I Have PTFS

 

Peonies are up, but barely; this is from last year!

 I’ve got a bad case of PTFS (post-traumatic Florida syndrome).

Back in the middle of March, I got a call from the dear friend who foolishly lives in Florida: her dad had just died unexpectedly, and would I come down. I promised years ago I’d come down and help her when her dad died.

First I said NO! COVID! And then I rethought  - well, I’ve been fully vaccinated. So I emailed my PCP for a second opinion, and she said she thought it was reasonable to go. So I got a Covid test, because dear friend isn’t vaccinated and is in poor health in complicated ways. The test was negative, so only dread was keeping me from going. Dread, as in, I’ve been dreading this day for years.

For those of you who are wondering, the airplanes were packed tight, Manchester airport was comfortable but the other airports were jammed, they do a good job insisting people wear masks – except when eating and drinking, and of course that’s what most people do when on a plane or waiting for a plane to stave off boredom. So I did a whole lot of glaring at what I considered offenders on the way down and way back. It is possible to eat and drink around a mask without taking it completely off and leaving it off for a half hour while you have a leisurely meal broken up by phone call and phone games and reading – I proved it, but very few other people were willing to take the challenge. I did a lot of glaring.

Florida is a third-world country with an attitude. Depending on where you go – sometimes, just from one store next door to the next – people are being cautious and there’s hand sanitizer and mask-wearing and it feels safe; or there are no masks being worn, there’s no hand sanitizer, the site looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in years, and I expected the guy standing next to me, who I kept moving away from to no effect, to hock up a goobie and spit in onto the floor in front of me any second. And as soon as their idiot governor cancelled the state-wide mask mandate, which he did as soon as possible, pretty much anyone who was wearing a mask took it off.  I don’t know how many times I said, “Put on a mask. Put on a mask. Put on a mask.”

When people die, especially when they die unexpectedly, the shock is kind of unfathomable. Dear friend’s Dad wasn’t well, and hadn’t been for years and years, and yet, he seemed immortal. What he died of wouldn’t have killed most people, but his brave and loving heart finally gave out. And dear friend lost, overnight, her father, her care-taker, her companion. Not an easy thing to accommodate, mentally or emotionally; even harder if you have medical conditions that turn your world upside down and inside out.

So there was much to be done, in a short period of time, and only one other helpmeet, who also lives at a distance. Florida, besides being a third-world country with an attitude, is where people go when they retire. The law firm Dad had used to draw up his will barely three years ago no longer existed, because the partners had both retired. The new one I found specializes in elder-care law, but the only lawyer in the firm is a Harley-riding 75-year-old. The medical social worker is in his 80s. The caretaker/personal assistant we hired to help dear friend out with stuff that can’t be done in the middle of the night, which is her day, is 63. The real estate agent who’ll have the estate sale and sell one of the properties is in her 70s. Florida is, apparently, a country for old dudes.

At any rate, I was there for a little over 3 weeks, and there’s still a lot to do. A week after I left, Cousin from another distant state came for a week; and there’s still a lot to do. And part of what we do is worry that dear friend is lonely and has to grieve alone. Fortunately, she has some neighbors who are grieving with her: Dad was well-loved and touched many lives.

While I was there I saw a peacock in all his glory, accompanied by his harem, stroll slowly down the main street of town – a not uncommon experience, I was told. There was a crow that sat on the telephone wires near dear friend’s Dad’s house, and every day when I went down the driveway to fetch the mail, the crow would say, “Uh-oh. Uh-oh. Uh-oh.” When I opened the mailbox, it changed to “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.” And then when I walked back to the house, it said, “Uh-uh. Uh-uh. Uh-uh.” I’d talk to it, and it’d cock its head and listen, but all it had to say, every single day, was the same thing. Which tickled me to no end.

NH crow - Clare McCarthy photo

There were lots of little lizards, and kind of big frogs that climbed the screen windows at night. While I was there they were having a cold snap, so it was a glorious low 70’s – all the locals were running around in sweatpants and scarves, and I was very comfortable in shorts and tee shirts.  The town has these amazing giant trucks that pick up the giant trash and recycle bins outside the house twice a week – the truck drivers don’t have to get out of the truck, instead a giant articulated arm emerges and with great accuracy lifts the bins and upends them into the bowels of the beast – it was like watching a giant robotic monster. I loved it.

And I found out that if you don’t keep a pool filled with water in Florida, if there’s a hurricane, the soaked ground around the pool will pop the pool up out of the ground  leaving a big hole and gawdawful mess. I almost wanted to see that.

And I didn’t see any alligators. Dear friend told me there was a 4-footer holed up in the shed where the recycle bin lives, one year. Fortunately, not repeated while I was there.

I’ve been back now for not quite a month; there’s still a lot to do, and it’s getting done slowly from the distance. And I came back with a vow to hoe out my own house, because when you’ve been helping hoe out someone else’s, you remember how much stuff you’ve got that you don’t need, no longer use, and maybe don’t even care for anymore. So for the last 3 weeks I’ve been collecting a lot of that stuff from my place, in order to have a yard sale this weekend.  My dining room and living room are full of boxes and bins, baskets and piles, of table linens, mismatched bed linens, clothes, dishes, glasses, pottery, bottles and jars, vases, scarves and gloves, coats and socks and hats, books, dvds, hand-made paper, knicks and knacks that have all lost their purpose in my house where once they were useful or beautiful or both. I’m breaking the New England 3 rules of ownership: I’m using all the stuff that’s too new or too good to use, so now I’m drinking only out of the hand-blown glasses that were too good to use until now; I’m getting rid of or using all the dead people’s stuff, but only using the stuff that I actually like; and if the stuff I’ve been saving for years just in case I might need it some day isn’t something I need now or clearly in the foreseeable future, out it goes.

This should be fun. Anyone need a dozen table cloths?

For the blog: herondragonwrites.blogspot.com      11 May 2021