I am trying to remember not to talk about the head cold or flu, because it is listening! Let’s see if it can read my fingers – not lips or sign language – but typing. I think it began two weeks ago with a small cough. At some point I quit walking outside, as well as setting an alarm clock to wake up. The object was to survive!!

I’ve had more hot tea every day than I ever remember drinking in any single day. Coffee has come back on the menu now in the daytime. For days I’ve gone to bed at my regular time, only to wake up drowning after 2:00 am. Oddly, the time seems to get a little later each day. I’m up to 4:00 am for that first waking. Maybe my fluids are linked to the ocean tide!! I’m a long way from the ocean, but there is a suspicious ebb and flow to my days. I’m thankful there has not been a repeat of not being able to draw in a breath. It can happen once a year, and I always hope that is the last for my lifetime. One of these years, it will be! Yes, you get sick enough and know your days are definitely limited.

Now I have family to look forward to. Kate is making that 15-hour drive from New Jersey, and I’m talking her down. We used to have several hour-long conversations. This time I do a few household chores, look at the map on my phone to see if she is driving at highway speed, and call her for 15 to 30 minutes. She took a break at this point, and I began to write.

Taking pills was always easy for me. Up until now, I could take two large pills and a small one with one big gulp of water. It was a bug-eyed wake-up call when pills got stuck in my now-constricted throat. It takes solid food now — one cracker to get those pills down. Getting old is hard to swallow!

David is taking off this coming week to be with his mother. In a few days Lise and Toke will be here, and the girls will share their back-to-back birthdays for the first time in decades. After Kate drives home in a week, Toke will be here for about 10 days and Lise about a month. It’s marvelous to look forward to being with all these dear people. I’m glad I survived the latest wellness blip, whatever it was.

Why haven’t I learned, in my long life, not to say I’m feeling better??? The COLD was listening! It heard my thoughts last night, as well, thinking I would resume walking this morning. COLD had other plans. Around 5:00 it alerted me that I would be attacked in two directions – from above and below. The lungs were filled, and the sinuses flowing. Fluids met in my throat. I know not to panic when air can’t get to the lungs. Calmly encourage the flow while slowly making a cup of hot herbal tea. I should have brewed a quart, not a cup. When that close to death, I should have prayed while trying to breathe! Golly, it was awful! One eye was overflowing, too. An hour later, I’m still coughing, wiping one eye, and blowing my nose. Is it safe to go back to bed? I won’t know until I dare to try it.

Although I wasn’t feeling particularly good, I was determined to vote. John and I always voted, and I continued going alone after he died. With the cough having subsided a bit, I felt I wouldn’t be a menace to society by voting in a public place. I did use hand sanitizer just before driving to the firehouse.

I was glad there was no line, although one other voter was using a booth when I checked in. I had a paper ballot and colored in ovals next to the names I was voting for. That takes longer than you’d expect. If you don’t fill the space completely, that vote might not be counted. All went well until I went to deposit my ballot. By that time, there were others going through the process, and the people monitoring the voting didn’t notice that I was having trouble. I was about to walk over and ask why I couldn’t get the ballot to move through the copying machine and into a bin below. On her way in, neighbor Julie came over to speak to me and saw that my ballot was not being taken. She saw that it needed to go in a slot, which I couldn’t see. I was grateful to have aid from a friend without asking for official help.

Until now, I’ve always sung along with the congregation while watching a church service on line. I love it! I can sing with abandon, knowing no one can hear me. There are often four verses of a hymn, and I sing alto, soprano, tenor, and bass in turn. This Sunday I hadn’t tried to speak at all, and so didn’t know my vocal cords were useless. I’ve been fielding a cold for a week, and I soon found out how bad it was. On the first hymn, I opened my mouth and nothing came out! Nothing! That was the alto part that didn’t work. Trying to sing soprano was worse. There were strange squeaks, not related to the hymn at all. Even John would not have recognized the bass part. I gave up and just listened to normal people singing. I realized the seriousness of my situation when I couldn’t even CROAK!!!

Yes, a frog could make prettier sounds than I could. It’s going to be interesting to see how long this lasts. I do hope I can communicate with daughter Kate when she gets here for a short vacation later this week. If I’m still voiceless, I could ask her questions via text, and she would be free to ramble on for hours. Maybe that would be a fitting gift for a middle child who might still be longing to be heard.

At some point, I became aware that the generator was running, and that meant there was no electricity. Normally that doesn’t bother me, since most things are connected to the generator. I continued getting ready to meet David in town as planned. It was as I carried garbage to the car, I realized I didn’t know how to open the electric garage door. The button didn’t respond when I pushed it. I’ve lived here 12 years and never needed a car when it was stuck in the garage. Texting David was the quickest way to notify him, and I caught him before he left work. I would let him know if I was able to get out and if I could lock the door after exiting.

A cord was hanging down from the garage door, and I could reach it and pull it. For a short person, it was tricky to pull up the door while pulling that cord that locked the garage. I did it! I wouldn’t contact David until I backed the car out and closed the heavy door. Remembering that the garage door in New York had a handle on the outside, I looked for one here. No handle. If this door was as heavy as that one, I wouldn’t be able to close it slowly. Warning myself to get my toes back, I pulled the door down. Ah! It wasn’t as heavy as I feared. I was free! I got back in the car and let David know I was on the way to meet him in town. I was at least half an hour late, but I made it without having to get help.

After eating and shopping, I saw the power company had texted, saying electricity had been restored to my home. That was nice to know. I could go home as usual, not needing to get out of the car to put it inside the garage.

What a wonderful week I had! Old friends, who were former neighbors, came to stay with me. I did not ask for permission to use their names here. Having been accused of stalking people with a camera, I did not take their photos. Being under the same roof with a camera might have made them uncomfortable, so I played by incognito rules. Nevertheless, I had the time of my life and enjoyed every minute.

I learned a new trick with the house. By closing one door to the hall, the guests essentially had the bedroom wing of the house to themselves. I’ll bet family members will appreciate that.

We did a tourist thing by going on the Blue Ridge Parkway to see the fall colors. We went in the middle of the week and didn’t see the throngs of people we heard were there on weekends. We also went to several local shops.

I would never expect guests to bring their own coffeepot and make excellent coffee every morning, but it was delightful. She vacuumed AND washed the filters of the vacuum cleaner. In self defense, I’ll explain that we have his and hers vacuums, and she used John’s machine. She also saw the fall wreath in the hall and hung it on the door. I was looking for the hook, but she found a paperclip that did the job. He used a blower to clean my garage floor, as well as to remove leaves from the yard and front porch. Knowing these people, they could have fixed other things without my knowledge.

Our activities were not quiet, since we were talking much of the time. We all agreed to a rest period in the afternoon, and they did not stay up late or get up early. Visiting is so much easier when everyone is rested!! I had a delightful time and would welcome their coming again, although I don’t think it is likely to happen.

The pain associated with a smashed finger was minimal. Two days later, I could use that finger almost normally. It was the color that amazed me. Both top and bottom of the finger had turned Used-Blood Purple! Although completely natural, I do not recommend this type of finger painting.

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The warnings were insistent; there was a freeze alert for the early hours of Sunday. The very heavy concrete birdbath had water in it, and I felt I had to dismantle it. I was confident I could lift off the top and set it on the ground, since I had done this by myself only two years ago. It did not go as planned. It was too heavy for me, even with the water removed. My hand ended up between the top and the stand. As I heaved, it slid over my hand onto the ground. Instant pain shot through me, and I tore off the gardening glove. There was no blood! I could move all my fingers with nothing flopping in the wind! I rushed inside to run cold water over three of the fingers, because I couldn’t tell what had been damaged. Keeping the hand elevated seemed the thing to do until the tip of the ring finger started turning purple. A tiny mug was perfect for holding one ice cube and one finger, so I did that off and on the rest of the day.

From the time I saw the hand could move until now, I have given constant thanks to God for protecting me. It could have been so awful! I’m not worrying in reverse. I’m grateful the damage was not serious.

I usually look at the weather on my phone in the evening, so I know what to expect when I wake up. I must have dismissed it as inconsequential, because the chance of rain was 15%. That’s really low, if you consider the chance of no rain would be 85%. I did not check the screen before going out, because I was two minutes late. I blame the clock for that. For some reason it quit working in the middle of the night, and I planned to quit playing a game when the clock chimed 8:00. I stepped out confidently, knowing it shouldn’t rain on me according to last night’s forecast. Goodness! The sky was completely overcast, but I walked up the street. Mist was hitting my face at the top of the street. Going toward the first little stream, I felt the moisture was a bit more than a mist.

I wasn’t cold, but my sweatshirt was not going to repel heavy mist. I turned back, even though the percentage was still only 15%. Yes, I had stopped and checked. Normally, when you change course, the clouds notice and quit spitting. This time the mist continued. I came to a shocking conclusion that I had never thought of before. That figure of 15% really meant the moisture hitting me was at a low rate. Then 50% must mean sprinkling steadily, and 100% would be very heavy rain. If I had worn a water-repellent jacket, I would not have had this amazing revelation. It took me 32 years of walking six days a week to come face to face with this life-changing mathematical fact.

I’ve been to grandson David’s church a number of times, and I still haven’t learned how to use the bulletin of the day. It is always better when daughter Kate is with me, because she is better at understanding what is going on. Reminder – I wear hearing aids and reading glasses. On Sunday I saw some numbers on the hymn board, but there was no indication when music fit in the scheme of things. I did see the scripture readings for the day and could follow as they were read aloud. Beyond that, I was totally lost. I thought people in the pew ahead had music in their bulletins, but I couldn’t be certain of that. Mine had no music.

After the service, I told David how much I floundered. He looked at the bulletin I was still holding, as I said I had checked the date. He agreed the date was correct, but he pointed out that it was for the early service, not the late service I had bumbled through. Aarrgghh!

I know what happened. I rode with David, and therefore was quite early, since he had to get robed to sing in the choir. Because of repairs being made outside, I had to enter through a side door rather than the front door. I picked up a bulletin from a stack on the table. No one had removed the freshly redundant ones. When ushers saw me sitting in a pew, several checked to see if I needed a bulletin. I said I already had one, not knowing I needed the kind they were holding.

There are still things to conquer, though. Next time I’ll make sure I have a guide for the proper service. I will also attempt to understand numbers with S or T before them. I think the S stands for Supplement, a booklet found at the ends of pews. I always sit in the middle of a pew, leaving the aisle seats for late-comers. I do hope to someday feel comfortable with that service.