DON'T MISS THE JOY!
Can I get any sadder. I'm remembering that this once was a happy time when excitement and anticipation filled my heart. It has become a time to feel sorry for myself.
When I was growing up we were real poor. We rented a small house from, and next door to, the landlords, who weren't poor and who lavished their four grandchildren with gifts every Christmas. I helped shop, wrap, decorate, clean, cook, serve, pass out gifts, and collect the discarded wrappings. I was also filled with great envy. When I had children of my own, I tried to assuage that envy by lavishing them with gifts every Christmas. Every year my husband would look at the beautifully wrapped gifts piled high around our Christmas tree and would say, "Too much!" or, "You're sure showing them landlord kids." When my children left home, I tried to keep it up from afar. It just isn't the same.
I began to rock as the tear neared my right jaw line and another tear broke out of the corner of my left eye. Noticing the tears, my mind turned away from the sad thoughts I'd been dwelling on. I grabbed a tissue from a nearby box and wiped the tears away.
"I'm imagining that everyone else in the world is smiling. How ridiculous. I have chosen to feel sorry for myself and I can chose differently!" I thought as a spark of joy started to grow.
I think I will have myself a happy new day! After all, it is almost the most wonderful day of the year and I don't want to miss it by feeling sad!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
CHAPTER SEVEN
Let me just end it because I have another meme to write!
I had surgery on Tuesday. Wednesday I was washing, brushing and going potty in the bathroom in the hospital room, with the support of a walker. Occasionally I would sit in a chair across the room from the bed, maybe six steps. Thursday the therapists came, en mass, to teach me how to put on my clothes and walk up and down stairs. It was a long walk down the long hall to the area where the wooden stairs and other PT equipment was set up. I tried to crack some jokes, but, was unsuccessful. My devoted husband, who faithfully attended me once I was out of my delirium, was the only one to laugh.
That afternoon a handsome young doctor came by to say that Dr. P was out of town and that I could go home the next day because I was doing so well. Wooowhoo!!!
Friday my husband arrived around 8am. The nurse gave him gauze pads, tape and instructions for changing my dressing (The incision is high on the side of my thigh so it would take some of those contortions I talked about in the last chapter for me to even see it) prescriptions, as well as instructions for giving me shots everyday to prevent blood clots. It had to be done every morning for 24 days and was what I liked least about the whole process (I could do it myself, but, my loving husband usually spared me the task). A wheel chair was brought to the room for me, I wished my room mate good luck, then I was wheeled to the parking garage. My husband brought the car to the door. Getting into the car was not easy. I slept most of the 40 minute drive home. Getting out of the car was easier. The two steps up to our front door was a breeze.
To make a long story, that is starting to bore me, short, I will summerize quickly.My husband took excellent care of me. With hard work and determination it became less uncomfortable and arduous to get around. In record time, I graduated to a cane and the riser came off the toilet. Dr. P sent me back to physical therapy where H put me through the paces on the machines and doing exercises. I was walking on my own without a waddle before the allotted visits were up. I cried at my last visit. H said I could come back anytime to use the stationery bike, but, I haven't.
I now know that it is necessary for me to keep up the exercises. When I don't exercise. I feel discomfort in my affected hip and occasssionally I also have pain in the small of my back and the other hip, which scares me (I would prefer not to repeat this experience with the other hip). It is propably my muscles compensating for the new metal occupant that has moved in to replace my poor baby hip. Dr. P has said the ache in my hip would go away in about six months. I wonder what they did with the bone that they cut off my hip?
Let me just end it because I have another meme to write!
I had surgery on Tuesday. Wednesday I was washing, brushing and going potty in the bathroom in the hospital room, with the support of a walker. Occasionally I would sit in a chair across the room from the bed, maybe six steps. Thursday the therapists came, en mass, to teach me how to put on my clothes and walk up and down stairs. It was a long walk down the long hall to the area where the wooden stairs and other PT equipment was set up. I tried to crack some jokes, but, was unsuccessful. My devoted husband, who faithfully attended me once I was out of my delirium, was the only one to laugh.
That afternoon a handsome young doctor came by to say that Dr. P was out of town and that I could go home the next day because I was doing so well. Wooowhoo!!!
Friday my husband arrived around 8am. The nurse gave him gauze pads, tape and instructions for changing my dressing (The incision is high on the side of my thigh so it would take some of those contortions I talked about in the last chapter for me to even see it) prescriptions, as well as instructions for giving me shots everyday to prevent blood clots. It had to be done every morning for 24 days and was what I liked least about the whole process (I could do it myself, but, my loving husband usually spared me the task). A wheel chair was brought to the room for me, I wished my room mate good luck, then I was wheeled to the parking garage. My husband brought the car to the door. Getting into the car was not easy. I slept most of the 40 minute drive home. Getting out of the car was easier. The two steps up to our front door was a breeze.
To make a long story, that is starting to bore me, short, I will summerize quickly.My husband took excellent care of me. With hard work and determination it became less uncomfortable and arduous to get around. In record time, I graduated to a cane and the riser came off the toilet. Dr. P sent me back to physical therapy where H put me through the paces on the machines and doing exercises. I was walking on my own without a waddle before the allotted visits were up. I cried at my last visit. H said I could come back anytime to use the stationery bike, but, I haven't.
I now know that it is necessary for me to keep up the exercises. When I don't exercise. I feel discomfort in my affected hip and occasssionally I also have pain in the small of my back and the other hip, which scares me (I would prefer not to repeat this experience with the other hip). It is propably my muscles compensating for the new metal occupant that has moved in to replace my poor baby hip. Dr. P has said the ache in my hip would go away in about six months. I wonder what they did with the bone that they cut off my hip?
Sunday, December 07, 2008
I'll Whine If I Want To
YOU WOULD WHINE TOO IF IT HAPPENED TO YOU!!!!
I feel an obligation to finish the rendition of my hip drama, or as others might refer to it as a tragic comedy. But, da-dada-dum, I'm using my very clever avoidance routine, which is shifting my focus, instead.
Every year about this time I become determined not to be rushed. Ask me how often I am successful. No, not really, that was what I think is a rhetorical question. I'm going to tell you just what I think. I think that I have less responsibility and more time and accomplish half as much as I did five or ten years ago. And I think it is all your fault. That wasn't rhetorical, just ridiculous:)
We bought a very inexpensive, small artificial tree recently, so we could use it inside, instead of using our lighted artificial outdoor tree in a lovely pot, as we have been doing for a couple of years. Just assembling the new tree, then putting on the lights (200), with copious breaks, took two days. The decorating process is turning out worse. Searching for all the decorations that I was sure I had organized in one place has created huge piles of stuff all over the house, because as I search, I pull things out and decide that it really must be organized before I put it back, or it is in the wrong place. I have started to think about baking cookies instead.
So, then I become overwhelmed and use my very clever new avoidance technique of blogging instead of gettin' on with gettin' on. Now, don't you tell me you've never stooped so low.
I feel an obligation to finish the rendition of my hip drama, or as others might refer to it as a tragic comedy. But, da-dada-dum, I'm using my very clever avoidance routine, which is shifting my focus, instead.
Every year about this time I become determined not to be rushed. Ask me how often I am successful. No, not really, that was what I think is a rhetorical question. I'm going to tell you just what I think. I think that I have less responsibility and more time and accomplish half as much as I did five or ten years ago. And I think it is all your fault. That wasn't rhetorical, just ridiculous:)
We bought a very inexpensive, small artificial tree recently, so we could use it inside, instead of using our lighted artificial outdoor tree in a lovely pot, as we have been doing for a couple of years. Just assembling the new tree, then putting on the lights (200), with copious breaks, took two days. The decorating process is turning out worse. Searching for all the decorations that I was sure I had organized in one place has created huge piles of stuff all over the house, because as I search, I pull things out and decide that it really must be organized before I put it back, or it is in the wrong place. I have started to think about baking cookies instead.
So, then I become overwhelmed and use my very clever new avoidance technique of blogging instead of gettin' on with gettin' on. Now, don't you tell me you've never stooped so low.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
CHAPTER SIX
LZM Cowboys Up
As I sit in my "studio", (a name suggested by a friend after telling me to stop calling it my "junkroom") at my laptop, the sun casts the shadow of my home onto the bare wall of the home next door, I catch movement with my right eye and look out of the window. I recognize the movement as some one's adorable golden Cockerspaniel that is loose in the neighborhood.
I thought I was ready to document the history of my hip. I see though that I would rather talk about a cute little dog....and the weather.
It is becoming more difficult to recall the details. I want to write it all down before I forget all the hard work and determination it has taken to be able to walk upright without waddling like a duck out of water. Keep that duck in mind.
The first instrument of support I used to assist me in walking was a walker. The walker was brought to me to help me get onto the bedside potty chair. I soon used it to walk to a chair to sit for a few minutes while a contraption was put on my bed. This contraption was a metal pipe framework that had had hangy downy thingys for each of my hands to hold onto and aid me in pulling myself up and in getting in and out of bed. Then, I was able to go all the way to the real toilet. Well, actually, a plastic riser was put on the seat of the real toilet. I would also have a riser on my toilet at home for a couple (few?) of weeks.
I always had to keep the right surgery leg out in front of me when I sat down, otherwise it hurt hugely. When the hospital physical therapists descended on me the next day, they told me a bunch of other positions I wasn't suppose to get into, for fear of dislocating my new hip (which would have been nice to know BEFORE I started moving around). Just getting in and out of bed was painful and labor intensive in itself. And then you add on their admonitions of, "be sure to stick that out that way", and "don't turn this the other way". You had to be a contortionist. And luckily I was used to being flexible and adventurous in bed!
LZM Cowboys Up
As I sit in my "studio", (a name suggested by a friend after telling me to stop calling it my "junkroom") at my laptop, the sun casts the shadow of my home onto the bare wall of the home next door, I catch movement with my right eye and look out of the window. I recognize the movement as some one's adorable golden Cockerspaniel that is loose in the neighborhood.
I thought I was ready to document the history of my hip. I see though that I would rather talk about a cute little dog....and the weather.
It is becoming more difficult to recall the details. I want to write it all down before I forget all the hard work and determination it has taken to be able to walk upright without waddling like a duck out of water. Keep that duck in mind.
The first instrument of support I used to assist me in walking was a walker. The walker was brought to me to help me get onto the bedside potty chair. I soon used it to walk to a chair to sit for a few minutes while a contraption was put on my bed. This contraption was a metal pipe framework that had had hangy downy thingys for each of my hands to hold onto and aid me in pulling myself up and in getting in and out of bed. Then, I was able to go all the way to the real toilet. Well, actually, a plastic riser was put on the seat of the real toilet. I would also have a riser on my toilet at home for a couple (few?) of weeks.
I always had to keep the right surgery leg out in front of me when I sat down, otherwise it hurt hugely. When the hospital physical therapists descended on me the next day, they told me a bunch of other positions I wasn't suppose to get into, for fear of dislocating my new hip (which would have been nice to know BEFORE I started moving around). Just getting in and out of bed was painful and labor intensive in itself. And then you add on their admonitions of, "be sure to stick that out that way", and "don't turn this the other way". You had to be a contortionist. And luckily I was used to being flexible and adventurous in bed!
My biggest fear was doing something to dislocate my new hip. So, whatever I was asked not to do, I didn't do, and whatever I was asked to do, I did, and then some. I did some of the exercises the hospital physical therapists told me to do three times; six times, or ten times, or more, a day. They were very matter of fact and humorless and I wanted to show them a thing or two.
I weaned myself off the drugz quickly because that would mean being connected to one less wire. The pills I was given to replace the morphine took me to a tropical island where I felt secure, contented, warm and sunny for awhile before I fell asleep.
Then I had the drain removed from my incision by a male nurse (not Pall) who had neglected to when asked to do so earlier. Now he was anxious to get off work and was treating me roughly. The dressing had been changed on other occassions by other nurses without so much pain.
"What did I ever do to you? I have only been nice to you."
He made no reply.
Painful as it was, that was one more thing I wasn't connected to, making me much more mobile.
No hospital stay is complete without a mention of the food. I am usually ravenous all the time, so when I found myself without much of an appetite, I thought it was the food. When asked why I hadn't eaten much of the cardboard that had been slathered in brown tinted thin wallpaper paste I said, "I think it is the food, not my appetite." One of my favorite nurses, Windy, would bring me little containers of raspberry sherbet and fix me chicken broth in a styrofoam cup, so I wouldn't starve! When I got home, though and could have whatever I wanted, I realized that it was my appetite. Wish that side affect had lasted longer!
Coming soon........Let me out of this place.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
CHAPTER FIVE
Drugz
It was a male nurse, Pall, with long full prematurely grey hair, gathered at the nape of his neck who kept calling me Becky. As he explained things to me I nodded or shook my head because I was still too groggy to speak. His kind round Polynesian face smiled and expressed concern easily. I had the feeling a butterfly was following him around in the room, and having a hard time keeping up with him.
"If you want anything, need anything at all, Becky, just let me know. I am here for you, Becky!" he declared brightly and left the room.
I looked at the clock high on the wall directly in front of me. 10:30 and it is light out so it must be morning. What happened to "starting to wake right about the time I went into recovery"? Why isn't my husband here to me tell how things went? I felt no pain, but I wanted to sob. That feeling is returning to me as I write this. I calculated that it had been three and a half hours since I went in to surgery. The surgery was suppose to take 45 minutes, which would mean it took me over two hours to wake up. Where is my husband? I felt alone and abandoned. I am sure it was all exacerbated by the drugz I had been given. And as I had been informed by Pall, I could get more every six minutes by pushing the button on the end of the cord that was wound around the railing on my bed.
While I was still groggy, Dr. P stopped by with his 'I am trying to smile' expression, and said,
"You did fine, just fine."
If he said anything else I don't remember it. I do remember what he was wearing, though! (I would link back to that description if I knew how)(I would also punctuate properly if I remembered how!)
Then I had to pee because you are encouraged to drink lots of water. And I do, and did, without being encouraged. I told the nurse's aid and she said,
"I'll get you a bedpan."
"I have never been able to use a bedpan, ever. Do you have a bedside potty?"
Dr. P had told me at our first visit that they would have me get out of bed as soon as three hours after surgery. So, I just assumed I could get up. The nurse's aid brought me a potty chair and another nurse's aid (they weren't called nurse's aids, but I forgot what they were called. Their names were written on a board on the wall under the clock in front of me along with the name of the nurse and the names were changed every shift.) to help me get out of bed. It was difficult getting all the tubes and machines I was connected to out of the way. And, oh boy, it hurt and was scary. It continued to be decreasingly painful to get out of bed for several weeks. At first I moved in small incriments to see what movement would hurt least. Then I would forget what worked least painfully by the time I needed to get out of bed the next time. But, I made it. It was only later that I learned that most of the nursing staff had never seen that even attempted so soon after a total hip replacement surgery. I was a star!
The next time Pall came into the room to attend to Karol in the bed next to me, on his way out of the room he asked me,
"Becky, do you need anything, anything at all?"
I shook my head and indicated with my hand that he should come closer to me. He did and I softly said to him,
"My name is Betty not Becky."
"Oh, my gosh, I am so sorry, Betty!", emphasizing the Betty.
"That's okay Pall", I said, emphasizing the Pall.
But, when my husband finally walked into the room, it wasn't okay. I was angry to have been left alone for so long. He explained that when I was brought to my room where he had been told he could wait for me, I had appeared to be awake with my eyes open and even told him,
"It hurts."
He says he said loving things to me; stroked my hair , kissed my nose and forehead", until I started drifting off after about forty five minutes. He told me he was going to go to Walm*rt to get me a CD player because the one we had previously purchased specifically to entertain me during my hospital stay, didn't work properly. He was then going to get something to eat. (HOW DARE HE?) He says he then "kissed your widdo forehead", said he loved me and that he would be back soon. At some point in time I think I dreamt the last sentence, but I do not remember any of the rest.
Especially not starting to wake up right about the time I went into recovery. It just makes me indignant that "they" don't believe me when I tell them about my sensitivity to anasthesia. If the dentist doesn't use less "stuff" when he numbs me I will be numb for four or more hours. Twenty years ago I had my gall bladder and apendix removed (The surgeon did not tell me it was routine to remove my appendix at the same time as my gall bladder). It took me a really long time (four or five hours) to wake up from that.
Starting to sound too much like whining. I'm going to take a break and come back to tell you all about my miraculous recovery.
Drugz
It was a male nurse, Pall, with long full prematurely grey hair, gathered at the nape of his neck who kept calling me Becky. As he explained things to me I nodded or shook my head because I was still too groggy to speak. His kind round Polynesian face smiled and expressed concern easily. I had the feeling a butterfly was following him around in the room, and having a hard time keeping up with him.
"If you want anything, need anything at all, Becky, just let me know. I am here for you, Becky!" he declared brightly and left the room.
I looked at the clock high on the wall directly in front of me. 10:30 and it is light out so it must be morning. What happened to "starting to wake right about the time I went into recovery"? Why isn't my husband here to me tell how things went? I felt no pain, but I wanted to sob. That feeling is returning to me as I write this. I calculated that it had been three and a half hours since I went in to surgery. The surgery was suppose to take 45 minutes, which would mean it took me over two hours to wake up. Where is my husband? I felt alone and abandoned. I am sure it was all exacerbated by the drugz I had been given. And as I had been informed by Pall, I could get more every six minutes by pushing the button on the end of the cord that was wound around the railing on my bed.
While I was still groggy, Dr. P stopped by with his 'I am trying to smile' expression, and said,
"You did fine, just fine."
If he said anything else I don't remember it. I do remember what he was wearing, though! (I would link back to that description if I knew how)(I would also punctuate properly if I remembered how!)
Then I had to pee because you are encouraged to drink lots of water. And I do, and did, without being encouraged. I told the nurse's aid and she said,
"I'll get you a bedpan."
"I have never been able to use a bedpan, ever. Do you have a bedside potty?"
Dr. P had told me at our first visit that they would have me get out of bed as soon as three hours after surgery. So, I just assumed I could get up. The nurse's aid brought me a potty chair and another nurse's aid (they weren't called nurse's aids, but I forgot what they were called. Their names were written on a board on the wall under the clock in front of me along with the name of the nurse and the names were changed every shift.) to help me get out of bed. It was difficult getting all the tubes and machines I was connected to out of the way. And, oh boy, it hurt and was scary. It continued to be decreasingly painful to get out of bed for several weeks. At first I moved in small incriments to see what movement would hurt least. Then I would forget what worked least painfully by the time I needed to get out of bed the next time. But, I made it. It was only later that I learned that most of the nursing staff had never seen that even attempted so soon after a total hip replacement surgery. I was a star!
The next time Pall came into the room to attend to Karol in the bed next to me, on his way out of the room he asked me,
"Becky, do you need anything, anything at all?"
I shook my head and indicated with my hand that he should come closer to me. He did and I softly said to him,
"My name is Betty not Becky."
"Oh, my gosh, I am so sorry, Betty!", emphasizing the Betty.
"That's okay Pall", I said, emphasizing the Pall.
But, when my husband finally walked into the room, it wasn't okay. I was angry to have been left alone for so long. He explained that when I was brought to my room where he had been told he could wait for me, I had appeared to be awake with my eyes open and even told him,
"It hurts."
He says he said loving things to me; stroked my hair , kissed my nose and forehead", until I started drifting off after about forty five minutes. He told me he was going to go to Walm*rt to get me a CD player because the one we had previously purchased specifically to entertain me during my hospital stay, didn't work properly. He was then going to get something to eat. (HOW DARE HE?) He says he then "kissed your widdo forehead", said he loved me and that he would be back soon. At some point in time I think I dreamt the last sentence, but I do not remember any of the rest.
Especially not starting to wake up right about the time I went into recovery. It just makes me indignant that "they" don't believe me when I tell them about my sensitivity to anasthesia. If the dentist doesn't use less "stuff" when he numbs me I will be numb for four or more hours. Twenty years ago I had my gall bladder and apendix removed (The surgeon did not tell me it was routine to remove my appendix at the same time as my gall bladder). It took me a really long time (four or five hours) to wake up from that.
Starting to sound too much like whining. I'm going to take a break and come back to tell you all about my miraculous recovery.
Friday, November 21, 2008
CHAPTER FOUR
You're Going to Do Fine!
I was unable to take the xrays that had been taken of my hip to my first appointment with the orthopedist, because of a computer problem. I was promised they would be faxed. They weren't. When my husband and I had been led back to a room at the Orthopedic Clinic by Dr. P's nurse, Baron Niece, she said I would have to have another xray, or Dr. P would not see me. I was very distressed. Not the foot I wanted to start out on.
Dr. P presented (I watch both 'Grays' and 'ER') as a white haired Julius Caesar. Instead of a white toga and crown of leaves, every time I saw him, except in the operating room, he was dressed in brown loafers, white socks, chinos, a brown belt and a light blue shirt with long sleeves rolled up and a button down collar. He usually wore a 'I am trying to smile' or a 'I am trying to understand' look on his face.
He shook hands with me and my husband then explained what he had just seen in my xray. I asked him,
"What are my options?"
We will never forget his answer,
"It is like a flat tire. You either fix it, drive on it anyway or park it."
I had learned as much as I could about hip replacement surgery options on the net, and I knew he did the "anterior approach" that I understood to be less invasive. He misunderstood me when, just to show him I knew a thing or two, I said I wanted the less invasive approach, which he took to mean a new experimental one. I think he thought that his subsequent explanation of his successful surgery method had changed my mind and convinced me to have the surgery. Several times during the visit and as he left the room he told me,
" You're going to do fine."
Actually, I was still trying to adjust to the reality of having to have the surgery much sooner than I had expected to. Dr. P's nurse, Baron Niece came in with instructions, paperwork and brochures. We set a date, August 5, 2008 at 7:30am.
As soon as my husband and I walked out of the clinic doors I started to sob. My husband folded me in his arms and rubbed my convulsing back. We got into my car and I continued to let out a bunch of nasty toxins through my tears. Eventually I stopped, and from then on I was resigned and courageous:D Tah! Dah!
When H and the others heard the news of my upcoming surgery at my next PT appointment, their attitude towards me seemed to change. It was as if I had graduated "summa cum laude". Now I think it was more like they were missing me already as I now do them. My last PT would be just before my scheduled trip to Virginia that I already wrote about. It was a sad day for me. PT had become one of my few pleasurable contacts with the outside world.
I returned from Virginia around 11pm July 24th. Twelve days until my total hip replacement. There was so much to do that I didn't have much time to get nervous. I had a pre-op physical with my primary care physician on the 28th. The next day I had a Barium swallow that my ENT ordered to find out if I have a hiatal hernia. (Turns out I have something called a presby esophagus with esophageal dismotility because it is so dry in Nevada.) I was also scheduled that day for a pap, but it dawned on me the day before that it would be impossible for me to get my legs in the stirrups with the severe osteoarthritis in my hip! And I cancelled that.
The following day my husband took me to the hospital to do the paperwork and tests required before surgery. I filled out a gazillion forms and answered as many questions. Then, while my husband went to our dentist to have a crown put in, I had blood taken, gave urine, had a chest x-ray and an electrocardiogram. My husband picked me up and rewarded me with all the crabs legs I could eat. Yum!
Two days later, on August 1st, I went to see the ENT. In between all this I was trying to get the house cleaned and the laundry done, in preparation. Monday, the day before my surgery, I went to see Dr. P. He drew a wide line about five inches long on my right hip with a huge permanant marker. And told me,
"You're going to do fine."
The next morning, at five o'dark thirty, we parked in the practically deserted parking garage at the hospital. The hospital itself felt "other worldly". My surgery was scheduled for 7:30am. A nurse prepared me for surgery while my husband read his book in the corner of the room. Dr. P came by and assured me for the umteenth time that,
"You are going to do fine."
He said the surgery should take about 45 minutes. The anesthesiologist came by. I told her about being sensitive to anesthesia. She assured me that I would be waking up right about the time I went into recovery. So, I kissed my husband and was wheeled into the operating room soon after 7, where Dr P waited with his 'I amtrying to smile' expression. He asked me,
"Where is your blue stripe ?"
I pointed to it and that is the last thing I remembered until I woke up alone, in my room about 10:30am. It makes me want to cry even now, remembering what waking up felt like. Then a male nurse came in calling me by the wrong name.
You're Going to Do Fine!
I was unable to take the xrays that had been taken of my hip to my first appointment with the orthopedist, because of a computer problem. I was promised they would be faxed. They weren't. When my husband and I had been led back to a room at the Orthopedic Clinic by Dr. P's nurse, Baron Niece, she said I would have to have another xray, or Dr. P would not see me. I was very distressed. Not the foot I wanted to start out on.
Dr. P presented (I watch both 'Grays' and 'ER') as a white haired Julius Caesar. Instead of a white toga and crown of leaves, every time I saw him, except in the operating room, he was dressed in brown loafers, white socks, chinos, a brown belt and a light blue shirt with long sleeves rolled up and a button down collar. He usually wore a 'I am trying to smile' or a 'I am trying to understand' look on his face.
He shook hands with me and my husband then explained what he had just seen in my xray. I asked him,
"What are my options?"
We will never forget his answer,
"It is like a flat tire. You either fix it, drive on it anyway or park it."
I had learned as much as I could about hip replacement surgery options on the net, and I knew he did the "anterior approach" that I understood to be less invasive. He misunderstood me when, just to show him I knew a thing or two, I said I wanted the less invasive approach, which he took to mean a new experimental one. I think he thought that his subsequent explanation of his successful surgery method had changed my mind and convinced me to have the surgery. Several times during the visit and as he left the room he told me,
" You're going to do fine."
Actually, I was still trying to adjust to the reality of having to have the surgery much sooner than I had expected to. Dr. P's nurse, Baron Niece came in with instructions, paperwork and brochures. We set a date, August 5, 2008 at 7:30am.
As soon as my husband and I walked out of the clinic doors I started to sob. My husband folded me in his arms and rubbed my convulsing back. We got into my car and I continued to let out a bunch of nasty toxins through my tears. Eventually I stopped, and from then on I was resigned and courageous:D Tah! Dah!
When H and the others heard the news of my upcoming surgery at my next PT appointment, their attitude towards me seemed to change. It was as if I had graduated "summa cum laude". Now I think it was more like they were missing me already as I now do them. My last PT would be just before my scheduled trip to Virginia that I already wrote about. It was a sad day for me. PT had become one of my few pleasurable contacts with the outside world.
I returned from Virginia around 11pm July 24th. Twelve days until my total hip replacement. There was so much to do that I didn't have much time to get nervous. I had a pre-op physical with my primary care physician on the 28th. The next day I had a Barium swallow that my ENT ordered to find out if I have a hiatal hernia. (Turns out I have something called a presby esophagus with esophageal dismotility because it is so dry in Nevada.) I was also scheduled that day for a pap, but it dawned on me the day before that it would be impossible for me to get my legs in the stirrups with the severe osteoarthritis in my hip! And I cancelled that.
The following day my husband took me to the hospital to do the paperwork and tests required before surgery. I filled out a gazillion forms and answered as many questions. Then, while my husband went to our dentist to have a crown put in, I had blood taken, gave urine, had a chest x-ray and an electrocardiogram. My husband picked me up and rewarded me with all the crabs legs I could eat. Yum!
Two days later, on August 1st, I went to see the ENT. In between all this I was trying to get the house cleaned and the laundry done, in preparation. Monday, the day before my surgery, I went to see Dr. P. He drew a wide line about five inches long on my right hip with a huge permanant marker. And told me,
"You're going to do fine."
The next morning, at five o'dark thirty, we parked in the practically deserted parking garage at the hospital. The hospital itself felt "other worldly". My surgery was scheduled for 7:30am. A nurse prepared me for surgery while my husband read his book in the corner of the room. Dr. P came by and assured me for the umteenth time that,
"You are going to do fine."
He said the surgery should take about 45 minutes. The anesthesiologist came by. I told her about being sensitive to anesthesia. She assured me that I would be waking up right about the time I went into recovery. So, I kissed my husband and was wheeled into the operating room soon after 7, where Dr P waited with his 'I amtrying to smile' expression. He asked me,
"Where is your blue stripe ?"
I pointed to it and that is the last thing I remembered until I woke up alone, in my room about 10:30am. It makes me want to cry even now, remembering what waking up felt like. Then a male nurse came in calling me by the wrong name.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
CHAPTER THREE
Doctor Who ?
The doctor I wanted to adopt was sent off to Afghanistan. So, I made an appointment with Dr. M, who had taken his place. H, my physical therapist, had called Dr. M and explained why she thought I should be evaluated by an orthopedist. The first thing Dr. M said to me was,
"So, you're ready for a new hip?"
My eyes instantly expanded with shock (clever way to say wide eyed, isn't it?) and I defensively replied, "I certainly hope not!"
I thought I was going to see the orthopedist to be evaluated, have a nice friendly conversation about my options. Plus, this was the first time I had seen this "doctor". She seemed abrupt and was dressed in black so I erroneously labeled her as "g*stapo". I think it was my shaky emotional state and her newness......anyway, to get on with it, she set me up with a referral to see an orthopedist.
I went on line and investigated my options for an orthopedist. At my next visit to PT I took a printout of possibilities with me. H had assured me that she would help me choose an orthopedist. She took the list to study and said she would consult with the other therapists and give me their recommendations at my next visit. Before my next visit, the receptionist called to ask if I would mind changing my appointment to an earlier one. I agreed.
From the tiny reception and waiting area with five chairs, two end tables (which barely fit) and no frills, you turn left down the narrow hall passing five treatment rooms on the right. Just before the last room, there is a big opening to the right into the "gym". The "gym" is a big room with machines, high adjustable treatment tables, big adjustable low padded platforms and all kinds of blocks and balls and pulleys and ropes and blocks and ......fun stuff. And, oh yes, the mirrors! Three or four therapists at a time might be treating one to three people at a time. I was in the gym at this earlier than usual appointment, being guided through my exercises and working on the equipment while H was consulting with the other therapists about the best orthopedist for me. I knew they would come to a wise choice because I also knew they all adored my quirky character. I worked hard, encouraged the other people who came there to be treated and tried always to be cheerful. (This advertisement was paid for by lzm)
B, one of the therapists was working with a man who overheard the therapists discussing me and recommended the doctor who had done his second hip replacement. Yes, I said second. Two different doctors and two different approaches. The first was a negative experience. He recommended the second approach and doctor, who was Dr.P. Before he left we got together and talked. He was at PT because he had just had knee replacement surgery.
"Would you mind me asking how old you are.?" I asked.
His surprising answer was ten years younger than I am. And since I intend to remain eternally youthful I am choosing not to divulge that information.
He brought some brochures for me to his next PT appointment.
I saw this as divine intervention and I can't wait to introduce you to Dr. P. But, this is my husband's day off and we are planning a huge excursion to the lieberry and then to the new Black Bear Diner which is connected to the new Nugget Casino. I have just 60 pages left to read in the book I want to finish and return.
Doctor Who ?
The doctor I wanted to adopt was sent off to Afghanistan. So, I made an appointment with Dr. M, who had taken his place. H, my physical therapist, had called Dr. M and explained why she thought I should be evaluated by an orthopedist. The first thing Dr. M said to me was,
"So, you're ready for a new hip?"
My eyes instantly expanded with shock (clever way to say wide eyed, isn't it?) and I defensively replied, "I certainly hope not!"
I thought I was going to see the orthopedist to be evaluated, have a nice friendly conversation about my options. Plus, this was the first time I had seen this "doctor". She seemed abrupt and was dressed in black so I erroneously labeled her as "g*stapo". I think it was my shaky emotional state and her newness......anyway, to get on with it, she set me up with a referral to see an orthopedist.
I went on line and investigated my options for an orthopedist. At my next visit to PT I took a printout of possibilities with me. H had assured me that she would help me choose an orthopedist. She took the list to study and said she would consult with the other therapists and give me their recommendations at my next visit. Before my next visit, the receptionist called to ask if I would mind changing my appointment to an earlier one. I agreed.
From the tiny reception and waiting area with five chairs, two end tables (which barely fit) and no frills, you turn left down the narrow hall passing five treatment rooms on the right. Just before the last room, there is a big opening to the right into the "gym". The "gym" is a big room with machines, high adjustable treatment tables, big adjustable low padded platforms and all kinds of blocks and balls and pulleys and ropes and blocks and ......fun stuff. And, oh yes, the mirrors! Three or four therapists at a time might be treating one to three people at a time. I was in the gym at this earlier than usual appointment, being guided through my exercises and working on the equipment while H was consulting with the other therapists about the best orthopedist for me. I knew they would come to a wise choice because I also knew they all adored my quirky character. I worked hard, encouraged the other people who came there to be treated and tried always to be cheerful. (This advertisement was paid for by lzm)
B, one of the therapists was working with a man who overheard the therapists discussing me and recommended the doctor who had done his second hip replacement. Yes, I said second. Two different doctors and two different approaches. The first was a negative experience. He recommended the second approach and doctor, who was Dr.P. Before he left we got together and talked. He was at PT because he had just had knee replacement surgery.
"Would you mind me asking how old you are.?" I asked.
His surprising answer was ten years younger than I am. And since I intend to remain eternally youthful I am choosing not to divulge that information.
He brought some brochures for me to his next PT appointment.
I saw this as divine intervention and I can't wait to introduce you to Dr. P. But, this is my husband's day off and we are planning a huge excursion to the lieberry and then to the new Black Bear Diner which is connected to the new Nugget Casino. I have just 60 pages left to read in the book I want to finish and return.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
CHAPTER TWO
Continuing
I fell in love with my physical therapist. It was not H's twinkling eyes, endearing freckles or amazing red hair that made me fall. It was her hands. Laying on the therapy bed in the small treatment room, H instructed me to turn on my left side, my backside to the tastefully wallpapered mauve and blue wall. She pulled up the red shorts I was provided with, to expose my bare hip, then slipped a small pillow between my knees. As she poured warm oil from a squeeze bottle onto my hip and thigh it felt a little like foreplay. Her fingers found all the aching spots without any direction. She would linger on the areas that cried out for her touch as if they were speaking to each other. My eyes closed and I made some small mewling sounds as my body melted into the surface I lay on.
Too soon she asked, "Did that help?", shocking me back from that new fuzzy warm place I never wanted to leave.
"That was heaven", I answered.
Then she taped me, adhering special flesh colored flexible two inch tape that looked sorta like crepe paper, at a point near my waist to just below my knee, along what (I think) she referred to as my "T-bar", which would stay adhered until my next visit. Then she sent me home.
Twice a week I went to that "house of heaven". Routinely I would change into shorts (my own on subsequent visits). One of the assistants would give me an ultrasound treatment on my hip and thigh or hook the area up to the electric pulse machine and cover it with a cozy heating pad, turn down the lights and leave me. A timer would go off and the assistant would stop rubbing me with the ultra sound "thingy" or come back in and unhook me. H would come in and manipulate me for a bit (my favorite was when she pulled my affected leg) and gradually had me do exercises. Then she would "touch me" and take me to heaven for a short while. Eventually she took to the gym where I did more exercises on the padded platform and used some of the machines, including the stationery bicycle, which was my favorite because of z.
After several (?) months H suggested I talk to my doctor about seeing an orthopedist. And I did.
Gotta do some laundry.
Continuing
I fell in love with my physical therapist. It was not H's twinkling eyes, endearing freckles or amazing red hair that made me fall. It was her hands. Laying on the therapy bed in the small treatment room, H instructed me to turn on my left side, my backside to the tastefully wallpapered mauve and blue wall. She pulled up the red shorts I was provided with, to expose my bare hip, then slipped a small pillow between my knees. As she poured warm oil from a squeeze bottle onto my hip and thigh it felt a little like foreplay. Her fingers found all the aching spots without any direction. She would linger on the areas that cried out for her touch as if they were speaking to each other. My eyes closed and I made some small mewling sounds as my body melted into the surface I lay on.
Too soon she asked, "Did that help?", shocking me back from that new fuzzy warm place I never wanted to leave.
"That was heaven", I answered.
Then she taped me, adhering special flesh colored flexible two inch tape that looked sorta like crepe paper, at a point near my waist to just below my knee, along what (I think) she referred to as my "T-bar", which would stay adhered until my next visit. Then she sent me home.
Twice a week I went to that "house of heaven". Routinely I would change into shorts (my own on subsequent visits). One of the assistants would give me an ultrasound treatment on my hip and thigh or hook the area up to the electric pulse machine and cover it with a cozy heating pad, turn down the lights and leave me. A timer would go off and the assistant would stop rubbing me with the ultra sound "thingy" or come back in and unhook me. H would come in and manipulate me for a bit (my favorite was when she pulled my affected leg) and gradually had me do exercises. Then she would "touch me" and take me to heaven for a short while. Eventually she took to the gym where I did more exercises on the padded platform and used some of the machines, including the stationery bicycle, which was my favorite because of z.
After several (?) months H suggested I talk to my doctor about seeing an orthopedist. And I did.
Gotta do some laundry.
Friday, November 14, 2008
meme for Z
Z (http://razorbladeoflife.blogspot.com/ )at Razor-Blade of Life tagged me for this meme.
#1. Go to your sixth picture folder then pick your sixth picture. (The problem with this is that going there is a post in itself.)
#2. Pray that you remember the details.(Remembering too many details will be the problem here.)
#3. Tag 5 others, leave a comment to let them know they've been tagged. ( I tag those who read this and want to do it!)
TOTAL HIP
REPLACEMENT
SURGERY
Chapter One
Discovery
The bed cradled me in a perfect sleeping position and I tried to will myself back to sleep. Being unsuccessful, I rolled over so I could see the luminous numbers on the alarm clock that has sat on the very same long low six drawer dark oak dresser for 27 years. I quickly calculated that I had slept long enough. With resignation I sat up, swung my legs out from under the cozy bed linens, stepped onto the thickly padded carpet with the ball of my right foot. Confidently my right heel followed. Sharp stinging pain shot up from the padded little shock absorber and I quickly raised my heel back up and sat for a moment wondering what could be the cause of this pain.
This incident happened almost two years ago to the day. I was unable to rest weight on my right heel without pain. I quickly investigated on line and discovered I had something called "plantar faciitis". I followed all the suggested remedies, always wearing athletic shoes with over the counter orthotic inserts and doing the suggested exercises. There was some relief. I cowboyed up. At the doctors I was told that orthotics weren't covered by my medical coverage. Shortly thereafter I began having sharp pains mid thigh on the outside of my right leg that made me stop in my tracks. It became more frequent and more frequent. I diagnosed that the "plantar faciitis" changed my gate, causing this new pain. I was thoroughly convinced that the doctor I had been assigned and I were totally incompatible. So, I went through an act of congress to change. I went to a new doctor (who I wanted to adopt) and he sent me to physical therapy and had my hip xrayed. The xrays revealed:
FINDINGS: AP and frogleg views of the right hip demonstrate severe degenerative changes consisting with joint space loss, subchondral sclerosis, osteophytosis, and subchondral cyst formation. The femoral head is deformed by osteophytes with thickening of the proximal femoral neck, perhaps resulting in a component of femoral acetabular impingement. There is no evidence of fracture or dislocation. Soft tissues are unremarkable.
IMPRESSION: Severe osteoarthritis of the right hip as described above.
I will have to work on this long sad story after I go to the library to pick up some books they are holding for me, before the library closes. Let's just call this z meme Chapter One.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Conservatives for change
Time for me to make a stand. With only one exception, I have voted for a Republican President for the past 32 years, though I am an Independent.
Go to http://www.conservativesforchange.com/ and listen to some other voices.
Make your decision and then VOTE!
Go to http://www.conservativesforchange.com/ and listen to some other voices.
Make your decision and then VOTE!
Friday, October 10, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Paul Newman
"Oh, shit!"
I was deeply saddened today, to hear that Paul Newman has died. After reading the news I went to http://www.newmansown.com and have copied and pasted the following for myself and anyone else who might be interested. I once read in some interview that he ate a half a cantaloupe in the shower every morning. The thought comes to me frequently when I am around cantaloupes and makes me smile. I have been in love with Paul Newman since the night in high school when I piled in my girlfriends Buick with her and a couple other girlfriends and went to the Drive-in to see "Exodus".
For 25 years, we at Newman's Own have had a front row seat to watch Paul's entrepreneurial brilliance, humor, and compassion at work helping those in need. Our company motto, "Shameless Exploitation in Pursuit of the Common Good," was Paul's vision for Newman's Own and it is a philosophy we are proud to continue.
Paul occasionally referred to Newman's Own as the "joke that got out of control" and would express astonishment at its success. Despite this humorous approach, Paul was committed to the company's business and to providing top-notch quality – he brought all-natural food products to a wide audience long before it was fashionable. And he was one of the greatest recyclers, giving back to charity all the money he earned from the sale of Newman's Own products.
Shameless Exploitation in Pursuit of the Common Good
Newman's Own has grown into a powerful and lasting expression of Paul Newman's generosity. The Company has generated over $250 million in proceeds that have been donated by Paul Newman and the Newman's Own Foundation to thousands of charities worldwide. Particularly close to his heart were the Hole in the Wall Camps, now the leading global family of camps for children with life-threatening illnesses, which Paul started over 20 years ago.
Today, Newman’s Own is a thriving company with hundreds of millions of dollars in annual revenue. As always, all profits are donated to charity through Newman's Own Foundation. We will miss Paul, but we will honor his vision for the Common Good through dedicated stewardship of his company that will perpetuate his philanthropic legacy. Paul wouldn’t have it any other way.
He was also a terrific actor.
I was deeply saddened today, to hear that Paul Newman has died. After reading the news I went to http://www.newmansown.com and have copied and pasted the following for myself and anyone else who might be interested. I once read in some interview that he ate a half a cantaloupe in the shower every morning. The thought comes to me frequently when I am around cantaloupes and makes me smile. I have been in love with Paul Newman since the night in high school when I piled in my girlfriends Buick with her and a couple other girlfriends and went to the Drive-in to see "Exodus".
For 25 years, we at Newman's Own have had a front row seat to watch Paul's entrepreneurial brilliance, humor, and compassion at work helping those in need. Our company motto, "Shameless Exploitation in Pursuit of the Common Good," was Paul's vision for Newman's Own and it is a philosophy we are proud to continue.
Paul occasionally referred to Newman's Own as the "joke that got out of control" and would express astonishment at its success. Despite this humorous approach, Paul was committed to the company's business and to providing top-notch quality – he brought all-natural food products to a wide audience long before it was fashionable. And he was one of the greatest recyclers, giving back to charity all the money he earned from the sale of Newman's Own products.
Shameless Exploitation in Pursuit of the Common Good
Newman's Own has grown into a powerful and lasting expression of Paul Newman's generosity. The Company has generated over $250 million in proceeds that have been donated by Paul Newman and the Newman's Own Foundation to thousands of charities worldwide. Particularly close to his heart were the Hole in the Wall Camps, now the leading global family of camps for children with life-threatening illnesses, which Paul started over 20 years ago.
Today, Newman’s Own is a thriving company with hundreds of millions of dollars in annual revenue. As always, all profits are donated to charity through Newman's Own Foundation. We will miss Paul, but we will honor his vision for the Common Good through dedicated stewardship of his company that will perpetuate his philanthropic legacy. Paul wouldn’t have it any other way.
He was also a terrific actor.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
MORE MARVELOUS MOMENTS
Almost every time I post pictures, especially if it has been a long time since doing so, I have difficulty. This time I emailed them to myself to shrink them enough so that blogger would upload them. And almost every time I have this problem, I become determined to figure it out and forget about the story I was eager to tell. I will just use my email method for pictures for now though and get on with the adventure.
N's home is warm, welcoming and beautifully decorated. It is deeply seated on a knoll, surrounded by pastures and trees. A road winds up past the small barn at the top left and then further right to the ranch style house. The views from every room are, again, breathtaking. Just being there is a relaxing vacation, just like the drive to it is.
We talked. We laughed. We cried. I felt a little on display the first few days. N wanted her sister B to know whyt she thinks I'm so wonderful. N shares me with Band B with me, but we have only met a few brief times. It didn't take long for me to know what a delightful person B is. I have no doubt she likes me too!
With N and I both having trouble with our hips and she dealing with canc:r as well, we didn't do anything that involved a lot of walking. But, we did eat out a lot, which meant driving through more of the breathtaking Virginia countryside and seeing structures two and three hundred years old. I have always been fascinated with old stuff and am awed thinking about all the history. N would stop so I could take pictures and sometimes I just held my arm out of the window and took a shot.
One hot muggy evening N suggested we get in the pool. The conditions wre prfect, as the house was shading half of the pool and sunscreen wouldn't be necessary. Took me no time at all to wiggle into my new swimsuit and get in the beautiful pool with N to float. I noticed that my bouyancy had much improved since my last visit. Perhaps the extra pounds I'd brought with me! Floating is one of my favorite things, as is being with N, so I was in La La land and felt so comfortable that I didn't even care that I hadn't shaved my legs. N and I were pretty much prunes by the time we got out.
N's home is warm, welcoming and beautifully decorated. It is deeply seated on a knoll, surrounded by pastures and trees. A road winds up past the small barn at the top left and then further right to the ranch style house. The views from every room are, again, breathtaking. Just being there is a relaxing vacation, just like the drive to it is.
We talked. We laughed. We cried. I felt a little on display the first few days. N wanted her sister B to know whyt she thinks I'm so wonderful. N shares me with Band B with me, but we have only met a few brief times. It didn't take long for me to know what a delightful person B is. I have no doubt she likes me too!
With N and I both having trouble with our hips and she dealing with canc:r as well, we didn't do anything that involved a lot of walking. But, we did eat out a lot, which meant driving through more of the breathtaking Virginia countryside and seeing structures two and three hundred years old. I have always been fascinated with old stuff and am awed thinking about all the history. N would stop so I could take pictures and sometimes I just held my arm out of the window and took a shot.
One hot muggy evening N suggested we get in the pool. The conditions wre prfect, as the house was shading half of the pool and sunscreen wouldn't be necessary. Took me no time at all to wiggle into my new swimsuit and get in the beautiful pool with N to float. I noticed that my bouyancy had much improved since my last visit. Perhaps the extra pounds I'd brought with me! Floating is one of my favorite things, as is being with N, so I was in La La land and felt so comfortable that I didn't even care that I hadn't shaved my legs. N and I were pretty much prunes by the time we got out.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Promised pictures
The sky at the airport when I arrived.
And then the breathtaking.......
More about the wonderful adventure, as well as more pictures.
And then the breathtaking.......
More about the wonderful adventure, as well as more pictures.
Friday, August 15, 2008
My Trip to Virginia
_________
My scheduled departure from Reno was 11:55pm Sunday July 13. I was packed and ready to go before 4pm, though, so that I could go into Reno with my husband when he went to work. I dropped him off at work, then toddled around until it was time for him to get off work and take me to the airport.
I was having a great deal of pain in my hip because of the toddling around. We had arranged for electric car assistance for me to be able to make it to the next gate when I changed planes. I am able to walk long distances with just the support of my husbands’ hand, so I expected to be able to make it to security with him and imagined a golf cart type ride from there. The only thing available was wheelchairs and I was talked in to taking one from the young man at the check in counter. I became very weepy as we waited for the wheelchair to come. My husband tried to comfort me and suggested I look at it as if I had broken my leg skiing and needed the wheelchair temporarily. This helped some, but I was uncomfortable using the wheelchairs the whole trip as well as on the return trip. There was no doubt that I needed the assistance, though, when I saw some of the distances between gates that would have been impossible for me to walk.
After arrival at Dulles I called N as I was being wheeled to Baggage. She said she and her sister were waiting at Baggage. As I got near baggage I saw my beloved N. Her sparkling eyes and incredible smile made the eight years that we’d last been together, melt away in an instant. And our adventure began immediately.
We stopped for lunch and a “look see” at Wegman’s, an amazing huge building filled with food. N knows my interests! Then we drove through the breathtaking (literally for me, as I sigh a lot) Virginia countryside to her home.
I am working on posting pictures. Breathtaking pictures!
My scheduled departure from Reno was 11:55pm Sunday July 13. I was packed and ready to go before 4pm, though, so that I could go into Reno with my husband when he went to work. I dropped him off at work, then toddled around until it was time for him to get off work and take me to the airport.
I was having a great deal of pain in my hip because of the toddling around. We had arranged for electric car assistance for me to be able to make it to the next gate when I changed planes. I am able to walk long distances with just the support of my husbands’ hand, so I expected to be able to make it to security with him and imagined a golf cart type ride from there. The only thing available was wheelchairs and I was talked in to taking one from the young man at the check in counter. I became very weepy as we waited for the wheelchair to come. My husband tried to comfort me and suggested I look at it as if I had broken my leg skiing and needed the wheelchair temporarily. This helped some, but I was uncomfortable using the wheelchairs the whole trip as well as on the return trip. There was no doubt that I needed the assistance, though, when I saw some of the distances between gates that would have been impossible for me to walk.
After arrival at Dulles I called N as I was being wheeled to Baggage. She said she and her sister were waiting at Baggage. As I got near baggage I saw my beloved N. Her sparkling eyes and incredible smile made the eight years that we’d last been together, melt away in an instant. And our adventure began immediately.
We stopped for lunch and a “look see” at Wegman’s, an amazing huge building filled with food. N knows my interests! Then we drove through the breathtaking (literally for me, as I sigh a lot) Virginia countryside to her home.
I am working on posting pictures. Breathtaking pictures!
Friday, July 11, 2008
Virginia here I come!
UP UP AND AWAY
Sunday at 11:55 pm my flight leaves for Virginia. I will change planes in Texas, then arrive at Dulles Airport at 11:55am. This must be what is called the "Red Eye"? Subtracting the three hour difference, that will mean eight hours to get there. I will have a two hour and 23 minute layover at Houston Airport.
I have been trying to control my excitement and remain calm. I usually obsess for weeks, worrying about everything. Will let you know how this new approach turns our! I am going to visit my dearest friend. It has been over eight years since I last visited? I fly back on the 24th.
In preparation for the trip, this afternoon I went to the same hair salon that I went to for the last haircut that I liked so much. I hoped that the same gal who cut it last time would be there. Alas and alack, she wasn't and I am not so thrilled with how my hair turned out. I look like a little dutch boy and I'm not. I am only a small part dutch.
When I get back I will be having a new hip installed. Didn't know this would be necessary before I bought the airline tickets. So, I've had a lot of doctor appointments to go to and arrange, as well as dental work being done. And shopping for things I wanted to fill in my wardrobe, as well as needed sundries. Also, I don't like to go off on a trip with a dirty house, so I've been cleaning house and doing laundry. Now I have some ironing to do. And I have a book from the library that I need to finish reading before I leave because it will be due while I'm gone and not allowed to renew.
Looking forward to telling you all about it when I return.
Sunday at 11:55 pm my flight leaves for Virginia. I will change planes in Texas, then arrive at Dulles Airport at 11:55am. This must be what is called the "Red Eye"? Subtracting the three hour difference, that will mean eight hours to get there. I will have a two hour and 23 minute layover at Houston Airport.
I have been trying to control my excitement and remain calm. I usually obsess for weeks, worrying about everything. Will let you know how this new approach turns our! I am going to visit my dearest friend. It has been over eight years since I last visited? I fly back on the 24th.
In preparation for the trip, this afternoon I went to the same hair salon that I went to for the last haircut that I liked so much. I hoped that the same gal who cut it last time would be there. Alas and alack, she wasn't and I am not so thrilled with how my hair turned out. I look like a little dutch boy and I'm not. I am only a small part dutch.
When I get back I will be having a new hip installed. Didn't know this would be necessary before I bought the airline tickets. So, I've had a lot of doctor appointments to go to and arrange, as well as dental work being done. And shopping for things I wanted to fill in my wardrobe, as well as needed sundries. Also, I don't like to go off on a trip with a dirty house, so I've been cleaning house and doing laundry. Now I have some ironing to do. And I have a book from the library that I need to finish reading before I leave because it will be due while I'm gone and not allowed to renew.
Looking forward to telling you all about it when I return.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Windows of the Soul
I started this April 20 and didn't get around to finishing or publishing. I don't even remember where I found the MEME. I do remember how I was overwhelmed by some of the images that arose.
*Seeing my mother the first time after her stroke. She was in a coma and not expected to live. There is no way I could describe that vision. I will just say it was a painful one.
*The dark skin everywhere, when I got off the plane in Hawaii the first time in 1964. My Mom had married a Hawaiian when I was just 2. So I grew up in a Hawaiian community. Everyone went together to give me a plane ticket to Hawaii for a High School graduation gift. I lived and worked there for almost five years.
*I can still see the magnificent mountains on a trip to Hope, BC, more than half a century ago.
* The first time I set eyes on my first grandchild.
*Seeing my second grandchild's squished hairy little head first peep at the world. And then having the honor of cutting her cord.
*Recently driving through the Redwoods in the early morning darkness on a trip from Reno to Seattle.
*Seeing my dearest friend for the first time. I didn't know we would become such close friends. I just admired how classy she was.
*Hiding in the pasture in Sandpoint when my mother was coming to visit my brother and I at my fathers parents house. They had convinced my Mom to go to Seattle to join my father and to work. While there she caught him screwing around and divorced him. When she came back to get us our grandparents made us hide in the pasture. I remember crying because I wanted to run to my mother.
*Setting eyes on my first child. She was and still is perfect.
*Bright pink kitchen nook, with big windows, table and chairs where a dear dear friend and I investigated our souls over gallons and gallons of coffee.
*Sitting on the floor of a VOQ quarters lost in the eyes of my future husband, in Sacramento the night we went to Empamanondos 34 years ago. It makes me blush thinking about the rest of the evening*)
*Watching my husband cradle our son in the crook of his arm, holding his tiny head in his hand while talking about finance with him the day he was born in Germany.
*The canal in Georgetown.
*England, especially the stairs in The Tower of London. The thought of all the people I'd read about in books whose feet had actually walked up those same stairs too.
*George and Martha Washingtons grave.
*Williamsburg,VA
You are welcome to join in this writing prompt. Simply add the links below to the bottom of your post and let me know to add yours to the list!
jen with seven windows of my soulJessica with Eleven windowsTracy from Tiny MantrasDefiant Muse from Musings...Kaliroz with windowsBarrenAlbion with seven windows of my soulArwen with windows to my soulSomewhere in the suburbs with windowsKaren with eight windowsJennifer with Seven viewsMagpie with windowsKaty with windowsMary with seven windows of my soulBA with come to my windowsSlouchy with there are places I remember
Friday, June 27, 2008
Test Results
| ENFJ - "Persuader". Outstanding leader of groups. Can be aggressive at helping others to be the best that they can be. 2.5% of total population. |
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