Navigating grocery stores can be a chore

The Brain Aneurysm Support Group at St. Joe’s is high on my “must attend” list. At a recent meeting, our group spanned the decades in age.

One delightful young man was just a few months into recovery. A beautiful young grandmother has an aneurysm that isn’t yet fixed. Some of us have had many aneurysms clipped and coiled. Others have dealt with one or two. Despite our many differences, we share lots of common group, including a great sense of humor and a loathing of grocery stores.

Grocery stores? Yes. Anyone who has recovered from a ruptured brain aneurysm, brain surgery, a stroke, a concussion, a migraine or just a clunk on the head knows about the dreaded trips to get groceries. 

Supermarkets cover thousands of square feet. Lighting is less than friendly to our eyes. Noise comes at us from everywhere—overhead music, announcements, other shoppers, squeaky wheels on carts.  (Is that MY cell phone ringing or someone else’s?) As we shop for our items, we constantly check our lists and coupons, scan bins and shelves, compare prices and brands, steer around displays, and try not to bump into other shoppers.

Getting groceries is, at best, a multi-tasking challenge.  Just when we learn where everything is located, stores move some of the items to a different aisle or display. When that happens, grocery shopping becomes a nightmare.

Yesterday we shared some of our grocery-shopping experiences, frustrations and fears. We offered each other a few ideas to lessen the angst. We laughed a lot.  

Because Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve fall on our usual meeting day, our last meeting for 2009 will be December 10.  If you have a brain aneurysm or have had one fixed, if you’ve ruptured an aneurysm or care about someone who did, you are welcome to join us. It’s free of charge. Just call Tess at the National Brain Aneurysm Center. She will send you a parking pass and make sure there are enough coffee, tea and cookies to go around. Who knows? Maybe YOU can solve our grocery store dilemma!

It is the effort that counts

The weather forecast was for “frost on the pumpkins.”  Unfortunately, the forecast was right.

In the world of gardening, it’s a forecast that causes me to spring into action.  Some plants need to be put to bed. Others must be brought inside. The colorful annuals get a regretful look with words of thanks and goodbye.

I concentrate on the plants I hope to save—geraniums, mandovilla, pathos, philodendron, hibiscus, asparagus fern, Swedish ivy, spider plants, and shamrock.  I know that, with good care, many of these will do fine inside once they get over their shock. Others will struggle, lose their leaves, and need lots of gentle tending. Some, regardless what I do, might die.  

While I was outside a neighbor walked over and pointed out that it would be easier to let the cold kill them all and just start with new plants next spring.  “Why bother?” she asked.

I set down my trowel and thought about it.

“I suppose I do this for the same reason my doctors and nurses work so hard.” I said. “If they hadn’t bothered to try to save me, I wouldn’t be here repotting a shamrock I’ve had for 32 years, or hauling in this 10-year-old geranium. We wouldn’t be even having this discussion.”

My neighbor laughed. “Good point,” she said.

By the end of the day I had one pot left. In it I could put yet another spider plant (it had been a VERY good year for them). Or … I eyed the hibiscus. It hadn’t bloomed this summer. In fact, one of its branches looks dead, one is fine and the other is bare but getting new growth. Should I use my last pot for a sure save, or should I try yet another year to save this once-beautiful, now pathetic plant?

I thought of my neuro surgeons and nurses, of effort /risk vs. a sure bet/ win. Then I filled my last pot and brought it inside. Which plant do you think I picked?