It's the little things

Here's another view of my garden -and taken yesterday . There are little red wild strawberries all over the place. They look really big next to the 2 inch gnomes.

The strawberries are ripe, my college girl is home for the summer, my mom is back at her house with the college girl, exams are graded, and a new class started...

And just about anything wil make me cry in between the moments when I feel life is overwhelmingly sweet and good because it is all so sad and difficult. That pretty much sums it up.
Oh, and the nice trauma surgeon says at the end of the summer my mom could have the colostomy reversed. Let me just pencil that in.

Mother's Day

It started with the 6 year old's awakening shout of, "Happy Mother's Day" followed by his giving me a small stuffed fox and then deciding, no, he wanted it and crying when I wouldn't trade for the killer whale he had. It ended with me cleaning up my mom because things are still... well awkward. She keeps telling me I'm wonderful. If I am it's not at all by choice.
Really I remind myself that if I keep in mind where we were a week ago, and the week before that we are doing better and better. But then I think about a week before that and -no, really this is not an improvement.
That many weeks ago I knew more than I wanted to know on any number of topics but absolutely nothing about stomas. If you don't know what this is be happy. I can only say my mother is tired of the nurses telling her it (hers inparticular) is beautiful. Nurses are funny people...
Meanwhile I have graded the final exam and posted grades and am now waiting to hear from that one student who always wants to know how I came up with their grade (by doing exactly what the syllabus said I'd do...). Truthfully it has been a good bunch this semester and a number are certainly smarter than I am. I only say that to sound humble -who really thinks this at the end of the semester? Mostly I think, how, when I said everything so clearly, could they still seem so confused? Irrationally I write a question to be challenging and then am annoyed with the ones who are too obviously challenged by it. It really hasn't been long enough since I was a student to be changing sides so easily. Still, in us vs. them, it's so comforting to know who us is - in the classroom at least. I've no idea which side I'm on anywhere else.
I think the non-picture taker in the family took this picture today because he knew I needed reminding. I couldn't be a mom without him.

It's just p**p

Well it is. But then again I can't even bring myself to type it out in the title of this entry. It was my mother who raised me thus. We could talk openly about a lot but bathroom humor just wasn't humorous. I didn't get the finger pulling joke was about until I was in my 30s -and I was completely revolted when I learned what it was all about. I was in high school before I knew the "f-word" wasn't the 4 letter word that ended in t. Thus there has been little to laugh about here.
Besides the pain and life-threatening part, my mom is simply repulsed by the reality of the colostomy. I pretend not to be but I am too. She turns away and cries and I try to sound cheerful and nonchalant and then I go and cry -or yell at my husband -or forget what red lights are there for -or have my husband yell back at me because we are both too exhausted and too overwhelmed and ...
When the home-health nurse said we had to take her to the ER Saturday night due to unusually severe pains and swollen ankles, instead of acting like the veterans of such things we are, we acted like the traumatized wrecks that we are (also). If a friend hadn't stopped by and reminded us of basics like shoes and keys we wouldn't have made it there. The surgeon said, "I'll meet you at the ER" which sounds so as if he'll be waiting by the door -at least if you're delusional it does. So eventually when we'd gone through triage and we'd recounted everything to everyone the surgeon came and said (again I quote), "you just had a big p**py." We stopped at Burger King for fries on the way home and deliriously -even my mom, repeated his words over and over again.
...because while it is true my mom has never appreciated bathroom humor - it was her subversive sense of humor that inspired my choice of garden planters.

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?)