The Oppenheimer Report 1/26/09

For the past ten days or so, it has been rather hectic at the Oppenheimer household in Buffalo. We juggled nursing schedules and made adjustments to allow for the somewhat more complicated care-giving challenges that now confront us. Everything seems to be settling down now, and my sister and brother-in-law left to go home last Friday. SNAFU is I think the word I’m looking for … “situation normal, all fouled up”. Dad is too weak to stand on his own, but he needs to be upright in a chair for at least part of the day. We’ve rented a Hoyer lift, which is a device for lifting a patient out of bed and moving him or her into a chair. It’s quite a handy little machine. Basically, it involves a sling with lifting straps which is wrapped around the patient’s torso, then attached to a portable hydraulic lift. One simply jacks the patient out of bed and, while suspended in mid air, wheels him over to the desired location and gently lowers him down. There’s a bit of a learning curve involved in using it properly, but most of our nurses seem familiar with the drill. It certainly makes things a lot easier. It is strange watching my dad hoisted in the air like a piece of cargo.

Much of what has transpired over the past two weeks has been physically and emotionally draining for everyone involved. After my sister left, the nurses suggested that I should take some R&R leave as well. A week ago last Saturday, my pal Bob and I had planned to meet in Toronto for the annual International Boat Show. That is an annual outing which we both enjoy. This year, I had to cancel because of the family crisis, but as a joke, Bob suggested that we go to a little boat show presently being held in Western New York … at a shopping mall in Niagara Falls, N.Y. Last Saturday, Bob and I drove up to the Summit Park Mall for the big event, and while a bunch of fishing boats and outboard motors displayed in a shopping mall is hardly an international boat show, it was free and somewhat entertaining. Mostly, it was good to take a small road trip with one of my oldest and certainly best friends. As we sometimes do when we’re in the area, we visited the site of the Love Canal disaster. Many of the houses in that area have been bulldozed and new houses have popped up here and there, but the enormous fenced-off mound where the original problem occurred (and was hopefully contained) still looms ominously in the distance. After this sacred pilgrimage was completed, we drove up the Robert Moses Pkwy., following the spectacular Niagara Gorge all the way up to Old Fort Niagara on the south shore of Lake Ontario. It was a frigid but beautiful blue sky day, and as I gazed at the distant skyline of Toronto across the churning lake, for a moment I was free of guilt, ambivalence, doubt, confusion, frustration, and the forty other feelings competing to erode my sanity.

I’ve have known many friends and acquaintances in my life so far. Some have disappointed me, and I am sure I have disappointed some of them. For the most part though, I have been fortunate to say that I can call some really great people my friends. Someone once told me that you only need one or two really good friends in your life, and I think that is probably true. Bob is just such a friend. I know he will always be there if and when I need him -- I rely on that -- and he knows that I am there for him. At any given time, that loyalty might not involve anything more than going to a crappy boat show together, or the silent, mutual appreciation of a scenic drive. It might be a phone call in a blue moment. It is our communication, it is our long, colorful history together; the petty larcenies we committed together in our youth, the rock concerts we attended together, the failed love interests, the not-so-legendary stories we embellish, the off-color humor we share that nourishes our self-esteem. Bob has my number, spots my BS a mile away and calls me on it. I have had many friends, but one really good friend helped me weather the craziness of the past two weeks. And besides, how many people do YOU know who could do their bonding at Love Canal?
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 1/21/09

1/19/09 - Today is Martin Luther King Day, and I probably would not have known that except for the fact that I am writing this week’s report from Buffalo. There is a nasty intestinal flu floating around Buffalo, and last week my mom caught it. Shortly thereafter, my Dad contracted it as well and ended up in the hospital. A week ago last Sunday, he was admitted into the Buffalo General Hospital after becoming dangerously dehydrated, and one of his many vigilant nurses convinced him her was in grave danger if he didn’t go. Up North, Shauna and I agreed that at least one of us needed to remain there to address some critical code issues with the new house. After we ensured that Shauna would have indefinite support and assistance up there, I drove down to Buffalo on Monday. I could come back for her if needs be, but there was nothing much she could do for me down in Buffalo for the time being. Divide and conquer.

The past week has been a roller coaster. Doctors and nurses, opinions presented and difficult decisions made, and all the while we’re trying to focus on the main objective: doing what is right for Dad. We almost lost him on Wednesday, and I was told to bring Mom and my sister down to the hospital, perhaps to say goodbye. Then that evening, when I called over to the hospital to check on his condition, his nurse was laughing at one of his sarcastic zingers. We become hopeful, then there is a setback, then there is hope again, and so it goes. The uncertainty is hard. After reviewing a host of unattractive options, my sister and I have made a plan to allow him to come home, if he is able. As I am writing this, I’m not sure that will be possible, but he has been Lazarus, and surprised us many times before.

1/20/09 – Dad and I watched the Obama inauguration from his hospital room. We’ve made arrangements for him to be discharged tomorrow and to be brought home by ambulance. Before that happens, I need to disassemble and move his hospital bed from one room into another in the house, and to figure out a way to bring his motorized recliner/lift chair upstairs to his new bedroom. However long he now has, he’ll reside in his old (big) bedroom, with cable T.V., good nursing care, and whatever he needs to be comfortable. I didn’t really need to sell him on the idea of coming home from the hospital, but I did anyhow; I told him that he will now have perhaps the largest, best furnished single bed hospital room in Buffalo.
1/21/09- Dad was brought home by ambulance around noon, and with the help of four strong paramedics, he’s now resting comfortably upstairs. I went up and checked on him a few minutes ago and he’s sound asleep, sporting his bright red Cornell sherpa hat (he gets cold easily). Where we go from here is anybody’s guess. I know he is near the end, but how near I haven’t a clue.

If one good thing has come out of this difficult time, it is that I have been able to spend time with my sister and mother – more time than I remember spending with them in a long, long while. Father Time has really blindsided me and I was somewhat embarrassed by how out of touch I have been with them. Phone calls are no substitute for face time. In the past week there has been a lot of reminiscing, a lot of laughter, some tears, and the underlying confidence that, as a family we are, like most families, dysfunctional in some ways, but fundamentally solid in our foundation. Dad, I’m glad you’re home, sleep well tonight. Sorry the Sabres couldn’t pull off a win for you tonight, but I hope there will be other games for you to watch. 11:23 PM
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

The Oppenheimer Report 1/12/09

Down in Toronto last weekend, I took an exercise break and rode my bike down to Nathan Phillips Sq. to ice skate. Skating is a great form of exercise, and does not come fraught with the perils I have encountered while rollerblading. For one thing, ice skating is done on a rink, with other skaters. When I rollerblade, it is usually amidst a swarm of un-co-operative pedestrians, or worse yet, drivers. Anyhow, as I rode my bicycle down to the rink, I made an interesting observation. I was surprised by the number of bikers who had lit cigarettes dangling from their mouths. Doesn’t it seem a bit odd to you that someone should smoke while riding a bike? Kind of defeats the purpose, don’t you think?

Last week, I had a stress test up in the Huntsville Hospital. The past several months have been a little bit of a roller coaster and I and my doctor wanted to make sure the old ticker was still in tact. Apparently, the exercise has paid off. When the assistant to the cardiologist hooked me up to all the wires, he must have pegged me for a codger (probably my grey whiskers), because he advised me to stay on the treadmill “as long as I could,” in order for the cardiologist to get as much data as possible. I don’t think he or the cardiologist figured I’d stay on as long as I did, especially after they ramped up the speed, and in fact they had all the data they needed before I’d even broken a sweat. According to the results, I’m fit as a fiddle … physically at least.

Come the New Year, it seems many people make the same resolution – to get more exercise. I’ve belonged to several health clubs over the years, but I can’t stand them. I only belong so that I can swim indoors in the winter, and rarely if ever have I used any of the hamster machines. That’s what I call treadmills and stair machines. It seems as if, shortly after each new year begins, that’s when all the newbies flood into the health clubs to exercise furiously, for about a week or two, before going back to their beer-guzzling, pizza-hoovering, sedentary ways. I always made a point of avoiding the health clubs during that two week period. In fact, I don’t usually enjoy exercising around other people, unless I’m outside. I like to hike, I swim, I ride a bike, and sometimes I skate. I don’t really enjoy talking much while I’m exercising, and I really don’t want to listen to someone else talking. It seems the older I get, the less inclined I am to go to any trouble in order to exercise. I used to love skiing, then it became too much trouble, and too expensive. Skiing on a real mountain meant traveling a long distance, and once I was there, there was no assurance conditions would be good. Between the long lift lines, the high cost of a lift ticket, I finally gave up skiing. I remember sitting high up on a chair lift at Stowe Vermont one frigid morning; the wind was blowing, the wind chill was about thirty below, and I thought to myself, what the heck am I doing up here? I used to be a pretty good skier, but if I hit the slopes today, I’d probably pull a Sonny Bono and slam into a tree. For a while I used an indoor bike trainer which allowed me to use my own bike. All I needed to do was pop off the front wheel, mount the bike on this trainer, and I could ride my own bike indoors. I would watch an episode of Star Trek and I could almost forget I was exercising. That’s how I have managed to make exercise a regular thing. If it isn’t fun and easy I won’t do it. I finally wore out that trainer; I should get a new one. It’s a lot cheaper than joining a club.

Like most of my lifestyle changes, the decisions were not so much resolutions, as they were gradual evolutions. If I eat this food I will feel better. Stretch every so often and I don’t feel so stiff (a growing problem of late). More water, less beer. The latest evolution, and one which has been a long time coming, is the conscious effort to read more and to watch less television. Exercise for the brain … goodness knows, I could use a little of that!
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 1/5/09

First of all, I wish all of my readers a Happy New Year, and may 2009 AT LEAST be better than the last three months of 2008! We watched the ball drop in Times Square, as reported by Anderson Cooper and that irreverent, loud-mouthed Kathy whatshername from the “D List”. When the clock struck midnight, many of the frozen ball drop watchers of course broke into a chorus of “Auld Lang Syne”, which prompted me to ask the question “What’s up with THAT?”. Learning machine that I am, I had to know the history of Auld Lang Syne. According to Wikipedia, my “I’m-too-lazy-to-really-look-into-this” information source, Auld Lang Syne was originally a Scottish poem, written by Robert Burns in 1788, and put to the tune of an old folk song. The poem borrowed from earlier poems, and the phrase Auld Lang Syne pre-dates the Burns poem by about 200 years. It means, literally, “old, long, since”, or loosely translated, something like “long, long, ago,” or “days gone by.” Apparently, singing this song on New Year’s Day began as a Scottish tradition and spread around the world from there. Fascinating, eh? But all of you probably knew this trivia already.

Up north, we had the one-two punch from a crippling wind storm last week. Winds gusting to 100km/ hr. blew through the Muskokas wreaking havoc on power supplies and knocking down huge trees everywhere. In our rental bungalow, we were only without power for a little more than a day, and while that is nothing compared to the five days some folks up north suffered without power, it became a problem for those of us who could not pump out our basements. The house we’re living in temporarily is very cheaply built, and among its many other faults, it floods whenever there is a thaw. Short of the fact that it IS heated, it is about as bad as the cottage we knocked down in Katrine. This last thaw was quick and severe. We had about 2 feet of water in the (partially carpeted) basement, and no way to pump it out until the electricity was restored. What a mess! On top of this, we had to scramble to find a generator for our new home, because our generator on order has not yet arrived. Temperatures in the Muskokas quickly dropped from highs in the mid-50s to well below zero on New Year's Eve, and we needed to keep that house heated. To add insult to injury, our plumber has essentially disappeared and this has severely impacted the building project. As my mother-in-law often says “At least nobody’s in the hospital.” Yet.

2008 was hardly a banner year for the world, and as Israeli ground forces push into Gaza, it looks as if things are aren’t going to get better for the first part of 2009. Still, as we hoist our tumblers of reasonably priced pink sparkling wine from Australia (champagne has become far too expensive) “audaciously” we hope for a better future, one in which our leaders do not suffer from chronic myopia and purely political motivations…

“We two have paddled in the stream
From morning sun till dine
But seas between us broad have roared
Since auld lang syne."

May we all brave the roaring seas.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED