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I’M GLAD IT’S TODAY
Yesterday was a doozy. I was having a day and filled it with as much self-pity, pissing and moaning and hand wringing as I could muster. I filled every dramatic skill in my repertoire of . Pity party par excellence–and the award goes to…
A lot of it had to do with health issues and that turned out as a kick in the butt to get my energy into a more positive vein. I was so frustrated I hit the internet with a vengeance and ended up finding a lot of information that I needed to know a year ago. So, I suppose there i was a purpose in that whiny interlude.
Other than that, things are going well. As my energy level increases I look forward to doing more and more. When taking a shower and washing one’s hair becomes a giant step worthy of noting as an accomplishment, well, I just have to take it and run with it. (The sound of the crowd is overwhelming you right about now.)
Each day I am more and more grateful for the my family and friends. All of you have kept me on the road to recovery in the best possible way and have helped me accomplish as much as I have. I may piss and moan yet, I know my life is a walk in the park compared to some.
And, just to help me keep track of my very own reality…Piglet shows me the way.
SHE’S BACK!!!
Dear Friends and Loved Ones:
I know it has been a while since my presence was felt on the interweb, but I am here to put an end to it. If you want the short version here it is: I am well on my way to recovery and will be back to full strength soon.
For the stronger of heart and those who are dying for the details, read on.
The surgery I had on August 9th was to restore my body back to somewhat normal operation. Didn’t happen. All of you know that it wouldn’t be a medical episode unless somewhere along the line someone says, “It was the worst I had ever seen.” That’s what happened this time. Again. The takedown process on the ileostomy wasn’t possible. There was about a foot of my large intestines that had not been getting the blood supply that it needed to stay alive and as a direct result, it died. So, I will have an ostomy forever and will make poop jokes as often as I can. I am not freaked by it, it has basically been an “It is what it is” experience.
The reason I have not been discussing it before now came about because of the complications after the surgery. My adrenal glands failed and I ended up in Intensive Care for three days. Luckily I don’t remember this at all except for the part where they tied my hands to the bed rails because I wanted to pull the NG tube out. They were smart to not believe me because I was fibbing and we all knew it.
I ended up back on the floor pumped full of steroids with a body that resembled the Michelin tire mascot and with a bit more time than we expected in the hospital. I know, “Hard to believe.” For those interested in what I call the “I’ve never seen this before!” Nurse Award I will tell you that when they gave me the medicine to get all the fluid out of my body I ended up with 7 liters of pee pee (urine) bloating my pee pee bag and causing a general round of gasps on the floor.
It has taken until today for me to feel like venturing out of my self-imposed recovery and perspective adjustment period and I will definitely be back raising hell at full throttle within a day or so. Thanks for all of your support and understanding. I am sure that it was and will continue as a source of healing for me.
YES, THOSE ARE MY FEET. HARD TO BELIEVE, ISN’T IT?
LOOK MY RIGHT FOOT IS DOING A MODIFIED PEACE SIGN!
Anyone that has known me for any length of time knows that I have denied having feet at all. I have had, what I call, BUTT UGLY FEET all my life. At about 27 I was lucky enough (if you want to call it that) to need surgery to have bunions removed so I could walk more than two steps. After that there were years of hiding the feet since every time I looked at them all I saw were monster feet.
As I aged they continued to disappoint me more and more. Growing from size 9 to 10-11 with sausage toes that started growing in their own little directions, I would only go barefoot at home and still tried to hide them when someone else was in the room. This would have been fine for the rest of my life without my wonderful girl child intervening.
“Mom, you really should get a pedicure, you wouldn’t believe how great it is!” “Sure, sure,” I under my breath which roughly translated into “It’ll be a cold day in hell!” This was the same phrase I had said to a friend a few years ago knowing I would never-ever-ever let anyone touch my feet!
Fortunately, I will be going for surgery on Friday and I looked at my feet that were truly turning chicken claws and my resolve dissolved, so to speak. She the and I entered the salon with my head hung in shame, apologizing all the way to the huge, massaging recliner where I would submit to the horror of it all. As he brought out the tools of torture that I knew were going were insufficient to the task. I thought of suggesting a belt sander, but held my tongue.
Slowly but surely I felt my resistance waning. There was the vibrating chair on my tortured back, the warm, bubbly water relaxing my clenched toes and the next thing I knew, my feet were almost pretty! The foot massage he administered forced me to admit, “Hey, this isn’t so bad after all!” Darling daughter picked out the polish, the coup de grâce being the dazzling, sparkles. You know, I might do this again and again and again, and I have no problem admitting that once again I was WRONG!
THE PROPERTY
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
The story of a Jewish grandmother returning to Warsaw with her granddaughter to look for the property her family owned prior to World War II. Presented as a graphic novel the simple drawings manage to portray the tragedy and recovery of a story kept secret for many years.
THE COOKED SEED: A MEMOIR
The Cooked Seed: A Memoir by Anchee Min
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I will admit that I am hopelessly drawn to memoirs and doubly trapped when written by a person from a different culture. Anchee Min has written many historical novels about Chinese history and culture. This is her story, well told and brutally honest.
She begins with her birthplace in Shanghai and continues until her daughter prompts her to write this memoir. She details her difficulty getting to America, adjusting to a new culture and learning a new language to her overpowering desire to have a child and the predicament she finds herself in achieving this.
A strong woman who overcomes her own demons, she is willing to admit her errors and bares them with brutal honesty. Her love of her daughter, her second husband and her connection to her family still in China shows the depth of her commitment to living honestly and achieving the best that one can.
NOT THE BEST NEWS, BUT NOT THE WORST, EITHER.
4:30 AM starts the day off, or finishes the night off as I fell asleep around 3:15. And, oh, how i would have loved to pull that blanket over my head and pretend I was Grace Jones for just a few more minutes. After all I don’t have to be at the hospital until 7:30. And that would have been fine except the Monk in me kicked in. If I have to be at the hospital at 7:30 and a shower and face fix and hair comb only take an hour, theoretically, I could go back to bed until 6AM. Fat chance!
There I was, having completed all the assigned tasks as assigned to myself for being presentable at the hospital. Well, except one. I think I am going to take a survey of how many people can successfully give them selves a fleet enema at 5 in the damned morning with the sun coming up and the birds twittering a song which I swear is “Na na na na noo noo.” Finally I decide, they’ve put up with a lot worse than someone showing up without giving themselves the prescribed torture prep.
There I am, bright and shiny, at 7:30 just waiting. And waiting quite calmly due to the effects of ATAVAN. When I say that I add a flourish so that is comes out A-A-TA-V-A-A-AN. This makes it sound to me like I am calling for butthole M-A-A-AN. you know kind of like Super Dog, Mighty Man, WONDER WOMA-A-A-N. Kinda like my own personal super pill.
When I say “Drugs are our Friends,” I mean it. I am too damned old to be trying to toughen up and take it like a, a what, an idiot. No thanks, pass that Atavan and keep it coming. It makes the fact the first x-ray machine was broken and after thrashing around for half an hour while the machine was manipulated needlessly because the DAMN THING WAS BROKE. It’s not one of those things you kick and go, “Yep, I think tha’s going to do it.”
Hey, here’s an idea, let’s take this cranky old lady who has been suffering by being confined to this rock hard surface and try and delicately move her onto a rolling torture vehicle to another room where the second machine will surely work. Glory be, it does. The drawback to this room is the unnatural twist to my head as I view the x-ray in progress. Now, I’m not a doctor, but I could immediately see the situation had not improved, and in fact had worsened. That was when SHIT, FU*K started bouncing off the walls in this small , metal enclosure. I only said it twice. I thought it another 145 times.
That parts over and it’s time to see my wonderful Doc who is going to tell me what I already know. Starting semi over. Removing some more of the large intestines, rehooking the two ends back up and waiting three months to see if it works this time. This all started a year and a week ago. It kind of reminds be of groundhog day…or the song: Here We Go Again…So around the middle August I will be layed out on a stainless steel table with masked avengers hovering around me looking forward to digging into an abdominal cavity that has seen better days.
And me, well, I’ll read, try not to get caught up in Candy Crush again, sneak as much chocolate into my diet as I can, followed by cheesecake and let out one of my little snorts which translate to, “So, what else is ne?”
The real bummer. My best friends are getting married on August 23 after living together in sin for over 25 years. I thank them for the effort and energy they have expended in their lives together to reach this point. Way to go…best wishes, mazel tov and don’t let the bastards get you down.
MY NEW TOY (GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER)
I have managed to put on all the weight that I lost during my medical hurdles last year. That is due to my lack of willpower, lemon pound cakes and avoiding exercise. Hard to believe that would allow 30 pounds to jump on my ass in a mere 6 months. Well, believe it.
I am paying the greatest price for having smoked for 42 years with the big Emphysema. That means that exercise is fairly low impact and basically consists of walking. On flat surfaces. I can see myself as that person prancing around the mall at 7AM. As if I would get up at that time to walk, much less at the mall. But, that is probably the answer. I will have to walk alone since walking and talking are not compatible now. Maybe when I get more in shape and lose some weight that will change, but being the huffer (not heifer) and puffer that I am I am just going to walk against the clock, head down and hoping no one recognizes me.
I have already lost five pounds. I give the credit to my new toy. I have only made a few major errors with it. Finding out that kale is cruciferous, along with my other favorite vegetables was a real drag. Discovering that I would prefer to eat a raw carrot than drink one was a pure joy.
I don’t think I could eat a banana, a cup of raspberries, an orange, almond milk and yogurt for breakfast, but I can sure drink it. Having this be a basis for two meals with no real carbohydrates or added sugar is a real bonus. I have to grind my flax seed and add it along with protein power to round this all out to bonus levels of energy.
I don’t recommend this as the only juicing machine out there, I am sure there are many that are just as good, all I can really say is this one is amazing. So amazing I got one for my daughter who is now making smoothies for herself and her family.
Now to move on to the exercise stage of this venture. Does walking to and from the refrigerator count?
OSTEOWARRIORS, UNITE!
I know that most of you know about the past year’s worth of surgery, testing, relapse and on and on and on. I at peace with the process now and I just want to share what a very good friend I made from down in the South (you know who you are, Allie) who helped tremendously with the process of getting to this point and with a woman up here in the Northland (and, yes, Ellen it’s you!) who has also been a constant source of realism and humor!
Well, if you don’t have enough information by now, did you know WE HAVE A DAY? Unfortunately, it seems random depending on where you are, so I have decided EVERYDAY IS OSTOMY DAY! And there are even LOVE NOTES, T-SHIRTS (Of course there are T-SHIRTS!), NURSES, PAPER DOLLS, COMING OUT STICKERS and too much detail. Besides, I think I have already overwhelmed you!
So, from here on out, thanks to Ellen, I will be known as:
PRINCESS WILD COW
OSTEOWARRIOR
WHAT? NO DOCTOR APPOINTMENTS FOR THREE MONTHS?
Apparently I have passed a milestone. This is the joyous news that I do not have a doctor appointment for at least three months. That is amazing! For the past nine months I have had between two to four appointments per month just to keep me on my toes. I still face another surgery, however, by waiting for three months it will be an easier task.
No gory details. The biggest problem I have had for the past few months has been the most incredible mood swings of my life. All who know me know that mood swings are a general operating procedure for me. However, the moods have mostly been on the down side and through the joys of chemistry and oral medication I have been able to pull myself off the roller coaster and can think with a clearer mind. This means reading has returned as a joy, I am learning the value of finding the lost socks under the bed and have even mended a shirt. Don’t worry, I have not become completely domesticated. I still don’t see dust.
I am teaching myself refrigerator maintenance. This should have been a required course for me in junior high school as opposed to sewing. I am the queen of condiments. I love fourteen kinds of mustard, pickles, and peppers. I want immediate access to any fruit or vegetable that I knew I would eat come Tuesday. I am working on meal planning and learning that miscellaneous side accoutrements in stand alone deli displays in the grocery store.
So, who knows what the next three months will bring. Perhaps I shall learn the glory as Home Manager, Plant Grower and Domestic Goddess. Keep an eye open for an update. I won’t be getting my hopes up that this will be a total success and I recommend that you don’t either. Check back for updates and don’t be surprised by anything that may happen.
WHATEVER WAS I THINKING? 