Beauty and a short brain freeze

Monday, August 24, 2026
We have a late-afternoon walk, admiring the flowers.

Bougainvilleas come in many colors.

There are multi-colored shrubs.

And hot colors.

This one reminds me of a lit-up Christmas tree and often blooms in December.

Tucked in a dead end is a stairwell. What you can't see from here is that it's 10 flights? or more that start between 2 houses. 

It goes down and around other houses to a village on the river.

Overhead is a magnificent (9-10"/ 25cm) spider.

Our neighbor has a magnificent bonsai in bloom on her fencepost.

Another neighbor is building a small castle where an ordinary house used to stand.

There's too much pattern in the guestroom so I move the quilt to our bedroom and put the plain white one in the guestroom. 

Tuesday: another red-letter day (public holiday #23 in 2026)
Waking at the Project feels like a dream in the early morning light.

We start with a walk and breakfast. The fallen leaves in front of the #GoodPadelBandung are dry and slippery. It's a hazard for the older people who make this a regular walk to the market. The well-maintained club is where many people play.

Someone is sweeping leaves inside so I go in to ask if they can tidy up their side of the street. In our area, the property owner is responsible for keeping their area lit and clean. 

"That's not my job. That's the city's responsibility," says the young sweeper. He's obviously clueless, not from around here.

At 10, a group of ladies arrives to learn and pray for each other on the Porch. It's wonderful to catch up!

As they're leaving, Sayaka and Martin arrive. Sayaka is pleased with W's progress and gives him a third myo-functional therapy session. I make myself lunch. W didn't made his while I was tied up this morning, so he's hungry. He refuses a quick snack.

After I eat, I make his lunch: potatoes, cucumber salad, and chickpea cutlets. He eats while the rest of us enjoy tea on the Porch.

For supper, we join friends at an eatery across the street.

Wednesday
My body catches up to the goings-on of the past month. We walk, but W notices that I have checked out. I'm not responding as usual. I loop a comment and don't remember why he's talking with a slur. He makes breakfast and then takes me to the hospital. I have enough sense to make a thermos of tea to take along. 

Friends (including a super-doc) show up to translate and comfort. Frances keeps me entertained while Dolly buys good ayam lemper (chicken wrapped in rice, cooked in banana leaves) for us all. Yummy! (W purchases the same for breakfast Thursday.)

I'm sent from Emergency to a ward. Test after test show up normal: MRI, EKG, blood tests, and x-rays. As suspected, I'm wired in a "Daher" (Dad's family) reintegration of parts of our beings. My dad had a few similar episodes in his 70s and 80s. That's how his body processed emotions and thoughts he had held. We reboot.

In times of crisis, you want someone like us to walk you through. We're steady, rational, and get the help you need. After a few weeks, a body/mind disengagement takes all the stress off. It's scary for onlookers, and we never regain the time lost, but when it's over, it's over. I remember everything before and since. I talk to the neurologist about my experience, in case other patients have the same thing happen but can't articulate it.

The room feels more like a hotel than a hospital. We are treated with kindness, prayer, music, and care.

The cardiologist says everything looks normal and orders an EKG for tomorrow. "You are now taking blood thinners." 

I ask why - it's standard procedure. He's Seventh Day Adventist and they know natural solutions. "What can I ingest instead of drugs?"

"Chia seeds, daily," he says. And upon request, tells me that 1 tablespoon is the equivalent. Or I can eat grape seeds. I look up his recommendation: chia, grape, and ground flax seeds also provide fiber that regulates blood sugar. Their other ingredients lower blood pressure and thin the blood naturally. Glad I asked! I'll add that to our daily menu. No meds needed.

Supper is bland but I chuckle when the rice comes shaped like a heart. Now that's service! I joke, "Where's the sambal (hot sauce)?" Ah, bland stuff only for patients.

Thursday
At breakfast, I eat the apple W brought and pick out the fried bread in the bubur ayam (chicken porridge). I keep the onions and chicken that prevent the long-cooked rice from being totally tasteless.

Doctor visits, nurse checkups, and two tests are done before 9AM. "I plan to go home today," I tell the morning doc. "Is that possible?" Based on yesterday's conversation with the head doctor, I wave off the prescription. This doc warns, "You'll have to sign off on that, since we follow Western medical protocol." No problem.

The morning's EKG is utterly boring and normal. The young cardiologist is completing her PhD on a fascinating subject. She's comparing the cardiology of pregnant Indonesians with Dutch moms-to-be. What a worthy topic. I tell her to persevere and offer advice to ease her doctoral defense. We pray together that she will do well.

I answer emails, walk around the halls since sitting in bed all day can't be good for you, and agree to a 3-day heart monitor at home. ("Why not?" says W). I'd rather be at a relaxing spa, but they do treat us well. W and I split the morning snack:

... plus a green juice that looks like algae. Luckily it tastes better than that.

We wait until after lunch for the monitors to be attached. Apparently yesterday's meds still have an effect: drowsiness. I nap and miss Dr. Gati, who drops off some pastries. There's one final doctor consultation. ("You're fit and healthy. The monitor sends us the info so we'll see you in a week.") Then W pays the bill before we happily gather our things and hop in the car.

It's nice to come home, whether from far or near, isn't it? My office stinks of the rat/s that have died and disappeared in the ceiling. We air out the room as best we can.

W and I walk up the block and back to stretch our legs. It drizzles some rain and looks menacing but there's no proper downpour. Yesterday the firetrucks were in the neighborhood beside us, putting out a bamboo brushfire. Careless smokers, tossing their cigarettes into the bush, create a hazard.

Sayaka sends a note that her husband Martin has dropped off gado-gado, the beloved Indonesian salad, complete with homemade peanut sauce. I heat some wraps, which we mound with the salad. How wonderful not to have to think of making a meal! Thanks so much.

Read more:
* The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love. The Lord is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made. 

All your works praise you, Lord; your faithful people extol you. They tell of the glory of your kingdom and speak of your might, so that all people may know of your mighty acts and the glorious splendor of your kingdom.

Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and your dominion endures through all generations. The Lord is trustworthy in all he promises and faithful in all he does. Psalm 145:13-8

* From this time forward I tell you new things, hidden things that you have not known.  Isaiah 48:6

* When they heard of the resurrection of the dead, some scoffed, but others said, “We will hear you again about this.” Acts 17:32

Moravian Prayer: God of new things, remove the blinders of familiarity from our eyes so that we may see the wonderous works you are doing. May our joy in new things and new life have no end. Amen.