Part XIII-Getting by with Lots of Help from Family and Friends

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The tune by Carole King swims around in my head. “You’ve Got a Friend”

Not just friends–family too. Our middle son, Matt, and our eldest, Cameron, both come to be with us at the farmhouse. I don’t know what I would do without them. My woman friends, Margarita and Carol, come to help too, bringing food and helping me get things organized in our new digs. Rob called from Crested Butte, CO everyday to talk to Greg and me. He and Stacee have a home near us in Baja. They are such good people. Those phone calls meant so much to us.
Mike and Janine visit as well, taking our minds off our troubles. Our longtime buddy, Harold, with whom Greg worked for 25 years, comes to stay with us at one point. He lives in Spokane, and it is a boon for us to have him here. Michael, another of Greg’s co-workers and friend of 25 years, stops by to visit too, and he brings our mail.
Many people send cards of love and support. One of the messages from a card Rachel and Mark send stays with me. It is sweet mail, “Keep Swimming. Refuse to Sink.” My friend, Holly, a professional photographer, gifts us with a framed photo of our beach in Baja. I cry happy tears.
But the insurance company mail is not so sweet.

Later I painted the saying so I could remind myself. “Refuse to Sink!”

We’re experiencing a big problem with our medical insurance and we keep going around and around on the phone and through the mail. If dealing with cancer and treatment isn’t enough I’m getting notices from the Premera insurance company that they no longer will cover Greg. We have to start all over with another health insurance company. Really?? Just perfect.
It’s hard to accept that I can’t do this alone, but as soon as I let go of my ego surrounding this, I am more than happy to lean on all these angels surrounding us. Family and friends! It’s all about love. Right now we’re getting a lot of that.
We are showered with love and help and emotional support. Tons of it. People keep reminding me to take care of myself, not just care for my sweet husband who is suffering so. I am not watching out for myself much during this time. I have a mission and I am not thinking about anything else.
For Greg and I it’s as if there is a veil over our lives. You know how you feel when you’ve got a bad cold or the flu? How nothing is right with you? You don’t think the same, feel or react to things normally. Multiply that by a thousand. It’s as if I have no peripheral vision. My brain is scrambled.
Most times I am one heck of a good multi-tasker. You want five things done at a time and done well? I’m your woman. Not now. I’m working hard to focus on my “nursing” duties. I’m cleaning his port, using his port for medication and for hydration. We have a backpack to put the bags of saline in, with the pump secured in the pack. It has a timer on it.  Greg can be more mobile with the pack. However, the nutrition bags are hanging on the pole that has its own pump attached to it. It’s on wheels. That’s not as helpful as it might sound though, as he can barely walk and he asks me to disconnect him from the food instead.
Then he won’t let me start it up again, as it’s making him sick. I’m beside myself with concern for his nutritional needs. But he refuses more often than not. His weight is falling rapidly. With it goes his strength. I’m helpless to help him because he won’t let me. This is consuming me with frustration, anger, and fear. I’m angry with his treatment. I’m angry with cancer. Fuck cancer.
I explain to him that I’m the one whose responsibility it is to see that he gets his nutrients and his fluids. He says he doesn’t want to vomit anymore. What am I supposed to do? He’s malnourished. It’s killing me. It’s killing him. I think my blood pressure must be high. I know his blood pressure is high. Pain does that.
I want to scream. I go downstairs to the bathroom and close (slam) the door. I scream and cry for all I’m worth. Now I have a splitting headache from all this screaming and crying. Go figure.
I have to keep his hydration packs in the refrigerator, but the cases of items needed to deliver it and the cases of Boost for the stomach tube and all those disposable bags to hang on the pole litter the dining room.

Just a few of the things I have to use for hydration and feeding.

I am recording things in my notebook to make sure I have something to which I can refer if I can’t remember my care accomplishments. Which medication? When? How much? How much nutrition has he had?  When does the next shipment of hydration packs come? Did I order them? The pharmacy is good about calling when they believe I’m running low on supplies. Where are those syringes? (I have many different ones. Some come already filled. Others I must draw medication into the syringe.) Sanitary practices must be followed. I’m paying a great deal of attention to all of this. I can’t let my emotions join my nursing party. Focus. Focus.

No longer doing any exercise, he lies in the chair trying to sleep, in between trips to the bathroom.

Without my family and friends and the neighbors who are splitting wood and keeping the stove burning, feeding the chickens, and letting them out when I am gone, I’d be unable to function. We had never even met this neighbor before. The care they give us is such a gift. All the people who help, give hugs, their ears that listen. Priceless.

I tell Greg not to try to get up without me or someone to help, but he’s not “with it” enough to remember, or the urgency to get to the bathroom is too much. He’s fallen twice now. His fever is getting too high. I am crazy with fear and worry. I call the nurse and she tells me to take him to emergency.

At this point our sons have gone home to California and Florida with promises to return again soon. So Harold helps me get him in the car and offers to take care of Isabela, so I don’t have to have her stuck in the car for hours. Bless him. (He’s not a dog lover either).

I drive to the ferry and head for the hospital. Good thing I remember to bring a big pan in case he needs it. Which he does. I force myself to concentrate on driving carefully. I’ve got precious cargo to deliver to the hospital.

Cancer Journey Part XII-Going Through the Motions, December 2016

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A note: I started this diary of our journey with cancer quite some time ago. It’s been a long haul, but I think I have what it takes to finish this now. Here we go with Part XII.

Taken at Mike and Marla’s…before the treatment side effects hit.

Christmas is swiftly coming upon us. It is going to be different for sure, but while Greg is feeling okay, we are trying to enjoy our lives with people we love. Visiting with our dear friends, Mike and Marla, whom we haven’t seen in so many years, is good for our hearts.

Being with Marla brings big smiles.

Janine and her daughter, Jordan, love to decorate their home for the holiday. Greg and I haven’t done any decorating since our kids grew up and left home, so this is quite a change. It’s very festive, I have to say, and somehow it cheers us both.

There are decorations up all over town. Even the hospital gets Christmassy. (Yes, that’s really a word).

The view from the Providence Regional Cancer Partnership on the 2nd floor where they give the radiation treatments.

One day leads to another. The rhythm of riding the ferry, driving to the hospital, slipping into a hospital gown, being slid into the radiation machine becomes so familiar he can do it without much thought. Although reality means there are many thoughts and questions swirling around our brains.  Each day of treatment brings a different ugly physical reaction for Greg. He is being fairly stoic, and maintaining a pretty good sense of humor, in spite of the roller coaster ride that is radiation and chemotherapy.

Heading out from Mike and Janine’s driveway to the ferry.

As people who live with a dog, we have to make this daily grind work well for us and help make the new routine as comfortable as possible for Isabela. If she thinks we’re getting in the car to go somewhere to play with her she gets so excited she can’t stop barking and bouncing around from window to window in the car. This behavior consequently drives us crazy. This is a stress we do not need.

As I said before,  every morning as we climb into the car to head for Everett, I tell her, “We’re going to the hospital. We’re taking Daddy to the hospital.”  Repeating this helps her to understand that we are NOT heading to the beach or the park to entertain her. Rather, she soon learns that “going to the hospital” means she is going to be stuck in the car for a considerable amount of time.  When she learns the new routine, sees that we’re heading to the ferry, she gets in the car, lies down, looks dejected, but remains quiet.

In order to have something positive to do while I wait for Greg to finish his treatments, I bring along lime green and royal blue yarn for crocheting hats and scarves for Seahawks fans.

There is a place in the lobby where cancer patients can go for information (there is a lot of it)  and to pick out donated items like the ones I make. In the Seattle area, Friday is the day many people wear their Seahawks’ colors, so my scarves and hats  prove to be popular. They get snatched up as soon as I get them finished. Plus, while I’m crocheting, the yarn keeps me warm and gives me something positive on which to focus, instead of filling my mind with worries. It works pretty well for me, though I have to admit I do a lot of worrying these days. Things are changing rapidly now.

Attempting to get into the holiday spirit, I paint a rock for Jordan.

Our hosts go to celebrate Christmas with Janine’s brother’s family and we have their beautiful home to ourselves for a few days. They left a stocking filled with goodies for Isabela and she has a lot of fun “opening” it.

Christmas comes and goes. It’s getting more and more difficult for Greg, and he has a couple extreme bouts of nausea and vomiting. His color isn’t good. His hair is starting to fall out in the back of his head, in a strange, straight line.

To very little fanfare, on New Year’s Eve, Greg turns 63. He isn’t in the mood to celebrate. Meals are no longer enjoyed. Greg has always been thin, but now his weight drops quickly. Swallowing is impossible, and there is a lot of mucous.

It’s time to start hanging the bag of Boost from a pole and have it trickle into the stomach tube for feeding. Doing this kind of feeding is emotionally challenging. We both find it difficult to mentally prepare. But of course it is a lot worse for my husband than it is for me. I can busy myself with the details, go through the motions of programing the pump, filling the bag, keeping track of how much he’s getting, etc. He’s the one that has to sit in a chair hooked up to this contraption as the concoction drips slowly through the tube into his stomach.

It’s hard to look forward to eating, especially if you have to have it dripping into a tube that goes into your stomach and it’s the stuff you vomited up the last time you had it.

He got so horribly dehydrated we had to go to the hospital for hydration. We waited for four hours to be seen in the emergency room. After having to be hydrated at the hospital a few times, the decision to order supplies for at-home hydration seems the only way to go. I will learn another skill to help Greg get through this.

We are now moving from Mike and Janine’s to another friends’ home. For January, we previously made plans to trade houses with Dennis and Joni, who live on Whidbey Island too.

Joni and Dennis trade houses with us.

It’s not too far from where we’ve been living. They will be flying to Baja and staying in our house for seven weeks. Lucky for them!

Greg is so sick now that he can’t help me with the move. He’s lying on the couch just trying not to throw up. He’s so weak. I make several trips with all our stuff to Joni and Dennis’s. How did we manage to get so much? Winter clothes are bulky, but a lot of it is related to feeding and hydrating Greg. I have cases of boost,  all the things related to his feeding and a myriad of hydration equipment. It’s quite a feat making sure everything gets transferred over there and making sure Greg is taken care of. Not to mention what to do with Isabela. In our new home we will have chickens to feed. I will need to let them out for hours at a time too. Isabela and chickens? This is going to be interesting.

The home of Joni and Dennis, our new digs for 7 weeks.

They have a rabbit too.

January 2017. We are moved in.  I’m tired. Greg is so sick and weak. Isabela is unsettled. Where are we now? What’s going to become of us? Life is definitely interesting…but oh, so very tough.

 

 

 

 

Last Day of June, First Day of July

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Blue skies make for a joyful heart. Last evening’s walk made for a satisfying way to end the last day of June.

 

 

This is a close-up of those little flowers in the photo above.

El Pescadero where we live has farmland. Basil, poblano peppers, watermelon, and sometimes sage and rosemary grow all over our neighborhood. Sometimes the basil perfume mixes with that of the ocean and I know I’ve died and gone to heaven.

The plant below is called Bad Woman (Mala Mujer). It gets its name from the nasty stinging hairs on its leaves. It is beautiful, but I don’t want to experience those stinging hairs. It is a perennial and blooms mostly May-July, mostly in the southern part of the Baja peninsula, especially in the Cape region.

 

Back of my house on the last leg of my evening walk.

Before the day ends, I snap a few photos in my backyard.

This part of our yard is watered with our grey water.

Some of the cactus in this part were already here, but mostly we are growing things we brought in.

Close-up of our passion fruit vine that covers the back fence. We get lots of fruit and privacy from this growing fence.

As we begin our morning of July 1st, the moon is still out.

Our neighbor’s house (rammed earth).

 

 

Cardon blooms and a dove enjoying the July early morning.

Bustin’ at the seams this morning with joy.

Later the car will get a much-needed bath, I’ll practice the ukulele, sit in my hammock chair, and read. Sacred Sunday! My wish for you is that you enjoy yourself wherever you are and whatever you do.

Recent Baja Delights

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The desert is coming alive. Summer is here for sure and I’m using my house fans already. We had such a cold winter. Well, at least it was cold to those who live here full time. I love the lazy, quiet summer, even with the humidity and heat. It’s like taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Sweet, sweet summer.

Couple days ago we went to La Paz to run errands. Stopped at the Bravo Market for bacon (for Greg) and bones (for our dog). I can barely stand the smell of the meat, so I wandered around looking at all the fruit and veggies while Greg waited his turn. In the various juice stands they must make a least 20 different types of fresh fruit and vegetable drinks. More my speed.

After our errands and shopping, we headed out of town toward the pretty beaches–Balandra Bay, and Tecolote Beach. Stunning views. Big city, desert and water and mountains all in one day.

Tecolote

So many shades of blue. It was pretty quiet where I took these photos, but not too far away people were speeding around in jet skies and you could hear the screams of delight from young kids. I prefer the quiet lapping of the water on the shore, but to each her own.

Today’s walk in the neighborhood was fun. Isabela and I have a couple different walks in the hills around where we live. She loves to chase rabbits and she is always stopping to smell something. It’s what dogs do. They have such a sense of smell.

The following is from

 http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/nature/dogs-sense-of-smell.html

It says, “For one thing, they possess up to 300 million olfactory receptors in their noses, compared to about six million in us. And the part of a dog’sbrain that is devoted to analyzing smellsis, proportionally speaking, 40 times greater than ours. Dogs‘ noses also function quite differently than our own.”

That is an interesting site if you are interested in dogs, and who isn’t?

We saw lots of things today, but I only took a few photos. The desert is alive with flowers this time of year.

Weeds? I won’t tell them if you don’t.

These are weeds apparently, but such showy ones.

Oh, and a dead rattlesnake. Poor guy. Isn’t he beautiful? Call me crazy, but I like snakes, though I have a healthy fear of this kind.

 

The photo below is a neighbor’s place. He must pay for a lot of water.

Going to leave you with a photo of my favorite peak– Sierra de La Laguna:

These photos should show you some of the reasons I love my life here in Baja Sur. We live on the “right side” of the wall.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Push Comes to Shove

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This idiomatic phrase has been rolling around in my head for awhile and my attention has been focused on precise distinctions. Is there a subtle difference between a push and a shove? When things get critical, and there is an urgency, does a push then become a shove?

 

I had a professor at the University of Washington that insisted there are no synonyms. Each word has its own special essence and I believe these two words prove his point. ‘Shove’ seems more aggressive, doesn’t it?

Recently, I had my push/shove moment. The political climate in the USA is horrendous. My heart breaks constantly over the unabashed way our leaders disrespect humans. Not just the immigrants who are coming in search of asylum, but its own citizens. If you happen to be a person of color, or if you are not straight, white, and male, or enjoy a good financial status, then you are often treated unfairly.

The actions taken by the current government officials that hurt democracy, harm others in the world, and negatively impact our planet’s environment will take years to reverse. The bigotry shown by #45 and his ilk hurts all of us. America is no longer the country to which I feel connected.

I became so incensed I had to quit Facebook because I couldn’t stop emotionally reacting to all the political posts. I was horrified by posts from friends, or their responses to others’ posts, that showed them to be people I don’t even want to know. How can ANYONE say that #45 is a Christian? I can think of a lot of descriptors of him, and Christian certainly is not one of them. He lacks integrity, intelligence, moral fiber, and the ability to think critically as evidenced by his lies, executive orders, and his choices for cabinet members.

But it is the issue of gun control that changes everything for me. I find myself losing control of my emotions when I see how many  people find no reason to even discuss gun control. Gun control is not a valid issue to them.

It isn’t healthy to get so wound up. I deactivated my Facebook account. Now I pick and choose what to read. I am surrounding myself with books that make me think, help me become a better person. I am immersing myself in painting, music, and beach walks. I spend time with people who care about others, and people who believe in protecting rights, but don’t see owning an AR15 as a right anyone has.

I will continue to vote, to uphold my values, be part of my community, and do things to help others in big and small ways. But I won’t be sucked into being part of poisonous rhetoric. I am choosing to look for positive ways to impact my world. The actions I want to take will be of a supportive, encouraging nature to those I encounter. I will be better able to share with enthusiasm now because I am not constantly aching inside, being reminded of the evil nature that seems to be thriving in America right now.

You may see my withdrawal as cowardly. But I see it as simply realizing my limitations. I’m refusing to be bombarded with what kills my spirit.  Push has come to shove.

I just learned to play Amazing Grace on the ukulele. I finished another colorful painting of a doorway. I took my dog for a walk, my husband and I had a great conversation with our neighbors, and I started a new book. I’m filling my life with love and happiness.

 

My most recent attempt with acrylic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hiking Mt. Solmar in Flip Flops

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It all started when my dear friend Dori and her daughter, Lily and Lily’s girlfriend, Annabel came from the US to stay in their home nearby us for a week. They wanted to go to Cabo San Lucas and hike to the iconic arch. Dori said they had done this before, so I gladly accepted the invitation to go with them. I have hiked a lot in my life and think it’s fun. Just because I’m 71 doesn’t mean I can’t hike anymore, right? But I wore flip flops? Really? What the heck was I thinking?

I drove us to Lands End in Cabo by the marina and after parking and avoiding several annoying salesmen trying to get us to buy a boat trip, we got to the beach on foot. That’s where this hike was going to start. But it has been quite a few years since Dori had gone to the arch. The pathway she’s sure they took back then is fenced off.

 

No stopping us though, and we decided to follow the path up Mt. Solmar and see if we could drop down onto a trail to the beach where the arch is.

 

Doesn’t look like much of a trail, does it?

 

Lily, Annabel, and me!

This wasn’t a problem for quite a long way, but we realized early on that this wasn’t going to be ending well. The beach is not in the direction we were going, and it got pretty steep without much of a trail. We sent the teen-age girls up alone to see if they could see a trail going down to the beach.

My flip flops made this a tenuous experience. Also, every time I reached for a rock as a hand-hold, there was a little cactus waiting to greet me. Oops. The views from where we were made it worth it though.

 

 

After the girls had gone higher and checked it out, we realized this wasn’t what we wanted to do and we started back down.

I definitely rue the day I didn’t wear my hiking boots or my tennis shoes at the very least. Without support and traction, I was not doing that well. I started to lose my footing at one point and reached out to hold onto a rock, but there was a cactus in that very spot, so in a split second I decided to jump, instead of fall. I landed on some loose rocks, jarring my knees and fell on my butt. Ouch. Not only was I trying to hike in these stupid shoes, I hadn’t had breakfast. It was about 11:30am at this point. The fall made me feel achy and woozy.

I would have kicked myself if that had been possible. Stupid me. At least I brought water along, but it was already half gone.

Cactus blooms delighted us on the trail.

Turned out that we could see a better (level) path after we got down that headed in the direction we wanted. Dori remarked that she should have listened to her intuition in the first place, as it was pretty obvious that going up this rocky mountain wasn’t going to get us to the arch.

Taking this nice path made for a sweet adventure that ended with more splendid views, but we never made it to the arch. One would have to be a mountain goat to get down the rocks to the beach. Or be wearing better footwear. And maybe being a little younger would have helped me. At any rate, we decided to get back to the beach where we started.

The arch is around the corner beyond the rocks. (I think.)

 

Dori, don’t fall!!!

The three of them brought swim suits. I only brought my camera.

Dori enjoying the water.

Others enjoying the water too.

We had the privilege to see lots of jumping rays as our finale.

 

We left the beach to the local children and headed to the restaurant to meet our spouses for lunch.

Maybe I’ve learned my lesson too.

Flip flops do not make good hiking footwear.

 

 

 

 

 

Cactus Dreams

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When I was a kid I thought the desert was ugly. Really? What was I thinking? Now I get so excited about how many species of cactus I see here in The Baja.

Cactus dreams are mine.

 

Cactus Sunrise

 

Cactus Sunset

 

The one on the right above is from an agave that puts out this last bit of fun before it dies. We used it for a Christmas tree last year and we like it so much we kept it in front (without the lights). The one on the left is a yucca.

Below are two agave “trees” that are coming out of a couple small agaves.

 

 

 

Speaking of lights, we took them from the agave bloom and put them around our cardons in the front. Pretty cool, huh? Cardon cactus (scientific name: Pachycereus pringlei) are native to northwestern Mexico in the states of Baja California, Baja California Sur. (“Sur” means “South”)  It is the tallest cactus species known, with a record height of 63′ tall. It is similar, but not the same as, the saguaro cactus found in the Sonoran Desert in Arizona.

The ones below are on the side of my house. We have several cardon in our yard. They make great perches for the birds too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lately I have been painting little pictures of cardon. I was inspired by one of my photos to do this one:

 

Here’s the photo I used:

 

The ones below are growing into quite a clump, which is very common around here.

 

The first time we drove down The Baja, seeing the cactus was mesmerizing to us–the shapes, the sizes, colors, how they grow in such a desolate landscape. The varieties of cactus are endless, and I know only a fraction of what’s out there. The next few photos are from Cataviña on our drive on The Baja.

 

 

 

 

 

This last one in Cataviña is my favorite. It looks like a water color to me. Maybe I’ll attempt to paint this one.

Several of the cactus grow into funny shapes. We say they are “morphed.” I have no idea what causes this strange thing to happen to them. Diversity is everywhere. The one directly below is a pitaya that has morphed into this funny shape.

The next ones are morphed cardon.

 

Cactus are like people. Some of them are pricks and the next thing you know they blossom.

 

 

Here are some of my tries at painting these amazing plants.

 

The ones with the orange flowers are called tuna cactus. The ones with yellow blooms are nopales. I’ve had the paddles from them in salad. So yummy. You can eat the fruit too.

 

This gorgeous flowers above are growing on a pitaya, or organ pipe.

 

It always amazes me how cactus can grow in such rocky places.

Above is a cardon standing alone at Balandra Bay in La Paz.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I no longer believe the desert is ugly. It’s full of the most crazy, cool cactus and critters. My life is full of cactus dreams.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Whale Watching and More

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A trip to Lopez Mateo in Magdalena Bay gave us more to love about the Baja. The experience was exactly what we wanted, with much more than whales to see. Magdalena Bay is on the Pacific side and after a peaceful morning with whales and dolphins, the boat dropped us off we had a short hike on the dunes to get to the ocean.

 

 

 

 

There are a family of coyotes who live on the dunes. There is no source of fresh water, so they rely on dew on the vegetation. I was surprised at how large they are. There must be a lot to eat.

 

We searched for treasures and found some. These are the largest sand dollars I’ve ever seen.

 

 

We made the trip with Carlos and Paula who own and operate the Todos Santos Surf Shop and Explora Baja. We’ve done the whale shark trip with them several times, but this is the first time for Mag Bay. It’s such an up close look at the gray whales. Our oldest son and his wife came from Florida to visit and we treated them to this side trip. It’s about a six hour drive, but Carlos drove and we had the comfort of a big van. The hotel we stayed in served delicious meals. The evening meal was lobster. Oh my! What a treat.

Our daughter-in-law loves to have her photo taken while she jumps for joy. What a delight.

 

Hearing the whales spout, seeing their tales, and being so close to these creatures gave us thrills.

 

 

 

The mangroves are something to see too. Lots of birds thrive here.

 

 

 

 

The sights and sounds of Magdalena Bay will be with us forever. We’ll definitely go again.

 

 

 

 

Dolphins show off!

The sunrise from our hotel room balcony was beautiful.

 

Memories are made of this.

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you for not driving on the beach!

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I didn’t make this sign or put it in the public access by my house, but I am thrilled that someone did. Zona de Anidacion means Nesting Zone. But it is more than nesting that makes me so unhappy about people driving on the beach. What about the baby turtles as they hatch? It’s hard enough for them to make it to their ocean home going over all the footprints and beer cans and plastic bottles and other plastic crap that people leave on the beach.

Going over tire tracks is a major hurdle for these precious little ones. I’ve seen them as they fall into the rut and end up on their backs struggling to right themselves. It’s bad enough that some dogs dig up nests, and the birds eat the babies as they attempt to get to the sea and crabs eat the eggs in the nest. At least those last two I mentioned are nature at its finest.

But cars and trucks on the beach? Why? Because it’s Mexico and you can do anything you want and get away with it? No rules? You left your brain at home? You left your manners at home? You don’t care?

 

Yesterday I stopped a fisherman from driving his truck over a bunch of baby turtles. I went screaming and waving my arms in his path yelling, “No! No!” As he got closer I reached down and picked up one of the turtles and held it up for the fisherman to see. He got out of his truck and saw for himself all the turtles…must have been about 40 of them right there in front of him. Had I not stopped him, he would have driven over them in his full sized truck.

To his credit, he got right with it, picking up the babies and putting them closer to the water. Maybe that’s not the right thing to do either, but it’s better than driving all over them. He took photos with his phone and I offered to take his photo with the turtles. His smile with those little ones made my morning. We spent a lot more time watching the waves roll up and over them a few times before they finally made it out to swim. The fisherman never did continue driving, rather turned around and went off the beach.

I can’t help but think that if people who drive all over the beach would see this miracle hatching or females laying eggs, that they would stop taking their vehicles on the beach. Maybe that is too optimistic, but I’ve always been more of an optimist than a pessimist. Lack of knowledge about the impact their driving causes has to be one reason they don’t stop.

 

All those black dots are babies heading to the water.

 

These are the mother turtle tracks from coming up to nest and then going back to the water.

And in case you didn’t see my previous post, here is a mother turtle covering her nest. We came upon her early one morning. What a blessing to see this miracle.

I hope this short video of the babies heading to the water will buffer quickly for you.

I promise it is worth your time.

You miss many wonderful things driving on the beach. Here are some things I’ve come upon during my walks.

 

 

All collected one morning on the beach. Find the seahorse?

Just standing still for awhile to watch the waves, and turning toward the mountains and see the sunrise are two examples.

An eel washed up.

 

But it is more than that. The peaceful feelings, the wonder, or the magic won’t be yours as you roar down the beach in your vehicle.

Sunrise seen today as I walked on the beach.

 

Please don’t drive on the beach. The turtles need your help.

 

HPV Causes Cancer–HPV The Silent Epidemic

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Attention. I need your attention. Especially if you are a parent. Children between the ages of 11 and 12 need the human papilloma virus vaccine.

https://www.nbcnews.com/health/health-news/silent-epidemic-cancer-spreading-among-men-n811466

Who knew? There is an epidemic of head and neck cancer among men. It’s caused by the human papilloma virus (HPV) and anyone who has been sexually active in his or her lifetime may have it. It is very common.  Some doctors believe HPV is as common as the cold virus. This is the virus that was dormant in Greg for years (no symptoms) and why he grew a tumor on his tonsil that was stage 4 squamous cell carcinoma. There are so many men affected by HPV that is causing throat cancer that it is considered an epidemic.

Please, if you have children, read the articles I’ve included with the links. Ask all the pertinent questions of your child’s doctor and seriously consider this vaccine. I know there are many young parents who won’t have their children vaccinated, but think again. Please. You don’t want this cancer for your son or daughter. It can be prevented with the vaccine. But only if you get it early like they recommend as 11 or 12 year olds. Adults cannot be protected with the vaccine. HPV does not just “go away” either.

The American Cancer Society has a lot of information about it, as well as many other reputable organizations. https://www.cancer.org/cancer/cancer-causes/infectious-agents/hpv/hpv-and-hpv-testing.html

 

Anyone who has ever had sexual relations, even with only one partner, is at risk for HPV. You owe it to yourself and your family to get educated. Please.

Cancer sucks. The treatments suck.

Educating yourself is painless.

https://www.cdc.gov/hpv/parents/questions-answers.html

 

 

Olive Ridley Turtles on “our” Beach

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Two days in a row we came upon turtles laying eggs and then going back into the ocean. To say it was a thrill doesn’t quite capture the feeling. Such a blessing to witness this spectacle.

I’ve written extensively about the Olive Ridley turtles in a previous post, but I now can add these photos.

Look closely and you can see the motion of the sand as she covers her nest.

 

There were construction workers who are building houses on the beach. They  came down to view this too with their cell phones out snapping photos. We were all enthralled and excited.

 

 

 

They lay their eggs, cover the nests and go back into the ocean. What a blessing to witness this.

 

 

The bad news is that people drive on our beaches. It is illegal to do so, but it doesn’t stop them. Also, this morning we found four new nests and all of them had been dug up. There were 4 Runner tracks leading to each of them. Disgusting.

Turtles have enough trouble surviving without these creeps digging up the eggs. Ugh.