Today, Annie and I celebrate 35 years since our matching during a religious gathering in Yongin, Korea. We were no more than a few hours together when someone shot the Featured Image for us.
The companion capture is a day or two later, possible Jan. 10, 1989 or the 11th. We each hold a bottle of McCol, a carbonated barley drink that, honestly, I disliked. The photographer is unknown for both pictures, although he and/or she used one of our film cameras (no digital shooters back then).
Where does the time go? I opened Google Photos to “22 years since…” and a portrait of my wife from November 2001! She looks great, but—my gosh—two decades doesn’t seem long ago by my memory when in reality it’s a third of a lifetime passed. Yikes!
The Featured Image is presented as captured. The companion is not, and I will get to that in the next paragraphs. Canon PowerShot S20 was my go-to digicam during that era. The compact was among the first over-3-megapixel pocket-size shooters. Vitals, incomplete: f/5.6, 1/125 sec, 6.55mm; 12:34 p.m. EST, November 4.
I take the hint—just need to follow-through. Tonight, my cousin Dan emailed another photo, taken by my uncle, circa 1970, with closing “call any time”. I will. I will. We Wilcox men must stick together.
Meanwhile, the Featured Image, later edited by me, is what he sent. I only share with you because everyone benefits from humbling moments of public humiliation. Eleven-year-old me looks like the prince of dweebs. I am aghast, honestly. Someone should have left that little twerp in the woods.
Dan Wilcox emailed a couple of photos today of us as youngsters. The Featured Image, dated 1970, would put our ages at about 16 and 11, respectively. Cuz was always taller (and better looking), even in adulthood. Ah, to look on my fine, blonde hair and remember having it.
The film SLR belonged to Dad. If I rightly recall, he used a Kowa, probably the seT R2. Like Leica Q2 (my primary camera), the Kowa utilized a leaf shutter, which I believe was located in the lens, rather than the body. The design made for nearly silent shooting—an appealing feature for wildlife photography.
Mom passed away six years ago today. Last night, I came across a portrait digitized a few days later but not published. This evening, I spent some time editing, and also applying preset black-and-white filters, but in the end present the Featured Image as it was recovered in August 2017.
Photographer is unknown, as is timing. Mom is dressed for prom, but I am not sure what year of high school. She doesn’t appear to be pregnant, as she was during 12th grade. She already was married during junior year, having eloped to Canada at (sweet) sixteen.
As the hunt for my neighbor’s missing kitty Bruce continues, I take a moment to regard one of our two felines. Neko has started to occasionally nap on the bed in my old office, which is now our daughter’s bedroom. She moved into our apartment on April 11, 2023, as part of recovery from a traumatic event, which her medical record describes as “severe hypoxic injury and bilateral subcortical infarctions”. Her progress so far is nothing short of miraculous, considering where she was on March 2. That said, doctors have counseled us to expect one to two years for her brain to heal as much as it will ever.
Our girl’s arrival kind of sent the cats (Cali is the other) into exile from one of their main rooms in the residence. But the Featured Image, taken today using Samsung Galaxy S23 Ultra, shows how Neko is starting to share territory with our girl. Vitals: f/2.4, ISO 125, 1/60 sec, 70mm; 10:40 a.m. PDT; composed as shot.
Our daughter’s best friend received the phone call that she was in an ambulance and hospital bound on March 2, 2023. She was discovered in severe distress during the late afternoon. Her heart stopped enroute, and she suffered cerebral anoxia—meaning no oxygen to the brain. The trauma unit quickly cooled her body; the term is therapeutic hypothermia.
Two hours later, paramedics wheeled in another patient suffering similar situation. He didn’t make it. I later learned that ICU staff rallied for our daughter after losing the other patient. But she was completely unresponsive for the first two full days. “It has been found that only about 12 percent of patients who have been comatose for more than six hours after a cardiac arrest make a good recovery”, according UK-based brain injury association Headway. That statistic might in part explain why we were offered option to suspend treatment and let our only child pass away—on her second day at the hospital.
Today, an in-patient rehabilitation institute released our daughter into home care and continued treatment on an outpatient basis. We are not sure yet where she will go. The facility that the recovery physician recommends can’t do intake assessment until mid-May. Another brain injury hospital could take her this month, but there is an insurance hang up to get by. Assessment is scheduled for later this week.
She did suffer brain damage from the incident, which I won’t yet discuss specifically. While her cognitive capabilities are seemingly quite recovered, a neuropsychologist told me that she nevertheless shows deficiencies in the five categories assessed for measuring brain function. For example, the double stroke caused memory loss, diminished reasoning and spatial capabilities, affected some motor functions, and left behind lingering pain in one foot.
I remember this meal. My father-in-law wanted to eat someplace different. We ended up at a Korean restaurant somewhere along Convoy Street in one of San Diego’s commercial Asian areas. But I don’t recall why we were thereabouts, being far from the places closer to his apartment and where he preferred to eat. Good guess: Tax preparation with his financial advisor, which office is located a short driving distance from where he ate.
The Featured Image—from Motorola-made, Google-branded Nexus 6—catches Bob as he looks up at some distraction. Seconds earlier, he was engrossed in the bowl’s contents. Vitals: f/2, ISO 310, 1/17 sec, 26.6mm (film equivalent); 2:54 p.m. PDT.
With hours to spare, on the final day, I took advantage of REI’s big member-discount event. I placed the order on March 27, 2023 and received it on the 31st. As our daughter undergoes rehabilitation, more of my time will go to traveling—and, occasionally, hanging out waiting. I hadn’t carried a backpack in years, and time had arrived to start doing so again.
As you can see from the Featured Image and companion, I chose the Urban Assault 21, which manufacturer Mystery Ranch says is “inspired by military assault rucksacks; this versatile daypack is the epitome of clean, functional design. Featuring our three-zip closure, it makes accessing pack contents as easy as one, two, three”.
Our daughter’s recovery companion is a little Japanese chick, likely purchased during Comic-Con 2010. She gave it to her best friend years ago; he returned it when she was still in critical condition. Yesterday, our girl left the hospital about 40 minutes shy of 30 days. She has moved on to facility for rehabilitation, which will be the subject of a future post.
For now, the Featured Image is the topic. You can disbelieve me, but this one comes from Nexus One—composed as shot and in no way edited. Vitals are incomplete, but the date is there: July 23, 2010, 1:22 p.m. PDT.
“She talked” is how our daughter’s nurse greeted me today. That statement upfront is so I don’t bury the lede. But behind it are several tumultuous days of disappointment and progress.
Consider this the third installment about our adult child, who suffered oxygen-deprivation following an incident that receives no explanation for now. “Our Family Emergency Revealed” and “From Intubation to Extubation” are parts one and two, respectively. Because my Facebook is deactivated (since July 2019), this post means to update relatives and any one else interested in following the saga.