Lunatic Confessions of a Neurotic Husband
In spiritual matters it is sometimes hard to distinguish between the truly spiritual and the rantings of an upset, insecure mind. Case in point, I’ve felt like I’ve been under spiritual attack for the past few days. And yet I have my doubts because, after all, what are the chances that I’m being spiritually attacked by some sarcastic demon with a voice like Gilbert Gottfried. If you’re unfamiliar with him, he’s the voice of the parrot in the Disney Aladdin movies.
At first it just started with a nagging doubt, a feeling of insecurity, then it steamrollered into obsession and paranoia. The internal conversation has gone like this:
“She doesn’t love you.”
Oh yes she does, I know she does.
“How so?”
She says so.
“How often does she say it?”
Not often, but it’s not her way to verbalize her feelings..
“Not her way? She talks non-stop if she can. The woman is a talking-machine. Remember when you were dating? She said she was attracted to you because you were a good listener. The woman can talk. She just doesn’t want to say it, because it’s not true.
The only reason she says it is because you told her to., You told her your feelings require it. So to get you off her back she says it and almost chokes on it. After all it’s okay to lie sometimes, even the Jews did it when their babies were threatened, so it can be justified. But she doesn’t like it. It’s just one more chore she has to put up with to soothe your delicate ego. She can only bring herself to say it when you say it. That way it’s as meaningless as any other social pleasantry “How are you?” “Fine.” That’s really heart-felt stuff. She hates you for making her lie.”
“She doesn’t love you- but she is grateful you gave her a way out of her parents’ house. You sprung her. You’ll always have a little gratitude for that. But when it comes down to it- she can hardly stand you. You’ve been one disappointment after another.”
I KNOW I HAVEN’T BEEN EVERYTHING I SHOULD, BUT I’VE TRIED. I’VE TRIEDTO BE A GOOD HUSBAND, AND A GOOD FATHER, BUT I’M NOT PERFECT, I’VE NEVER PRETENDED TO BE.
“First kiss- you were so incompetent she’s hardly kissed you since. You told her you needed more kissing practice. Has that happened? She can stand saying, “I love you” once in a while but kissing is just more frustration than she can bear. You’ve never done it right for her, you’ve never done any of it right for her, and she’s given up on you. She hates you for what she’s missing. That is one piano you are never going to learn to play.”
“But she was willing to give you another chance to get free of her folks. Then came your wedding night. That was a disaster worse than the kissing. You know, saving yourself for marriage is fine in theory but if nobody knows what they’re doing it’s no fun at all. It was supposed to be the most romantic night of her life and it was just a ruin. She’ll never forgive you for ruining her first time. Isn’t it ironic that the only way to please a woman is to have experience with other women first? You didn’t, so you can’t.
There are three things a woman wants from her man- she wants protection, prosperity, and lovin’ that rocks her world. You moved out of the old gang-neighborhood, so after 23 years you kind of got that one right, that’s worth a half. But the first paycheck of yours she saw was one of the great disappointments of her life. She thought she had the good life marrying you, and you couldn’t give it. The sex, well you know how bad that is. Sorry, but half out of three ain’t just bad, it’s terrible. A woman gives herself to a man who is worthy, you aren’t.”
That’s not really fair. She’s a spiritual woman and she’s suppressed her desire.
“Oh, please. Do you really believe that her Momma said the magic J-word and she went numb from the ears down? She’s full of desire. She desires things all right. She desires a new house, nice cars, romance, a good man. She just doesn’t desire you. You have no idea how many hours, over days, months, years, she has desired other men. She learns the tiniest details of their lives so she can feel like she knows them, so she can imagine she’s theirs, so she can imagine a life without you. It’s not that she doesn’t think about sex, or dream about sex, she does that a lot. She just doesn’t want you in it. When she does let you do the gross and dirty deed she has to think of them to do it because then she can imagine it isn’t disappointing, it’s romantic and passionate the way she always wanted it. She hates you for making her live a lie.
As if doing the dirty deed and lying to herself wasn’t bad enough, she feels like she’s committing adultery thinking of the other men. The Holy Wife shouldn’t have to resort to breaking one of the Ten Commandments to feel romantic, and she hates you for the spiritual suffering too.
You haven’t even slept in the same bed with her for how long? When you got her ear plugs you thought she was going to use them to sleep and you said that now your snoring wouldn’t be a problem and you could sleep with her again. And what’d she say? “I’m not wearing them at night, I’m wearing them during the day so I don’t hear the construction going on next door.”
That was a loving moment wasn’t it? She could have added, “Silly, I don’t care about the snoring. I miss you in bed. I’m yours, I love being with you, sleep with me.” She could have kissed you then, she could have kissed you since. Nope, didn’t even cross her mind. Actually, she was afraid you’d go through with sleeping with her. She complains plenty about your snoring, but she’s never complained about your absence in bed. Your not being there makes her happy. She doesn’t have to fear Disappointing You will reach over and touch her.
Do you doubt for a moment that if she was with hunky Scott Bakula she’d be pawing him everyday? Every day telling him how hunky he was, how blessed she was to be married to him. Do you think she’d go four months without sex and not even notice? After a week she’d grab him, say she was starving and demand to be fed. She’d ride him like a motor-cross bike. She’d make sure he was pleasured. She’d have an arm or leg on him every night to be comforted by his presence and to comfort him. And there you are, on the couch, and she’s happy with it. Are you so sure she loves you?
And don’t get me started on Tom Cruise. If she was married to him she’d bang him like a machine gun. She’d have him twice a DAY and be happy for it. She’d be in training for the Sexual Olympics. You’re never going to medal, you won’t even get an Honorable Mention ribbon. There you are, getting it once a month, twice if she feels grateful again, or thinks you’re starting to pout. She hates you for that too. Remember how you got even less before you told her getting some was the only way to stop your pouting. She only does it with you to keep you civil. You get more now, but it’s still so little the folks in the retirement homes get more than you. And now that she’s by family she doesn’t need your ears anymore.
There’s something to look forward to- one of these days old age will catch you and you won’t even be able to do it any more. You’ll die never having had a passionate night of love. Never having heard any request but, “Hurry up and get it over with.” And isn’t that just another way of saying, “I don’t want you”? Since you’re a funny fellow, on your deathbed ask, “What’s good sex like?” The nurses will laugh about that one for years.
That’s not entirely true. She’s even asked me to take time off work to do it.
“Oh yeah, that’s rich. The world is over-populating because too many people are taking too much vacation time. You really believe that? Don’t you think it’s just a little odd that in a world of people going at it like minks your wife can only get around to it once a month? Making you take leave to do it is just an easy way of limiting you. When was the last time she asked you to take time off for whoopee anyway?
That’s not true, sometimes we do it more often than that.
"Oh yeah, sometimes you do it TWICE in a month. That still gets you pity from all the senior citizens getting more than you. How many times has that happened anyway? It’s so rare if you marked them on a calendar you still couldn’t cover the legal holidays. And she DOES mark a calendar, because she has to remind herself to do you once a month so you don’t get pouty, and so if you ever whine that you aren’t getting enough she can say, “I just did you last month!” Doing you is a chore, just like saying, “I love you.” It’s just one more thing she has to get done to get it over with. You’re right up there with scrubbing the toilets. She hates you for the attention you need. She doesn’t love you, she doesn’t even respect you, at least a toilet is useful.”
Yes she does. She knows I can be handy around the house. I’ve put up light fixtures, put in electrical outlets, I’ve done a lot and she’s remarked about it.
“Oh please, she respects you? Remember when you did your little song and dance at the dinner table about confession making us feel better? That it wasn’t just confessing sins and feeling better ourselves for being forgiven? That it could also be confession of something good, and you could make somebody else feel good? So you went on about how proud you were of your kids, and they smiled. And you went on about what a wonderful wife you have, what a wonderful mother she is for them, and the kids smiled and rolled their eyes. And what was her response? Did she say anything nice about you in return? Did she even mention you? No. She raved about a guy at church who has a gift for ministering to waitresses and checkout girls. Made you feel pretty proud to be you didn’t it? Yeah, your kids noticed too.”
“You crave her like the next breath you need to say, “I love you,” and rave to everyone about what a wonderful, spiritual wife you have. Spiritual? In the, ahem, spiritual order of things, aren’t you supposed to be just below the Big Guy? What’s spiritual? The way she says “no” to everything you say? The way you crave her and she’s got you on a starvation ration?
Spiritual? Every time she looks at you she sees that crooked eye and she knows you’ve been smitten by Him. She knows you’re so evil he made you with a brain tumor already installed. She married a pariah and it drives her crazy. How did that happen? What did she do to deserve being burdened by you? Why did the Guy she prays to give her a husband she doesn’t want? Every day she kicks herself for being too eager to marry you. If she hadn’t been in such a rush maybe she would have heard Him say, No.” Now she’s stuck with you, and the only way she can hold you is in contempt. Staying married to you is just fulfilling her Biblical duty. It’s her sacrifice she hopes she’ll be rewarded for. Staying faithful to you is the only wifely duty she can live with.
Wouldn’t honoring you include taking care of your basic needs- like the one where the Big Guy says, “your desire will be for your husband”? Desire? The only time you’ve seen her aroused was when she was talking to your brother. That was something wasn’t it? It looked like two pencil erasers trying to get work under that t-shirt. But she can’t get aroused by you. Hey, there’s an out! Biblically that’s an out for her- she can say the Scripture says “a woman will desire her husband,” since she doesn’t desire you she can move on to somebody she does desire and that will be His Will. Funny how He always wants what she wants, isn’t it? Wouldn’t it be even funnier if she got the hots for a guy named Will?
Face it, your opinions are worthless and your needs are unimportant. When was the last time she even complimented you on anything? When was the last time she took time to be affectionate? Forget sex, when was the last time you even snuggled? When was the last time you even got a hug? All her patients get back rubs, the only one you’ve gotten in years was from your son.
Speaking of kids, she always has the kids with her because she doesn’t want to be alone with you. She has time for every other living, breathing soul on the face of the earth, and a few others too, but no time for you. You’re the last on the list and she never gets down that far. Not that she’d really go down on you if she had the time to get there, that would be disgusting.
That’s not fair. She has a busy life, she has a lot of responsibilities. I’m an adult, and I can take care of myself.
“Well you’d better, because you ain’t getting any. Wasn’t that grand the other night when you were as horny as a teenager?. You felt like you could go all night and you knew it was useless to wake her up? That she’d just say “no” again? Didn’t it feel good to know she wouldn’t care? If she woke you up, would you turn her down? You’d want to make her happy, you just can’t resist her. But she can resist you, no problem. Not that you could say “no” anyway, because then it would be about her needs, and those are more important than your needs.”
It’s going to get better; she said so. Once we’re settled into the new place she’ll have more time for me.
“Oh yeah. Stop the presses! Tell Hugh Heffner! The world’s greatest aphrodisiac is a new house. A hooker would be cheaper and give you a better time. Twenty-three years of starvation and now you’re going to feast? Oh, please. Even you aren’t that gullible.
You’ve been in your new digs for a month. How many times have you even gotten to wash her back in the shower? How many times have you even gotten to shower with her? Face it, she doesn’t miss being with you. That will never change. It will always be something- the kids, her family, her church group, global warming, vacuuming, there will always be something more important than you that needs her time. The way she cleaned out the bedroom it’s fairly clear to even the blind that you’re being cut off. Are you satisfied with your sleeping on the couch? She is.
And how long do you think it will be after you finally get the old house fixed up and sold that she’ll decide that she’s got her dream house and all the kids she wants, so she only needs you for child support, and she throws your pathetic butt into the street?
If one of those wealthy surgeons she works with decides he could use a cute infidel for a bride, how long will it take her to look at the balance sheet and throw you over the side? She’ll even buy one of those cheapie divorce kits at Wal-Mart so she doesn’t waste any more money on you than she has to. She remembers they’re there; she’s thought about it. She’d get to move up to the big money and a chance to preach and convert a pagan too! Sounds like Divine Will to me! She could make the Big Guy happy. How could she resist? For a nurse, marrying a surgeon is moving up, and it can happen, she tells you about others that made the move. By the way Mr. “Is-Everybody-Happy?,” ever notice how nobody is trying to make YOU happy?
Remember when she said she’d be happy living in a shack as long as she was married to you? Well, times change. She’s used to a little more; she wants more. She likes money and you haven’t got enough, never have, never will. You can tell what people value by where they spend their time and money. You say she loves you, is there enough evidence for a jury to convict her of that? She looks innocent to me.”
Needless to say, this stuff has been grinding on me and I just feel beat. The upside is that it’s got me reading my Bible again and praying. It was so unexpected when, after I prayed the thought occurred to me, “Don’t starve, fast. Give up your wants and desires to the Lord God. Return to your first love.”
Maybe what that means is that God is jealous for my affection, my adoration, and the problem has been that I’ve had my priorities all wrong. Looking at my time, my money, and my words, I’ve loved the wife more than God, and perhaps He’s allowed this torment to let me know He doesn’t like it. He’s gotten my attention; we’ll see how it goes, only He knows. I’ll walk by faith.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Thursday, June 16, 2005
6/16
The Super Nurse went back to her Mother’s hospital for another care conference. Her favorite nurse told her that her Mom’s doctor doesn’t like to be told what to do- he’ll often do the opposite. But he tends to move slowly, so if you want things to happen you need to push anyway and see if he’ll at least meet you half-way.
The Super Nurse had told him yesterday that she didn’t see the need to check the heparin level every six hours. Per her, once a therapeutic level is reached checking it once a day should be fine. That would reduce the amount of testing needing to be done. The reason her levels seemed to fluctuate before was because they weren’t drawing off the PICC line correctly. He agreed that the sloppy procedure was the problem before, but maintained that testing it every six hours is proper procedure. She checked today, and he changed the order to testing once per day. She trains doctors too. You gotta love her.
The doc told her that he’d talked to hospital administrators about her, now their, concerns. So he did join the crusade. He's an easy-going guy, but the nurses on the unit told her that he'd been the maddest they've ever seen him. Consequently, while she was there a hospital mover and shaker wanted to talk to her. She’s probably caused a fair amount of fear that what she’s seen could result in a law suit. But she just wants her Mom to have good care. If fear motivates them to improve the quality of care it would be okay with her.
The doctor did tell her that a couple of the nurses that had performed poorly were no longer working on the floor, and for all he knew they no longer work in the hospital. She really wasn’t trying to get anybody fired; she’d just like everybody to do their jobs correctly. But she doesn’t feel guilty about it. If they were too lazy to do their jobs correctly when a life was at stake as far as she’s concerned they should be working in a nursing home.
Her Mom continues to improve. She’s talking in a normal tone of voice and is becoming more lucid. But since her chest still hasn’t been wired together she has pain when she coughs. Since her heart is so enlarged they may never get it wired together. It may have to heal on its own, if at all. At least she has Super Nurse for a daughter and advocate; she’ll get the best care possible. And hopefully, so will everybody else.
The Super Nurse went back to her Mother’s hospital for another care conference. Her favorite nurse told her that her Mom’s doctor doesn’t like to be told what to do- he’ll often do the opposite. But he tends to move slowly, so if you want things to happen you need to push anyway and see if he’ll at least meet you half-way.
The Super Nurse had told him yesterday that she didn’t see the need to check the heparin level every six hours. Per her, once a therapeutic level is reached checking it once a day should be fine. That would reduce the amount of testing needing to be done. The reason her levels seemed to fluctuate before was because they weren’t drawing off the PICC line correctly. He agreed that the sloppy procedure was the problem before, but maintained that testing it every six hours is proper procedure. She checked today, and he changed the order to testing once per day. She trains doctors too. You gotta love her.
The doc told her that he’d talked to hospital administrators about her, now their, concerns. So he did join the crusade. He's an easy-going guy, but the nurses on the unit told her that he'd been the maddest they've ever seen him. Consequently, while she was there a hospital mover and shaker wanted to talk to her. She’s probably caused a fair amount of fear that what she’s seen could result in a law suit. But she just wants her Mom to have good care. If fear motivates them to improve the quality of care it would be okay with her.
The doctor did tell her that a couple of the nurses that had performed poorly were no longer working on the floor, and for all he knew they no longer work in the hospital. She really wasn’t trying to get anybody fired; she’d just like everybody to do their jobs correctly. But she doesn’t feel guilty about it. If they were too lazy to do their jobs correctly when a life was at stake as far as she’s concerned they should be working in a nursing home.
Her Mom continues to improve. She’s talking in a normal tone of voice and is becoming more lucid. But since her chest still hasn’t been wired together she has pain when she coughs. Since her heart is so enlarged they may never get it wired together. It may have to heal on its own, if at all. At least she has Super Nurse for a daughter and advocate; she’ll get the best care possible. And hopefully, so will everybody else.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
6/15
Train Boy’s birthday!
The Super Wife asked him what kind of cake he’d like. He said chocolate with white frosting. Chocolate cake? No problem. She made frosting from scratch with Mexican vanilla, but it wasn’t going to be enough. She added whipped cream. It has to be kept refrigerated now, but it IS yummy.
I have this nasty habit of picking things up I see if I think someone will like them. So I had a bit of a stock built up for Train Boy. He got about a half-dozen LEGO kits, including the Star Wars X-Wing fighter. He got a LEGO electric train that he’s always wanted- picked that up on E-Bay, and some computer games. He seemed happy with his loot. He’s a wonderful boy, and I’m happy to over-indulge him.
Train Boy’s birthday!
The Super Wife asked him what kind of cake he’d like. He said chocolate with white frosting. Chocolate cake? No problem. She made frosting from scratch with Mexican vanilla, but it wasn’t going to be enough. She added whipped cream. It has to be kept refrigerated now, but it IS yummy.
I have this nasty habit of picking things up I see if I think someone will like them. So I had a bit of a stock built up for Train Boy. He got about a half-dozen LEGO kits, including the Star Wars X-Wing fighter. He got a LEGO electric train that he’s always wanted- picked that up on E-Bay, and some computer games. He seemed happy with his loot. He’s a wonderful boy, and I’m happy to over-indulge him.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Super Nurse had an interesting day. She started with the doctor. She recounted the blood sugar mistake. He was not happy either. The good doctor doesn’t seem to think that his patients need killin’.
She mentioned that a nurse had administered morphine and versed at the same time, apparently thinking that doing so was a good job. Super Nurse opined, ‘She’d already had Tylenol III not even an hour before. Normally you only give versed and morphine right before a painful procedure anyway. Are they practicing chemical restraint here?” She pushed a hot button. Chemical restraint is a big no-no. The help doesn’t get to sedate patients to make them easier to manage. The doctor turned to the nurse in the room with him and said, “You call that nurse and get an explanation of this RIGHT NOW!” The Super Nurse knows what buttons to push.
She elaborated on the poor procedure she’d seen with the PICC lines. Her Mother has a blood infection she just can’t seem to kick. ‘Does it not seem likely the PICC line is contaminated?’ ‘A hospital induced infection?’ (She used the technical term) Another hot button pushed. The doctor agreed and said he’d have it replaced.
She told him she’d written up a list of care problems she’d observed. He said he’d like a copy of the list. He was not aware of any of the problems. Then he said, this is who you need to talk to, if you don’t get any satisfaction then go talk to… right up the line. He was helpful. He almost sounded like he was ready to mount up for the Crusade himself.
Then she went to talk to the floor supervisor. ‘Uh-huh you have concerns.’ “I have a list.” ‘Can I have a copy of the list?’ She went back to check on her Mom. Management started showing up in the room. ‘You have concerns?’ “I have a list.” ‘Can I have a copy of the list?’ It went on that way with a couple other people. She was pleasant, she was helpful, she was their worst nightmare- she knew what she was talking about, and had seen bad things up close and personal. Hell, she was educating their nurses.
It would be interesting to check in on the hospital in a few months and see if any changes have occurred as a result of her free, intense performance review. You have to wonder how many copies of her list are floating around there now.
I’ve told her that she’d be an outstanding nurse manager. She really knows her stuff and has a heart for patient care. She could get a staff to competence and then some. She says she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bear to give someone a bad evaluation. Even though she just did it for free.
God bless her. She probably saved a lot of lives today.
-
She mentioned that a nurse had administered morphine and versed at the same time, apparently thinking that doing so was a good job. Super Nurse opined, ‘She’d already had Tylenol III not even an hour before. Normally you only give versed and morphine right before a painful procedure anyway. Are they practicing chemical restraint here?” She pushed a hot button. Chemical restraint is a big no-no. The help doesn’t get to sedate patients to make them easier to manage. The doctor turned to the nurse in the room with him and said, “You call that nurse and get an explanation of this RIGHT NOW!” The Super Nurse knows what buttons to push.
She elaborated on the poor procedure she’d seen with the PICC lines. Her Mother has a blood infection she just can’t seem to kick. ‘Does it not seem likely the PICC line is contaminated?’ ‘A hospital induced infection?’ (She used the technical term) Another hot button pushed. The doctor agreed and said he’d have it replaced.
She told him she’d written up a list of care problems she’d observed. He said he’d like a copy of the list. He was not aware of any of the problems. Then he said, this is who you need to talk to, if you don’t get any satisfaction then go talk to… right up the line. He was helpful. He almost sounded like he was ready to mount up for the Crusade himself.
Then she went to talk to the floor supervisor. ‘Uh-huh you have concerns.’ “I have a list.” ‘Can I have a copy of the list?’ She went back to check on her Mom. Management started showing up in the room. ‘You have concerns?’ “I have a list.” ‘Can I have a copy of the list?’ It went on that way with a couple other people. She was pleasant, she was helpful, she was their worst nightmare- she knew what she was talking about, and had seen bad things up close and personal. Hell, she was educating their nurses.
It would be interesting to check in on the hospital in a few months and see if any changes have occurred as a result of her free, intense performance review. You have to wonder how many copies of her list are floating around there now.
I’ve told her that she’d be an outstanding nurse manager. She really knows her stuff and has a heart for patient care. She could get a staff to competence and then some. She says she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bear to give someone a bad evaluation. Even though she just did it for free.
God bless her. She probably saved a lot of lives today.
-
6/14
Super Nurse wanted to stay home today but felt like she couldn't after yesterday's incident. A nurse at the hospital nearly killed Clare by shear incompetence. If She hadn't been there they'd be planning Clare's funeral. That's no dramatic exaggeration, the mistake was that big. She was UPSET.
Anyway, Super Nurse had wanted to stay home today for a rest, but after yesterday she doesn't think she has that option. She went back today to watch out for her Mom, and to go head-to-head with the hospital administration over the quality of care that almost cost Clare her life. She is still upset, it was a bonehead error and the nurse insisted it was their hospital's standard procedure. We shall see.
If anyone can shake up a whole hospital to raise it's standard of care it would have to be the Super Nurse. She's knowledgeable, and she can't be bluffed. I'm expecting an interesting report tonight.
I'd say that her family should be grateful for keeping Clare alive yesterday, but she didn't tell them. She didn't want to upset the rest of her family. But she did conduct a free seminar with the nurse on safe and proper procedure. The nurses at the hospital actually like her, several have told her they could use her and she could certainly get a job there if she wanted one. That's not much comfort though.
Super Nurse wanted to stay home today but felt like she couldn't after yesterday's incident. A nurse at the hospital nearly killed Clare by shear incompetence. If She hadn't been there they'd be planning Clare's funeral. That's no dramatic exaggeration, the mistake was that big. She was UPSET.
Anyway, Super Nurse had wanted to stay home today for a rest, but after yesterday she doesn't think she has that option. She went back today to watch out for her Mom, and to go head-to-head with the hospital administration over the quality of care that almost cost Clare her life. She is still upset, it was a bonehead error and the nurse insisted it was their hospital's standard procedure. We shall see.
If anyone can shake up a whole hospital to raise it's standard of care it would have to be the Super Nurse. She's knowledgeable, and she can't be bluffed. I'm expecting an interesting report tonight.
I'd say that her family should be grateful for keeping Clare alive yesterday, but she didn't tell them. She didn't want to upset the rest of her family. But she did conduct a free seminar with the nurse on safe and proper procedure. The nurses at the hospital actually like her, several have told her they could use her and she could certainly get a job there if she wanted one. That's not much comfort though.
Monday, June 13, 2005
6/13
The Super Nurse was back in Davenport, watching her Mom. She took a break, and when she came back she noticed that the insulin had been turned up. That may sound like she’s diabetic, but she’s not. It’s apparently a standard thing to do to patients in an ICU. Blood sugar level has a significant effect on healing, ask any diabetic, so it’s controlled closely.
So the Super Nurse asked the nurse why the insulin was turned up. ‘Because she has a blood sugar level over 400.’ Super Nurse was appalled. ‘She’s not a brittle diabetic. She’s been on tube feedings for weeks. Think. A blood sugar that high is impossible.’ The nurse was sure that no mistake had been made. Super Nurse knew it was wrong. She demanded a retest.
The nurse stuck a needle in the end of the PICC line, made a draw, and said, ‘There, that’s done.’ Super Nurse was even more appalled. She was pushing the appalled envelope. Super Nurse informed the nurse that she couldn’t use that sample- that blood had been stagnant in the line. To get a good sample enough blood has to be pulled through to be fresh, that would take at least 5 cc’s. After discarding that old blood, THEN you take the sample.
Super Nurse told the nurse she wanted the blood sugar test by doing a stick on her Mom’s ear. Her Mom consented. The sample was taken and her blood sugar was…. 43. If a person is fasting their blood sugar might get as low as 80. Clare was well down the road to diabetic coma and death.
Super Nurse was not happy. But knowing mistakes can be made she did not scream or yell. Nope. In the spirit of Christian love the Super Nurse put on a PICC line care clinic. Ya gotta love her. By time time Super Nurse was done the nurse was well-schooled. Unfortunately, the nurse was a poor student. Every time the nurse came in and disconnected the PICC line Super Nurse had to remind her to swab it with alcohol for at least 30 seconds before putting it back together. Every time.
Super Nurse is upset. Some of the nurses have been outstanding, but when you have one that doesn’t know how to safely do the job you fear for the safety of the patient. Super Nurse will go toe to toe with the Administration tomorrow. This could be interesting.
The Super Nurse was back in Davenport, watching her Mom. She took a break, and when she came back she noticed that the insulin had been turned up. That may sound like she’s diabetic, but she’s not. It’s apparently a standard thing to do to patients in an ICU. Blood sugar level has a significant effect on healing, ask any diabetic, so it’s controlled closely.
So the Super Nurse asked the nurse why the insulin was turned up. ‘Because she has a blood sugar level over 400.’ Super Nurse was appalled. ‘She’s not a brittle diabetic. She’s been on tube feedings for weeks. Think. A blood sugar that high is impossible.’ The nurse was sure that no mistake had been made. Super Nurse knew it was wrong. She demanded a retest.
The nurse stuck a needle in the end of the PICC line, made a draw, and said, ‘There, that’s done.’ Super Nurse was even more appalled. She was pushing the appalled envelope. Super Nurse informed the nurse that she couldn’t use that sample- that blood had been stagnant in the line. To get a good sample enough blood has to be pulled through to be fresh, that would take at least 5 cc’s. After discarding that old blood, THEN you take the sample.
Super Nurse told the nurse she wanted the blood sugar test by doing a stick on her Mom’s ear. Her Mom consented. The sample was taken and her blood sugar was…. 43. If a person is fasting their blood sugar might get as low as 80. Clare was well down the road to diabetic coma and death.
Super Nurse was not happy. But knowing mistakes can be made she did not scream or yell. Nope. In the spirit of Christian love the Super Nurse put on a PICC line care clinic. Ya gotta love her. By time time Super Nurse was done the nurse was well-schooled. Unfortunately, the nurse was a poor student. Every time the nurse came in and disconnected the PICC line Super Nurse had to remind her to swab it with alcohol for at least 30 seconds before putting it back together. Every time.
Super Nurse is upset. Some of the nurses have been outstanding, but when you have one that doesn’t know how to safely do the job you fear for the safety of the patient. Super Nurse will go toe to toe with the Administration tomorrow. This could be interesting.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
I had a nice moment today, Sunday. Super Wife showed me a questionaire that Ms. Pikachu had done at school. One of the things was "Most Admired Person." Yup, she wrote, "My dad." Apparently that's what I get for giving her chocolate when she craves it. Everybody has their price, you just need to know the currency.
This evening I told Super Wife that we should do something for Train Boy's birthday. With Ms. Pikachu it was always a big 'something.' I told her that maybe on his birthday we could take him and his friend Benjamin to Chuck E Cheese. She thought that wouldn't work- his birthday is on Wednesday, and Ms. Pikachu has Youth Group on Wednesday nights. I said that's ok, she doesn't want to go to Chuck E Cheese anymore anyway. Just taking the boys would be fine, and it would be a special day for Train Boy. So will you call Benjamin's mom and ask? "Not today, tomorrow." Why not? It's only nine o-clock on a Sunday evening, do you have reason to suspect they're normal? Well, at least I tried.
It wasn't much of a Sunday, almost ninety degrees and I mowed the lawn. Sweat City. The Super Wife is happy to have the lawn cut as short as the neighbor's, so it was worth it. Admittedly, a rancher asked about grazing rights, so maybe it did need a cutting. So she was happy about the lawn, but not for long.
She talked to her sister to find out how their Mom is doing and was told that now Clare has a bacterial blood infection. As if enough hasn't happened already. Super Nurse is just sure the infection was caused by sloppy procedure on the part of Clare's nurses. They routinely disconnect the PICC line to make their work easier. The problem is that every time they disconnect the line it's another risk of infection. Do it a lot, and infection almost becomes a certainty. Super Nurse says that where she works PICC lines are only disconnected if absolutely necessary, and then they're swabbed with disinfectant for at least thirty seconds. At the hospital the nurses just give it a quick wipe and slap it together. Super Nurse is REALLY NOT HAPPY. Tomorrow she's going to drive back and talk to the nurse manager about their lack of sterile procedure and unacceptable PICC line protocol. Oh, to be a fly on the wall.
I have a feeling that by the time Clare is out of there Super Nurse will have made her impact felt on the whole hospital. She told me she was considering calling JCAHO and explaining the situation to them. Conceivably, that would result in the American Hospital Association auditing the hospital for proper procedure protocols. While I understand her anger over this happening, calling JCAHO is like retaliating with the nuclear option. Are you sure you want to do that FIRST?
She's really not happy though. She said some of the nurses don't belong in an ICU. The ICU should be the nursing cream and she thinks some of the nurses would hardly be acceptable in a skilled unit, and marginally tolerable in a general medical unit. She's slow to say anything bad about anybody, so it says something about how she perceives things there. Some of the nurses have been outstanding, the quality has just been maddeningly uneven. Why yes, Super Nurse SHOULD be a nurse manager.
Earlier today Ms. Pikachu was demanding that we take her out and let her drive something. Super Mom has done this in the past- she'd go a business that was closed and let Ms. Pikachu drive around the parking lot. She's getting antsy, she wants to drive NOW.
Super Mom is still having wrist and shoulder pain. She was discussing that with someone she knows and the other woman suggested that cherry juice can be helpful in reducing inflammation. So, tired enough of the pain to try anything, she bought some. When I got home that evening Ms. Pikachu asked me if I’d bought it, “That’s nasty stuff Dad.” Okay, I’ve been warned.
When Super Mom got home later she recounted her conversation of how it was recommended, and said I should have some. Do I look inflamed to you? Whatever I need, cherry juice probably isn’t the answer. I drank some anyway, because it was my husbandly duty. Duty, Honor, Super Wife.
The stuff is as thick as syrup and it’s like drinking cherry pie filling- we’re talking Verry Cherry, quite tart, intense. It’s not the kind of stuff where you say, “Barkeep, I’ll have another, and make it a double.” No, this is sippin’ juice, or lickin’, because it IS that thick. But it would probably be good to cook with. Putting it in a chocolate cake might be wonderful.
Anyway, when we had lunch today I poured the kids a Sprite. I thought a little cherry juice might make it “punchy” so I got it out. Ms. Pikachu saw it and yelled, yes yelled, “Not in mine, that stuff is evil!” I put some in mine, tried it, and thought it quite tasty.
I asked her if she’d just like to have a sip to try it, “Uh uh, get that stuff away from me.” I offered it to Super Wife, she liked it. I said, “See, I like it, and your Mom likes it.” That got an adamant “You two are freaks.” “Well, then that would explain YOU.” My but we have fun.
Where was Train Boy in all this? Supplying background sound effects. He seemed to spend every available moment putting both wrists together, then blowing against them to make farting noises. Apparently he was sound editor on a reality show where flatulence was the punch line to everything. On the way home from church? Farting noises. Sitting at the table to eat? Farting noises. Oddly enough, the only time he didn’t make farting noises was when he was in the bathroom.
My Dad probably would have known what to do, but I didn’t. All the noise had my nerves on edge, I was stressed. Don’t explode, don’t say something to regret. So, what to do? In desperation I put on my best Wise Father Knows Best demeanor and said, “You know, if you keep doing that, some day you’re really going to fart like that, and nobody is going to believe you.” That got a laugh, and that was the last of the day’s farting effects. Being a parent often isn’t what you expected at all.
-
I had a nice moment today, Sunday. Super Wife showed me a questionaire that Ms. Pikachu had done at school. One of the things was "Most Admired Person." Yup, she wrote, "My dad." Apparently that's what I get for giving her chocolate when she craves it. Everybody has their price, you just need to know the currency.
This evening I told Super Wife that we should do something for Train Boy's birthday. With Ms. Pikachu it was always a big 'something.' I told her that maybe on his birthday we could take him and his friend Benjamin to Chuck E Cheese. She thought that wouldn't work- his birthday is on Wednesday, and Ms. Pikachu has Youth Group on Wednesday nights. I said that's ok, she doesn't want to go to Chuck E Cheese anymore anyway. Just taking the boys would be fine, and it would be a special day for Train Boy. So will you call Benjamin's mom and ask? "Not today, tomorrow." Why not? It's only nine o-clock on a Sunday evening, do you have reason to suspect they're normal? Well, at least I tried.
It wasn't much of a Sunday, almost ninety degrees and I mowed the lawn. Sweat City. The Super Wife is happy to have the lawn cut as short as the neighbor's, so it was worth it. Admittedly, a rancher asked about grazing rights, so maybe it did need a cutting. So she was happy about the lawn, but not for long.
She talked to her sister to find out how their Mom is doing and was told that now Clare has a bacterial blood infection. As if enough hasn't happened already. Super Nurse is just sure the infection was caused by sloppy procedure on the part of Clare's nurses. They routinely disconnect the PICC line to make their work easier. The problem is that every time they disconnect the line it's another risk of infection. Do it a lot, and infection almost becomes a certainty. Super Nurse says that where she works PICC lines are only disconnected if absolutely necessary, and then they're swabbed with disinfectant for at least thirty seconds. At the hospital the nurses just give it a quick wipe and slap it together. Super Nurse is REALLY NOT HAPPY. Tomorrow she's going to drive back and talk to the nurse manager about their lack of sterile procedure and unacceptable PICC line protocol. Oh, to be a fly on the wall.
I have a feeling that by the time Clare is out of there Super Nurse will have made her impact felt on the whole hospital. She told me she was considering calling JCAHO and explaining the situation to them. Conceivably, that would result in the American Hospital Association auditing the hospital for proper procedure protocols. While I understand her anger over this happening, calling JCAHO is like retaliating with the nuclear option. Are you sure you want to do that FIRST?
She's really not happy though. She said some of the nurses don't belong in an ICU. The ICU should be the nursing cream and she thinks some of the nurses would hardly be acceptable in a skilled unit, and marginally tolerable in a general medical unit. She's slow to say anything bad about anybody, so it says something about how she perceives things there. Some of the nurses have been outstanding, the quality has just been maddeningly uneven. Why yes, Super Nurse SHOULD be a nurse manager.
Earlier today Ms. Pikachu was demanding that we take her out and let her drive something. Super Mom has done this in the past- she'd go a business that was closed and let Ms. Pikachu drive around the parking lot. She's getting antsy, she wants to drive NOW.
Super Mom is still having wrist and shoulder pain. She was discussing that with someone she knows and the other woman suggested that cherry juice can be helpful in reducing inflammation. So, tired enough of the pain to try anything, she bought some. When I got home that evening Ms. Pikachu asked me if I’d bought it, “That’s nasty stuff Dad.” Okay, I’ve been warned.
When Super Mom got home later she recounted her conversation of how it was recommended, and said I should have some. Do I look inflamed to you? Whatever I need, cherry juice probably isn’t the answer. I drank some anyway, because it was my husbandly duty. Duty, Honor, Super Wife.
The stuff is as thick as syrup and it’s like drinking cherry pie filling- we’re talking Verry Cherry, quite tart, intense. It’s not the kind of stuff where you say, “Barkeep, I’ll have another, and make it a double.” No, this is sippin’ juice, or lickin’, because it IS that thick. But it would probably be good to cook with. Putting it in a chocolate cake might be wonderful.
Anyway, when we had lunch today I poured the kids a Sprite. I thought a little cherry juice might make it “punchy” so I got it out. Ms. Pikachu saw it and yelled, yes yelled, “Not in mine, that stuff is evil!” I put some in mine, tried it, and thought it quite tasty.
I asked her if she’d just like to have a sip to try it, “Uh uh, get that stuff away from me.” I offered it to Super Wife, she liked it. I said, “See, I like it, and your Mom likes it.” That got an adamant “You two are freaks.” “Well, then that would explain YOU.” My but we have fun.
Where was Train Boy in all this? Supplying background sound effects. He seemed to spend every available moment putting both wrists together, then blowing against them to make farting noises. Apparently he was sound editor on a reality show where flatulence was the punch line to everything. On the way home from church? Farting noises. Sitting at the table to eat? Farting noises. Oddly enough, the only time he didn’t make farting noises was when he was in the bathroom.
My Dad probably would have known what to do, but I didn’t. All the noise had my nerves on edge, I was stressed. Don’t explode, don’t say something to regret. So, what to do? In desperation I put on my best Wise Father Knows Best demeanor and said, “You know, if you keep doing that, some day you’re really going to fart like that, and nobody is going to believe you.” That got a laugh, and that was the last of the day’s farting effects. Being a parent often isn’t what you expected at all.
-
Friday, June 10, 2005
6/10
While she was there they moved Clare to some other area for some reason, I don't remember the specifics of that. However, when they were moving her Super Nurse saw that the transport person wasn't watching the IV lines. One of the lines went taut. She told him to stop. The transporter stopped and asked why. I think she kept pushing to get some slack in the lines. She told him that the lines were taut. He said "no they aren't, just look at them." Oy. Then some other tech chimed in with 'no, those lines are too long to have been pulled taut.' Super Nurse said, 'look, those two lines are fine, but that third line is shorter, and it WAS stretched as far as it could go.'
Her biggest concern wasn't that it was an IV line. It was the PICC line- an IV that's actually threaded well into an artery. It takes a doctor to do one. Having one pull out would be terribly bloody and would mean having to do the procedure again somewhere else.
After the hair atrocity, the near IV incident really stressed Patricia. She tries so hard to make sure everything goes right, putting up with the incompetents really wears on her. She does her job well, she expects others to also.
While she was there they moved Clare to some other area for some reason, I don't remember the specifics of that. However, when they were moving her Super Nurse saw that the transport person wasn't watching the IV lines. One of the lines went taut. She told him to stop. The transporter stopped and asked why. I think she kept pushing to get some slack in the lines. She told him that the lines were taut. He said "no they aren't, just look at them." Oy. Then some other tech chimed in with 'no, those lines are too long to have been pulled taut.' Super Nurse said, 'look, those two lines are fine, but that third line is shorter, and it WAS stretched as far as it could go.'
Her biggest concern wasn't that it was an IV line. It was the PICC line- an IV that's actually threaded well into an artery. It takes a doctor to do one. Having one pull out would be terribly bloody and would mean having to do the procedure again somewhere else.
After the hair atrocity, the near IV incident really stressed Patricia. She tries so hard to make sure everything goes right, putting up with the incompetents really wears on her. She does her job well, she expects others to also.
6/10
Super Nurse was in Davenport. I figured I was eating by myself, and rather than have another burger I stopped at Hy-Vee and picked up some Chinese that we normally don't get. And two sides of pea salad and broccoli salad. If I ate all that I'd be ready to hibernate.
I'd just finished my chinese when who walks in but Train Boy, followed by Ms. Pikachu. "Hey, you did smell Chinese. You've got a pretty good nose! Dad you have to feed us." Apparently they didn't want to spend another day blowing time in a hospital lounge and Super Mom let them stay home. Well alrighty then, feed you I shall. So it was back to Hy-Vee for more Chinese.
When Super Nurse finally got home she was not happy. Due to her Mom being in a bed for the past several weeks her hair had gotten quite entangled. The day before, Tawnia, Super Wife’s sister, had said she would show up early the next morning to straighten it out. When Tawnia got there bright and early yesterday there was hair everywhere- all over Clare, all over the bed, all over the floor. She now has a large bald spot on the back of her head.
Super Nurse told the doctor she was not happy. The doctor tried to defend the nurse that did it. Super Nurse said, there was hair all over, it could get in the chest cavity and cause more infection. The doctor said, but it's a closed dressing, that won't happen. She said ‘it opened last week, it could open again, this is not acceptable.’ The doctor tried to put the best face on it, but she thought that actually he was as mad about it as she was. The last thing he wants is to have to deal with another nasty infection. The fallout could be interesting.
I told her that I didn't think that was the work of a concerned nurse. Anybody cutting hair wouldn't make that kind of a mess, or do it that badly. My guess is that it was a nurse they'd complained about getting even. It wasn't a haircut, it was an act of violence.
Super Nurse was in Davenport. I figured I was eating by myself, and rather than have another burger I stopped at Hy-Vee and picked up some Chinese that we normally don't get. And two sides of pea salad and broccoli salad. If I ate all that I'd be ready to hibernate.
I'd just finished my chinese when who walks in but Train Boy, followed by Ms. Pikachu. "Hey, you did smell Chinese. You've got a pretty good nose! Dad you have to feed us." Apparently they didn't want to spend another day blowing time in a hospital lounge and Super Mom let them stay home. Well alrighty then, feed you I shall. So it was back to Hy-Vee for more Chinese.
When Super Nurse finally got home she was not happy. Due to her Mom being in a bed for the past several weeks her hair had gotten quite entangled. The day before, Tawnia, Super Wife’s sister, had said she would show up early the next morning to straighten it out. When Tawnia got there bright and early yesterday there was hair everywhere- all over Clare, all over the bed, all over the floor. She now has a large bald spot on the back of her head.
Super Nurse told the doctor she was not happy. The doctor tried to defend the nurse that did it. Super Nurse said, there was hair all over, it could get in the chest cavity and cause more infection. The doctor said, but it's a closed dressing, that won't happen. She said ‘it opened last week, it could open again, this is not acceptable.’ The doctor tried to put the best face on it, but she thought that actually he was as mad about it as she was. The last thing he wants is to have to deal with another nasty infection. The fallout could be interesting.
I told her that I didn't think that was the work of a concerned nurse. Anybody cutting hair wouldn't make that kind of a mess, or do it that badly. My guess is that it was a nurse they'd complained about getting even. It wasn't a haircut, it was an act of violence.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
6-7-2005 II
The wife informed me she saw her wrist surgeon today. She’s healing, but still having pain. The most pain is in her shoulder and back though.
The shoulder/back pain started in January after an ice storm. While I was at work the Super Wife got out a ladder and started swinging a hammer at the ice damns growing on the roof. She did that for hours. When I got home she told me her shoulder hurt, and I said, “I’ll bet it’s a rotator cuff injury.” But I’m not a doctor. We all know that, but that won’t make me shut up.
Anyway, a few weeks ago she went to see our family physician about it. She thought it was probably a neck injury. Huh, what? She ordered an MRI and… she has three prolapsed discs in her neck. So the doctor was right after all. Treatment has been an anti-inflammatory/pain medication, but it hasn’t helped. Motrin works better.
Anyway, today when she saw the hand surgeon she asked him about her shoulder again. He pulled her arm back and asked if that hurt. Why, yes it did. “Rotator cuff.” So tomorrow she goes to see a physical therapist. And I was right too. Not that I’m pleased with myself, it seemed like an obvious call to me anyway. But I WAS right too.
When she made her appointment they said she could do the initial consult form on the web. Cool. It works for me. I love the web. Oddly enough, in Internet Explorer it said it couldn’t download the form. I tried twice, same result both times. So I started up Opera just to see if there was a difference. Indeed there was, it downloaded the form without any problem at all. It was a pleasant surprise, and prevented much wailing and gnashing of teeth.
If you don’t have Opera, and would like to try it you can get it here:
http://portal.opera.com/
What can I say? It works.
The wife informed me she saw her wrist surgeon today. She’s healing, but still having pain. The most pain is in her shoulder and back though.
The shoulder/back pain started in January after an ice storm. While I was at work the Super Wife got out a ladder and started swinging a hammer at the ice damns growing on the roof. She did that for hours. When I got home she told me her shoulder hurt, and I said, “I’ll bet it’s a rotator cuff injury.” But I’m not a doctor. We all know that, but that won’t make me shut up.
Anyway, a few weeks ago she went to see our family physician about it. She thought it was probably a neck injury. Huh, what? She ordered an MRI and… she has three prolapsed discs in her neck. So the doctor was right after all. Treatment has been an anti-inflammatory/pain medication, but it hasn’t helped. Motrin works better.
Anyway, today when she saw the hand surgeon she asked him about her shoulder again. He pulled her arm back and asked if that hurt. Why, yes it did. “Rotator cuff.” So tomorrow she goes to see a physical therapist. And I was right too. Not that I’m pleased with myself, it seemed like an obvious call to me anyway. But I WAS right too.
When she made her appointment they said she could do the initial consult form on the web. Cool. It works for me. I love the web. Oddly enough, in Internet Explorer it said it couldn’t download the form. I tried twice, same result both times. So I started up Opera just to see if there was a difference. Indeed there was, it downloaded the form without any problem at all. It was a pleasant surprise, and prevented much wailing and gnashing of teeth.
If you don’t have Opera, and would like to try it you can get it here:
http://portal.opera.com/
What can I say? It works.
When I got home this evening Super Wife and the kids were gone to Davenport again. She's said before that she couldn't go back every day because it was just too exhausting. But I think the thrill of getting 40 mpg gets her excited to go. "I'm saving money on gas! Whoo Hoo!"
Last night she said she'd topped off the tank before she left, and after the round trip the gauge had hardly budged. She's quite pleased with her choice.
I'm a little surprised. She still complains that her wrists hurt. The Honda is a manual 5-speed- you'd think all the shifting would aggravate it, especially since she has to shift with the wrist that had surgery. But apparently she's coping quite well. Maybe Honda’s have therapeutic properties. Feng Shui anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
I guess if she's driving back and forth to Davenport it only makes sense for her to drive the Honda. If we give the Intrepid to my brother Ron that will mean I'm driving the van to work. I still like our van, but for passing on the interstate, etc, the Intrepid is a better driving machine. It’s not that the van is a bad thing. I've looked at other vans, but I haven't seen any other that is as nice as ours. Even the newer Caravans, same ES model, aren't as nice. Apparently we got the best year. I just wish the air in it worked, even a 15-minute drive home is uncomfortable in 90 degree heat and no air. I've noticed other, older Caravans being driven with the windows down too, no doubt about it, the air conditioners were junk. Supposedly they've gotten better since the merger with Daimler, but that doesn't do ME any good. I’m going to refrain from going on a rant about why does it take someone from a foreign company to decide an American company shouldn’t make junk? Maybe later. I dunno.
Ms. Pikachu doesn't want to get rid of the van anyway. She says it has her special place. I told her she can always claim the seat behind the driver as her special place, but she says it's the SEAT that's special. So can we keep the seat? You think you've heard it all. It's not an issue anyway, we'll keep the van until it has chronic problems too. I have a feeling it'll turn to rust first.
I'll miss the Intrepid's performance. Coming home this evening I had to merge into a line of traffic and hit the gas to get to a gap. Boom. Man that thing hauls when you ask it to. The Honda can't do that, but it can pass twice as many gas stations. I appreciate that, but I like to go fast too. Sometimes that’s handy.
This afternoon at work, my boss was gone and George came up to see if there was anybody waiting to be interviewed. Well no, I had matters well in hand, thank you very much. Did about 70 interviews today. No applause, no, thank you. But it WAS a good performance on my part. Anyway, it was about two minutes to closing, nobody was left up front to wait on, I was talking to Don, the guard. George said, somewhat in jest, "We're close enough Don, why don't you lock the door?" Don said, "Alright." Then he turned to me and said, "Now you heard him, he told me to lock the door early." I said, "I sure did Don, I'm behind you 100%. But if George ever says he didn't tell you that, I'm going to forget this conversation ever happened. Remember, in a world where it's survival of the fittest, chickens are still extremely plentiful." He laughed and gave me his 'where does that sh-t come from?' look. George clucked like a chicken. I was surprised he didn't say something like "Chicken? Thems good eatin.'" Anyway, it was a moment.
I do crap like that and I can't help but think, yeah, that's where Ms. Pikachu gets it.
Anyway, since nobody was home when I got here, I perused the note on the fridge about things needed. And, always trying to please, I went to Wally World to get them. On the way home I stopped at the Long John Silver’s drive-thru. I ordered, and then the voice in the magic talking box asked if I wanted pie with that. Well no, I didn’t, but I have a daughter with a thing for pie. There was no pie menu, so- “What kinds do you have?” The magic box spoke of many wondrous things, but “chocolate” caught my ear. Chocolate is Ms. Pikachu’s favorite. I kind of hated to order it, because that only encourages their selling behavior, on the other hand, it WOULD make her happy.
Okay, everybody is home. The mother-in-law was actually whispering today. The wife is pleased, again.
Ms. Pikachu walked in and said, “Here, you can have the rest of my Dr Pepper and Milk Duds- the ultimate in snackage” and handed them to me. Either I am greatly favored, or she was just pigged out.
A little later I called her into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Pancakes?” she queried. Where does that come from? She looked inside the fridge, saw the piece of chocolate pie I’d gotten her- “Pie!” she exclaimed. She walked back into the living room yelling in exultation, “I’m having pie for breakfast!” Yup, she’s special.
Last night she said she'd topped off the tank before she left, and after the round trip the gauge had hardly budged. She's quite pleased with her choice.
I'm a little surprised. She still complains that her wrists hurt. The Honda is a manual 5-speed- you'd think all the shifting would aggravate it, especially since she has to shift with the wrist that had surgery. But apparently she's coping quite well. Maybe Honda’s have therapeutic properties. Feng Shui anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
I guess if she's driving back and forth to Davenport it only makes sense for her to drive the Honda. If we give the Intrepid to my brother Ron that will mean I'm driving the van to work. I still like our van, but for passing on the interstate, etc, the Intrepid is a better driving machine. It’s not that the van is a bad thing. I've looked at other vans, but I haven't seen any other that is as nice as ours. Even the newer Caravans, same ES model, aren't as nice. Apparently we got the best year. I just wish the air in it worked, even a 15-minute drive home is uncomfortable in 90 degree heat and no air. I've noticed other, older Caravans being driven with the windows down too, no doubt about it, the air conditioners were junk. Supposedly they've gotten better since the merger with Daimler, but that doesn't do ME any good. I’m going to refrain from going on a rant about why does it take someone from a foreign company to decide an American company shouldn’t make junk? Maybe later. I dunno.
Ms. Pikachu doesn't want to get rid of the van anyway. She says it has her special place. I told her she can always claim the seat behind the driver as her special place, but she says it's the SEAT that's special. So can we keep the seat? You think you've heard it all. It's not an issue anyway, we'll keep the van until it has chronic problems too. I have a feeling it'll turn to rust first.
I'll miss the Intrepid's performance. Coming home this evening I had to merge into a line of traffic and hit the gas to get to a gap. Boom. Man that thing hauls when you ask it to. The Honda can't do that, but it can pass twice as many gas stations. I appreciate that, but I like to go fast too. Sometimes that’s handy.
This afternoon at work, my boss was gone and George came up to see if there was anybody waiting to be interviewed. Well no, I had matters well in hand, thank you very much. Did about 70 interviews today. No applause, no, thank you. But it WAS a good performance on my part. Anyway, it was about two minutes to closing, nobody was left up front to wait on, I was talking to Don, the guard. George said, somewhat in jest, "We're close enough Don, why don't you lock the door?" Don said, "Alright." Then he turned to me and said, "Now you heard him, he told me to lock the door early." I said, "I sure did Don, I'm behind you 100%. But if George ever says he didn't tell you that, I'm going to forget this conversation ever happened. Remember, in a world where it's survival of the fittest, chickens are still extremely plentiful." He laughed and gave me his 'where does that sh-t come from?' look. George clucked like a chicken. I was surprised he didn't say something like "Chicken? Thems good eatin.'" Anyway, it was a moment.
I do crap like that and I can't help but think, yeah, that's where Ms. Pikachu gets it.
Anyway, since nobody was home when I got here, I perused the note on the fridge about things needed. And, always trying to please, I went to Wally World to get them. On the way home I stopped at the Long John Silver’s drive-thru. I ordered, and then the voice in the magic talking box asked if I wanted pie with that. Well no, I didn’t, but I have a daughter with a thing for pie. There was no pie menu, so- “What kinds do you have?” The magic box spoke of many wondrous things, but “chocolate” caught my ear. Chocolate is Ms. Pikachu’s favorite. I kind of hated to order it, because that only encourages their selling behavior, on the other hand, it WOULD make her happy.
Okay, everybody is home. The mother-in-law was actually whispering today. The wife is pleased, again.
Ms. Pikachu walked in and said, “Here, you can have the rest of my Dr Pepper and Milk Duds- the ultimate in snackage” and handed them to me. Either I am greatly favored, or she was just pigged out.
A little later I called her into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Pancakes?” she queried. Where does that come from? She looked inside the fridge, saw the piece of chocolate pie I’d gotten her- “Pie!” she exclaimed. She walked back into the living room yelling in exultation, “I’m having pie for breakfast!” Yup, she’s special.
Friday, May 27, 2005
As scheduled, I left work early yesterday. I stopped by the house on the way to Trainboy’s school and I wasn’t here more than a couple of minutes and Super Nurse walked in.
The powwow with the doctors went better than expected. The Mother-In-Law, is still fighting a nasty infection so she’s still running a temperature. However, her elevated white cell count is going down and that would indicate her body is winning. Her kidneys are still working fine so the swelling is going down and it shouldn’t be much longer that they’ll be able to wire her chest together and close her up for good.
Also, she can be lucid enough to help the physical therapist, so the lights are still on. Super Nurse was happy.
Then we were off to Trainboy’s school. He seemed pleased to see both of us there. When we looked through his scrapbook I was surprised that the things mentioned most were Wal-Mart and the cruise. I had no idea the cruise was that big a deal for him, or that he’d remember it, but he had at least three mentions of it.
Super Mom mentioned to me that when she took Joshua to school that morning he’d commented on the bird droppings on the window and said the van needed to be washed. When we got home the kids didn’t want to go look for a TV and eat out, they wanted to stay home. For how long it might take that would probably be best, so okay, stay home. Super Wife fed the kids and we were gone.
The first stop was to get gas, and a car wash to offend the offensive bird doo. Then we stopped at Taco Johns. After she finished her chicken taco she helped me eat my taco salad. It was kind of romantic. That made me happy.
Then it was on to Best Buy. We liked a Samsung, exceptional picture, but it was too big. The next smaller size was on sale, but they didn’t even have one on display. Okay, fine, we’ll keep it in mind.
Then it was across the street to Ultimate Electronics. The chain is going out of business and it only took a minute to see why. Everything was supposed to have “prices slashed!” But it was still more expensive than Best Buy. And we are out of there.
Then it was on to K-Mart. Nothing. On to Target. Nothing. On to Wal-Mart to look at the Philips again. They also carry a nice Sanyo 32-inch, it’s gotten rave reviews, but it’s not even an issue- they’re still out of stock. Then I got diplomatic, or devious, depending on how you look at it.
Time for a little background- When our Sams membership expired earlier this year she said we shouldn’t renew it because it wasn’t worth it. I pointed out that it WAS worth it if we spent at least $500 there per year, and we easily did that. She still didn’t want to pay the $30. Alright, fine. I paid it when she wasn’t around and didn’t dare tell her. Am I going to admit that? I don’t think so. I told her they don’t check to see if the card is current when you go in, so we could still go in and check the prices. She agreed it was a good idea. So to Sams we went, because I gotta look, I have to be sure.
Up until then the leading TV was a wide-screen 16:9 30-inch Philips at Wal-Mart. Sams also had a Philips, but it was 32-inch and in 4:3. I prefer the 16:9, they just look cooler. However, I’d brought along a tape measure, so measure I did. The tube was an inch narrower than the 30-inch, but it was 4 inches taller. So the current broadcast TV would be noticeably bigger, and in letterbox it would be about the same as the 30-inch widescreen, for about $30 less. That appealed to Thrifty Wife, even though it was a silver case instead of black. It worked for me, I prefer silver. So I got a flat bed cart and quickly discovered it was going to be a bitch to move.
We got it checked out using my Sams card with no problems. I wasn’t going to tempt God by declaring it a miracle. Keep moving, keep moving, nothing to see here folks, keep it moving. I got a kid to help load it into the van and it fit nice and snug, just like I knew it would- because, I had the tape measure. You don’t have to be a Boy Scout to be prepared.
When we got home I went next door to get The Handyman to help unload it. At around 150 pounds there was no way Patricia could help with her bad wrists. When he saw the box he said “36-incher?” “No, 32.” He proudly said he’d bought a new TV also, and he bought a 36-incher. No doubt about it, guys are obsessed with size. But I was not embarrassed, because I know that it’s not the size that’s really important. At least that’s what the wife tells me. At any rate I consoled myself with the almost certain knowledge that he might have 36 inches, but it probably isn’t HDTV, because THAT would be an expensive set. Even so, I didn’t ask, because it might be better not to know. Not that I’m petty. I’m just a guy.
The Handyman helped carry it inside, and it just squeezed through the door. We thanked him and he returned to whatever we’d interrupted, and I didn’t ask about that either. Then we unboxed it and called Ms. Pikachul down to help move it. On our first attempt she declared in exasperation, “Dad, I’m brains, not brawn!” Not to mention always good for a laugh. We slid it over to the entertainment center. I hooked the wires to it because moving it around after we got it in the hole wasn’t going to happen. Then into the hole it went with an inch to spare on the sides, finished hooking it up, turned it on, and my what a picture it was.
Thrifty Wife didn’t want to spend the money, but considering our last set lasted 12 years, if this one lasts as long then on a yearly basis it’s not that bad. Especially for the improvement in the picture it’s not that bad.
Ms. Pikachu can hardly wait to plug a game console into it. Trainboy will certainly like seeing ‘Spongebob’ and ‘Ed, Edd and Eddie’ bigger than ever. Everybody is probably going to be happy with this one.
BTW, the link for our latest distraction is
http://www.samsclub.com/eclub/main_shopping.jsp?BV_UseBVCookie=yes&n=0&mt=a&coe=0&oidPath=0:-23542:-23589:-24298:-25204:917068
The powwow with the doctors went better than expected. The Mother-In-Law, is still fighting a nasty infection so she’s still running a temperature. However, her elevated white cell count is going down and that would indicate her body is winning. Her kidneys are still working fine so the swelling is going down and it shouldn’t be much longer that they’ll be able to wire her chest together and close her up for good.
Also, she can be lucid enough to help the physical therapist, so the lights are still on. Super Nurse was happy.
Then we were off to Trainboy’s school. He seemed pleased to see both of us there. When we looked through his scrapbook I was surprised that the things mentioned most were Wal-Mart and the cruise. I had no idea the cruise was that big a deal for him, or that he’d remember it, but he had at least three mentions of it.
Super Mom mentioned to me that when she took Joshua to school that morning he’d commented on the bird droppings on the window and said the van needed to be washed. When we got home the kids didn’t want to go look for a TV and eat out, they wanted to stay home. For how long it might take that would probably be best, so okay, stay home. Super Wife fed the kids and we were gone.
The first stop was to get gas, and a car wash to offend the offensive bird doo. Then we stopped at Taco Johns. After she finished her chicken taco she helped me eat my taco salad. It was kind of romantic. That made me happy.
Then it was on to Best Buy. We liked a Samsung, exceptional picture, but it was too big. The next smaller size was on sale, but they didn’t even have one on display. Okay, fine, we’ll keep it in mind.
Then it was across the street to Ultimate Electronics. The chain is going out of business and it only took a minute to see why. Everything was supposed to have “prices slashed!” But it was still more expensive than Best Buy. And we are out of there.
Then it was on to K-Mart. Nothing. On to Target. Nothing. On to Wal-Mart to look at the Philips again. They also carry a nice Sanyo 32-inch, it’s gotten rave reviews, but it’s not even an issue- they’re still out of stock. Then I got diplomatic, or devious, depending on how you look at it.
Time for a little background- When our Sams membership expired earlier this year she said we shouldn’t renew it because it wasn’t worth it. I pointed out that it WAS worth it if we spent at least $500 there per year, and we easily did that. She still didn’t want to pay the $30. Alright, fine. I paid it when she wasn’t around and didn’t dare tell her. Am I going to admit that? I don’t think so. I told her they don’t check to see if the card is current when you go in, so we could still go in and check the prices. She agreed it was a good idea. So to Sams we went, because I gotta look, I have to be sure.
Up until then the leading TV was a wide-screen 16:9 30-inch Philips at Wal-Mart. Sams also had a Philips, but it was 32-inch and in 4:3. I prefer the 16:9, they just look cooler. However, I’d brought along a tape measure, so measure I did. The tube was an inch narrower than the 30-inch, but it was 4 inches taller. So the current broadcast TV would be noticeably bigger, and in letterbox it would be about the same as the 30-inch widescreen, for about $30 less. That appealed to Thrifty Wife, even though it was a silver case instead of black. It worked for me, I prefer silver. So I got a flat bed cart and quickly discovered it was going to be a bitch to move.
We got it checked out using my Sams card with no problems. I wasn’t going to tempt God by declaring it a miracle. Keep moving, keep moving, nothing to see here folks, keep it moving. I got a kid to help load it into the van and it fit nice and snug, just like I knew it would- because, I had the tape measure. You don’t have to be a Boy Scout to be prepared.
When we got home I went next door to get The Handyman to help unload it. At around 150 pounds there was no way Patricia could help with her bad wrists. When he saw the box he said “36-incher?” “No, 32.” He proudly said he’d bought a new TV also, and he bought a 36-incher. No doubt about it, guys are obsessed with size. But I was not embarrassed, because I know that it’s not the size that’s really important. At least that’s what the wife tells me. At any rate I consoled myself with the almost certain knowledge that he might have 36 inches, but it probably isn’t HDTV, because THAT would be an expensive set. Even so, I didn’t ask, because it might be better not to know. Not that I’m petty. I’m just a guy.
The Handyman helped carry it inside, and it just squeezed through the door. We thanked him and he returned to whatever we’d interrupted, and I didn’t ask about that either. Then we unboxed it and called Ms. Pikachul down to help move it. On our first attempt she declared in exasperation, “Dad, I’m brains, not brawn!” Not to mention always good for a laugh. We slid it over to the entertainment center. I hooked the wires to it because moving it around after we got it in the hole wasn’t going to happen. Then into the hole it went with an inch to spare on the sides, finished hooking it up, turned it on, and my what a picture it was.
Thrifty Wife didn’t want to spend the money, but considering our last set lasted 12 years, if this one lasts as long then on a yearly basis it’s not that bad. Especially for the improvement in the picture it’s not that bad.
Ms. Pikachu can hardly wait to plug a game console into it. Trainboy will certainly like seeing ‘Spongebob’ and ‘Ed, Edd and Eddie’ bigger than ever. Everybody is probably going to be happy with this one.
BTW, the link for our latest distraction is
http://www.samsclub.com/eclub/main_shopping.jsp?BV_UseBVCookie=yes&n=0&mt=a&coe=0&oidPath=0:-23542:-23589:-24298:-25204:917068
Friday, April 22, 2005
This morning was another appointment with a neurosurgeon at University of Iowa. It turned out the guy I used to see took a job in Nebraska. I had a new guy. He started asking questions about my ailment’s history. I answered as best I could, but the history questions always bother me. I always feel like, I answered these questions the last time I was here when I was having problems, do you really expect me to remember them? Don’t you have the records right in front of you? If they aren’t any help shouldn’t your records be better? Not that I ever say it. So I just said, “Sorry, but I’m a lousy historian.” He replied, “I can see that.” Sometimes delivery is everything. That could have been a nasty backhand. Instead it was good for a smile. I liked the guy right there.
They set up a laptop computer next to the desktop terminal so they could compare the MRI films more easily. “Films” is really a misnomer now. Whoever does the original films just scans them to a CD. It makes sense. The original films can’t be lost, and the CD’s can be shipped at a fraction of the price. Incredibly, they were going to let me look at the films while they reviewed them. Oh boy, oh boy.
So he was paging through the films, and making comments on what he was seeing. He pointed out how on one you could plainly see how the optic nerve was being stretched. Then he asked if I was having any trouble seeing out of my right eye. I told him it’s still a problem that it points at my nose, but if I get it pointed at something it still sees okay. I can still read with it. He was surprised, considering how much tension the nerve is under.
When he got to one, apparently believing I’d learned enough to have some idea of what I was seeing; he asked me what I thought. I said it looked like a significant change. He agreed. It was a pretty easy call. Looking at the image was enough to make me sick. That was my brain, and it was obvious something was terribly wrong… again. And I could see it coming.
I hadn’t expected that much difference. When I’d gone to Mayo, and seen the guys at UIHC a year ago, they both said that yes, there’d been a little change, but surgery was to be avoided, radiation was the way to go.
Even as a layman, what I’d just seen on the films was a tumor fairly screaming, “I’m baack!”
The surgeon said he really didn’t understand why radiation was ever done. It was a patchwork procedure that didn’t address the real problem. Huh, what? But a year ago the surgeons were saying surgery bad… baaaad. Scar tissue makes another surgery baaaad. And this guy is saying- there’s really no alternative, you can see it on the films. It’s big; it has to be reduced again. Since it grew upwards instead of forwards the surgery won’t be in the same place. Scar tissue won’t be an issue. Finally, a guy who will tell it to me straight.
I asked him what would happen if I put off the surgery till later. He said, “You’ll start to have trouble with stumbling due to your left foot. Eventually your left foot will start to drag. You won’t be able to look down with your right eye. And you’ll start to have vision problems with it, possibly blindness.”
So I asked him if the surgery would alleviate the numbness on the right side of the face. He said no, the radiation was to kill the nerve, there’s no bringing it back. Then I asked, "Will the surgery regain the movement in my right eye?" He said almost certainly not. The nerve has been stretched and compressed for so long it will probably never recover.
Apparently the radiation stopped the pain, but at the price of half my face going numb, the one opportunity to correct my eye was lost, and apparently I’m about to join the unstoppable droolers and nasal drip club. And it only postponed another surgery by about a year. If I’d seen the films a year ago I don’t think I would have done the radiation. I would have said, “What about that stretched optic nerve? How long are you going to put off dealing with that?” Crap. Where was this guy when I needed him? But better late than never.
I can’t end a post in this much misery and desperation. How about … we revisit the family?
This morning the SuperNurse was back at work. That left Ms. Pikachu to wake me up. She’s as ruthless about it as her mother. Is that nature or nurture? It’s hard to tell, and they aren’t telling. It could be either the Mother/Daughter thing, or part of the larger Feminine Conspiracy, but again they aren’t telling. I’ll bet they even have a secret handshake.
Anyway. After Ms. Pikachu had her bowl of whatever I drove her and her friends to school. About as soon as I got in the parking lot they said it was good, they were fine, they could walk the rest of the way. I stopped, and I started to do my best parental whine, “Are you sure? It’s so far, I could drive you the rest of the way.” It was all of maybe a hundred feet. They smiled and said, no, no, it was okay and they got out.
When I got home I woke up the Trainboy. He got dressed, and when he got downstairs I told him he had a choice of oatmeal or eggs for breakfast. He chose eggs, scrambled eggs. Well alrighty then.
Along time ago when the earth was green, lived more kinds of animals than you’ve ever seen…. Forget that, it wasn’t that long ago, and St Patrick’s Day is already by. Anyway, I remembered that I used to like scrambled eggs from a recipe in one of Mother’s cookbooks. It called for Cream of Chicken soup instead of milk and… that’s all I remember of it. But that’s enough. That’s the important part.
So I went to the pantry and looked for a can of Cream of Anything and found a can of Cream of Herbed Chicken. Works for me, or at least it’s going to work for him. I broke two eggs into a bowl, spooned a dollop of the stuff into it and beat it all with a fork. Then it was nuke, stir, nuke, stir, nuke, and stir. And may I just say right here- scrambled eggs are one of the things microwaves do best. There is no point in risking scorching if you have a microwave handy.
Then I brought them in to Trainboy. I was a bit apprehensive because he’s such a picky eater. It’s one thing he gets from me. He was a bit apprehensive himself, but took a bite. “Do you like them?” “What did you put in them? Pepper?” “Nope, chicken soup.” He liked them. He ate it all. Then I drove him to school. I asked him if he’d like me to pick him up with the tandem bike trailer. He said yes. Well alrighty then.
Then I was off to get my MRI cd’s and had the above-mentioned episode.
Shortly after I got home I headed off for the walk to Ms’ Pikachu’s school, and there she was- already only a block away from home. She was walking with the friend she usually does.
That meant there was plenty of time to hook up the tandem trailer to the bike. So I hooked it up and away I went. When I got there I waited by the door Trainboy comes out of. While waiting, several kids gathered around, looked at the tandem, and I heard, “Cool” several times.
One little girl asked if she could have a ride. That was tempting, but I wondered if the teachers would approve, or the child’s parents would approve. So I said, sorry, but I’m waiting for my son.
When the bike leaned over I knew he was climbing on. He always gets on by putting the left pedal down to step on it. You’d think he was getting on a horse. I could tell he was pleased. And away we went.
We went to the gas station to air up the tires since I couldn’t find our own pump. We got them aired up, and we back-tracked by his school, which was the long way home. He was happy on his trailer, and if it made him happy to be seen by the other students I could indulge him that much.
When we got home the SuperNurse was still SuperNursing and she was going to work till 9. So we had to decide what to do for supper. I asked Trainboy and got, “How about those scrambled eggs you made?” He likes them, he really likes them. But I’ve got two kids to feed, and we need to agree on something.
Ms. Pikachu wanted pizza again. No, we did that yesterday, try again. “How about Steak and Shake?” Trainboy agreed to that. And we have a winner.
Two of Ms. Pikachu’s friends were over so I said they could come along if their parents Okayed it. Their parents did, and were probably grateful for a little peace and quiet, because I certainly wasn’t getting any. On the way I said that while we certainly could eat at ‘Steak and Shake,’ if they wanted to we could eat at Bishops instead. I heard one of the kids ask “What do those places serve, what’s the difference?” My kids explained it to her.
At times like that I wonder if my kids have any idea how good they’ve got it. Not that I need their gratitude, but they should realize not every kid has parents with disposable income like we have. And not all parents like to spend it if they have it. But we do, and I do.
I had an oldies station on and it’s just amazing how good my 13 year-old Ms. Pikachu is at calling out the songs. A few notes and “Hey Dad, that’s Jive Talkin’ turn it up!” “Hey, that’s Three Dog Night, turn it up!” “That’s Simon and Garfunkle!” What are they playing? “Mrs. Robinson.” That’s nice; tell me if they play ‘The Boxer.’
The kids had a good time at Steak and Shake. On the way home I still had the oldies station on and they played Sonny and Cher’s ‘I Got You Babe.’ All three girls were sitting in the back seat, and all three sang along on the chorus. It was cute, it was fun, it was a moment to remember. Cyndi Lauper was right; Girls Just Want To Have Fun.
We weren’t home for very long when Trainboy said, “How about some more of those scrambled eggs?” Yeah, he likes them. How many do you want? “One less egg.” I still made them with two eggs, gave him half, and took the other half upstairs to Ms. Pikachu. “Here, try these scrambled eggs. Tell me if you like them.” “Scrambled eggs are nasty, I won’t eat those.” “I made them with chicken soup. I’m just asking you to try them.” Curious, she tentatively took a bite. “These are good.” She took the bowl from me. “You should teach Mom how to make these.” When the Super Mom got home I did just that. We may have to start buying more eggs.
So it was a day with sucky brain tumor moments, but it also had moments with the family that were just as memorable. They keep me a happy Dad.
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
-
They set up a laptop computer next to the desktop terminal so they could compare the MRI films more easily. “Films” is really a misnomer now. Whoever does the original films just scans them to a CD. It makes sense. The original films can’t be lost, and the CD’s can be shipped at a fraction of the price. Incredibly, they were going to let me look at the films while they reviewed them. Oh boy, oh boy.
So he was paging through the films, and making comments on what he was seeing. He pointed out how on one you could plainly see how the optic nerve was being stretched. Then he asked if I was having any trouble seeing out of my right eye. I told him it’s still a problem that it points at my nose, but if I get it pointed at something it still sees okay. I can still read with it. He was surprised, considering how much tension the nerve is under.
When he got to one, apparently believing I’d learned enough to have some idea of what I was seeing; he asked me what I thought. I said it looked like a significant change. He agreed. It was a pretty easy call. Looking at the image was enough to make me sick. That was my brain, and it was obvious something was terribly wrong… again. And I could see it coming.
I hadn’t expected that much difference. When I’d gone to Mayo, and seen the guys at UIHC a year ago, they both said that yes, there’d been a little change, but surgery was to be avoided, radiation was the way to go.
Even as a layman, what I’d just seen on the films was a tumor fairly screaming, “I’m baack!”
The surgeon said he really didn’t understand why radiation was ever done. It was a patchwork procedure that didn’t address the real problem. Huh, what? But a year ago the surgeons were saying surgery bad… baaaad. Scar tissue makes another surgery baaaad. And this guy is saying- there’s really no alternative, you can see it on the films. It’s big; it has to be reduced again. Since it grew upwards instead of forwards the surgery won’t be in the same place. Scar tissue won’t be an issue. Finally, a guy who will tell it to me straight.
I asked him what would happen if I put off the surgery till later. He said, “You’ll start to have trouble with stumbling due to your left foot. Eventually your left foot will start to drag. You won’t be able to look down with your right eye. And you’ll start to have vision problems with it, possibly blindness.”
So I asked him if the surgery would alleviate the numbness on the right side of the face. He said no, the radiation was to kill the nerve, there’s no bringing it back. Then I asked, "Will the surgery regain the movement in my right eye?" He said almost certainly not. The nerve has been stretched and compressed for so long it will probably never recover.
Apparently the radiation stopped the pain, but at the price of half my face going numb, the one opportunity to correct my eye was lost, and apparently I’m about to join the unstoppable droolers and nasal drip club. And it only postponed another surgery by about a year. If I’d seen the films a year ago I don’t think I would have done the radiation. I would have said, “What about that stretched optic nerve? How long are you going to put off dealing with that?” Crap. Where was this guy when I needed him? But better late than never.
I can’t end a post in this much misery and desperation. How about … we revisit the family?
This morning the SuperNurse was back at work. That left Ms. Pikachu to wake me up. She’s as ruthless about it as her mother. Is that nature or nurture? It’s hard to tell, and they aren’t telling. It could be either the Mother/Daughter thing, or part of the larger Feminine Conspiracy, but again they aren’t telling. I’ll bet they even have a secret handshake.
Anyway. After Ms. Pikachu had her bowl of whatever I drove her and her friends to school. About as soon as I got in the parking lot they said it was good, they were fine, they could walk the rest of the way. I stopped, and I started to do my best parental whine, “Are you sure? It’s so far, I could drive you the rest of the way.” It was all of maybe a hundred feet. They smiled and said, no, no, it was okay and they got out.
When I got home I woke up the Trainboy. He got dressed, and when he got downstairs I told him he had a choice of oatmeal or eggs for breakfast. He chose eggs, scrambled eggs. Well alrighty then.
Along time ago when the earth was green, lived more kinds of animals than you’ve ever seen…. Forget that, it wasn’t that long ago, and St Patrick’s Day is already by. Anyway, I remembered that I used to like scrambled eggs from a recipe in one of Mother’s cookbooks. It called for Cream of Chicken soup instead of milk and… that’s all I remember of it. But that’s enough. That’s the important part.
So I went to the pantry and looked for a can of Cream of Anything and found a can of Cream of Herbed Chicken. Works for me, or at least it’s going to work for him. I broke two eggs into a bowl, spooned a dollop of the stuff into it and beat it all with a fork. Then it was nuke, stir, nuke, stir, nuke, and stir. And may I just say right here- scrambled eggs are one of the things microwaves do best. There is no point in risking scorching if you have a microwave handy.
Then I brought them in to Trainboy. I was a bit apprehensive because he’s such a picky eater. It’s one thing he gets from me. He was a bit apprehensive himself, but took a bite. “Do you like them?” “What did you put in them? Pepper?” “Nope, chicken soup.” He liked them. He ate it all. Then I drove him to school. I asked him if he’d like me to pick him up with the tandem bike trailer. He said yes. Well alrighty then.
Then I was off to get my MRI cd’s and had the above-mentioned episode.
Shortly after I got home I headed off for the walk to Ms’ Pikachu’s school, and there she was- already only a block away from home. She was walking with the friend she usually does.
That meant there was plenty of time to hook up the tandem trailer to the bike. So I hooked it up and away I went. When I got there I waited by the door Trainboy comes out of. While waiting, several kids gathered around, looked at the tandem, and I heard, “Cool” several times.
One little girl asked if she could have a ride. That was tempting, but I wondered if the teachers would approve, or the child’s parents would approve. So I said, sorry, but I’m waiting for my son.
When the bike leaned over I knew he was climbing on. He always gets on by putting the left pedal down to step on it. You’d think he was getting on a horse. I could tell he was pleased. And away we went.
We went to the gas station to air up the tires since I couldn’t find our own pump. We got them aired up, and we back-tracked by his school, which was the long way home. He was happy on his trailer, and if it made him happy to be seen by the other students I could indulge him that much.
When we got home the SuperNurse was still SuperNursing and she was going to work till 9. So we had to decide what to do for supper. I asked Trainboy and got, “How about those scrambled eggs you made?” He likes them, he really likes them. But I’ve got two kids to feed, and we need to agree on something.
Ms. Pikachu wanted pizza again. No, we did that yesterday, try again. “How about Steak and Shake?” Trainboy agreed to that. And we have a winner.
Two of Ms. Pikachu’s friends were over so I said they could come along if their parents Okayed it. Their parents did, and were probably grateful for a little peace and quiet, because I certainly wasn’t getting any. On the way I said that while we certainly could eat at ‘Steak and Shake,’ if they wanted to we could eat at Bishops instead. I heard one of the kids ask “What do those places serve, what’s the difference?” My kids explained it to her.
At times like that I wonder if my kids have any idea how good they’ve got it. Not that I need their gratitude, but they should realize not every kid has parents with disposable income like we have. And not all parents like to spend it if they have it. But we do, and I do.
I had an oldies station on and it’s just amazing how good my 13 year-old Ms. Pikachu is at calling out the songs. A few notes and “Hey Dad, that’s Jive Talkin’ turn it up!” “Hey, that’s Three Dog Night, turn it up!” “That’s Simon and Garfunkle!” What are they playing? “Mrs. Robinson.” That’s nice; tell me if they play ‘The Boxer.’
The kids had a good time at Steak and Shake. On the way home I still had the oldies station on and they played Sonny and Cher’s ‘I Got You Babe.’ All three girls were sitting in the back seat, and all three sang along on the chorus. It was cute, it was fun, it was a moment to remember. Cyndi Lauper was right; Girls Just Want To Have Fun.
We weren’t home for very long when Trainboy said, “How about some more of those scrambled eggs?” Yeah, he likes them. How many do you want? “One less egg.” I still made them with two eggs, gave him half, and took the other half upstairs to Ms. Pikachu. “Here, try these scrambled eggs. Tell me if you like them.” “Scrambled eggs are nasty, I won’t eat those.” “I made them with chicken soup. I’m just asking you to try them.” Curious, she tentatively took a bite. “These are good.” She took the bowl from me. “You should teach Mom how to make these.” When the Super Mom got home I did just that. We may have to start buying more eggs.
So it was a day with sucky brain tumor moments, but it also had moments with the family that were just as memorable. They keep me a happy Dad.
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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