Christianity and Jesus Christ Superstar: Dispelling the Godspell

Miracle Girl: Christianity and Jesus Christ Superstar: Dispelling the Godspell

Can you still enjoy Jesus Christ Superstar after you've broken the Godspell? For Keith, the answer is yes. Though I was never under the Godspell, I can enjoy the movie too.

But we both have an enduring love Jesus Christ Superstar, despite the fact that he isn't that to either of us.

Happy Coma Day!

Miracle Girl: Happy Coma Day!

Today is the third anniversary of my awakening, an event Keith has dubbed Coma Day. It awoke from a weird coma-dream into an almost as strange reality.

My doctors told my loved ones to give up all hope for my recovery, that I was profoundly brain-damaged and would never be the same. They were wrong.

I spent the rest of the day proving it.

Stopping just long enough to smell the roses

Tumblrs: Orcutt Ranch

One of the first places I wanted to see when my mother and I moved to LA was the La Brea Tar Pits

Seizing the day, in this case, Easter.

(translation the the tar tar pits). Well, the discoverer of the Tar Pits was W.W. Orcutt, the previous owner of one of our favorite nearby places to walk, Orcutt Ranch.

We hadn't been back since May of 2015, however, because it was beginning to become too small for me. The reason we returned last Sunday was that when Keith's sister and his mom were there on a holiday last year, it wasn't crowded. That sounded appealing, since the last time we walked on Easter Sunday, it was a madhouse...a madhouse!

One of the downsides--really the only one--of getting stronger is that some of our favorite walking places have to fall by the wayside. I'm afraid that Orcutt Ranch is going to be one of them. Oh, there's plenty to see there, cool statuary, dozens of vibrant varieties of blooming roses and other fragrant flowers, ancient oaks, and citrus orchards to boot (see Tumblrs).

How could I forget the orchards--I walked through them enough times last Sunday! We eventually managed to rack up 2.40 miles, but the map of our walk looks like silly string.

Not that I'm complaining. Okay, I'm complaining. It's not that I didn't enjoy it, but even though we took different routes each time, it got a little tedious after a while. All in all, we took two plus round trips around the ranch. I also climbed every staircase in the ranch, to the point that I climbed one and then walked right back down again.

I can remember when the "hill" felt more like a mountain. This time, I walked up what felt like a mere incline.

Posing with the Three Graces for the first time at Orcutt Ranch, in March, 2014. I'm struck how fat my face had become from prednisone every time I see an old pic.

As we made one more lap around the ranch, our conversation drifted to other favorite walking place that I've grown past. The world-class Japanese Garden in Van Nuys sprang immediately to mind. Next time we go there we'll have to make a couple of loops through it, as well.

It seems strange to feel nostalgic for weakness, and of course I'm proud too. The fact is, I couldn't have walked a fraction of what I did Sunday before my coma.

I literally didn't stop to smell the roses. In fact, I wouldn't have gone out at all just for pleasant walk. Oh, we would walk through the Natural History Museum and afterwards we stroll through the adjacent rose garden on the way to the parking lot. But I would already feel wasted from the museum and I couldn't wander as much as I would like to have.

Throwback Thursday, taken in May of 2010 in front of the Rose Garden.

Indeed, my entire attitude about exertion has changed. Now, I actively seek out opportunities for exercise instead of avoiding them like the plague. I push myself through the exhaustion instead of quitting when I'm starting to feel tired.

So so long, Orcutt Ranch, with its roses, magnificent oaks, statuary, and swastikas. Yes, you read that right. W.W. Orcutt fetishized Native American culture. As the signs carefully point out, the swastikas festooned throughout the grounds were Native American sun symbols installed in the twenties, long before the Nazis came to power. But I regret not posting for one last pic next to the pylon with the huge swastika. How could any Jew with a sense of dark humor resist?

The last time I posed with the swastika, in May, 2015.

The Abuse of Use and Disuse

The Secular Spectrum: The Abuse of Use and Disuse

Keith and I have different memories of the incident I recount in The Abuse of Use and Disuse. He remembers it as him reading aloud to me the encyclopedia passage about how Lamarckism had displaced Darwinian natural selection. But I distinctly recall staying up until the wee hours of the morning, after deciding to thumb through the delightfully Art Deco Funk and Wagnalls volumes from 1934 he had just purchased. Before my coma, I had the bad habit of staying up late to read things when I should be getting ready for bed. And how could I resist finding out what they had to say about my favorite subject, evolution?

The next day--or should I say later in the day--I told him excitedly about what I had found. I remember struggling to find the relevant passages. Was it in evolution or natural selection? Where was that quote about Lamarckism?

When I mentioned the idea for the SecSpec post recently, we dug out the encyclopedias. I initially didn't remember thumbing through such small volumes. But as I looked through them again in preparation for writing the post, the memories flooded back. My eyesight had deteriorated enough for me to require a magnifying glass to read the tiny print.

Who was right? Well, obviously, I think I am. My memory of the incident is more detailed and defined, and I have a better long-term memory than Keith has. That afternoon, we read through all the relevant entries, reading aloud the juiciest bits. That could be what Keith is remembering.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Springing through the Arboretum

Climbing over the radiating low trunk of a white karee.

Tumblrs: Los Angeles County Arboretum

Sunday, we walked the expansive LA Arboretum, which was approaching its spring splendor. As we meandered through its exotic flora, the air was filled with the cat-like mating calls of the garden's peacocks, a legacy of Lucky Baldwin's menagerie.

While the Arboretum is no longer as physically challenging for me as it once was, it more than makes up for it in distance. For the first couple of years, the only way I could see the Arboretum's far-flung gardens was for Keith to push me much of the way in the wheelchair.

That gave us both of a workout, since on the way back, Keith had push me uphill. Now, I have to walk that loooong incline myself (and, at any rate, I've finally returned the wheelchair). And there are certainly other challenges within the Arboretum.

I climbed numerous staircases, not only the steep one beside the waterfall, but also these uneven steps repurposed from broken concrete, And let's not forget my half-vaulting over the snaking, low growing trunk of the white karee (see above).

Still, at the Arboretum we have to make up the relative lack of rough hiking, as I indicated, by walking a good distance. In this case, it was 2.34 miles.

Keith was certainly glad that I was trudging up the hill on my own two feet.

Last year, on my birthday, climbing the staircase in the relocated late-Nineteenth Century train depot. I had to half-pull myself up the steep stairs. It was much easier when I climbed them earlier this year.

Look, Ma, only one hand!

But even that first labored trip up the staircase was a major improvement over our first visit to the Arboretum, in January of 2014.

Along for the ride in my wheelchair, in front of the falls.

My own devices

Finally sending away my wheelchair last week did more than free up trunk space. It's also revived memories of the path I've traveled since my awakening and the now-unneeded mobility tools that helped me get there, however briefly.

I haven't needed the wheelchair for some time, and I had no real attachment to it. In fact, the only reason I hadn't made the call to have it picked up was it didn't really matter to me one way or the other. Plus, my ADHD makes me an inveterate procrastinator.

But now that it's gone, I've been casting my eye on the other mobility paraphernalia that we can't return because we purchased them ourselves.

I'm using the walker as parallel bars for my physical therapy exercises, so it still serves a recovery-related purpose. But two of the rollators are simply taking up space. They're awaiting burial in the garage, alongside with the light rollator I thought would be easier to hook on the back of the wheelchair, but was actually harder. We'll eventually give most of them to Goodwill.

One is currently serving as a particularly bulky table for clutter.

Perhaps one of our moms will be able to use the three-wheeled rollator I liked so much. Indeed, my mom has been thinking of buying a similar model. The Winniewalker was the best of the bunch by far.

And then there are the various canes. Lately, I've taken to leaving the Hurrycane behind, though I may still use sometimes it when I think I'll be in a crowd.

Indeed, the history of my recovery is paved with physically enabling devices that I've grown past almost by the time they've arrived. I may never get a chance to use the fancy folding canes Keith gave me as gifts. By the time I don't require the extra stability the Hurrycane provides, I won't need a cane at all.

My stroke-caused vertigo is now the sole reason I might need a cane. That's why I still feel more comfortable with it when I could be jostled and set off balance in a crowd.

And then there are all the accessories we purchased to make those devices more convenient or comfortable. There are several cup holders and totes for the wheelchair, walker, and rollators. The inflatable seat cushion for the wheelchair was insanely expensive, and it was hundreds of bucks cheaper than the top of the line models. We'd like to find a charity that will give it directly to a handicapped person instead of simply selling it to someone who will probably just use it as a regular seat cushion. It's called a Roho. I looked through a catalog my physical therapist in the nursing home lent me. They can run ten times as expensive as the one we chose. Kaiser would only provide a cheap and very thin inflatable seat pad that looked like a waffle. At any rate, since these pads are so obscenely expensive, we're hoping that it will go to a poor veteran or someone like that.

Wheelchairs don't seem to be built for people to sit comfortably in for long periods of time!

You can see the thinness of the pad as it peeks out under my butt. The back pillow is my own pillow. In this case, its thinness was good, allowing it to conform to my back. I'm sitting against it now.

Perhaps we should hold a special garage sale for the mobility-challenged. The only problem is, how to get them here?

And while we're at it, there is the swivel spoon the nursing home occupational therapist
recommended, which I barely needed by the time it arrived.

Or what about the resistance bands? Or the special totes for the walkers and rollators? Or the all-terrain attachment for the cane Kaiser issued to me before Keith gave me the Hurrycane? Or the...

Between a (Vasquez) Rock and a Stoney Point

Queen of the mountain,

Tumblrs: Vasquez Rocks

For perspective...

Literally going out of my way for a photo op.

Though our quest at Vasquez Rocks to see the carpet of wildflowers we had been treated to last year certainly wasn't dashed, our visit was unfortunately premature.

But every visit to the Rocks has challenged me, and this time was no exception. And the magnificent megaliths of the park are of course beyond compare. Hiking Vasquez Rocks is like walking through a movie set. Or rather, countless ones.

As we made our way up the hill, at various times both Keith and I felt mild waves of acrophobia. Yet we pushed on to the undulating curves of the rock wall we've nicknamed the Grand Canyon (see Tumblrs).

A photo taken by Joella of my failed attempt to scale a rock Keith easily ascended. I quickly realized that it was too steep for the hiking sticks, so I attempted to guide myself up with my hands. But even if I made it up, could I make it down again? I wasn't so sure and inched my way down again.

The history of our rehab walks/hikes at Vasquez Rock is marked by boldly going (on terrain) where I had never gone before. Maybe next time I'll be able to climb that mountain...er, steep rock (see below).

And here's that yellow-petalled road we were seeking. Alas, they were just starting to peek out their sunny little heads.

The carpet of flowers stretches off into the distance. I was forced to abandon the rollator on this second trip because we were venturing on rougher terrain than we dared attempt the first time.

And here's a bonus pic, a screen capture of the hike via my Fitbit app.

Goodbye to all that

At least someone will be sorry to see the wheelchair go. Notice the caked mud on the wheels.

I should've done it ages ago...at least since 2015, and perhaps as early as 2014. The wheelchair was
simply taking up space in Keith's trunk. The only thing that kept me from making the call to have the wheelchair picked up was the motivation to get around to finding the phone number.

I finally did that yesterday. And today, FedEx came by to carry the wheelchair away for good.

Good riddance to my earlier dependance!

A photo taken on our first rehab walk. Keith wheeled me between the viewing stations so I could walk the few yards to the outlets using the walker hooked onto the handles of the wheelchair.

A rocky recovery at a stony park

This time, I was strong enough for Keith not to spot me before I reached the steeper and slipperier section of the path to the wind cave.

Tumblrs: Rocky Peak Park

On our second visit to the stunning and strenuous Rocky Peak Park, we made like our Cro-Magnon ancestors by dining in a rock shelter. Just as they would've eaten their bagels. The rainstorm we were trying to avoid by hiking on Saturday

caught us unprepared on Saturday.

Typical Mother Nature, raining on our recovery parade.

Rocky Peak is extremely steep and the path is sometimes treacherous. It's so difficult that it's even hard on Keith's knees.

Still, I found that I was able to ascend the park's heights more easily than I could just a month prior. It was gratifying to note that my hard work at rehabbing was paying off.

After I had basked in the freedom of having the wind cave to ourselves by exploring the depths I could reach safely (see gif below), we stopped for a picnic. As it turned out, we had lucked upon an open rock shelter just before it began to rain.

It was a good thing we had left the cave because the path out of it would've become a Slip'N Slide. Dry, if not warm, we waited out the rain in our open-plan cave.

Descending on our first trip in February.

Unfortunately, to avoid the slippery slope of descended the path in the mud, we were forced to head back after our picnic, instead of heading deeper into to park, as we had planned. After all, last time, I got cocky and fell down on the descent, skinning my knee. And the ground was mostly dry.

But I'm sure the wildflowers already peppering the park appreciated the precipitation (say that ten times fast.)

See Tumblrs for more pics, including the wildflowers.

Admiring one of the natural rock sculptures at the park last time.

And here I was struggling to my feet inside the wind cave on this trip. It's a measure of how difficult my recovery has been--from the strokes, coma, and the previous dermatomyositis muscle damage--that even the ability to stand up from the ground using only a low rock as leverage is still something to celebrate.

Walking with Joella's dog where coyotes pupped

Tumblrs: Conejo Valley Botanic Garden

The last time we went to the Conejo Valley Botanic Garden, in with Joella and her Australian terrier Sadie, in June, 2015, they were barred from the garden because coyotes had been spotted in the garden with their pups.

Luckily, there's a nice community park right outside the botanic garden. We eventually left them to rest while we walked through the botanic garden. Still, the highlight of the day was our picnic together, when we watched a family of juvenile squirrel frolicking and poking in and out of passageways under the concrete of a drainage ditch like Whack-a-Moles.

That was our second visit. The first was only the second time I had used my hiking sticks to climb stairs without rails--and these were much longer flights than those had been. Stairs have gotten so old hat for us now that Keith often doesn't even bother to take pictures of me climbing them. Sunday, while Joella walked up the ramp to the garden, I took the stairs.

That visit was also the first time that we left my wheelchair behind at a new garden while I was using the hiking sticks. I guess you could call it a leap of faith that I could do without it.

And now I've left the wheelchair behind for good.

Breezing Through the Yawning Chasm of Death

Tumblrs: Vasquez Rocks

The history of our walks/hikes at Vasquez Rocks can be told in the assistive devices I've employed. The first visit to Vasquez Rocks, on March 30, 2014, was also the first time I used the four-wheeled rollator Keith had bought for me on a rehab walk.

Keith didn't know that rollators aren't recommended for people who are just beginning to walk again. It was the only type of walker he could find in the drugstore for my four-hour tour of our home, on furlough from the nursing home.

He only needed to buy it in the first place because a bitchy physical therapist wouldn't allow me to check out a walker, as the PT helping me to walk had instructed me to do. But he was off duty, and I was at her mercy.

We learned why rollators aren't advisable when it slipped out from under me while I was trying to get to the toilet. I banged my head on the bowl, but wasn't hurt.

I think the PT on duty that Sunday wouldn't allow me to check a walker out, despite the fact that it was common practice, because she didn't approve of John Silva's methods. She had previously carped that I wasn't really walking, since he was initially supporting my weight as I walked.

The furlough was to work out any kinks in preparation for my pending release from the nursing home. As I've written about before, we had no choice because I would've lost my health coverage if I had stayed in Country Villa Sheraton past October 31.

So, instead of allowing me the use of a walker, she actually endangered me. She's lucky I wasn't injured.

But I was much stronger by March, 2014. We knew that my safer, two-wheeled walker would be all but useless at Vasquez Rocks. And since I was a lot more stable at this point, we decided to give the rollator another try.

I coincidentally wore the same outfit on the second visit.

The next time we went to Vasquez Rocks, on March 22, 2015, we brought my lighter, seatless, three-wheeled rollator. But I soon abandoned it when it became stuck in the sand of the rougher trails we were attempting. Keith had recently given me the hiking sticks which have proven to be invaluable in opening up landscapes I could never have tackled otherwise.

Last Sunday, we went to Vasquez Rocks with Joella. She brought with her the identical hiking sticks we gave her for Christmas.

We again travelled along the Geology Trail. The narrow path, which Keith gave the tongue-in-cheek name, the Yawning Chasm of Death, was now a cinch for me.

And the hiking sticks allowed me to climb most of the way--up a steep slope--to the undulating stone walls I had only admired from afar (see Tumblrs). It was a bit like walking along the bottom of the Grand Canyon in miniature.

The hiking sticks continue to open up new avenues for me and my recovery.

Yes, it was a steep as it looks.

Onward and upward to the observatory (and my recovery)

Griffith Park Observatory: Tumblrs

We had seen the intrepid hikers embarking on the steep path up the mountain toward the Griffith Park Observatory on our walks through Ferndell. We admired their determination, but knew I wasn't up to such a trek.

A pic taken on our first walk through Ferndell on a rainy January weekend in 2015.

Last Sunday, we finally decided I was probably strong enough to attempt the ascent. Our quest was complicated by the fact that we initially took the wrong path--we're both directionally-challenged. We therefore proved that I was strong enough to walk the tropical paradise of Ferndell and also hike to the observatory. I had been thinking that a walk to the observatory would make the lovely, but no longer challenging, Ferndell more of a work-out for me.

Entering the trail back to Ferndell in March of 2015, as people walked along the trail to the Griffith Park Observatory.

The first path we took was steeper and rougher than Ferndell, though far less lush. Though nice, Ferndell would've been more pleasurable. And shadier, too, on this summer-like winter day.

We finally reached the top, we weren't able to tour the refurbished observatory nearly as much as we wanted to. But it a good thing that Keith did his best to restrain my enthusiasm as we entered that famous building. (See Tumblrs for some pics taken inside, on the roof, and on the grounds. Bonus: Pics of the Hollywood sign--it's two icons in one!)

After our lunch at the Cafe at the End of the Universe--nice shout-out to one of my favorite authors!--we headed back down the mountain. We had barely started before my exhaustion flooded back. By the time we reached our car, I felt like I just might fall back into a coma from sheer exertion.

All in all, we hiked 3.7 steep miles. The hike was so hard that even Keith felt wiped out.

But we had reached a new pinnacle in my recovery.

A section of the very long path up the mountain.