Sick Of Winter Yet? #4

 There are a lot of tree varieties in the Arizona desert, whether natives or imports. Probably the most well known is the saguaro, now protected due both to its long slow life cycle, and its unique shape from arms. There are a lot visible in the Phoenix greater metro area. Some were likely "stolen" from surrounding desert before protection (for the most part?), and others permitted for movement when a river was damned to allow the creation of Lake Pleasant. Flooding would have killed all cacti in the area, so people were allowed to go in and remove them for replanting. Back when my parents were snowbirds down there, it was happening, so we drove out to the site to see what was up. Nothing appealed to them for digging up. Now, driving around the metro, many are still visible and healthy in the urban landscape, along with many other cacti varieties.

They bloom in the heat of summer, blossoms emerging from the top, with birds often taking advantage of a less prickly perch from the height. Others can carve out a hole in the side of the main trunk for nesting.The plant then fortifies the area around that incursion, behind the green covering,  making a solid chamber holding the nest secure. Water continues flowing through the green.

 In recent years the increasing heat is taking a toll even on them. Down at the west corner of our block we were surprised by one having toppled overnight. So, no doubt, was the homeowner whose car was trapped in his garage for nearly a month. The saguaros are tremendously heavy, as well as thoroughly spiny, and  it takes a special crew to remove a toppled one. You don't just drive over or around it. I would guess one might look for somebody who values the downed plant and it's unique skeleton ribs who might take it off your hands at less or no cost. Or maybe it's difficult finding the right crew... and price.

A couple years later, on the other end of our block, some new resident "required" different landscaping. They cleared off the site, which required a crew of four to topple this old saguaro. Of course half of the street was blocked for hours. Maybe the arms weren't weird enough to please them. Perhaps they really really "needed"  a low patch of prickly pear on that corner with the fine spines that worm their way into your skin and hang out for days before you can figure out how to shed them. The new look is boring and bland. I don't think I have forgiven these owners for the destruction yet.

Sick Of Winter Yet? #3

 There are a lot of photo files to sort through, over 4,000 currently in my laptop library, more on various thumb drives. Thumbnails need to be sorted for themes, and by the time 50 or so wind up on working desktop space, even once I change the name from a number, it's a jumble. So these will keep coming as time and patience allow.  (Sure, now I warn you!)

This funny faced blossom is not what one usually sees with this plant. It's such a tiny bit of a vine which quickly covers an entire fence and blooms off and on through the year.

This mass of color is what usually catches the eye. The white parts are subtle and need a close up, which then enable you to see the other fertile parts of you are willing to pay attention. This was a gift from the neighbor, rooted on their side of the fence, pruned into submission on ours.

Eventually the bouganvilla goes into full blooming mode and looks like this... before starting over again. I never tired of the colors or the work encouraging them.

There are many less tender plants around Phoenix with interesting colors. One from the front yard which I planted early after we moved in is called the red yucca. The name is a misnomer, as the leaves are not spine tipped, nor red, and is from the asparagus family. No, I wouldn't try eating it.

Most of the year it looks like this, often sporting old seed pods that nobody cleaned off.  Yawwnnnnn.

It sends up tall blossoming stems, often over two dozen flowering stalks a season. Pink buds open into yellow flowers, tiny enough that trying to capture the whole negates all the details.

Each fertilized blossom creates a hard seed pod with enough combined weight to bend the long stems, the way this one leans out over the driveway. Eventually the pods dry, open, and drop a multitude of hard black seeds all over. I never see new plants from those locations, so they must need something from either the processes of weather that the Arizona desert lacks, or traveling through something's digestive system to spread to new locations.

Lots of plants down there there produce hard round pods. This one is a tree, with blossoms better described as beige lace. We were usually north at blooming time, or without a convenient camera, when this bloomed in the neighbor's front yard. This is an unidentified variety of palm tree, about 12 feet tall when this was taken, but I've never seen anything remotely edible looking  emerge from it. They did have a yard maintenance company clean up while they returned to Canada, so they had no clue either. Typical palm tree care involved cutting the tops way back. I only ever saw one blooming or fruiting the year we stayed south for covid. I'm only guessing these were hard, since I'm not that tall.

Sick Of Winter Yet? #2

 Perhaps you're tired of white upon white upon white. Sure, it can be spectacular. But for months on end? Trapping you in a world of blaahhh, waiting for even a glimpse of color. It's especially dull after living where color is always present.

Every sunset seems full of color. This is a typical shot. If you are up and peek out early enough, you can even see gorgeous sunrises, but one of the joys of retirement is sleeping in, if that suits you. It did us.

Inside the back fence, skies take a backseat to a Mexican Bird of Paradise. Properly pruned, it gets bushier and more brilliant every year.

If you wish more variety, a similar but larger plant is a local favorite. It's called a bird of paradise, but isn't. I tried for one of these, above, looked it up, went to garden centers, and found a lot of blank faces. The formerly reliable place insisted what they gave me was  what  asked for, but the blah yellow with sparse petals didn't appeal.

Another common flower, the lantana has variations from yellow through pink through lavender, often on the same plant. This is a neighbor's. We removed one when we moved in, due to location and thorns, but later discovered a volunteer in a more out-of-the-way spot and started tending it.

Trees can be spectacular too. This is one of the first of those I planted, after noting the back hard had 3 citrus trees removed before we even saw the place. It was a bank repo, and they chose not to water thirsty plants.  This is a desert willow, and while needing water its first year, it shoots down deep roots and thrives with minimal attention. It also provides great shade in a few years. Note the abundance of buds waiting their turn to bloom, then picture covering the whole tree with these clumps.

If you like purple, this tree gives a show in the spring. I never did manage to name it, which probably means it's an import, like many other landscaping plants. It seems to be something one person plants, the next sees it a few years later and puts their own in, and three more repeat that in a few more years. Then you can go miles without seeing one. The bloom is brief, and mostly after the snowbirds head north. It's worth finding a parking spot to shoot.

The logistics of that are simple, spelled $$$. Most snowbirds have their primary residence in a northern state, and deal with homeowners rates on their property tax. They have to spend the majority of their time up north in order to get a discount. w\Wherever they live in the south, they either rent, or own something much less expensive.  this means they miss half the year in the Phoenix area, and probably have never seen a thermometer registering 123 degrees F. On the other hand, we sold the northern house, bought something less expensive in the south for our primary residence, and spent 9 months there for our property tax discount. Summers in Minnesota were a great time to see the grand kids while they were out of school. Also, of course, a great time not to air condition the AZ house.

Sick Of Winter Yet? #1

 I don't know about the rest of you. Perhaps you love to ski or skate or go ice fishing. Maybe you just hate the heat. I mean, I can get that. This thermometer was accurate when we were in Sun City, and I was impressed enough to immortalize it, right before heading back into the air conditioning!.

But after all, we did spend our winters down there to get out of the cold. And we've had more than enough snow and ice and cold this winter to bring on a bout of nostalgia for those good old days. This was one of the best!

                                

We went down as a committed couple. Covid came along, we reexamined our priorities, and held an official, legal wedding, covid-safe, in our carport, social distancing and all for the 5 people there. This is the "after" shot, both of us holding a Maricopa County wedding license, shot by one of our witnesses and a best friend, Joan Kroll. Our anniversary comes up in a few days.

The spots of orange behind us is a plant called Orange Bells. When we moved in, one of our projects was to remove the water -thirsty plant in that desert yard, and replace them with more heat and drought tolerant ones.

This is a close up shot of a branch.

We weren't the only ones who appreciated the blooms. Hummers were all over the place, so long as a steady supply of food was available.

This little one was a bit too optimistic. The cage it hovered over did have a plant in it, but no blossoms yet.

In contrast, the Phoenix Botanical Gardens had a year-round supply of food for them.

 

Conquering The Irrepressible Itch

Ever had one of those? It could have any cause - a bug bite, an allergy, a rubbing irritation. Or, like me, you might combine any/all of these with a skin condition known as dermatographic uticaria. I heard that translated once as  'skin writing", where one could raise a lasting red pattern on the skin by simply gently scratching it!  Short version - everything that can make your skin pay attention will find it reacting as if to repel an invader, with a combination of red, rising, and itchy surface patches. Yep, that was/is me.

There are meds for that, though they were just coming on the market back then, prescription only and pricey, back when I first was "blessed" with it.  My first month's supply was $81. Some allergy meds hint at fighting it. Others are better tailored specifically for it. Those which fight respiratory issues "are not the droids you are looking for."

My first tactic, once I could afford insurance years ago, was to see an allergist, identify everything I react to, and get shots. As for the identification process, a patch was affixed to my back, with a grid where each square held a different common allergen. Once removed a few days later, the Doc can identify what one reacted to and start treatment, coupled with imparting knowledge of what to avoid. In my case my back was so solidly red they had to hold up a grid to figure out what I wasn't allergic to. The adhesive turned out to be one of the culprits. Lots of shots followed, coupled with one of those new drugs.

Mostly they work... pretty much. With the doc's recommendation, I still take twice the daily dose of my allergy pills. Fortunately the price is way down now, and they are widely available OTC. I'm told there are better ones out, but... $$$.

Now try adding a "sling" you have to stay encased in for weeks. Six lonnnnng weeks. And "sling" is so-o-o-o not a cloth triangle slung around your neck and holding the forearm loosely. Start with a bulky padded box,  hard plastic straps encasing your fully dressed torso from multiple angles, with buckles mostly out of reach and beyond your strength, at least initially, tons of rigid velcro obviously made for strength, not softness or comfort. It is designed as a prison while your joint heals.

 Really good job on that "prison " part, folks. Kudos. Mission accomplished.

One needs assistance with almost everything. Allegedly you MAY remove it for "hygiene". Of course it has to go back on, so maybe reconsider that first sling removal part unless you have memorized the reverse process. This means somebody else deals with your clothing, your bathroom duties, cleaning after your bathroom duties,  and your clothing again. Whatever in your life requiring two hands now gets one, plus whatever another person can assist with... on their schedule. This last in no way is a comment on their willingness to assist, but an understanding that their schedule for waking, sleeping, time involved in standing and walking with a walker, etc., does not often accommodate a requirement for "Right Now!" The heart is willing, the flesh is older than my own. Even when help is quick, many times the body's demands don't wait at all. Oops. Just a warning. Prepare ahead if you can.

Don't be embarrassed now. Remember even astronauts and our current President wear diapers. Just a thought.

Then, just for grins and giggles, there's the factor of multiple layers of clothing. Shedding pants, the most frequent ones needing moving, is one thing more easily done, providing one has the right kind of clothing and sufficient need, with both layers at the same time. Replacing them can be done simultaneously or individually. Elastic and stretchy fabrics are pretty much a must. But occasionally, even in the best of circumstances, they do not come to rest in identical locations, resulting in an uneven pull against a moving body part, like a thigh top, as one changes from sitting to standing to walking. ITCH! Let's add the obvious complication of lumpy body shapes to deal with. It's mostly a good thing , because how else do pants stay up, (unless one uses suspenders, which also happen to require multiple hands). I adapt to doing it automatically. I know where all the lumps are. I make adjustments.  Less familiar hands are still learning, so the process is a tad less perfect. Again, fabric binds, irritation grows, and ITCH!!!

Some of the issues are simply the wrong wardrobe to start with. I'm not allowed to lift one arm. It has to go into a sleeve or two anyway, staying vertically down during the process. The official clothing recommendation is have everything for your torso join in the front middle so each arm goes in independently. Of course they tell you that just before surgery. Perhaps your life is arranged well enough that you can just head out shopping, find the exact things you need, and prepare them for use, like by actually checking how they work, and laundering. My life hasn't been that accommodating recently. Browsing my closets and drawers turned up three such garments, all for cold weather wear. Two were hoodie sweatshirts with center zippers. Imagine those metal teeth plastered to your skin and grinding in with every movement. No? Not your ideal? All else in the wardrobe is essentially a tube with openings. 

Exceptions which have front openings are coats, now ruled out - surprise! - due to the requirements of keeping the extremely bulky, never intended to fit inside any sleeve, sling. Do you have a coat sleeve which can accommodate your bent arm in a fat padded box with straps heading out from it in all directions?  Me neither.  Maybe a cape...? Don't have one of those either of course.

Start from the skin and go out. First, forget you ever heard of a bra. It's just too many complications in too flimsy a package, and at my age nothing provides support there anymore anyway. That ship fell off the dock and sailed away over another ocean. So, back to the skin layer, the only accommodation in my wardrobe is a selection of smooth knit summer tops with wide necks and almost no sleeve, donned by putting the surgery arm in first and then maneuvering the top up over yourself - with help - so one head and a second arm go into the appropriate holes.  (You do have just one head and a single remaining arm, right? Not trying to be insensitive here, but I can't help you with ideas if that's not the case.) 

Then of course, adjustments are made, some never considered. In fabric selection, a couple factors become important. First, said tops were not made to be worn for a long time inside another garment. They're for summer, for god's sake!  Mine are loose, not snug. Every little wrinkle, trapped under a "sling" for hours on into days, depending on how many shirts fitting the bill well that you have to switch off,  and what shape you are actually in when first home from the hospital, becomes an itch to swear at, loudly and long. Second, summer clothing just isn't warm. (Duh!) You need more layers to maintain body heat, or possibly a humongous bank account to accommodate really heating up your Minnesota winter home. My budget says no, so this might mean your solution is one of those zipper hoodies like I happen to have, added between layers. (Did you ever select cool weather clothing for softness and lack of skin irritation? If not, good luck. Me neither.) It might be a double polar fleece blanket you try to drag with you around the house without tripping over it, or snagging it on furniture when you come to a stop and try to cover up, but folds keep it in lumps anyway, leaving you to spend hours while minus that second arm trying to arrange it for best effect. Or all of that and more. My surefire plan for next time, if there is a next time, is to ONLY DO IT IN THE SUMMER!!!

I know you're laughing at all this now. You find this all minor. I can hear you! I'll forgive you for now, but just you wait till you find yourself in a similar situation for whatever reason. Listen then for me snickering back. I do recognize the absurdity. But you are forgetting all the movements under that contraption called a sling are resulting in dozens of reasons and locations for unsolvable itching! A stab here, another there, a wiggle won't ease it for more than a half second and you're back like a pig against the farm fence, rubbing, scraping, trying not to make new holes, praying that you can somehow ease the itch for more than a third of a second. (I'll imagine you oinking! I promise!)

What? Lotion, you say?  Go back to page 19 in your post surgery care booklet if you can still find it in the stacks of handouts, where lotion is strictly forbidden. Recall your instructions from your occupational therapist in the hospital who stressed the same thing. The skin surface needs to be kept clean and dry for proper healing, especially to avoid infection, their worst case scenario post joint replacement. 

I wonder if those people ever had an itch? Do they even understand having one?

I finally got fed up with most of this. I've seen the surgeon and healing is coming along well. I've been to the physical therapist who has some teenie weenie exercises I can/should do now and warnings against others. My son and husband have worked to get the "sling" on and off and back on so both are now experts in its workings. I've strengthened fingers so they can work the buckles loose and know which ones are needed in which positions to remove it. I'VE MANAGED TO TAKE MY VERY OWN SOLO GLORIOUS SHOWER! Even a one-handed shampoo. Yep, it took about 4 times as long, but I didn't have to wake up anybody to do it.

And I did not put the sling back on! Ahhhhhh...!

It isn't on now, though I have compromised by wearing it at night when I have no control over arm movements, and am holding my arm mostly in the needed position during the day, never in the forbidden one. 

It turns out I have the perfectly placed pockets for tucking the hand in comfortably in a very cozy polar fleece vest I bought decades ago on a trip to Alaska. I treasure it and thus rarely wear it. The not wearing part just ended. It will show wear when this ends, the end of this month, but be well worth it.

Most of the chronic widespread itches are gone with the removal of the sling. But life is seldom perfect. There is one small, nagging issue. Overnight something pinched and rubbed under the sling AND ITCHES! Because of course! I have dug out the lotion, as that is nowhere near the surgery site. So far I've applied it twice this morning. It helps only until I stop. Again, because of course.

Later in the day I'll tend to laundry and hope some almost microscopic something will get flushed out of the fabric, and not replaced overnight from the sling again.  See how optimistic I am?  Considering how strong and brittle the velcro is, I suspect a single piece broke off and found a new home, hopefully in fabric, not me. I have heard, when I stretch a bit or turn in a torso twist, the loud sound of it sliding across whatever surface it was currently sticking to. I make sure then that it's fastened reasonably- in my definition - close to where it should be, and tuck it back down. Things do get weird that way, but hey, welcome to my world!

Three and a half more weeks.........  Officially.

Differences In Networks: Who Bought Whom? And What Cost?

I tend to check around different news programs available in our cable package, far as we are from the Metro, aka St. Paul/Minneapolis. Sometimes it's just for differences in weather forecasts, or just in forecasters. Sometimes it's accuracy, sometimes in how it is explained.  KARE 11 (NBC) tops out there most of the time in our home. Since we can record, we  can easily compare.

News on TV is more emphatically different lately, especially with the invasion of ICE into the state, more particularly Minneapolis. There is a huge difference in local versus national coverage. Much of that is quantity, as expected for any local story. I can't fault an hour of national coverage spending less time on local stories. A whole lot of stories are local somewhere else and deserve their time. But where quantity suffers, details lose out.

I can and do condemn the slant often  given. Let's hop back several months to the cancellation of Stephen Colbert on late night TV, despite his high ratings, effective this coming June. He has a very liberal slant. One might note that there's such a lot of material to ridicule in anything Trump does. Never considered bright, except perhaps by sycophants, and to the advantage of fellow grifters, all of which can be easily seen to have both much to gain plus much to hide, Trump is the perpetual easy target. When money people saw gain in a TV merger, the skids were greased for retribution.

Coverage on the news changed at the same time, gaining a much more favorable slant to the right wing. If that became selective in how a story was told, which facts were stressed or ignored, it was subtle at first unless one was actively looking for it. In fairness, CBS local news by then had been pretty well but not totally ignored in this house shortly after the differences were noted. But we do still watch their national morning news, since we still like Gayle King, and the trumpet opening, having both played the instrument more or less (me less, him much much more) but only until the first weather break around 15 minutes in. The celebrity 'news" holds no appeal.

Subtlety has vanished. I see truth doing likewise. Three recent local stories make my point. Take the murder of Renee Goode. I say murder because I've seen multiple video views of it, and one official interpretation claims the shooter was driven over while no video shot comes anywhere near to showing that. The shooter was up and mobile the whole time, easily avoiding a bump by Goode's slowly rolling car. The official story from Noem maintains that story of grievous injury, while other information offers that he did go through that... much earlier in a different incident, had recovered, and was now back on the job while having PTSD... untreated. In fact the local coverage still shows Renee stopping to talk with ICE to figure out where they did need her to go, letting them know, cheerfully, that she wasn't angry with them. We know how that story ends, including witness reports that when her car crashed after she was shot multiple times, those hoping to give official medical assistance were prevented from doing so for several minutes.

We may never know if they might have helped save her life. I personally think it is unlikely after three shots, but I'm no expert and the BCA has had all evidence removed from them by the feds.  The story version out of DC is still being pushed, despite what we have all watched repeatedly.

Alex Petti's murder has been covered the same way. Video shows him, an ICU nurse at the Veterans Hospital, trying to reach and help a woman protester who'd been shoved to the ground and pepper sprayed. It also clearly shows the legal pistol behind him which he never reached for, and which was removed from the scene before ICE shot him multiple times, killing him. But he was the aggressor?  You selling a bridge too, with that crap?

The same kinds of news coverage, the same patterns with  immediate blaming the victim repeated over and over, federal CYA to absurdity on other networks we pop in on, bystanders with video showing different stories showing up mostly in local, NBC coverage. Even at their best, NBC is still big on both-siderism. It does beat toeing the federal line at least.

Don't ignore all the mass demonstrations, remarkably peaceful in all locations, despite often subzero cold, getting the federal interpretation of rioting. Never mind candlelight vigils, singing, neighbors opening businesses to help others afraid to leave homes, employees afraid to come to work, especially with ICE out racially profiling, citizens or no.  You were born here, perhaps thousands of years of history here, maybe even had ancestors greeting the Mayflower, or taming early wild horses abandoned by the Spanish, but suddenly need to carry papers proving you belong?  Are you getting any of the stories of community unity? We do.

Then there is an ICE incident which just returned to news coverage with a happier ending - if in fact an ending - still with two different stories, the federal one and what ordinary witnesses saw. Remember that adorable 5-yer-old who was whisked away to a Texas prison along with his father? Maybe you'd recognize the little blue and white knit bunny hat he wore. Perhaps the expression on his face got you. At the order of a judge both son and father were returned to Minnesota where they may continue their case for asylum already proceeding along legal lines since well before ICE worked to maintain their quota without regard for law or facts. "Involuntary travel" disrupted that process, until then going smoothly.

They of course painted the father in the most reprehensible of terms, claiming he ran away from his son, abandoned just to avoid ICE. It could be understandable if true, a parent trying to keep his kid out of harm's way from the goon squad, especially after two widely shown murders. But both father and witnesses say the father had scooped up his son and was running toward their home to warn the rest of the family to lock the doors and not let anybody in. In that he was successful, but now was unwilling to be separated from his son in whatever hell came next. After all, everybody who's paid attention knows about Trump's family separation plan which still leaves 1,360  kids (by best possible count) separated from their parents, no names recorded on intake, many not verbal at the time to remember their given names. How old were you before you knew a name other than a version of Mommy? Daddy? Or when you were still called a version of Baby, Junior, Darling, Sweetie? He wasn't taking that chance with his son.

Now they have been flown back together, the "lost" blue bunny hat replaced in kindness by a stranger with a brand new one, and a judge's orders to ICE to leave the family alone. Imagine the fears that family has to face while recovering from this ordeal. Oh, and don't forget the Texas prison building that housed the two just announced an outbreak of measles as they left! After all, why would any Texas prison run by ICE take any care for the health of its inmates when they barely bother to even feed them? (The food on the airplane was reported to be their most food in the previous week.) I just hope the family took advantage earlier of Minnesota's immunization policies! But how many families will be too afraid now to get needed immunizations?

Where do you get your news? When it comes to being told over and over that what you just watched isn't what happened, and nobody was putting on a 'magic" show you had to pay to watch, who are you going to trust? And who will you trust next time? Where is the money going? Who is getting what favors and what is their actual price... for them? 

For us?

On Domestic Violence: How Bad Did It Get?

There was an event in St. Paul today to remember the victims of domestic violence. Obviously, since I'm here writing this, mine didn't get that bad. Violence can take many forms, and not all end life, sometimes just the desire for it. Since I haven't written those stories, and mostly never tell them, you don't know how close it got... and didn't. If you were around and very observant, you might have had questions, and perhaps told yourself that of course you were being silly. If you were the next one to marry him, I hope you learned early "enough" what to believe or not about his lies. I never heard about a third.

The first time I unwittingly almost did it for him. We'd been having one of those arguments about what I cooked for his dinner. I happen to have picked a recipe he'd liked a week earlier, and he was very hard to please.  It turned out - without warning since his rules were mostly silent until I violated one - a week was way too short a time. We were doing dishes, one of the rare times it wasn't just me, but he needed to continue haranguing me about supper. Well, what did he want? No answer of course. I suggested he step out while I did dishes and he'd have time to cool off. He declined. How about if I step out?  Denied.

The one thing I was allowed to leave his arena for was to go to the bathroom. I did, what turned out to be 7 times, a mark of how long that lasted. What he didn't understand was that was my only escape, in more ways than one. As a result of migraines, my bottle of valium was in there, and each time, since the last pill hadn't made him ignorable yet, I took another one. By the time I returned the 7th time in perhaps a half hour, , I must have been noticeably floating, or slurring, or something.

I wound up in the local hospital, "diagnosed" as a suicide attempt, getting my stomach pumped.  All I wanted was a way to shut him up. It never occurred to me that the pills might have serious consequences! I still doubt they believed me, since whenever I was awake the next 24 hours I was getting harangued by nuns offering to pray with/for me or find me counseling. In return I just asked if they could find a way to shut him up? Apparently somebody talked to him and he agreed that next time "I got him angry", he'd go walk or something. At any rate, we went home together, and some of the verbal abuse ended, 

I will confess to working  on talking him down when his "solution" to "my making him so mad" the next several times was to get in the car and drive into a bridge abutment at high speed. It worked.

Several years later we had our three kids, which I can pinpoint from- again- the kitchen we were in. I have no recall what the issue was, but he was very angry and backing me into a corner of the counter. I reached behind me, locating the butcher block knife holder. He was still advancing on me, and imagining no alternative, held the first knife in my hand out in front of me. Note that the handle was braced against the bottom of my rib cage for support, and the point was aimed straight at him with over a foot to spare. I wouldn't lunge. He had the choice of advancing or stopping. He stopped. Whatever his fight was about, it suddenly wasn't that important. He had a choice.  He backed off and the knife went back in the block. 

I overheard him later claiming me as aggressor.  It didn't seem important by then what he said.  He was proud of using words as weapons, and convinced me I had no options other than him. I was left with just hoping (silently) he'd just die. I have no idea if he noticed I quit arguing when he offered his bridge abutment solution.

We lasted 13 years. I have no excuse except hopelessness for an alternative. He did marry again, and I heard later that while he adopted her kids, they took the brunt of his abuse, lies, and whatever else he dished out. Wife #2 was much stronger than I. I hope those kids got what they needed to heal. 

I eventually did manage to, taking longer than the abuse had lasted, finally trusting the kindest, sweetest, best friend for years to become my #2. I'm lucky in many ways!

As for #1, we do know there was nobody willing to pay for his burial when he died a few years back.