In the Clinic: Let the Saga Begin

Tim and I are so deeply blessed to be able to work together. For about 20 years our daily work occurred in two places: his at his outpatient clinic location and mine in the endeavor of herding children on their daily adventures. A dozen years ago, though, he made the decision to chuck corporate, large clinic medicine with its myriad of physician administrators, pharmacists, clinic administrators and referral committees to go back to a solo practice. The caveat was that I would be called on to manage the day-to-day business so he could do what he does best -- build relationships with his patients to serve them when his skill was needed and partner with them to keep them healthy.

It was at this point that I could see first-hand what it means to be a physician, and it was a huge education for me trying to manage Tim's schedule with no fund of knowledge. I mean, I could manage my schedule and keep the children on task with theirs, but I had never thought it was rocket science to put a patient on his schedule and it not create a major problem. How difficult could that be? More challenging than it appears.

The number of times I scheduled a patient to be seen, and only allowed 10 minutes for Tim to diagnose and treat "just a sore throat," or "right-sided back pain" is epic. It never occurred to me that a pain in someone's back, or side, or head could be anything more complex than what it is, so it should be a "no-brainer" to be able to quickly come to the conclusion that the patient may only need something simple, say, some over the counter remedy or possibly just rest.

Little did I then understand that each patient who comes to be helped brings a unique blend of health and wellness, the strength of which can, in most cases, be related to lifestyle. From Tim, I have learned that treating a sore throat in an otherwise healthy person is not at all like treating a patient who comes to the clinic with diabetes, hypertension, anxiety, depression or some combination thereof, complaining of the same sore throat. He needs to listen, question, examine and consider treatment options based on the patient's overall health, medications (including supplements) they may be taking, drug allergies and the like -- all of which cannot be done in the span of 10 minutes. Indeed, the major reason he left large group practice was directly related to administratiion's pressure for providers to "push through" as many patients as possible in the course of a day, with the requisite patient paperwork to be completed before leaving the clinic.....and here I was doing the same thing to him.

We clipped along for a year or so, just Tim, Jeannine, me and a medical assistant in one form or another. As the years passed, though, Tim's reputation as a caring, compassionate physician grew and we found ourselves with a many, many patients to help. The push for implementing more technology into the practice, what is now called "health information technology," required additional staff and we soon found ourselves with not only a medical assistant supporting Tim, but another full-time administrator to support me. God is certainly good, because after trial and error we were able to secure an outstanding medical assistant, Danika, as well as bring into the practice our eldest daughter, Mary, to support me.

A primary care practice of around 3500 patients, of which roughly 2000-2500 are actively seeking routine medical care, still requires additional support, so it wasn't long before we were looking for another medical assistant to work with Danika and our physician assistant Maureen.

We advertised, sought recommendations from the technical training schools, used externs, but we were just not able to bring another medical assistant into the fold and have it work out longer than six months. Then we found Andrew, who happens to be Danika's son.

So for what it is worth, our merry little band at Cleary Medical Associates solidified about three years ago. Tim and Maureen of course manage the very clinical direct patient care while Danika and Andrew admirably support them in the back office. Mary's administrative duties cover any and all aspects of front office work, helping me in too many ways to mention here. At the heart of it all, though, is Jeannine. Her value is beyond measure as she manages all of us, patients included. God is certainly good. More later.

Making Each Day Count

Our days and our nights come and go pretty quickly. In between the sunrises and sunsets there are countless diversions and interruptions in our work or play -- the noise surrounds us and our brains are continually filtering and refiltering the static and activities in a effort to make sense of it all. This can be both mentally and physically exhausting.

The ability to pull away from time to time in the course of the day is a wonderful habit of health and many people will meditate, chant, take deep breaths or other things to move their minds ever so briefly away from the activities and concerns of the day. For me, I like to pray.

The best regimen I have adopted surrounds intentional prayer. Waking early, my thoughts will focus on those century-old prayers which remind me that the day is "not all about me," -- that my "prayers, works, joys and sufferings" will be offered as I serve others throughout the day. I will call on the Guardian Angels and others of my favorite heavenly intercessors to guide me through the day as the seconds tick into minutes, then minutes into hours.

The problem is that I then get going on the day and inevitably Tim will start his totally annoying morning yammering of nonsense or break out in song, followed by his comment, "I could have been an opera star." Yeah, he could have been something, but quiet doesn't seem to be among the choices.

If not him, then there is Jeannine. I never know exactly what awaits me as I make my way down the hall toward her room each morning. Sometimes she is wide awake and energized for the day -- up and getting the morning ablutions completed without me nagging. Most mornings, though, her reply to my cheery "Good Morning, Fuzzy!" is a groan or some unhappy mutterings I don't understand and she declines to repeat. All of a sudden those great intentions that started my day are forgotten as the noise begins to creep into my brain.

Life really intervenes and I find myself putting out brush fires and reacting to the activities of the day; furthermore, I find that I have lost that mindfulness of purpose I set as the day began to serve those around me with an open heart (you know, forgetting the it's not all about me attitude). This has really bothered me as I truly wanted to be able to live each day as positively and lovingly as possible. That infernal static just keeps getting in the way of my good intentions.

I finally had an idea to reset myself and I used the alarm on my phone to sound at 3 pm each day in order to do some intentional prayer. Those in the office, particularly Jeannine, are now accustomed to hearing the etherial harp sounding from my phone as my reminder to exit the busy-ness of the day for some intentional prayer.

I like to do a short version of the Divine Mercy devotion and meditate on the sufferings and death of Our Lord. Those few minutes in contemplation will many times reorient me and in the meditation of what He endured for me...how He served me to the fullest measure of His life...I renew my sense of purpose and many times I am able to close out the day at the office much less negative and irritable.

Making my way home at the close of each work day, and knowing that our evening routine may not quite be routine, it is nice to be able to recite my daily Rosary. In the time it takes to arrive home, I find that I can almost complete five decades, and if Jeannine decides to join in, we can finish the few remaining prayers before taking on the "real" business at hand: dinner.

You would think that the evenings at home, those few remaining hours before sunset, would be happy and productive hours. Sadly this is not always the case. Without intending to throw Jeannine under the bus, the nights are often fraught with contention as I struggle to encourage her to get some exercise done (taking a walk, dancing to her dance DVD), or goodness knows, take a shower, wash her hair and brush her teeth. My frustration builds and it is only as I leave her room after night prayers that I recall what Someone did for me, without complaint, but with humility and meekness. I have often turned to go back to Jeannine's room just to give her a hug and let her know I am sorry for any injustices I inflicted throughout the day, only to be met with a distinct look of bewilderment and impatience that I was "back again" to cause her more grief. Oh well.

So what it is worth, there will always be noise and static filling my days. Striving to avoid it is not practical unless I want to live in a cave by myself. Avoiding people and situations that impede my progress isn't the answer as it does not move me out of any comfort zone, encourage me to be brave and above all make me a better person. The answer is to embrace the noise, the static and commotion that fill my days with the idea that everything I do is a "prayer, work, joy, and sometimes a suffering."

Walking Jeannine

Walking Jeannine

Barbara Cleary

Walking is considered one of the easiest and most affordable habits of health a person can embrace. In fact,  Dan Buettner, author of The Blue Zones, identifies "moving naturally" as one of the Power9 Strategies of those living to be 100 or more -- and what is more natural than walking and walking with a purpose?

I have always loved walking as exercise. In those years when Jeannine was in preschool, I would often take part of that three hour block of free time to go to the local mall and walk with the senior citizens before the stores opened. At first the challenge was to be able to keep up with them as they walked their laps. All too often, though, a new window display would catch my eye and before I knew it, a dozen people had passed me. How could I lose my imaginary Indy 500 walking race around the mall to a group of seniors? Ever the competitive spirit, I disciplined myself to avoid such distractions and before I knew it, I was lapping even the most dedicated of those walkers.

I then turned my sights on timing. With a basic pedometer, I calculated that walking the mall -- including all the "cul de sacs" -- I could get a little more than three miles completed in about 40 minutes. I could log almost 8000 steps all before 10 am as well!

Those were the golden days. Life has moved on more than intervened, and my daily travels around Portland no longer take me near that mall. My daily schedule prohibits me from walking with the seniors. It has been difficult to get back to committing myself to a walking schedule, and I have tried many creative ways to once again bring this habit of health back into my life.

I tried walking the neighborhood, which would really be ideal because we live in a very hilly place and the interval training this naturally brings would be perfect for me. The problem is that I am at heart a "fair weather" athlete: I will do any outdoor activity if the weather is optimal. It doesn't help that I live in Portland, Oregon because many days here do not inspire that motivation to get out and click off those steps. Then I went to Plan B. I could "Walk On-Demand" from the comfort and security of my own home.

Plan B did not last very long, either. The wonders of cable TV could have been the catalyst for my return to a walking regimen, but sadly I discovered that as much as I was a "fair weather" outdoor walker, I was even more of a "fair weather" riser. I was great at popping out of bed at 5:30 or 6 am if my husband had decided to go to the gym to get his workout completed before going to the office. I found, though, that I was much less inclined to move if he decided to postpone his exercise until later in the day. It wasn't so much that it was too comfortable to move, as much as it was that I didn't want Tim to catch me looking pretty silly at 6 am gyrating around our bonus room as I followed the lead of the "instructor" in a pathetic attempt to get a "2 Mile Walk" completed in 22 minutes. On to Plan C: enlist the help of our young adult daughter, Jeannine.

Jeannine has Down syndrome, and like me, sees walking as one of those things she can take or leave (mostly leave). There have been mornings when she will be inspired to walk the neighborhood, headset and music in tow, no matter the weather. The problem is that she wants to exert her muscle of independence on her own and really balks at the idea of a walking partner. In the end, I allow her to win "The War of Jeannine Independence" and I still don't get my walking done.

In a rare mood about two weeks ago, Jeannine happily agreed to walk with me to the grocery -- a journey of about a mile and a half. My purpose was just to get a cup of coffee from the in-store Starbucks. As it was a bright, warm and sunny early fall day, and, when Bales Thriftway is the incentive, Jeannine is up for the task.

One does not walk "with" Jeannine as much as "walk" Jeannine. Other walking companions will keep a flow of conversation going about any number of topics, or otherwise engage in some social interaction...not so Miss Jeannine. When she is really up for the walk, though, she dons her headset and iPhone and bops along ahead of me employing any and all dance moves she can create as well as singing at the top of her lungs. Sometimes I wish I was in one of the oncoming cars just to be able to see what she looks like from the front. Her Down syndrome characteristic small ears and ear canals prohibit her from using the earbuds most people now wear, and it has to be quite comical watching her from the front, because every now and then she has to readjust the bright blue headset as it begins to slip off her head. This, combined with her need to pull up her pants as they fall down makes for a very interesting sight.

We managed to make it to the grocery in about 40 minutes, where she promptly sat down at one of the outdoor tables and chairs. As I explored the flower baskets and plants in the garden area, I lost track of her. Thinking that I would find her in line at Starbucks, I made my way into the store where, not seeing her in line, prompted me to head to gluten-free aisle or the candy section....where she was not to be found.

There is not one person working in the store who does not know Jeannine and pretty soon I saw her holding court to three or four employees at a check out stand. After receiving my usual, "Not now, Mom," from her as she continued plying her captive audience with questions, I asked if she wanted any water before we headed home. She was not interested in hydrating be it water or anything else, so  I firmly prodded her to end her interviews and we made our way back home.

The trek home was a night and day difference. No happy dancing. No bouncing ahead of me. No singing to her music. As a matter of fact, she carried the headset home, walked behind me and grumbled about how her "feets hurt." Amazingly, though, when we reached the entrance to our neighborhood (some 60 minutes later), ready for the 6-degree climb to the top of hill where home is situated, she gained new energy and chattered her way up the sidewalk, anticipating a large glass of water, tossing off her shoes and resting on the couch.

What have learned? Well, while walking and walking with a purpose may be a terrific habit of health, I may have to consider a "Plan D" -- as in "deep-sixing" it for something else. Ideally this would be something that would involve Jeannine because we would dearly love to instill this habit of healthy movement in her. Perhaps my Plan D should involve dancing; then we both could look comical, but we would definitely have some fun!

HGTV and Human Nature

I have been blessed to have been given a beautiful home -- large enough to raise our four children.  Three of them are now out and on their own -- building their lives pretty much apart from us. Which leaves Jeannine.

Now none of her brothers or sister would even think about not staying connected to her, and given the  fact that I have not yet embraced the challenge of helping her toward independent living away from me, she is still with us. So at a time when many of my friends find themselves "empty nesters" and have taken the challenge to downsize, sell their homes, move from the area, I just don't think this is for me.

Our house is closing in on 30 years old, and it is not unexpected that it has needed some revamping in the last few years. We were not the original owners, and in the course of our years here, we have painted, wallpapered and replaced carpeting to put our own personality print into the home. The major changes have been done mostly because there was a huge need, you know, things like a leaky roof or cracking counters in the kitchen. The best remodel, though, came in 2009 when Tim's cousin suggested that we repair our deck as a "DIY" project.

Jack has every tool that the Good Lord has allowed man to invent, so the two of them set out to dismantle and replace the worn wood deck with composite -- in the course of 3-4 days. Power tools like mitre saws, table saws, fancy power screwdrivers, a power washer, and construction lights for late night work --- there was no end to the tools Jack had to make rebuilding the deck easier. The whole project could be the subject of another story (and may likely), but just suffice it to say that after all was said and done, (four months later)... the finished product was gorgeous. It was hard to believe that we had lived in the house 10 years before updating that deck, with the result that the once unused (and in some places unsafe) structure was transformed into more than 1200 square feet of usable space. Then I thought: with the diminishing number of occupants in our home and my reluctance to downsize, what was the purpose in creating more space? Well.....

Where I would once have never considered inviting family or friends to gather for special occasions, I now became inspired to host any or all events. Infused with a sense of great excitement at the thought of our home being a place to entertain, but, on the other hand having no real skills to plan anything more than a child's birthday party, I began to research party planning. This is where I discovered the wonders of cable television.

Suddenly The Food Network, Man v Food, the Cooking Channel were my new companions. I found I was doing laundry, preparing meals, dusting, and doing dishes with the likes of Ina Garten and Bobby Flay cooking in the background. My confidence soared at the thought of bringing together family for birthday celebrations, our small circle of friends for game nights, and larger events for our church. The upshot is that as the last few years have passed, both Tim and I have come to enjoy being able to bring different groups of friends and family together for any number of reasons, or really none at all.

I have since "outgrown" the "cooking shows," and have now turned my focus on that other wonder of cable television, those programs that focus on homes, remodels and repurposing. What I have come to see as a common thread of these shows, whether it be "Property Brothers," "Love It Or List It," or "Fixer Upper," is that most people are looking for that "open concept" look and feel to their living environment. For a while I was getting so tired of hearing those two words together that I would reach for the remote to quickly change the channel. Then I began to reflect....a dangerous endeavor, I know...but there must be something about this "open concept" thing that appeals to the majority of people who are showcased on these programs.

My reflections took me back to my own feelings of bringing people together to do nothing more than share time, conversation and good times. Was this something that we all strive to have in our lives? "Yes," I thought to myself. For whatever else we are, at heart, social beings and it is important that we connect with others not only to "see and be seen," at the most basic level, but also, and what is more significant, to appreciate those around us and feel accepted, valued and validated in a world that constantly challenges the beliefs that are at the very fiber of our being.

So for what it is worth, I am going to move forward making those changes and updates to our home, knowing that, while it no longer serves the purpose of raising children, it can be repurposed to a place where people can get together, away from the hassles of our modern world, to connect with each other to find comfort, laughter, stupidity (sometimes) and a common ground not easily found in their day-to-day doings. Besides, that, Jeannine is "always down" for a party!

Yet Another Quest for Shoes

It seems that a trip to the Oregon Coast for our family would not be complete without visiting -- no --not the aquarium or the tide pools or any of the natural attractions of the area -- but the Factory Outlet Shops.

Yes, as ridiculous as it many seem, no visit to Lincoln City is complete without our throwing ourselves among the throngs of people on a search for any bargains to be had, be it clothing, jewelry, accessories, tools or kitchen gadgets. It is little wonder then, that our last excursion to Lincoln City should find us at the Tangers Factory Outlet Shops.

The weekend celebrated not only Jeannine's 20th birthday, but her grandparents wedding anniversary, and we arrived at our destination -- a place where the world's shortest river (the D River) empties into the Pacific Ocean -- and hauled our weekend supplies of food, clothing, wine (not enough) and almost all of my small appliances up two flights of stairs to our condo. Settling in Friday evening, we (Tim, his sister, Jeannine, her grandparents, and Jeannine's sister Mary and her husband) gathered for dinner and discussed plans for the weekend.

Of course Jeannine was interested in going to the outlet mall, presumably because she can talk just about any of her family into buying her something. Her aunt and sister were up for the trip, but the grandparents not so much. Tim expressed interest as he needed to replace his walking/hiking shoes and he needed to replace his worn jeans. There happen to be a few options at the mall to enhance his search: Columbia Sportswear, NorthFace and Levi all have outlets, in addition to Famous Footwear, so there was almost no end of stores to be searched.

Mary pushed for an early start because Saturdays are huge customer traffic days at the outlets. Sure enough, as we turned into the parking lot we soon found ourselves in traffic congestion. There were almost no spots to be had in the main lot, and just as Tim was ready to give up and head to the parking structure, someone happened to pull away from a prime parking space and we, with all dispatch, pounced on it.

February on the Oregon coast is not real warm, and this particular day was no exception. Those familiar with outlet shopping know that these are pretty much open-air, so that movement from store to store can be (for me) a race to get warm. Our first stop was the Columbia Sportswear huge tent, which took up a significant part of the parking lot. They were having a HUGE Presidents' Day sale and judging from the piles of coats, windbreakers, shirts and other apparel I saw walking around (you literally could not see the customer's heads above their arm load of clothing), the store was practically giving stuff away. Tim wandered around for several minutes before he decided there wasn't anything of interest for him, and we headed to our next destination: The NorthFace.

I actually had great success on a previous trip there, finding great shoes for myself and a jacket for Jeannine. Tim did, too, purchasing a jacket and some socks. This time, however, was a different story. I went immediately to the shoes, hoping to expedite Tim's decision-making by securing two or three choices. Tim, however, was side-tracked by a "great deal" on t-shirts, and had several questions for some poor employee who happened to be walking by. When he finally arrived at the shoe shelves, he spent the next 20 minutes examining each style of shoe. The upshot was that he found two worthy of consideration, but he was not going to decide until he looked at other stores. I heaved a huge sigh of frustration as we left the store.

We buzzed in to the Reebok Store and within 15 minutes he decided that, while there were one or two "definite possibilities," the shoes at NorthFace were still in contention. I began to sense that we would be at the mall for the rest of the morning and a significant portion of the afternoon.

Between there and any one of the other stores selling shoes, stood the Levi store. Another 30-40 minutes and about 10 try-ons later, Tim finally found two nice pairs of jeans. At this point we had lost all communication with Mary, Ryan, Jeannine and Tim's sister, who were on quests of their own. With shoes still to be found, we left the Levi store. We were not more than 10 steps from the store front when his cell phone went off and Tim had to address a patient problem.

Fortunately, Famous Footwear was no more than 20 feet from us and, as I had taken advantage of the time Tim spent on the phone with his patient to go in there just to keep warm, I was able to hone in on some possibilities. After 15 minutes or so, I was getting some interesting looks from the clerks because I had been there a long time without doing anything other than sitting on a stool waiting for Tim. Glancing out the store window, I noted that Tim was still on the phone; however, there was a store selling kitchen gadgets across the walkway, so I decided to see what was new, different and exciting in the realm of cookware.

Many of you who have rented vacation condos may know that most are equipped with the bare minimum of cooking utensils and supplies. While preparing dinner the night before, I became painfully aware that our unit was in dire need of bowl scrapers. Well.....gadget store to the rescue! Within three minutes I had five very colorful scrappers in five different sizes for $5!

I digress. By this time, Tim completed his call and I directed him to Famous Footwear. He readily agreed (15-20 minutes consideration) to my choices and only needed to determine which size. We searched the store for a sitting bench so he could try on the shoes, and somewhere between Men's Athletic Shoes and Women's Boots, we found a place. I won't prolong your agony: Tim found a pair that fit; the price was great, and we were soon on our way.

By this time it was nearly afternoon and, since we had made this excursion in two cars, we discovered that our cohorts decided to go back to the condo. The grandparents were looking for lunch.

So what it is worth, the outing was not the exercise in agony and frustration that tend to be the hallmarks of shopping with Tim. Its success, though, was founded on running interference between the shopper and his purchases, and I will carry this important experience into future shopping ventures.

Lessons Learned from the Queen

Like most of us in the United States, I have had little-to-no interest in the doings of the British monarch. Admitting that the Queen of England is really more of a source of frivolous entertainment is easy enough for me to do; admitting that there is anything of value to be learned from her and her life is much more difficult.

Danika is coworker who grew up in Britain, and I have had fun teasing her about the news stories we see regarding the royals, either on the Internet, or those in fluff publications like People Magazine. Apart from asking for a day off so she could watch William and Kate's wedding, she has not been what I would call a serious defender of the monarchy. When the topic of conversation turns to the latest escapade from Prince Harry or how Kate Middleton dresses her children, she has readily joined in on the ridicule, and her obvious dismissal of the Royal Family as anything other than a last remnants of a bygone era are quite well-known throughout the office. The Queen's birthday, though, spawned a program that piqued Danika's interest, and she encouraged me to view the cable program "The Queen at 90." After watching it, I have found a new appreciation for what this monarchy fuss is all about.

In previous postings, I have written about Downton Abbey, as well as the demise of civility in our modern world. Having viewed the program on the Queen, I better understand her role and her dedication to her calling. You see, it really isn't about "sitting on a throne" and having servants and lackeys at the ready to fulfill her every whim. The program provided a glimpse into what her life has been, and I learned that from her core, she is the servant, and her challenges have been many and difficult.

From her birth, she had been trained to lead her country; to take on the duties of her state in life. A serious and intelligent woman, the Queen has been on record as saying her reign would be one of devoted service to her people and her empire. I think it is important to acknowledge she does not use the word her as if it is a possession -- a toy or pet, like her beloved Corgis. No, I think that she uses the word to reinforce the idea that she is a caretaker of the people, a cultivator and perhaps a protector and promoter and preserver of what British culture is.

Her father, King George, was beloved by the British for his steady guidance through the world war -- not so much in the political realm, but by the connection to the people who listened to his radio addresses to gain comfort and strength during very uncertain times. Queen Elizabeth learned and understood this role and has had the difficult task of negotiating a changing monarchy in a world that sees the "divine right of kings" as an antiquated idea and system to be relegated to previous centuries. Yet her purpose and her work has been very real and serious.

The program followed her life through her ascension to the throne at 25 years old (and a wife and mother to small children), to her current work today. It is impressive and very humbling to note that she has given up much to fulfill the demands of her calling. I am certain that many times throughout her reign it would have been easier for her to "chuck it all" so that she and her family could enjoy a quieter life....much like how her uncle Edward who chose to abdicate his responsibilities as king rather than give up his private life. I believe it is to her credit that she stood up to the challenges of her duties as a head of state and discharged them with incredible dignity, energy and determination. The biggest take away I had from watching the program -- the thread that was woven into the heart of the program -- is that Queen Elizabeth shows a care for those she serves....and how she serves them.

All of this had me thinking about how I approach my calling -- as wife, mother, soon to be grandmother, caretaker of a child with disabilities, as well as my responsibilities with Tim's medical practice and now as a health coach. Have I really given the time and energy I should to fulfill those duties? How many times have I "chucked it all" for a momentary pleasure like a few extra minutes of sleep? How many times have I put up excuses for not taking the time to travel for the sake of my marriage or family just because I didn't want to? How often have I lost sight of goals simply because the challenge seemed too daunting? Far too many, I suppose.

So for what is is worth, I have gained a new understanding of what it means to be a monarch in the Western Civilization during the modern world. I definitely have a new-found appreciation and respect for the Queen as a person. From her I have learned that devotion and dedication to serve sometimes comes at a high price, but at the close of a day (or a lifetime) knowing that the job was done and done well, that those who have been served feel valued, is more important than what it costs me.

Taking a Lifetime to Grow Up

One of the greatest things that causes knots to form in my stomach has to do with travel. Just the thought of going anywhere I have never been, traveling in ways that I am not comfortable, generally makes me sick to my stomach. I am so reluctant to take a trip anywhere (even for one day), I will usually find some way to get out of it.

Several months ago, one of my grade school friends happened to mention on FB that she would be house-sitting about 200 miles from my home, and I (not believing that anyone would take me up on a offer to visit me) suggested we should get together. Not having seen each other for more than 40 years, the thought of reconnecting was apparently appealing to her and she agreed. In the next few months we did not communicate much, so that by the end of January I had little thought that we would see each other and that I had dodged a bullet.

With due diligence, though, I reached out to see if she was still in the area and if she was open to meeting. It turns out she was and she suggested that we meet somewhere between where she was and where I live. She hoped to explore a little of Oregon before she traveled back to the midwest, so she suggested that we meet in Albany.

Albany? That was a little baffling to me because you have to understand that I have been in Oregon more than 30 years and I could not for the life of me figure out why she suggested Albany instead of her just coming to Portland, where there is (of course) more to see and do (and I would not have to go anywhere). My recollection of Albany was that of the stench from the paper mill which occasionally wafted over the interstate as its noxious odor flattened unsuspecting travelers as they passed through on their way north or south. I couldn't figure out the appeal of such a place.

As the day approached for my journey south, I began to feel that uncomfortably familiar knot begin to form in my stomach. Panic set in as I could not come up with one honest reason why I should cancel seeing a longtime friend simply because I was to be whisked out of my comfort zone to do something which for me was very brave. The morning arrived, and as Janice and I had agreed to meet at the Visitor's Center, I plugged the address into my iPhone and off I went.

To alleviate my discomfort, I convinced myself that the trip was really quite simple and easy: I just had to get on the interstate and head south. It was just 90 minutes. No worries. As I navigated through the remnants of rush hour traffic, I soon found myself clipping along through some familiar cities on the way. Tigard-Tualatin-Wilsonville-Woodburn quickly came and went, and I was feeling fine until I hit the twilight zone between Woodburn and Salem. Having never driven this stretch I was beginning to worry. I had completed all my morning prayers and then some, which left my mind to wander to the unsettling place of "I am alone in this car, and I really do not know where I am going."

Something amazing happened. Focusing on being a courteous driver and staying in the middle lane until it became painfully obvious that I needed to pass, which I was able to do many times and then politely return to the middle lane to let the speeders go by, it dawned on me somewhere between Scio and Albany that the trip (so far) had been uneventful. I am actually on an adventure by myself, and it was not half bad! I am breaking through obstacles and feeling great!

Then the voice of "Daniel" (my name for Siri) intruded on my new-found sense of confidence to let me know that in two miles I needed to "take Exit 234B, on right, to Albany." It did not help that the sunshine I had when leaving Portland had now changed to grey dreariness and occasional rain. As the exit approached, I moved into the right lane, rapidly advancing on not one, but two semi trucks which obstructed my view of the exit ramp.

Thankfully they continued their journey south and I was able to flawlessly exit to my travel's next phase: Albany City Center.  At this point I was grateful for the reduced speed, which allowed me to process Daniel's next commands as they were coming more frequently. It also helped that I was followed down the state highway by the local law enforcement, who followed me for a few miles until Daniel instructed me to dump off the highway for the main drag into city center. As I did not want to risk a traffic infraction, I dutifully complied with all the traffic laws I could remember.

I found the Visitor's Center with little trouble, arriving about 20 minutes ahead of the appointed meeting time. Apparently Albany is home to some 700 historic Victorian homes, and the city makes the most of this at various times throughout the year with festivals and open houses....February does not happen to be one of them. Janice arrived, and, armed with guide maps and such, we jaunted off on our excursion. Part of the tour was walking, which was fine in spite of the occasional downpour. In our excitement to get caught up on 40 years of life, we just started out not paying attention to our direction.

It turned out that Janice's sense of direction was as good as mine, and it did not take us long to figure out we did not know where we were going. We turned around, making our way back to the Visitor's Center where we regrouped. Suffice it to say that we did get our bearings and headed to the downtown area where we explored a really neat antique mall for an hour or so. Our meanderings through the mall allowed us to talk about so many things and it was a pleasure to be taken back all those years and learn more about each other. The mall provided an unexpected connection that bridged some of the conversations: interspersed throughout the vintage Victorian era items, we found things that opened up memories of our own growing up -- silly things, really, like '60s style chairs and dishes we both recalled from our childhood. The connections we shared were much more than I expected.

We left the mall and continued around the city until we decided to find lunch. The beauty and the challenge of being in the historic district of an unfamiliar place was that there were little to no chain restaurants or fast food places. As it began to rain again, we ducked inside the first place we saw: Novak's Hungarian Restaurant.

Just when I was thinking that all was well with my comfort zone, the knot came back. I never willing eat Hungarian food (or any ethnic food for that matter), and the only thing I could envision was lots of cooked cabbage, and indeed, as we opened the door, the smell inside was overwhelmingly pungent with the scent of cooked cabbage.

The interior was nicely decorated in dark woodwork and the tables were covered with white tablecloths. We were seated at a small table and as I perused the menu my heart sank: it was a beautiful menu, mind you, complete with all-things Hungarian but not much on the menu that supports a healthy lifestyle. I have to admit that mashed potatoes, spaetzel, gravy covered chicken and beef, schnitzels, decadent European desserts, and an all-you-can-eat buffet (just in case you can't decide on what you want) seemed pretty tempting, but in the end I decided to go adventurous and opted for the soup du jour: green bean, and a small salad.

My negative habit of pre-conceived notions then took over, and it dawned on me that I was totally unsure what would be placed before me. In an effort to visualize what I might be consuming, my mind quickly ran through all the vegetable-type soups I knew, from split pea, tomato, potato, carrot, and they all had one thing in common -- they were pureed. The idea of pureed green beans in soup form reminded me of the baby food I fed my children, and I almost immediately regretted my decision. The server, however, informed me that it was her particular favorite of all the house-made soups; and while she appeared to be a rational person, I admit to being uneasy, and solaced myself with the thought that at least I would have a salad to tide over me until my next meal.

Janice was just about as adventurous as I, and she ordered a large salad with chicken (my first choice, except for the chicken). We were having a grand time talking about life and perspective and our parents and siblings when lunch arrived. So much for pre-conceived notions. Much to my delighted surprise, our server (who I can now say without hesitation is totally rational when it comes to soup, at least), put before me a cup of the most appealing hot soup...not pureed, but a beautiful broth of soup, rich with cut green beans, carrots and here and there a spaetzel or two (or three). Forget the salad, the soup (and the homemade bread) was my entire focus for the meal.

After lunch, Janice and I headed back to the Visitor's Center, as our cars were parked close by. The other part of the historic tour was to be completed by car, and for some reason we decided that I would drive. Getting better directions from the ladies at the Visitor's Center, Janice and I proceeded to our first destination. What we soon discovered was that the homes, if not for sale, were occupied, so there was no way for us to go through them. We drove from one side of the Historic District to the other, navigating in and around one-way streets, increasing traffic and numbers of pedestrians emerging from between parked cars, just to look at the outside architecture. At length, I asked Janice if she had a time schedule to keep. It was approaching mid-afternoon and I began to get that knot in my stomach thinking about getting back to Portland, the rush hour traffic and the little yellow you-are-perilously-close-to-empty gas light that just flashed on my dashboard.

She had no schedule but was sensitive to mine. She knew that I was to leave the next day for a family trip to the coast (yet another travel story), and all the organization that had to happen before leaving. We went back to the Visitor's Center and parted -- she south to Eugene, and me to use the restroom at the Visitor's Center before embarking on my next adventure: the search for a gas station.

So for what it's worth, I made the return to Portland without incident. As I reflect on the day, I am grateful to Janice for many things. If she had not ventured my way and (unknowingly) pulled me out of my reluctance to embrace a profoundly personal challenge -- an obstacle that has paralyzed me for much of my life -- I would still get sick at the thought of travel....well, I still get sick, but just not as much. My comfort zone, I am happy to say, just expanded on a variety of levels, not just traveling. So Janice, if you happen to come back this way, maybe we will embark on another adventure -- perhaps on electric bicycles (or not).