We wouldn't enjoy the sunny days nearly as much if there weren't a few cloudy ones in between.
This year, I believe I've had my full share of clouds.
How do you put into words the feelings you possess for a loved one who has been there through many of your darkest trials? Who greets you when you come home, who is content to sit with you, no matter which room you choose to rest, or work? Who, when you're upset, gently lays a furry paw on your arm as if to say, "That's okay - I'm here."
Sorry - I'm talking about the cat. Mandy has been with us for thirteen and a half years. She turned fourteen in May. She came into our lives one balmy, January day. I had arrived at the school where I taught for half a day, and there at the door was a little gray Tabby kitten. It watched me walk inside, where I was instantly greeted with, "Is that cat still out there?"
Temperatures were predicted to drop through the day to sub-zero that night. One of my colleagues implored me to take the cat home, with the excuse that I had children! I also had a husband, which I reminded her of, saying that if I brought home the poor little thing, I would be out on the porch! True to the prediction, the temps did drop - and stayed that way for a good three months! She seemed very content to be in the warm house. She got her name because the custodian at the school called her "Miss Kitty" all day. When we sat around her on the kitchen floor that evening, I suggested Amanda (for Amanda Blakely, the original Miss Kitty from Gunsmoke). Big Brother wanted to call her Felix, but I nixed that one. They decided on Mandy (which was fine by me - Barry Manilow being one of my favorites!). So, Mandy she is.
Well, thirteen years later.... Mandy has been my constant companion; greeting me at the door when she hears the car pull into the driveway, begging for tuna every Friday in Lent. She adored Eggbert, and simply loves Ms. Business and Moink. Face it, she loves us all. When Morticia pops in, or Big Brother, she can't help but make her presence known. They must pay homage to the kitty by rubbing her on the head and a little scratch behind the ears. Contented, she retreats.
She started acting a little strange a few weeks ago. Her go-to place is under my desk, and she stays there for hours. Or, she'll come upstairs, meowing in a very grumpy fashion, and then disappears back to the basement, under the desk, of course. Ms. Business pointed out a swollen spot on her mouth, and when I called the vet (where she'd been given a clean bill of health just a few weeks before), they said maybe her tooth was abscessed. Who knew that kitties could get abscessed teeth?
However, I wasn't convinced. You know when someone you love isn't at their best. She was barely eating and drinking. The appointment was made for her to see the kitty dentist. Today, DH left work, picked up Ms. Business and poor kitty, and together they took her to the vet for surgery. Believe me, I've been sick over this for the last two weeks, wondering if she would even make it to the appointment. They would operate at noon - I should get a call by two o'clock, which I did. The prognosis was not good.
This afternoon, I picked her up and spoke with the specialist. The tooth was not abscessed - in fact, he said, she had great teeth for a fourteen year old cat! He confirmed my worst fear - there was a mass growing inside her jaw. They sent it out for biopsy, but basically we talked about spoiling her, and making her feel like a queen for the time she has left. Sort of like kitty hospice, I suppose. So, I bought the really nice, expensive pate' that she likes, and of course, tuna. The saddest and hardest part is knowing that even though he cut out a huge part of it, the mass will continue to grow. We don't want her to live in pain, and she's miserable (otherwise she wouldn't keep hiding under the desk!).
Moink has taken it well. He's bereft, as we all are. After all, he was four when I brought her home. He doesn't remember what it was like not having her. And, he was always her boy. When he became upset, she did, too, seeking him out, sitting next to him and watching him, as if she could take away everything that was making him sad.
We want to do that for her, too, so we'll pet her and love her and try to give her what she needs, the only way we can thank a furry friend who has given nothing but her best to the people she loves.
Man, I hate cloudy days.
Thursday, September 1, 2016
Monday, August 8, 2016
Floating down the Stream
Picture it. Eyes closed, lazily floating in an old tire inner-tube along a cold mountain stream. Your fingertips play in the water, and occasionally you trickle some of that clear water down your arms, soaking in the warm rays of the sun. You slowly pass by trees and a few summer cottages along the way, and once in awhile the stream meanders underneath trestles and bridges. Every so often you have to stand and maneuver through rocky areas, but then the stream begins to flow easy, and you set the tube back into the water, letting the current carry you nowhere in particular. You just go with the flow.
That's how life should be. There are always the rocky areas, but unless there's a terrible drought, you find the stream again and continue on the journey. This summer has been a lot like that.
Writing has been difficult - I find there have been a lot of rocks in my stream this year. Mima (remember trying to find her in the grocery store?) had knee surgery back in January, and Murphy's Law (if something can go wrong, it will!) kicked in. After several weeks of therapy, she went home, but was back in the hospital two days later, with a staph infection. The poor thing nearly lost her leg, but the doctors were awesome, and saved it. She's rid of the infection, but will probably never walk again. In fact, we're not certain she'll be able to return to her apartment. In the meantime, I'm sent to the store for sausage biscuits, because she doesn't like what they serve for breakfast in Senior Prison. There are lots of stories there, too, but I'll save those for another day! At least she still has her mind. Or, maybe that isn't as much of a blessing as that sounds. The rocks are pretty big in this part of the stream.
So, while we set about trying to maintain her spirits (and ours), DH takes a couple evenings a week, and Ms. Business (she still needs a new name - business isn't her thing anymore!) goes once in the middle of the week, which is helpful to me, and gives her a little more variety! Believe it or not, I can't come up with sparkling conversation every day. No, really, I can't. Once in a blue moon Moink goes with me, but he's still dealing with getting over a concussion and isn't always up for visiting.
Speaking of sparkling, Big Brother and Didi made it official - ring and everything! Next fall will see them completely in the throes of married life. They already have the house and the dog, so why not? It's been exciting in so many ways....weddings have become quite costly, and nobody can say "Well, at least you're the family of the groom!" anymore. Nope - it's pricey for everyone. Fair warning for those of you who haven't planned any weddings yet! But, we love her to pieces, and him, so we shake out the purse.
More rocks, but at least these are a little smaller.
School starts in a couple weeks. I'm picking out my mourning outfit for the first day of in-service. There's an old quote that reads, "I hope I die during in-service, for the transition between life and death will be barely noticeable..." Don't get me wrong - I like what I do. I just like free time a little more. Those last minute projects! Should I even mention the "Goals for Summer 2016" list? I've accomplished one - read. That's it. I read several books - some for Book Club, and others just because. One thing not on the list that happened was to refurbish an antique drafting table. It looks absolutely wonderful, if I do say so myself! Finishing up painting a wooden stool these last couple days, and then I'll be set for winter.
So, as I flounder about in the stream that leads to the Stress Pool, grab your inner-tube, jump in, and paddle along with me! Until next time, keep your head above the water!
That's how life should be. There are always the rocky areas, but unless there's a terrible drought, you find the stream again and continue on the journey. This summer has been a lot like that.
Writing has been difficult - I find there have been a lot of rocks in my stream this year. Mima (remember trying to find her in the grocery store?) had knee surgery back in January, and Murphy's Law (if something can go wrong, it will!) kicked in. After several weeks of therapy, she went home, but was back in the hospital two days later, with a staph infection. The poor thing nearly lost her leg, but the doctors were awesome, and saved it. She's rid of the infection, but will probably never walk again. In fact, we're not certain she'll be able to return to her apartment. In the meantime, I'm sent to the store for sausage biscuits, because she doesn't like what they serve for breakfast in Senior Prison. There are lots of stories there, too, but I'll save those for another day! At least she still has her mind. Or, maybe that isn't as much of a blessing as that sounds. The rocks are pretty big in this part of the stream.
So, while we set about trying to maintain her spirits (and ours), DH takes a couple evenings a week, and Ms. Business (she still needs a new name - business isn't her thing anymore!) goes once in the middle of the week, which is helpful to me, and gives her a little more variety! Believe it or not, I can't come up with sparkling conversation every day. No, really, I can't. Once in a blue moon Moink goes with me, but he's still dealing with getting over a concussion and isn't always up for visiting.
Speaking of sparkling, Big Brother and Didi made it official - ring and everything! Next fall will see them completely in the throes of married life. They already have the house and the dog, so why not? It's been exciting in so many ways....weddings have become quite costly, and nobody can say "Well, at least you're the family of the groom!" anymore. Nope - it's pricey for everyone. Fair warning for those of you who haven't planned any weddings yet! But, we love her to pieces, and him, so we shake out the purse.
More rocks, but at least these are a little smaller.
School starts in a couple weeks. I'm picking out my mourning outfit for the first day of in-service. There's an old quote that reads, "I hope I die during in-service, for the transition between life and death will be barely noticeable..." Don't get me wrong - I like what I do. I just like free time a little more. Those last minute projects! Should I even mention the "Goals for Summer 2016" list? I've accomplished one - read. That's it. I read several books - some for Book Club, and others just because. One thing not on the list that happened was to refurbish an antique drafting table. It looks absolutely wonderful, if I do say so myself! Finishing up painting a wooden stool these last couple days, and then I'll be set for winter.
So, as I flounder about in the stream that leads to the Stress Pool, grab your inner-tube, jump in, and paddle along with me! Until next time, keep your head above the water!
Saturday, June 18, 2016
Summertime, and the Livin' is...Easy?
Summertime at the Stress Pool isn't usually as stressful as the rest of the year. Most of the time we're catching up on rest that has eluded us during the school year, and completing projects one would do if one didn't have to go to work! Like, completely taking a room apart to clean it. (Yes, I can think of one hundred other things I'd rather do, but some things can't be ignored any longer! The dust bunnies are having babies, and you know how prolific bunnies are...)
A typical day starts after sleeping nine to ten hours, something that never happens during the school year!. What a luxury! Then, after getting up and making the bed (which I will have completely destroyed - twisted covers, pillows all over the place), I make my way to the kitchen to prepare a pot of coffee. DH usually makes the coffee, but since he's still going in at the usual Crack of Doom, the pot would have already turned itself off by the time I crawl down the steps! Then, of course, there is the Feeding of the Beast, A.K.A. Mandy, the Tabby Cat.
She's unassuming, yet demanding. Patiently, she waits at the bottom of the steps for the door to open, her green eyes watching as I descend. I open the container where the dry food is kept, and she watches every movement as kibbles clatter into the bowl. With satisfaction, she waits until the water bowl has been rinsed and refilled. Then, I say, "Shall we go up?" Her feet hit the steps and she races me to the top. For a fourteen year old cat, she moves pretty well, and always beats me -what can I say?
I have to open the back door in order that she can view "Kitty T.V." This is where she sits and watches wildlife through the glass storm door, but not without Greenies, her favorite treat. Crack for Cats. I call it her morning coffee. She's also fairly astute. During the school year, when I come downstairs in my dress clothes, she saunters off down to the family room, knowing I'm on my way out. Now, in my bathrobe, she's thrilled. She knows the door will be open most of the day for her to sit by the window. Interestingly, there is a gray squirrel that comes to the door in search of her, merely for the joy of watching Mandy leap up and scratch at the glass. He (or she, I certainly don't know the difference, and I'm not getting close enough to find out!) moves off in an unhurried fashion. Sometimes she misses the squirrel altogether, and more than once I've watched him lope off in disappointment. Yes, he really does look dejected as he moves away from the door.
I scratch her behind the ears and head into the kitchen. By now, my own coffee is ready.
Ahh, the first taste of hot coffee - Nectar of the gods. I settle into my favorite chair and watch what's left of the Today show, check my phone to see if I've missed any messages, consult the calendar for events I'm sure to forget about. After all, isn't that what vacation is for, scheduling events such as doctor appointments, haircuts, and so on?
The Beast eventually makes her way into the living room, either settling down on a discarded empty tote bag under the piano bench, or kneading the pillow she's adopted as hers, while creepily staring at me...Everyone is happy.
Oh, don't get me wrong - the stress is still there, but there's more time to deal with it, like paying Mima's bills while she's in Senior Prison. That's an entirely different story! Morticia is in her second term at mortuary school. Ms. Business has found a summer job that she'll be able to keep once school is back in session. Big Brother still works full-time and takes evening classes for an MBA, while DiDi goes to school and takes care of the Beagle puppy, Charlie. Moink is preparing for a trip to the Continent - Germany, to be exact. I"ve been given the go ahead to convert the unused family room into an art studio! (This may upset the Beast - I'll have to keep her in mind as things get moved around.) This, among doing some writing, is my summer project, and what I will probably think of as my own, personal wading pool. (Although, I will be sharing the space with Ms. Business, whose name may change to Ms. Artist as she changes from a business major to...stay tuned!)
Summertime. A time to dream, a time to relax, a time to heal from the wounds of stress from the rest of the year. Join me on the patio - crack open a wine cooler, let's get a fire going in the pit, and make a toast to a well-deserved summer rest here at the Stress Pool.
Til next time...
A typical day starts after sleeping nine to ten hours, something that never happens during the school year!. What a luxury! Then, after getting up and making the bed (which I will have completely destroyed - twisted covers, pillows all over the place), I make my way to the kitchen to prepare a pot of coffee. DH usually makes the coffee, but since he's still going in at the usual Crack of Doom, the pot would have already turned itself off by the time I crawl down the steps! Then, of course, there is the Feeding of the Beast, A.K.A. Mandy, the Tabby Cat.
She's unassuming, yet demanding. Patiently, she waits at the bottom of the steps for the door to open, her green eyes watching as I descend. I open the container where the dry food is kept, and she watches every movement as kibbles clatter into the bowl. With satisfaction, she waits until the water bowl has been rinsed and refilled. Then, I say, "Shall we go up?" Her feet hit the steps and she races me to the top. For a fourteen year old cat, she moves pretty well, and always beats me -what can I say?
I have to open the back door in order that she can view "Kitty T.V." This is where she sits and watches wildlife through the glass storm door, but not without Greenies, her favorite treat. Crack for Cats. I call it her morning coffee. She's also fairly astute. During the school year, when I come downstairs in my dress clothes, she saunters off down to the family room, knowing I'm on my way out. Now, in my bathrobe, she's thrilled. She knows the door will be open most of the day for her to sit by the window. Interestingly, there is a gray squirrel that comes to the door in search of her, merely for the joy of watching Mandy leap up and scratch at the glass. He (or she, I certainly don't know the difference, and I'm not getting close enough to find out!) moves off in an unhurried fashion. Sometimes she misses the squirrel altogether, and more than once I've watched him lope off in disappointment. Yes, he really does look dejected as he moves away from the door.
I scratch her behind the ears and head into the kitchen. By now, my own coffee is ready.
Ahh, the first taste of hot coffee - Nectar of the gods. I settle into my favorite chair and watch what's left of the Today show, check my phone to see if I've missed any messages, consult the calendar for events I'm sure to forget about. After all, isn't that what vacation is for, scheduling events such as doctor appointments, haircuts, and so on?
The Beast eventually makes her way into the living room, either settling down on a discarded empty tote bag under the piano bench, or kneading the pillow she's adopted as hers, while creepily staring at me...Everyone is happy.
Oh, don't get me wrong - the stress is still there, but there's more time to deal with it, like paying Mima's bills while she's in Senior Prison. That's an entirely different story! Morticia is in her second term at mortuary school. Ms. Business has found a summer job that she'll be able to keep once school is back in session. Big Brother still works full-time and takes evening classes for an MBA, while DiDi goes to school and takes care of the Beagle puppy, Charlie. Moink is preparing for a trip to the Continent - Germany, to be exact. I"ve been given the go ahead to convert the unused family room into an art studio! (This may upset the Beast - I'll have to keep her in mind as things get moved around.) This, among doing some writing, is my summer project, and what I will probably think of as my own, personal wading pool. (Although, I will be sharing the space with Ms. Business, whose name may change to Ms. Artist as she changes from a business major to...stay tuned!)
Summertime. A time to dream, a time to relax, a time to heal from the wounds of stress from the rest of the year. Join me on the patio - crack open a wine cooler, let's get a fire going in the pit, and make a toast to a well-deserved summer rest here at the Stress Pool.
Til next time...
Sunday, April 3, 2016
Grabbing the Life Preserver
We're still floating here at the Stress Pool. The water has been a little choppy of late, what with all the craziness of Mima and the knee replacement saga, and Moink with his concussion issues. Fortunately, DH (this really does stand for Darling Hubby these days!) has stepped up to the plate and has taken charge of the Moink issue. The poor kid has to go to concussion therapy once a week. There has been some progress in some areas, and decline in others. They've come a long way, though, in determining what to look for and how to handle it. Every week he comes home with new exercises for his brain. And, if it weren't for my BFFB, I don't know how he would get to school for all the half days.
Sometimes I feel like I'm sitting on the edge of the pool watching everyone around me swim. Some days I feel like I'm drowning in the deep end, trying to hold my breath against the pressure of the water as it rushes over my head, lungs ready to burst, until I just can't hold it any longer. That's when I reach for the life preserver I so desperately hope is there.
And it is. It's called faith, family, and friends.
I know that not everyone believes in a greater being, but I do. God has always played a big part in my life, especially the time I nearly drowned in the ocean. Many years ago, several of my friends from high school and college decided to take a trip to Ocean City, Maryland. We'd stay a week in one of the old hotels on the beach. Sounded like fun to me, and after a lot of wheedling and convincing my parents that the ocean wouldn't swallow me whole, I was given permission not only to go, but to drive the car. What joy! I could barely contain my excitement as we planned the trip. It helped make the dreary days of winter pass quickly, and finally, the day arrived.
So, there we were, laying out on the beach by day, exploring the sights of the boardwalk by evening. And then we met the male that would change our week. Dennis. Hurricane Dennis. The storm was far enough offshore that the week wasn't completely ruined. The day it came the closest, we stood on the boardwalk and watched the waves crash against the wall below us, and then the next day it was like nothing had happened.
This is where I tell you that before this time, my only other trip to the Atlantic Ocean had been in January, in Florida, with my parents. Mima was freakish about me getting close to the water, so up to the ankles only. I knew nothing of the hidden powers of that great body of water.
So, at ten o'clock that fateful morning, the eight of us lay our towels out on sand. It was hot, but not sunny yet as the clouds from the outer fringe of the hurricane weren't quite gone. Three of us decide to take a blow-up raft into the water. If you're at all familiar with oceans, tides, and rip currents, I'm willing to bet you can see where this is going. The raft was immediately pulled away from the shoreline. MB, with whom I'd gone to high school, was on my right. Renee, a close friend I'd made in college, was on my left. MB let go of the raft and swam in. Lighter, the raft went out another ten feet or so. We are now much farther out than I'd ever dreamed of being, unless on a boat. Which we weren't. But, it didn't stop there. The raft kept moving farther away from the shore. Renee and I looked at each other, and without a word, we both did the same thing: let go of the raft so the other might make it safely back.
I am not a strong swimmer, and held out no hope of making it back in. When I let go, my body was sucked down into the current. I held my breath and felt the rush of water as I tumbled like a silk scarf in a washing machine.
Ocean City, like many beaches along the Atlantic, utilizes walls of rocks jutting out into the water to help prevent erosion of the beach. My eyes were closed, but I knew those rocks were nearby. If I didn't drown, I was sure to be thrown into the rocks. Either way, I'm going to die. I'm not thinking about who will drive the car back, or what my parents will think when their only child has gone on to the Great Beyond. In fact, I'm not sure what I was thinking other than a silent prayer for help.
Help came. I will never forget the feeling. As I braced myself for a meeting with the rocks, I was scooped up in what felt like large, strong arms. I opened my eyes to find myself sitting on top of the rocks, not a scratch anywhere on my body. My bathing suit had gone slightly askew, much to the delight of some man walking on the beach. Straightening my suit, I crawled along the rocks until I reached Renee, who had also made it to the same wall - quite scratched and bruised, but alive. Later, after much discussion, she and I both admitted to feeling that God, or an angel, had saved us from a sure death, as there was no logical explanation for what had happened.
So, in times where I feel like I'm drowning because there doesn't seem to be a logical answer, or there are too many questions, or I'm alone in the middle of the pool, I reach out in faith to find that life preserver. Many times it's in the form of a friend, or a family member, but most times it's in the quiet presence of God who has my back, who takes care of the things that I just can't. That's my story, and I'm sticking with it.
The Stress Pool. Gotta love it. Come back and visit again - and share your story of when you reached out for your life preserver. We've all got one, and I'd love to hear yours.
Sometimes I feel like I'm sitting on the edge of the pool watching everyone around me swim. Some days I feel like I'm drowning in the deep end, trying to hold my breath against the pressure of the water as it rushes over my head, lungs ready to burst, until I just can't hold it any longer. That's when I reach for the life preserver I so desperately hope is there.
And it is. It's called faith, family, and friends.
I know that not everyone believes in a greater being, but I do. God has always played a big part in my life, especially the time I nearly drowned in the ocean. Many years ago, several of my friends from high school and college decided to take a trip to Ocean City, Maryland. We'd stay a week in one of the old hotels on the beach. Sounded like fun to me, and after a lot of wheedling and convincing my parents that the ocean wouldn't swallow me whole, I was given permission not only to go, but to drive the car. What joy! I could barely contain my excitement as we planned the trip. It helped make the dreary days of winter pass quickly, and finally, the day arrived.
So, there we were, laying out on the beach by day, exploring the sights of the boardwalk by evening. And then we met the male that would change our week. Dennis. Hurricane Dennis. The storm was far enough offshore that the week wasn't completely ruined. The day it came the closest, we stood on the boardwalk and watched the waves crash against the wall below us, and then the next day it was like nothing had happened.
This is where I tell you that before this time, my only other trip to the Atlantic Ocean had been in January, in Florida, with my parents. Mima was freakish about me getting close to the water, so up to the ankles only. I knew nothing of the hidden powers of that great body of water.
So, at ten o'clock that fateful morning, the eight of us lay our towels out on sand. It was hot, but not sunny yet as the clouds from the outer fringe of the hurricane weren't quite gone. Three of us decide to take a blow-up raft into the water. If you're at all familiar with oceans, tides, and rip currents, I'm willing to bet you can see where this is going. The raft was immediately pulled away from the shoreline. MB, with whom I'd gone to high school, was on my right. Renee, a close friend I'd made in college, was on my left. MB let go of the raft and swam in. Lighter, the raft went out another ten feet or so. We are now much farther out than I'd ever dreamed of being, unless on a boat. Which we weren't. But, it didn't stop there. The raft kept moving farther away from the shore. Renee and I looked at each other, and without a word, we both did the same thing: let go of the raft so the other might make it safely back.
I am not a strong swimmer, and held out no hope of making it back in. When I let go, my body was sucked down into the current. I held my breath and felt the rush of water as I tumbled like a silk scarf in a washing machine.
Ocean City, like many beaches along the Atlantic, utilizes walls of rocks jutting out into the water to help prevent erosion of the beach. My eyes were closed, but I knew those rocks were nearby. If I didn't drown, I was sure to be thrown into the rocks. Either way, I'm going to die. I'm not thinking about who will drive the car back, or what my parents will think when their only child has gone on to the Great Beyond. In fact, I'm not sure what I was thinking other than a silent prayer for help.
Help came. I will never forget the feeling. As I braced myself for a meeting with the rocks, I was scooped up in what felt like large, strong arms. I opened my eyes to find myself sitting on top of the rocks, not a scratch anywhere on my body. My bathing suit had gone slightly askew, much to the delight of some man walking on the beach. Straightening my suit, I crawled along the rocks until I reached Renee, who had also made it to the same wall - quite scratched and bruised, but alive. Later, after much discussion, she and I both admitted to feeling that God, or an angel, had saved us from a sure death, as there was no logical explanation for what had happened.
So, in times where I feel like I'm drowning because there doesn't seem to be a logical answer, or there are too many questions, or I'm alone in the middle of the pool, I reach out in faith to find that life preserver. Many times it's in the form of a friend, or a family member, but most times it's in the quiet presence of God who has my back, who takes care of the things that I just can't. That's my story, and I'm sticking with it.
The Stress Pool. Gotta love it. Come back and visit again - and share your story of when you reached out for your life preserver. We've all got one, and I'd love to hear yours.
Saturday, March 12, 2016
Where's Mima?
The Stress Pool has been active, which is why I haven't updated the blog lately. Mima had a knee replacement gone bad. Really bad.
So, so bad.
When she got home from skilled nursing, she complained of feeling sick and her whole leg hurt. Two days later she was back in the hospital with a staph infection. That's when we started playing "Where's Mima?"
I'm used to this game - we play it at the grocery store. The most challenging times are when she wears her powder blue coat on the days the employees wear their powder blue t-shirts. And, for an older woman, give her a shopping cart and she can really pick up the pace!
Okay, new version of the game. Picture the playing piece as a cardboard cut-out of an 81 year old woman in a hospital gown, in a hospital bed, with an IV stand. Got it? Now, imagine the layout of a hospital - doesn't matter which one, use one you're familiar with, just in case you ever get to play your own version.
You can play the game one of two ways, the first like looking at a "Where's Waldo?" book. The second would be like playing Hide and Seek. I prefer "Where's Waldo?". That way the images change - you can add scores of people in hospital beds with IV stands wheeling down the hallways, with masked doctors and nurses armed with computers added in the mix. Okay then, let the games begin.
So, when the doctors opened her incision and saw the infection, they cleaned it out and sent her to room number 1. After the infectious disease doctors looked at the infection and decided what kind of bacteria they were dealing with, they went back in to remove the hardware from the original replacement. This is now surgery number 3, and afterward they take her to room number 2. I found out when I went to room number 1.
Two days later came surgery number 4. The plastic surgeon did his thing - new incisions, a little taking this muscle from here and putting it there, taking a little skin from here and putting it there...you know, that sort of drill. I go to room number 2. She is now in room number 3. The next day I couldn't get to the hospital, so I called to find out how she was doing. "She's been moved. We'll transfer you." The nurse at the desk where the new room is answers, "Pediatrics." Hesitating, I said, "I'm looking for my mother." Seems they were waiting for another bed, and would be moving her again. I find out the new room number - nice, big room and she's not got a roommate - this pleases her. The next day I return to the room, only to find warning signs plastered all over the door - signs that warn against entering unless you're fully prepared for Armageddon, and should not have anything to do with Mima. I went to the desk. "Hi. I'm looking for my mother, who was in that room yesterday." I pointed at the door to Hell.
Oh, she's been moved two doors down.
Truly, I prefer the book version.
Now, she's been moved again, but this time to the skilled nursing facility where she went after the knee replacement, but a different floor. She received a visit from one of the aides who had taken care of her after the replacement surgery. "I bet they move you downstairs to our area again," he said.
Here we go again.
If you're looking for some fun times, come back and visit. The one thing that won't be moving any time soon is the Stress Pool!
So, so bad.
When she got home from skilled nursing, she complained of feeling sick and her whole leg hurt. Two days later she was back in the hospital with a staph infection. That's when we started playing "Where's Mima?"
I'm used to this game - we play it at the grocery store. The most challenging times are when she wears her powder blue coat on the days the employees wear their powder blue t-shirts. And, for an older woman, give her a shopping cart and she can really pick up the pace!
Okay, new version of the game. Picture the playing piece as a cardboard cut-out of an 81 year old woman in a hospital gown, in a hospital bed, with an IV stand. Got it? Now, imagine the layout of a hospital - doesn't matter which one, use one you're familiar with, just in case you ever get to play your own version.
You can play the game one of two ways, the first like looking at a "Where's Waldo?" book. The second would be like playing Hide and Seek. I prefer "Where's Waldo?". That way the images change - you can add scores of people in hospital beds with IV stands wheeling down the hallways, with masked doctors and nurses armed with computers added in the mix. Okay then, let the games begin.
So, when the doctors opened her incision and saw the infection, they cleaned it out and sent her to room number 1. After the infectious disease doctors looked at the infection and decided what kind of bacteria they were dealing with, they went back in to remove the hardware from the original replacement. This is now surgery number 3, and afterward they take her to room number 2. I found out when I went to room number 1.
Two days later came surgery number 4. The plastic surgeon did his thing - new incisions, a little taking this muscle from here and putting it there, taking a little skin from here and putting it there...you know, that sort of drill. I go to room number 2. She is now in room number 3. The next day I couldn't get to the hospital, so I called to find out how she was doing. "She's been moved. We'll transfer you." The nurse at the desk where the new room is answers, "Pediatrics." Hesitating, I said, "I'm looking for my mother." Seems they were waiting for another bed, and would be moving her again. I find out the new room number - nice, big room and she's not got a roommate - this pleases her. The next day I return to the room, only to find warning signs plastered all over the door - signs that warn against entering unless you're fully prepared for Armageddon, and should not have anything to do with Mima. I went to the desk. "Hi. I'm looking for my mother, who was in that room yesterday." I pointed at the door to Hell.
Oh, she's been moved two doors down.
Truly, I prefer the book version.
Now, she's been moved again, but this time to the skilled nursing facility where she went after the knee replacement, but a different floor. She received a visit from one of the aides who had taken care of her after the replacement surgery. "I bet they move you downstairs to our area again," he said.
Here we go again.
If you're looking for some fun times, come back and visit. The one thing that won't be moving any time soon is the Stress Pool!
Saturday, February 13, 2016
Swimming laps
I'm writing this a day early, because today, I have a few minutes. What a week it's been!
Moink has a concussion.
We never had the baseline testing done because he doesn't play sports - he video games. Laughingly, I said to the doctor, "How can he get a concussion doing that?"
Just to clarify, that's not how it happened. He was playing pickle ball in gym class when a wall broke his fall. Shoulder first, head second. He woke up Friday morning with no relief from the head pain, and I decided I should call the doctor for guidance. After all, the school nurse told me she didn't see any signs of concussion, but wanted to let me know what had happened. When I called the pediatrician on Friday morning, first they said, "It's an hour long appointment. We might be able to get you in next week." Then, after a few seconds, she said, "We can fit you in at 9:30."
I had just sat down at my desk, changed from boots to day shoes, and turned on my computer. Adrenaline kicked in as I ran down the hall to find my illustrious principal, who simply said to go, they would try to cover my classes, or not. Reverse the initial process, and out the door I ran.
Mima is getting out of rehabilitation tomorrow. I also have a singing engagement with our Diocesan Choir tomorrow. There is also the food shopping to do, not just for us, but also for Mima, and oh, wait - it's Valentine's Day weekend.
Talk about swimming in the Stress Pool!
Then, on Facebook, a friend shared a beautiful picture of bright blue birds sitting on the tops of stiff reeds, and a little saying beneath that basically reminds one to sit back and listen; breathe in the quiet.
Hard to do while swimming laps in the pool. But, it made me pause. When was the last time I sat down to write? Draw? Paint? Breathe in the quiet?
In Christianity, we are encouraged to give something up or do something positive during the six weeks of Lent, the time leading up to the highest of Holy Days, Easter. I'm not good at giving things up because I always cave. (Besides, the things I used to give up I pretty much can't have anymore, anyway.) I gave up chocolate one year, and after a couple weeks my children begged me to start eating it again! That leaves doing something positive. Perhaps the best thing (and healthiest) would be to take fifteen minutes a day to meditate. It might just be the thing that will help during these stress-filled days of taking care of Mima, going to work, making sure Moink is doing okay, and all the other little things that tend to add up to one big thing.
So, while I'm continuing to do laps in the pool, you can bet I'm going to pause every so often to breathe in the silence. Then, when the moment of creativity rises, I'll be able to meet it with a clear mind, something I don't seem to have right now.
Thanks for visiting, and if you feel like swimming a few laps with me, there's always an open lane in the Stress Pool.
Moink has a concussion.
We never had the baseline testing done because he doesn't play sports - he video games. Laughingly, I said to the doctor, "How can he get a concussion doing that?"
Just to clarify, that's not how it happened. He was playing pickle ball in gym class when a wall broke his fall. Shoulder first, head second. He woke up Friday morning with no relief from the head pain, and I decided I should call the doctor for guidance. After all, the school nurse told me she didn't see any signs of concussion, but wanted to let me know what had happened. When I called the pediatrician on Friday morning, first they said, "It's an hour long appointment. We might be able to get you in next week." Then, after a few seconds, she said, "We can fit you in at 9:30."
I had just sat down at my desk, changed from boots to day shoes, and turned on my computer. Adrenaline kicked in as I ran down the hall to find my illustrious principal, who simply said to go, they would try to cover my classes, or not. Reverse the initial process, and out the door I ran.
Mima is getting out of rehabilitation tomorrow. I also have a singing engagement with our Diocesan Choir tomorrow. There is also the food shopping to do, not just for us, but also for Mima, and oh, wait - it's Valentine's Day weekend.
Talk about swimming in the Stress Pool!
Then, on Facebook, a friend shared a beautiful picture of bright blue birds sitting on the tops of stiff reeds, and a little saying beneath that basically reminds one to sit back and listen; breathe in the quiet.
Hard to do while swimming laps in the pool. But, it made me pause. When was the last time I sat down to write? Draw? Paint? Breathe in the quiet?
In Christianity, we are encouraged to give something up or do something positive during the six weeks of Lent, the time leading up to the highest of Holy Days, Easter. I'm not good at giving things up because I always cave. (Besides, the things I used to give up I pretty much can't have anymore, anyway.) I gave up chocolate one year, and after a couple weeks my children begged me to start eating it again! That leaves doing something positive. Perhaps the best thing (and healthiest) would be to take fifteen minutes a day to meditate. It might just be the thing that will help during these stress-filled days of taking care of Mima, going to work, making sure Moink is doing okay, and all the other little things that tend to add up to one big thing.
So, while I'm continuing to do laps in the pool, you can bet I'm going to pause every so often to breathe in the silence. Then, when the moment of creativity rises, I'll be able to meet it with a clear mind, something I don't seem to have right now.
Thanks for visiting, and if you feel like swimming a few laps with me, there's always an open lane in the Stress Pool.
Sunday, February 7, 2016
Oldest Trick in the Book
Life has been a little crazy in the pool of late. So, in order to alleviate the stress, DH and I decided to take the opportunity to have dinner out while the kids were away, skiing. So, I called my cousin (who we've been trying to get together with for the last two months) and we set the date.
We met them in Oakmont at the Chelsea Grille. The food selections were awesome, and we started with appetizers, moving on to the scrumptious dinner and a lot of great conversation. When the check came, DH reached into his pocket and glanced at me, horrified.
Ready for it?
"I left my wallet in my other pants."
This has never happened, not in two years of dating and the ensuing 31 years of marriage. I couldn't help it. When would I ever get another chance?
Smirking, I said, "Likely story. Oldest trick in the book."
"No, no!" he cried. "I really did! I brought my work I.D instead of my wallet." (it is a large thing)
I couldn't help laughing. Fortunately, I did bring mine, and we didn't have to wash dishes before going home. It was a lovely dinner, by the way, and we left with a bag filled with leftovers to take for lunches, along with some delightful treats from the Oakmont Bakery. Yum.
So, the stress pool remains open for business as usual. If you're ever in the mind to stop by and share your stress, there's always a spot for you on the edge!
We met them in Oakmont at the Chelsea Grille. The food selections were awesome, and we started with appetizers, moving on to the scrumptious dinner and a lot of great conversation. When the check came, DH reached into his pocket and glanced at me, horrified.
Ready for it?
"I left my wallet in my other pants."
This has never happened, not in two years of dating and the ensuing 31 years of marriage. I couldn't help it. When would I ever get another chance?
Smirking, I said, "Likely story. Oldest trick in the book."
"No, no!" he cried. "I really did! I brought my work I.D instead of my wallet." (it is a large thing)
I couldn't help laughing. Fortunately, I did bring mine, and we didn't have to wash dishes before going home. It was a lovely dinner, by the way, and we left with a bag filled with leftovers to take for lunches, along with some delightful treats from the Oakmont Bakery. Yum.
So, the stress pool remains open for business as usual. If you're ever in the mind to stop by and share your stress, there's always a spot for you on the edge!
Sunday, January 3, 2016
Thoughts from Pool Side
Greetings from the warm waters of the Stress Pool! Grab a towel and stretch out for a bit.
First, a little business. If you follow my blog, starting the week of January 11th, you'll need to have a Google account to do so. They're changing things around a little bit, and since they're the ones with the expertise, so be it. I'm just glad to have a few readers!
Now, on to another day at the pool. The head lifeguard (me) has survived another round of holidays. Not that they take survival instincts, but sometimes the accompanying stress raises the water level at the pool, and then the filters don't work as they should. We managed to keep the water at a constant level, ensuring everyone had a merry, happy holiday. But now, this last day of vacation, I'm faced with another aspect of the pool. As a teacher, I'm inclined to refer to it as "The Kiddie Pool".
Talk about stress!
I like what I do - I'm sort of an activities director (I teach art), and therefore have the best job in the school. One of my colleagues (retired -sigh) use to say "I go home everyday with glue in my hair and glitter in my shoes." Yeah, it's like that. Paint on my dress pants and under the fingernails. Nobody will ever confuse me with a hand model! It's a good thing I like being with the kids. They have taught me so much over the years - kids have bad days, too, and I'm willing to bet there will be just as many who don't want to get up in the morning to come to school as there are who do. At the end of the day I usually plop into my desk chair and stare at the room for a full five minutes. Empty and quiet, it's sort of like debriefing from the activity that went on all day. This is where lesson plans are reevaluated, given new life where it's needed. I always tell the kids that just because they saw an art project being done in the first semester doesn't mean they'll be doing the same thing in the second semester. I get bored, and if I'm bored, they will be, too. Some projects remain the same - clay, for instance. If you don't do clay, they get downright edgy! Weaving. They love it! Painting - they can't get enough. It's the ability to be creative, to express themselves. Some work has to be graded - some I don't, just so they can be free with it! (To a point. There are always the ones who take it a little too far...)
But, I like time off, too. It gives me a chance to be creative. A friend of mine texted that she was sorry we didn't have time to get together for coffee, and because of family obligations, she didn't have time to write. Totally understand, however, I did take time to write. There was no time to do any painting, but that will come. Since Big Brother has bought his own house, DH offered him some of the furniture from the family room. Once that's gone, Ms. Business and I will be getting down to it and converting the room to more of a 'playroom', where we can paint and get messy and they can play video games or build puzzles and legos and who cares what else? Yes, time off is precious.
So, how do we keep the water level constant? New Year, new resolutions. I'm not making any other resolution than to take time to play with my inner child (Wanda). She's so demanding, and it's time to stop ignoring her. I invite you to do this with me. Make time everyday to paint, draw, write, dance (even if it's only in the kitchen while you're making dinner), read, love. Round out your life, because if it's all work then what a boring people we are! Picasso said "The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls." I guess I'll be doing a little cleaning, too. (But maybe not so much the kind that DH would like me to do!)
Glad you stopped by. Come back next time, and don't forget the sunscreen.
First, a little business. If you follow my blog, starting the week of January 11th, you'll need to have a Google account to do so. They're changing things around a little bit, and since they're the ones with the expertise, so be it. I'm just glad to have a few readers!
Now, on to another day at the pool. The head lifeguard (me) has survived another round of holidays. Not that they take survival instincts, but sometimes the accompanying stress raises the water level at the pool, and then the filters don't work as they should. We managed to keep the water at a constant level, ensuring everyone had a merry, happy holiday. But now, this last day of vacation, I'm faced with another aspect of the pool. As a teacher, I'm inclined to refer to it as "The Kiddie Pool".
Talk about stress!
I like what I do - I'm sort of an activities director (I teach art), and therefore have the best job in the school. One of my colleagues (retired -sigh) use to say "I go home everyday with glue in my hair and glitter in my shoes." Yeah, it's like that. Paint on my dress pants and under the fingernails. Nobody will ever confuse me with a hand model! It's a good thing I like being with the kids. They have taught me so much over the years - kids have bad days, too, and I'm willing to bet there will be just as many who don't want to get up in the morning to come to school as there are who do. At the end of the day I usually plop into my desk chair and stare at the room for a full five minutes. Empty and quiet, it's sort of like debriefing from the activity that went on all day. This is where lesson plans are reevaluated, given new life where it's needed. I always tell the kids that just because they saw an art project being done in the first semester doesn't mean they'll be doing the same thing in the second semester. I get bored, and if I'm bored, they will be, too. Some projects remain the same - clay, for instance. If you don't do clay, they get downright edgy! Weaving. They love it! Painting - they can't get enough. It's the ability to be creative, to express themselves. Some work has to be graded - some I don't, just so they can be free with it! (To a point. There are always the ones who take it a little too far...)
But, I like time off, too. It gives me a chance to be creative. A friend of mine texted that she was sorry we didn't have time to get together for coffee, and because of family obligations, she didn't have time to write. Totally understand, however, I did take time to write. There was no time to do any painting, but that will come. Since Big Brother has bought his own house, DH offered him some of the furniture from the family room. Once that's gone, Ms. Business and I will be getting down to it and converting the room to more of a 'playroom', where we can paint and get messy and they can play video games or build puzzles and legos and who cares what else? Yes, time off is precious.
So, how do we keep the water level constant? New Year, new resolutions. I'm not making any other resolution than to take time to play with my inner child (Wanda). She's so demanding, and it's time to stop ignoring her. I invite you to do this with me. Make time everyday to paint, draw, write, dance (even if it's only in the kitchen while you're making dinner), read, love. Round out your life, because if it's all work then what a boring people we are! Picasso said "The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls." I guess I'll be doing a little cleaning, too. (But maybe not so much the kind that DH would like me to do!)
Glad you stopped by. Come back next time, and don't forget the sunscreen.
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