A full house

I don't know the name of this azalea -I got it in front of a small grocery store near where my mom lived. She said a retired pastor was the grower and we found many unusual varieties there. This one has a pink sheen to the buds (the picture is good) and it is simply my favorite. The scent is that defnite but slight fragrance only azaleas have-if they have any.

My mom came home. Her parting shot to the nurses as they said good bye and told her to take care of herself was, "You better take care of yourselves. There may be more like me coming." I doubt that. Really I do.

She was told at breakfast time she'd be discharged but it took to 3pm for all the i's to dotted and t's crossed. This should not have surprised me but some how it did a little. She made it up the porch steps pretty much on her own -my second biggest concern.

So now we are on our own (sort of) with the colostomy "system" -except for some home health visits the next few weeks (that's the sort of). They will help us figure out what "system" works the best (I am tempted to put the quotes on that last word too). You have no idea of the options.

I'd like to go to bed now but first I must help her with emptying my first biggest concern. Don't forget I am still open to pity. Also sleeping.

By the way - On the natural disaster front: I believe an actual tornado would be over the top even for our level of drama so somebody tell the Weather Channel to call off the Watch because if it goes to Warning getting into the basement in a hurry will not be pretty...

PItiful me

This is, according to me mother (aka Grandma knows everything), a Stewartonia azalea. All I know is that it is so red digital cameras can't quite handle it. And I am glad it should still be glorious tomorrow when (the doctor says let's plan on) she'll be discharged. How can I feel pitiful when it's there?

But I do. And I don't mind if you pity me. It will give us something in common. Really I have never minded pity. Condescension, ignorance, stupidity, those things annoy me. Pity, however, especially the variety that comes with casseroles, I welcome.

Today's pitiful factor: I practiced taking care of the colostomy -not as bad as one might imagine -or much worse, depending on what you imagined. Then I went in the hall and cried. My mom on the other hand just tried not to look -not the best approach for reaching a goal of being able to manage it herself. We have to practice so tomorrow she can come home. They do give you a very attractive bag (no, not that bag) for your colostomy bag accessories. Also we can get free samples. That was exciting news.

On the way home I stopped and bought ... more plants. Some of them even survived the sudden stopping necessary when I realized what the red lights strung across the road were meant to indicate. I then asked me neighbor to pick up my kindergartner and her first grader from school today even though it was my turn. I think that was a wise choice.

Also, for the record I wasn't on the phone when I noticed the new light (it's been there 4 years but not the 15 before so it is kind of new) -I was listening to news reports about a face transplant, which, also for the record, is one medical procedure no one in the family has had yet. But if I do and end up with worse skin (as I was wondering about while driving), I will welcome any pity.

Raised Up

A very green day -like wheat that springeth green.
I even got a chance to get all 4 kids plus dad in one shot. Wide angle of course. And all standing unassisted. No, on closer inspection the dad is leaning on the railing.
We are both ready to lean on whatever is handy as it happens. I leaned on my friends yesterday and 3 of them came and cleaned my house, even unto the refridgerator. Blesed be they.

The very Grand mom is still in the hospital (I don't know what the case manager was smoking who gave us a heads up (not to mention a panic attack) she might be discharged Saturday (as in yesterday)). Her progress is good but slow -up to puddings yesterday, tomatoe soup today. Two percosets at a time though.

I haven't looked at the "wound" or attachments since Friday but it is all functioning and I keep supposing we will all get used to it.
If we can adjust to shunts and seizures and stammers and crutches and walkers and too much Serenity (oh what a pity they have changed the name to Tena, but it is still the brand next to Depends), we can...

Uh oh. My also exhausted husband says the little one is in bed and we'll try watching The King's Speech now or he'll collapse. I'll let you know if a movie about someone with a speech impediment is a good distraction.

My still bipolar life...

I "took off" Thursday afternoon so the airplane pilot here could have a few friends over and try for abike parade without the threat of snow.

Then the father of the pilot worked an hour over what I'd expected and I was frantic about having left my mom alone that long. She was fine when I arrived but did decide to tease me that she'd been thinking we had forgotten her. Not funny mom.

This morning as I was still lying in bed the ex-airline pilot (with only one front tooth) came in and said he "was thinking he should cuddle me" -so climbed in and put his arms around me and told me he loved me most.

This afternoon I learned about care and maintenance of a colostomy. In between I got mad at my better half again, madder still at the nurse who mis interpreted the message that I was running an errand but would return and didn't want to miss the wound care nurse to be I wanted the wound care nurse to come immediately and therfore called me just as I loaded up my cart at Target to irritatedly tell me I was going to miss the wound care nurse since I'd left. I rushed through the store and still don't know how the Easter candy came to 139 dollars but I know I bought an $8 kitchen towel that has a magnet init to hang on the refridgerator and I think a muffin pan to make butterfly shaped muffins -but I am afraid to look. It should surprise no one that when I got back to the hospital the wound care nurse arrived 3 hours later.

All I will say at this time is that it really isn't that bad -if I can get tover the part about things that belong on the insides being on the outside. My mom decided it was up to me to remember the details. I beleive she could but this is one of the perks of being 93 -she has pretty much decided it's not her job to pay attention to medical trivia. On the other hand she did get out of bed 3 times today, manage the trek to her door and back (with walker of course), and generally complain far less than I would have with a 10 inch incision across my belly.

She told the pastor yesterday (he asked) that her advice for along life was one should "never argue with your betters". She said today that she never does -but she certainly argues with us!

Looking forward to sharing more details on colostomys...

(colostomies?)

I'd still rather be sailing

Grandma update: Better. Not like a drunk person or one of those kids on the You-tube videos after their dentist appointment this morning ( i.e. was like a drunk person or one of those kids on the You-tube videos after their dentist appointment last night). So the anaethesia is probably almost all out of her system. So now it will start to really hurt...

And I confess I told the case manager I want her home soon -but not actually on Easter Sunday (minus 1 caring points). Discharge and transfers are all day affairs -we know from experience. Still, I assured them, we do want her home and not in a "rehab" facility (plus one caring point for me). I don't think Sunday is likely in any case with all she is still attached to but you never know and in theory it's a good idea to communicate one's expectations/needs with the staff. In theory more than practice since in practice one is simply repeating it all to various people who will not be on the duty when the times comes anyways.

Talking back

Don't you think moss is peaceful? Sometimes people suggest we lime our yard to make it less habitable for the moss but moss doesn't need mowing. Low maintenance is the name of the game.

... since life is not. I went in last night so ready to yell at people but my mom was resting well and she only woke occasionally to squeeze my hand and she'd go back to lightly snoring. That sounds a little more idyllic than I meant -she startled occasionally to jerk awake and grimace, clutch at my hand and then sink back -that's more accurate. Still I left at midnight hoping she'd be alright. My sister returned at 6am to find her frantic with pain and no nurses in sight. She spent 45minutes trying to call one. You know how in all the tv shows the hospital halls always have a steady stream of personell? Hah. You have a better chance of finding a salesperson at Walmart. And like Walmart if you go to the section with all the electronics you have the best chance.

Apparently narcotics tend to give the elderly all the side effects and little of the main effects so she has been in a fog most of the day. To look at her you would think she is far gone. She never even opened her eyes when the surgeon came in but when I asked (suspiciously), "Did you follow all that mom?" She managed a. "yup". Mainly I think she just doesn't think it's worth the effort to be too present -and as I recall from my own surgical adventures that's how it feels. I had to head out for work (explaining the odds ratios again, really) the staff was going to "help" her clean up and get her sitting up -in other words, medically sanctioned torture.

My torture was the night before when I began to question if we should have listened to the surgeon. Hadn't the GI guy said let's wait and watch? Was the surgeon just trolling the halls for work? Wasn't the OR (not odds ratio this time [biostatistics humor]) unexpectedly available at a momen't's notice. Did they decide to go drum up business. Did I influence my mom in accepting an un-necessary procedure and cause her to go from relatively (very) comfortable and alert to this drugged and beaten state? My better half told me to stop it. He's probably right again.

This afternoon she sipped tea and something like (but it couldn't have been I think) ice cream according to my sister. I will review for the final exam (and hope no one asks any complicated questions) and stop by the hospital again tonight. It's spring.

another day another...

Redbud, also known as Judas Tree, neither of which names seems at all accurate.

Grandma at the hospital, saga continues...

I went in after breakfast, but before the gift shop opened at the hospital. So when the gift shop did open I ran down to buy a flowering plant (any excuse) and told my mom that since I was leavnig the room someone would come by with important news. I returned to catch the end of a surgeon telling her things were not likely to improve on their own and he wanted to take out the bad stuff and then leave a "bag". See what I mean? If I had sat with her and waited all day no one would have shown up and nothing would have happened. As it was within 20 minutes he had convinced himself -and us -that the sooner the better was the best course. And since no one was prepared for this naturally I have never seen things move so fast at the hospital (ask me about my 2nd appendectomy sometime). My better half made it there about 2 minutes before she was wheeled into surgery. Then we went out for barbecue.

Three hours (and a little) later we (now my sister had joined us) saw her in her room. They said she'd done well. She seemed mostly asleep but when I repeated she had "done well" she was following enough to try and make some comment -definitely a sarcastic one. But any movement pulled her out of that safe place one goes after surgery -far away from the pain -back to the pain. Followed by us arguing with the nurse that she needed the morphine pump next to her and... let me just say this. Hospitals talk about pain management, congress talks about people too much pain medicine so one would think this should be an area that's covered. It's not. Don't get me started. I'm off to my shift now as a patient advocate and I'm not feeling very kindly towards low dosing. I'll let you knowhow that goes....

The exciting world of medicine

[this was a few weeks ago, see 87 years

my mother and my son is not so much]

...by 2pm (at the latest) we knew my mom would be admitted. The cause of the bleeding was still inkown but a few things (good and bad) had been elimanated. At approximately 9pm she was moved to a room. At 9:30pm I hit the nurse call button. The tech had transported her and left. Really I just wanted to know how to turn the overhead light off (it took them 3 tries at different switches so I didn't feel so bad). Also to mention a few small details regarding her mobility (i.e. the lack there of) and well, things one would like mobility for. Fortunately there was a team of doctors already running all her lab work and on their way out to our house to check through her things for possible toxins and running scans in an exhaustive pursuit of the a medical diagnosis and... oops sorry. That was the dream sequence. In real life a scan had shown that an artery is not getting enough blood to part of the bowel but they can't say why (clot or constriction) but it will "probably" heal itself given that she "rests her bowels" (how delightful!)for a few days. If not various bad things can happen and various doctors might be consulted -probably.

Everyone is exhausted and grumpy and it was all pretty boring most of the day. ERs are in fact the most boring places I know. The occasional lack of boredom one personally experiences is not so fun and when exciting stuff is obviously happening to your neighbors you have to pretend not to notice. I did see alot more people in handcuffs than usual but it seemed tacky to actually go into the hall and check it out.

Pre-emptive

We are on our way to the hospital ER to meet my sister and my mom. For her (my mom's not my sister's) 93rd birthday my sister took her (my mom and herself actually) to the mountains. Where of course my mom got sick in the hotel becasue as she taught us , it pays to be good but it doesn't pay much. And now there is some unexplained bleeding so we'll all rendezvous at the ER. I was feeling distraught and I told the next to eldest as he prepared to take the little one (naturally no school today) and I prepared to wait for his dad (naturally one car in the shop and a business trip today) that we might "lose Grandma one day' (or something silly) and he said, "I've always thought pre-emptive suffereing was a poor tactical choice." I love my sons -and clearly he has come to this conclusion from years of seeing me try to pre-empt all possible catastrophes. This is an N. poeticus. My mother taught me it's beauty and it's name. She has always been a good tactician.

snakes and flowers

This is an Eastern earth worm snake -actually I may be adding the word worm to the name and that's just what they eat. They are very cute and will wrap all your around your fingers. I always find them under rocks and logs when weeding and find them preferable to the equally common (in my yard) Black Widow spiders -it was the baby Wido spiders that converted me to gardening with gloves.

It was such a lovely day I decided not to exercise at the Y but to work in the yard. For some reason I've gone to the Y the last several Thursdays but I couldn't quite think why today. Was it because I drive the kids (mine + neighbor) to kindergarten Thursday mornings? Why had picked Thursday? Who knows. Between pruning and clipping and trying to write up an explanation of how to interpret an odds ratio without saying anything rude (you'd be surprised the opportunities for rudeness in statistics) it was time to go back for the kindergarten Spring party. The kids in mine's class know me now and a small group rushed me when I got in and one girl squealed I was late and then they all said my guy was hiding in the woods with the bears and the dinosaurs -until he came through and hugged me, and then there were several more hugs and I was feeling quite smug. I told the teacher that's why I came -since none of my students rush to hug me when I arrive. It was my ego boost. Which clearly God heard because 5 minutes later another child came up to me and said, "You look like a Grandma." He knew I wasn't -he just wanted to point out the resemblance. No amount of highlights, or skin care products was going to deceive this kid. And since I had noticed several parents in the room who clearly I could have given birth to myself... well until he said this I thought the problem was they looked too young. Mine of course doesn't think I look anything like a Grandma -since his Grandma is 93 in 2 days his standards are clearly in my favor.

On the other hand he has been telling me how beautiful his teacher's forehead (that's right, he's a forehead man) is because it is so "smooth and shiny". You've got to feel sorry for a little guy this surrounded by wrinkles.

...And failing memories. I have been worried about my mom's lately. SHe has a terrible time keeping straight what day it is and what our schedules are. And tonight I was looking at my calendar. Turns out the eldest's swim lessons are Thursday mornings -at the Y of course.

I don't remember this flower's name, but it's lovely don't you think?

Am I bipolar or is my life?

[note: slippers were a Christmas present, from my husband, when I'd asked for lingere, 20 years ago. And I keep them -in case he ever forgets.]

Is it still manic depressive when this isn't that untypical a day? Wake up early and get in hot tub with husband. Argue over how best to handle ridiculous traffic charge against eldest driving son (really. they charged him with driving with no insurance because the card in the car was old -which is not an offense and in every state but ours the police can electronically check insurance status -and he had committed no traffic violation) and generally yell at each other over minor scheduling conflicts -because we can I guess. Pack lunch, find ice cream money, explain (again) there is no time to play on his brother's PS3 before school. Strip beds where in the occupants didn't quite make it through the night. Do more laundry (more than I ever imagined at this point in life). Push the pain meds. Answer email. Try to renew the SAS software, spending 1 and 1/2 hours on the phone with the IT guy before discovering I was using the renewal file for the wrong version. Get my hair highlighted -maybe that will help. Try really hard not to cry at the hairdressers since I had to cut my mom off from explaining how she had made all the wrong choices in life and nothing she'd fought for, believed in worked out -or something since the country was clearly going down the tubes, and no, don't try to figure it out. Go to the kindergarten and watch my husband entertain kindergartners by way of showing them the "jobs" different instruments do (this is how desperate our kindergartener's teacher was for a "community helper" volunteer for "community helper" day). Go home and finish trying to run a logistic regression (sounds impressive) to email the non significant p values to a dissappointed researcher, fold laundry, do more laundry. Have a snack of melted brie and walnuts with crackers with my mom while we watch some weird old musical. Make tacos, mistakenly give my mom impression they were done. Have to tell her not yet and then she turns almost in tears from the back pain to go back to bed. The 6 year old follows her and somehow gets his feelings hurt (did she snap at him? I don't know as neither are very clear, both being upset). Think teachable moment and patiently explain about Grandma being in pain but still loving him and he pulls in the tears, marches into her room (with me following to witness touching moment) and he chides her, "Grandma you made me feel bad." I do not blow up but I do whisk him out and put him in "time out" -and then he has a complete melt down and the taco shells burn. Daddy gets home. He explains it's not the little one's job to scold the big ones -and I admit he did a much better job than I did. Besides at this point I'm having a melt down. Dinner was pleasant -maybe because the little one (not scolding of course) did insist everyone pray. Then we had a great game of "The Cat in the Hat Can Do That" (if you're my age you will not have heard of this) and then we folded laundry ( in my mom's room to keep her company) and the second round of pain medicine had kicked in so we were showered with love and kudos as we did. (I should perhaps make it clear that the "we" here does not include any of my children over the age of 6, in case it should sound unrealistically idyllic). For brevity I skipped some parts.

Things I didn't picture: part 1 of 2,000,013

Obviously I don't have a picture for this. But picture if you will my son in the pool, struggling to get over his fear of putting his face in the water and one of the instructor's asks how much he's in pools. Not much recently I explain (guiltily of course) because he's so sensitive to the water temparture (something the instructor has already acknowledged to be an issue at outdoor pools) and then he says, "He's a bit spoiled isn't he?" At which point I spluttered more than my baby in the pool. My bearded 26 year old baby. Who's CP makes his muscles spasm in any thing below about 83 degrees but which the experts telling us to get him swimming lessons forgot to mention (doesn't everybody know that?) until after I'd forced him to try again and again to swim in our chilly neighborhood pool years ago. Who we make clean the kitchen and take Grandma lunch and manage his own meds and babysit his little brother and generally try to make get moving on with life and...(still spluttering). And this same man is within seconds telling me we should try to get him exercising more (telling me... not my son) and suggesting he work on bending his ankles independently (like multple physiatrists, therapists, orthopeds, and God knows us too, didn't try for 20 some years) and asking me (really) if he used to walk without the crutches (yeah, but we forgot to keep up with his exercise and pretty much just spoiled him with the crutches). Oh, and when I mentioned the physiatrist (an MD specialist in physical medicine) thought I said podiatrist and tried to point out a podiatrist wouldn't be much help. So here's the part I didn't picture. That 26 years after having my first baby I would still be feeling as defensive as any new mother and total stragers would feel as free with the advice as they did when I actually had a baby. I mean I know alot of moms whose 26 year olds, frankly, may be or have been or at least acted a little spoiled -and as far as I know nobody tells them so. Somehow I thought when I mentioned the young man in question has his Associates degree it would be clear the mommy talk should end but no... I'm going to get a card printed that says, "Talk to him, I'm just the driver." I'll think I'll try it for the 6 year old too. I'll let you know how that works at soccer.