Adventure 521: The Story of George

George, January 2019

The end of July marks George's fourth year in Spokane. Up until February of this year he has lived independently at Harvard Park. Almost immediately, he struck up a romance with Vina Mikkelson. They maintained a relationship that bloomed into late life love for both of them. George, in fact, was adamant they get married. If the financial considerations had been different, I'm sure they would have. Instead, they became constant companions. Over the past four years, George has battled chronic UTI infections. His dementia has also steadily increased as demonstrated by a loss of memory, a loss of awareness, and confusion. Still, until his last UTI attack, he was managing to remain independent. Judy and I, as his central care givers, tried to maintain his independence for as long as we could. In the past year, this meant being at the ready to put out small "fires". We also contracted a home health nurse service to maintain his catheter and check for general health. We've been greatly influenced by Atul Gawande's book, Being Mortal. We both agree with the premise that a person should be able to live a prideful and self-determined life as long as possible. We've strived to make that happen. However, we're realistic as well. A year and a half ago, I did the leg work to move George to the Veteran's Home in Spokane when the time came that he'd need twenty-four hour care. We had that application in place when George suffered his life threatening attack in February. When George was still cognizant, we discussed what he wanted for end of life condition. He was the primary care giver for his mother, Rosa, who lived well into her nineties. She was physically healthy, but her dementia at the end made her completely vacant. At the end, she didn't even recognize George, let alone any of her other children. George was adamant that he didn't want to end like his mother: clueless, wheel chair bound, and incapable of making independent decisions. We devised the end of life POLST instructions to reflect that. The bottom line last February is that the emergency doctors ignored the POLST, which clearly indicated no antibiotics, no recessitation, and the like, and had I understood their working vocabulary (The definition of "heroics"), George likely would have passed as a result of the last attack because I would have refused treatment. He entered the emergency room with a heart rate of 154, a breathing pace of over sixty, low blood pressure, a blood sugar count of 590, and he was septic. Ignoring the POLST, the emergency doctor on call administered three highly potent antibiotics, pumped in an insulin drip along with two and half liters of fluid in less than a half hour. Several doctors came to me, all of whom were deciding the best course for him: the ICU ward, Hospice, etc. Had I understood what "Heroics" meant at the time, I could have honored George's wishes to let nature take its course. Instead, the Lord decided he wasn't ready to take George, and decided to change his name to Lazurus. Fortunately, the plan we had in place worked smoothly, so now George, wheel chair bound, and pretty clueless, is safely but unhappily housed at the Veteran's home. Among other confusions, he constantly asks when he's getting out of the place. He's tried to escape a few times. They have him on a wheel chair monitor, so if he gets up an alarm goes off. We've indicated that he receive only comfort care. No longer able to walk, (Although he thinks he can), he's had one fall. Judy and I have mixed feelings. We hate to see him unhappy, but we also realize that he needs this full time care. It's difficult, especially considering we thought we understood the rules. Not so much. If I have any advice to anyone, it's to clearly think through this period. Understand definitions. The emergency doctors are trained to perform heroic deeds, so they can't be faulted. It's also very possible that an on duty nurse will decide to ignore our further instructions. For example, after George's fall, the nurse informing me said that if he'd have suffered a laceration, they would have been duty bound to call for the ambulance. It's frustrating on many levels, not the least of which is that this is not what George wanted. We had a family dinner a couple of weeks ago. We brought George to our house for dinner. My son, Steve, loaded the wheel chair and George, and brought him to the house. George thought he was moving out. He had all of his clothes, his photos of Vina, and was sure he was being "sprung". Needless to say, these times are difficult. My only solace is the knowledge that I'm not in charge (as much as I'd like to be). So, we'll see what God has in mind.

 Sleeping it off in the hospital.

 First day at the Veteran's Home.

 Before long they had him on an exercise program.

 The Spokane Veteran's Home is a state run facility, where the care is quite good. The workers tend to stay on the job for long periods of time because of benefits and such. It means the turn over rate is low. That translates into people well versed in their duties.

 Many days, George sits outside his room just watching the activity. He was happy on this day because Vina had just visited. She's comes twice a week, which makes him happy.

 Leticia, our best care giver, seen here giving George a massage.

 She also trimmed his nails.

I think George's body language here indicates he's not really willing to go back to the Veteran's Home. All we can do is take him out for regular outings. Time will tell otherwise.

Adventure 520: Challis Hot Springs/Post B

6 x6 x3/ 105 degrees

We executed Plan A, and then some. It's a sixty minute drive to Stanley from Challis. The drive follows a winding two lane road that meanders beside the Salmon river. Steep canyons rise above on both sides. One side is barren sagebrush and rock falls. The other is filled with pine trees some of which find their roots all the way to the water. There's evidence of several fires that have left the pines as singed as jilted lovers, but the area has lost none of its luster. The drive is spectacular, and this morning we had the whole road to ourselves. As usual, people live all along the way, and there's a long history of pioneers in the area including a very famous gold mine along the Yankee fork. It takes a hearty soul to carve a life in this rugged land. Besides the harshness of the terrain, the winters are long and dark. Breakfast was worth it (as usual), and even though we arrived just a half hour after opening time, the place was bustling. After breakfast we drove six miles or so to the fish hatchery, parked the car, and rode toward Galena Pass. The temperature was in the low forties, so we were chilly, and the air was wet, although not raining. It was still delightful. On the way back Judy surprised me by suggesting we stop at the Slate Creek hot spring, which is 7.5 miles up a dirt road just South of mile marker 214. We first visited Slate Creek with Dave and Liz Ulmen some years ago, and once before, we tried to go. Since it's a four seater, rustically built in the open air, it doesn't take much for the place to be full. We fully expected it to be crowded this time as well. To our surprise, none of the camping areas were occupied, and there was just one car when we arrived. We scampered up the narrow slate trail, passing a couple on their way out. As a result, we blissfully enjoyed our own private paradise. Needless to say, we consider life to be good, especially today.

 The "Cager" won again this morning, eliciting a "high five" from the waitress. I guess I'm not the only aged white male suffering from outrageous fortune.

 This pool, cleverly designed includes a drain plug and hot and cold water blended to a very pleasant 105-6 degrees. It's variable because the hot and cold water flow can be controlled at the entry level just by moving the pipes.

 The straight pipe pours water about 115 degrees. The other two pour in the countering cool water from Slate Creek.

An elaborate piping system manages the hot tub.

 I'm always happy to enjoy a hot spring.

 Selfie of the day: Our own private Idaho.

 Evidence of pioneer life. This rusty plow had its work cut out breaking the rocky earth around here.

 The farming implements, rusted now, performed yeoman's work back in the day.

High quality steel. Rusted, but not forgotten.       And my not so rusty "Biker Babe".

Adventure 519: Challis Hot Springs/Post A

Worth a trip.

Pouring rain all night led to a wet departure this morning, but as soon as we took the fork toward Pocatello, we gave the wipers a break and enjoyed the desolate, semi-dry, well loved ranch land we passed through. It constantly amazes me where people choose to live, and those who live in this area must be self-reliant, self-sustaining, and stubborn. Pocatello, Idaho, a college town with a pioneer history loomed on the horizon, and after were turned toward Arco, the landscape turned even more harsh. Contented cattle dotted the landscape, a few working trucks parked here and there, but mostly the land lent itself to solitude. We arrived at the Challis Hot Springs around one. Challis, one of our favorites, offers two crystal clear, immaculately maintained pools. The large swimming pool sized pool maintains a temperature near 100. The smaller "hot pool" locks in around 107. Both pools provide a smooth rock bed, and both are emptied and refilled on a regular schedule. The manager of the hot springs is a retired marine gunnery sergeant named Michael Williams. He runs a tight ship, and the hot springs, always a treat, is blossoming under the sergeant's watch. We'll spend the holiday weekend here, and hopefully the weather will cooperate long enough for us to get a couple of rides in. Regardless, we make the hour jaunt to Stanley tomorrow morning just to enjoy the bakery, which is a treat not to be missed. Our plan is to dress in our bike togs, drive to breakfast, and then ride out on the plain toward Galena Pass. We won't climb the pass, which leads to Sun Valley, but ride offers spectacular scenery of the surrounding mountains. If it rains, we'll simply abort, still very happy campers to have enjoyed an excellent breakfast. And by the way, the Cager is still hot. She won the single match contest at Crystal Hot Springs this morning. No matter. Life is still good, especially today.

 We went straight to the "hot pool".

 Judy is about to take advantage of the very cool stainless steel benches.

 Really. This guy can be trusted.

 It's always fun to play footsie with my Bunny.

 Fric and Frac happily nestled in site #6.

 The view from our front window.

 Quack.

 The water may be crystal clear, but it's packed full of healthy minerals.

Adventure 518: Crystal Hot Springs

Some shadows offer the straight truth.

Wonder of wonders, inconceivable of inconceivable. The Wiley Cager double skunked me this morning, tying the series. We cut the cards to determine the winner. She cut an eight. i drew a King. So it goes. I had her drag me behind the rig in the rain so assuage my sore feelings. Not really, but we did drive through hard rain all day, including bumper to bumper, five lane traffic through the rain darkened Salt Lake to Ogden corridor  Mercifully, I held my place in lane, and we arrived safely at our overnight stay here at the Crystal Hot Springs. It's become a favorite of ours. The campground is passable, the hot springs excellent, and as an overnight stay it can't be beat. Today, while soaking, I was being entertained by some young rings and things Mormon girls who, if my eavesdropping is accurate, all work somewhere in the Salt Lake area as baristas. They talked of regular customers, some of whom they "loved". The vanilla latte doctor who knew all their names. Some they loathed: the arrogant double shot ice coffee with soy milk who never tipped. Three of the four had visible tattoos, although the cutest of the bunch still had her God given creamy white skin. They took pictures to send back to a boy friend, and the girlfriend said, "I asked Nathan if he'd ever been to a strip club." And then I asked him his feelings on divorce. They all guffawed, "What a Segway! " The most tatted girl from Cedar City then related her story about her parent's divorce which is scandalous in the Mormon community. She said an elder told her mom that there was never a good reason to get a divorce, which led to a story about a church member who made "business" trips to Vegas every week where it turns out he was heavily into kiddy porn. The tattooed girl exclaim, "Now, that's a fucking good reason to divorce!" I got the feeling they were showing off for me. I sat quietly, my eyes closed, just listening. I didn't pretend I wasn't. They talked about club hopping: First Bourbon, a dance club, then Twist, which is a sports bar they likened to a frat house (They hated it). They then said they topped the evening off at a "homo" bar before imbibing so much alcohol they blacked out. I got the feeling they were on a Zoo tour. But then I thought. It must really be hard to be an intelligent women raised in a paternal culture, living in a world dominated by arrogant white men, and no real hope of affecting real change. I hope they find a way. They deserve it, and the only real advice I'd give them is black out drinking has no real upside. As a product of the Charles Bukowski school of experience, I should know. Having said that, I'm the luckiest  guy on the planet. I have a Bunny who loves me, a grace that surrounds me, and book of life experience that promotes humility. Therefore, I can only conclude that life is good, especially today.

 My Bunny, otherwise known as the "Wiley Cager". (Young Mormon girls: take note.)

Adventure 517: Snow Canyon State Park/Post D

Site #11 Snow Canyon

The morning presented itself as clear, cool and bright. We finished breakfast about eight-thirty and took off on a very difficult 17.25 mile loop named SR 18. The first six miles was down hill (mostly) and then turned onto an exquisite bike trail which borders highway 18. The terrain in some places was very steep (14-18 percent). The scenery, however, was worth it. We did have to walk one portion, which was so steep my cleats were slipping as I walked. Once we gained the plateau, the route became a rolling wonderland, and the final screaming downhill into the park made it all worth it. St. George is really a good biking town, but us guys close to (and over seventy) would be wise to ride bikes with "power on demand". No matter. We were not worse for the wear after the ride, and we suffered no injury, although I thought I might blow a quad on a few of the climbs. This is our last night in St. George, so we're going into town to a pizza place we found on our last visit. It's a small shop downtown with a wood fired oven. It was partly responsible for our interest in the pizza oven we built two years ago. Hopefully, it will prove to be as good as we remember. In any event, life is good, especially today.

 My stoker wasn't so sure about today's ride, but she's a tough "biker babe" who provides power on demand.

 Snow Canyon down below and behind us.

 The trail head of Red Cliffs Recreation area.

 The red cliffs where much technical climbing occurs.

 This trail "ain't" flat.

 To the left of the petrified sad dune in the middle (In the shade) is where Frac is parked.

 More amazing rocks.

Mormon pioneers painted their names on these rocks in the late eighteen hundreds using axle grease from their wagons.

Adventure 516: Snow Canyon State Park/Post C

A nice impression.

Gratefully, another restful night. We woke to a cool day, he blue sky sprinkled with soft, puffy clouds that made me think of how it must have been for the Impressionists in Paris sipping coffee and enjoying rich chocolate puff pastries in cafes along every rue. We had no pastries, but Judy did fix a wonderful pancake breakfast, after which I skinned her to take a 4-2 lead in the Snow Canyon series. Not to worry, Cager fans, she has two whole days to recover. After breakfast we hiked the West Canyon Road the full eight miles. The sky, still soft with puffy clouds, followed us up the box canyon toward the white mountains at the end. This park, once known as Dixie State Park, was named after a benefactor named snow. Originally, it was inhabitated by the Anazi's and later by the Pauite's. Sometime around 1850, Mormon ranchers looking for lost cattle discovered the canyon. Today, it's a popular destination for day hikers, bikers, campers, climbers, backpackers, and the like. As we've come to expect in Utah, the park is exquisitely maintained and expertly managed. Other states in the Union should take lessons. Tomorrow will be a bike riding day, weather permitting. Another cold front could come in, which would then find Judy and I snuggled in Frac watching episodes of Heartland. It's really hard to get any better, and life is truly good, especially today.

 The desert is beginning its spring bloom.

 My and my Bunny.

 The Bunny is in there somewhere.

 The West Canyon Road ends up there somewhere.

 Easy walking.

 Judy, enjoying a peanut butter and huck/rasberry sandwich at the turn around spot on our hike.

Rainbow shadow.

Adventure 515: Snow Canyon State Park/Post B

The journey is everything. 

The rain rattled off the roof like unwanted thoughts for most of the night. Fortunately, the cool air hovered over us, making our sleep restful. It continued to rain until nearly eleven, so we played two games instead of our normal one. Series tied 1-1. When the sun peeked through around eleven we donned our riding gear and made our way the eight miles to our favorite eating establishment in St. George: Kneader's Bakery and Cafe. Most of the ride was on a wide paved trail. Only the last mile or so was on Bluff Road. But it was worth it. Our club sandwich on country French bread was a sloppy, sensual treat. We also bought a oatmeal raisin cookie and a loaf of hazel nut bread for the road. The ride back, uphill, was pleasant, especially considering the fact that we just missed a sudden squall that dumped a heavy dose of cold rain onto the park. Now, late in the afternoon, it's partly cloudy, cool, with a gentle breeze puffing the soft green sage brush which dots the roadside around here. Purple flowers are beginning to bloom along with a smidgen of red, a little yellow blossom, and of course, the ubiquitous pale green of the sage brush. We see an occasional lizard scurry in the red clay; we hear the call of an occasional bird, but we've seen no rabbits nor any other wildlife today. But once again, we're grateful to be alive, happy to be here, and delighted that life is good, especially today.

 Mopping wet this morning.

 Excellent establishment.

 Club sandwich made with real turkey and real baked ham, all smothered in mayo and mustard, sweet red onion, and leaf lettuce. Yummy.

 If here hands are moving, she's planning her next cagey move.

 Sure, honey, it's all down hill from here.

 These two bronze beauties guard the entrance to the park.

 Just another Utah spectacular.

 This guy was so impressed, he got petrified.

Maybe the most scenic campsite in the park: a first come, first serve tent site.