It’s downright hot today. Jumped up to about 80’ by midday and hasn’t begun to drop yet. Spent a low-key day today. A little fatigue set in, maybe because of all the strenuous (?) activity yesterday.
The sister called and talked about everything and nothing for almost an hour. She was especially chatty, gushing about the hospital and her medical team - she’ll be in the massive complex that is Touro Infirmary Hospital. I think it was more for my benefit than hers; her way of assuring me that she is in good hands. If she’s in Touro, I know that already. She goes in for prep on Tuesday afternoon, surgery scheduled for Wednesday morning.
Her oldest daughter will be staying with her through the surgery and at least part of the recovery. When she has to return to her home, there will be a visiting nurse staff with the sister 12 hours daily. By that time, (hopefully) 12 hours should be more than enough to keep her comfortable.
My greatest fear, knowing my ornery sister as I do, is that she’ll push herself to do more, thinking that in some way that will make her heal faster. If it were up to me, I’d strap her down, slide a bedpan under her butt and leave her alone for those 3 hours of each off-shift until she got the message. They don’t call me Nurse Diesel for nothing!
But, she will do whatever the hell she wants to do, and no one can change that. There will be a lot of yelling and screaming between her and my niece; I can almost hear it now. Sigh!
Tomorrow afternoon I have an appointment with the surgeon who will schedule the PICC implant surgery. PICC = peripherally inserted central catheter.
(Sassy-Bear had one recently and not to be outdone, I just needed one, too. Although his was temporary, sad to say that mine will be pretty much permanent.)
I’m hoping the doctor can do the surgery before I return for Labs on Thursday and another transfusion day on Friday. It will make life easier for the nurses - and me! No more poking, no more hit or miss with veins. Just an always accessible port for any and all seasons and reasons.
One more step to becoming a true Cyborg. There will be this plastic (or nylon) disc-shaped entry point on the upper left of my chest. Skin will soon grow over it making it barely visible - and certainly less painful for all concerned.
I’m frustrated by the fact that the black ink cartridge in the new inkjet printer is already spent. In operation only three months and it’s empty. Whether it is truly empty or dried up, there is no way of knowing. This will never do. I ordered a replacement as I also ordered the new laser printer which I will use for most everything from now on.
From my experience, Inkjets are prone to many problems. First of all they are liquid, wet, and are applied while wet. They can be runny. The prints are air-dried and can take longer depending on the environment. The freshly printed pages are moist to the touch.
Toner is a dry powder, goes on dry and is heated to seal the image to the paper. Immediately and permanently sealed. Toner doesn’t dry out, age, or clump. One cartridge assembly usually lasts me about 1.5 to 2 years - depending on usage.
The toner cartridge for the new printer is even less expensive than the one used in the older one that died. It will cost about $56.00. The replacement inkjet cartridge will cost about $15.00. $56.00 = 1.5 years, vs $15.00 = 3 months ($60.00 average per year). It’s just simple math. Enough said.
I’ll keep the Inkjet printer for the scanner option, at least for now. I may chuck the whole affair when the other inks dry up and replace it with my flatbed scanner - which, had I known better, would have done in the first place and saved all this aggravation. Still, a lesson learned. While technology has moved forward, the business of inkjet printing has remained in the middle ages. Not worth the investment. There, I said it…
Hey, Epson! Sue me.
OK! Here’s my first entry into the Sunday Selfie, or Selfie Sunday (whatever it’s called) meme. It was actually taken yesterday and the only reason for the jacket is the wind. I know, it’s usually windy as the ocean, but I haven’t always been immune-compromised. So, it is what it is.
Laugh all you want. I do that every morning in front of the mirror as I attempt to shave. There were always few pictures of myself (I was the photographer, after all) but there are even fewer now since the destruction from my previous life and the flooding by Katrina.
And so it goes.