pillow for my back. The seats slant forward, as well, and seem to want to dump you to the floor, or rather to your knees for prayer. At first, I was one of few there, but shortly after the priest began the service, the church was packed. Dogs wandered in and out the wide-open side doors. Kids ran around, and then mostly played in the churchyard. It was a very sweet scene. I have dropped in to masses at other churches in Mexico and always noticed the lack of solemnity. It is always surprisingly casual, with people moving around, in and out. Sort of like an AA meeting without the kids and dogs.



The front of the church was adorned with a very elaborate nativity scene, about 5 feet wide and 3 feet high, with colored lights all around, flashing and reversing direction. The priest, who was young and seemed jovial, opened the service by talking about baby Jesus, who was laying on the altar in front of him, legs and arms akimbo. He concluded that part of the service by kissing the doll, then carried him around and placed the disproportionately large Jesus on top of the tiny cradle in the crèche, as miniature Mary, Joseph, Three Kings, shepherds, and animals looked on at this giant baby.

See Baby Jesus to the right.

Two young women, friends of mine, did readings from the pulpit. One has a new baby, whom she passed off to the other before approaching the dais. When she finished, the other woman got up to do her reading, and passed the baby back to the first mid- stride, mid-aisle.

An old friend and mother of one of our students, came late and was standing at the side door in front of me. I motioned her over and squeezed myself to the end of the pew so we could squish her in. Her body is full, and she felt soft and warm and comforting next to me.

After helping the priest set up the altar before the service, the altar boy, about 10 years old and dressed in a bright, red tee-shirt (for Christmas?) began to get bored. He draped himself in various positions over the back and arm of the priests chair and hung on the divider in back of the altar, swinging in and out of view. What with his anctics, and the dogs and babies wandering the aisles, I couldn’t stop smiling.

After the initial prayers, standing and kneeling and sitting, the priest gave a very animated talk. I sort of zoned out at that point, but did catch that you can’t take your carro, or any of your other possessions, in fact, to the cemetario.

I relaxed, and closed my eyes. After the talk, there were some lovely call and response songs and chants and the service ended with communion at the altar. The altar boy came alive to prepare the chalice of wine and the wafers and take them to the altar. Everyone (mostly) stood in line to receive the body and blood of Christ. The priest dipped each wafer in the chalice of wine before he placed it on the tongue of the worshiper. Then he expertly downed the rest of the wine, and proceeded to wipe off the plate and wipe out the chalice with a cloth handed to him by the altar boy.

Standing around the church yard afterwards was the perfect way to end the evening. I was able to talk a little with many of my Mexican friends and acquaintances and pretend I am one of them. I felt full of Christmas, and Divine Energy, and went home to eat the cold chicken in my refrigerator and go to bed.


Praying mantis table decoration in my house.


Volunteer decoration between my mirrors in the upstairs bathroom. Cute, huh? He/she? was gently removed to the garden.

Adios de la vaca mas bonita de Chacala.


Sunset in Chacala

Chacala in November

The amazing Mexican sky in Noviembre

Feeling better than I had all summer and fall, I flew to Chacala with Mark on November 4 and stayed until the 22nd. I love the fall weather there, the ocean still bath-water warm and the nights just beginning to cool enough so that I didn’t need the fan blowing on me. My body was very happy to get out of the cold of Arkansas and spend a few weeks in the tropical climate. There were just a few tourists here and there.

Mark and I on our rooftop at sunset

Lots of changes are happening in Chacala. A portion of the beach-facing land and a huge amount of adjacent land behind has been sold off to developers and is fenced off, blocking the historic road to the beach, and closing the “palm grove” where the RVers parked each winter. All the “squatters,” families that have lived in small wooden homes on that part of the beach, some as long as 40 years, have been “relocated” and their houses razed. All except for one family, that is, Esparanza and Leobardo, who have a bunch of kids, all teen and adult now, (nine I think), many of whom still live there. They are holding out for more money from the developers, I hear, and have refused to leave.

But, although there is a sense of sadness in the pueblo, there is acceptance also,and village life seems to go on. Lots of building is happening throughout the pueblo, and the small businesses and the fishing continue, although I suspect business is down. As regular visitors hear about the “fence” they are reluctant to visit, so the guest homes have more vacancies. Chacala is still a beautiful place to visit though, and the beach and bay still among the most beautiful and pristine on the west coast. We can still access the entire beach, of course, as it is Federal Land, but must enter from the north end of the beach to walk the beach in front of the fenced area.

My casita is looking wonderful. In spite of some roof leaks that occurred in the summer downpours, we got out the furniture and were able to get the house in order and ready for guests.

Entrance to Casa de Ana

Mi sala, open air style

I was able to attend the monthly meeting of EBACH, the club run by the students in our scholarship program. That weekend they painted the entire Learning Center as part of their community service. They are the best. Unfortunately, money is really tight this year for our U.S. and Canadian donors, and we will have to make cutbacks to the scholarship program and other programs in the Learning Center.


Some of the Scholarship Students, complete with a new baby (and me in the background).

We made our usual Thursday morning trip to the Tianguis (flea/craft/vegetable market) on in a neighboring village, La Penita, and we ran right into a charming Revolution Day parade.





The boys would stop every 50 feet or so and make a pyramid.

Tired muchachas (and one muchacho) after the parade.

A very serious General Porfiro Diaz, the autocrat who was unseated in the Revolution.

Mark had some friends visit from Denver, including another doctor, and three nurses. They gave a CPR training program on the beach for our new lifeguard and other people interested in helping to reduce the drownings on the beach.


Mark teaching chest compression technique for an infant.

Mark's colleague, Genie, supervising chest compressions and breaths.

I fly home for a few weeks and then hope to drive down again in mid-November. Maybe for a few months, health allowing.

Flight into Health

One good thing about Arkansas in the winter is the sky. Buddy and I just took our evening walk down the road, Walking west, the sky at 5:00 is all fire and flame through the trees. Then walking back east, the full moon is out in a clear dusky sky, hanging majestically over a band of violet, which turns to turquoise as it falls to the horizon. Oh my, what colors.

Sunset in Arkansas

The other good thing about Arkansas is the winter birds. Sitting in my morning chair looking out to the lake, I saw that the yellow-bellied sapsucker has returned and is poking up and down the trees. The nuthatches are also back and chasing the chickadees from the feeder. The chickadees have snacked unmolested all summer, but no more. The nuthatches are such bullies. They even harass the cardinals and sparrows. My Christmas cactus, which sits in front of me on the hassock, is in full glorious bloom. The blossoms are fuchsia and 3-4 inches long.


The lake is down 9 feet this winter (allegedly to do some repairs on the dam) so the channel is not as wide, and there is some 15 feet of rocky shore line below the sea walls. On nice days (that means above 60) I like to walk along the shore looking for treasures.

After a very challenging summer and fall, I have had a little flight into health, I think, feeling quite well the last few weeks. I am taking oral chemo (Xeloda), four pills a day, for a week every other week.

So, on Tuesday, I'll drive to Dallas and on Thursday, Tim will drive with me across the border at Loredo and across the mountains to the coast. We will be loaded to the top, including the roof, and with Buddy squeezed into the back seat. 

All I have to do in order to stay in Mexico is to arrange couriers to bring me the drug every month. The drug is covered by Part B Medicare, so they will only send me one month’s supply at a time.  So far, I am set up for visitors to bring me pills for January, February, and maybe March. If I still feel well, I will stay through part of April as well. My doctor is all about my quality of life, so I have his complete support on this.

I have lost most of my hair, and Buddy just had his summer/Mexico haircut.

Before (both of us with hair)


After

Thank you to all who have already sent me Christmas messages and other blessings.  I'm sorry to tell you that this will have to serve as my Christmas message, as you will get no other. 

I wish for you the most peaceful, joyful, loving holiday season ever, full of blessings. And I will be thinking of you all with so much love.

Ana