After the Fall. What Now?

Taking the fall, literally. Typing this won’t be easy, since the left is my dominant hand. In 68 years I neglected the education of my right hand that it is now practically useless. I manage.

Appointment with surgeon is set for Monday hopefully followed by a quick appointment for the surgery.  I can only dream.

Since the fall I’ve noticed that I’m very prone to balance issues - more than I originally thought. With two hands to help keep balance and remain steady, it’s not as obvious. But there are any number of times I could have taken the same kind of tumble here - just not conscious of the danger.  I am now.

The ER doctors kept shooting me up with pain meds. It took three tries and ultimately a call to the Orthopedic surgeon at 1 AM to reset the shoulder. The third set of x-rays he ordered show a piece of bone separated from the main bone, so the surgery.

Of course I was in no condition for Labs on Wednesday. When they were done Thursday the red cells were again down enough for 2 units. Blood was delivered overnight and I sat for 6 hours receiving while very doped up. Back to bed when I got home. Even in the sling the arm is very sore and the hand very weak. 

Though I took off the sling this morning to make a coffee and change shirts, it will go on over a fresh shirt and I will spend most of this 4th day of healing in bed reading, or sleeping. I do not need anything else. Yes, this is frustrating, but it is what it is.

I’m becoming what I wanted to avoid - a burden on those taking care of me - and so I’ve got to pull back some, do more for myself. They’re already blaming themselves for this fall and that will never do. It could have happened anywhere - even in my apartment.

Sure the whole thing sucks wet monkey ass, but it’s done and that’s that.

I am amazed.

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A Caturday Pun

Ouch! Sorry.
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It Happened So Fast

Oh, What a Night! So much can happen in so little time.

Rain
Rehoboth Beach Christmas Parade
Crab Quesadilla to Go
 Wet Driveway
Call 911 - Cannot use left arm.
X-rays - Left Shoulder Dislocated
Orthopedist Called 1 a. m.
IV pain medication
X-rays - Chip & Fractured Shoulder
Three Attempts at Reset
Sling & Home

Lots to write about when the left arm/hand is functional again.

I am amazed.

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Inventive Caturday

What a great Holiday Gift Idea!

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Wildlife in the Snow. Rare!

And very very stoopid!

A Bear in Buffalo, New York caught doing what the non-hibernating side of the species do during a snowstorm that will eventually  dump 9 inches of lake-effect snow on the area.

***Courtesy of the Daily Mail, UK. Seems readers of the paper would love nothing more than for this nightmare to fall upon them.  Careful what you wish for.

You can’t make this up.

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An Antsy Shut-in Kind of Weekend

This weekend marks 2 weeks out of hospital, and my, how the time does fly!!! And today I am antsy.

No personal post on Friday. Mostly hung out in bed, reading or sleeping. Ate very little, didn’t feel hungry. Just tired without energy, so being a shut-in wasn’t a bad thing. 

This feels very strange. I pretty much slept from 2:30pm Friday until 1:30am today. Woke up feeling fine, without any appetite to speak of, though I ate cereal and had a coffee followed by a bagel with cream cheese and preserves. 

This is the second or third time I’ve experienced this kind of episode since leaving hospital and I think it’s time to ask the doctors about it.  Which I will do on Monday. Meanwhile, this sleeping/napping 12 to 16 hours a day is taking a big chunk out of that “borrowed time” I’m living on right about now. 

Will try to get someone to take me out tomorrow morning - maybe even have breakfast - just to get out and about for a while. Enough to tire me out from actually exerting myself, if you get my drift.I am not going to get any stronger, or prettier just sitting around like Joe Egg and I need to build my strength and stamina.

Found 2 listings for small apartments at Craigslist and put through calls to both of them.  It is the weekend, after all, so I may not hear anything, but then again. 

Some people tell me I ought to relax and watch TV or a movie, but I am not interested in being in a passive mode right now. I can’t sit still for that kind of “entertainment” nowadays. I’ve watched a few YT music videos but that’s the extent of my viewing pleasure.

I’m antsy and need to be engaged in something.  But, what? I think I need an anxiety medication about now.

And so it goes.

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The Kinks: Give Up The Complicated Life

As I play shut in again today, waiting for my V-shaped Pillow from the UK,  as well as another small package from UTKilts to arrive today, I remember this song as one of the best of the Kinks. You can listen to the video and read the tongue-in-cheek lyrics below.

"Complicated Life"

Well I woke this morning with a pain in my neck,

A pain in my heart and a pain in my chest,

I went to the doctor and the good doctor said,

You gotta slow down your life or you're gonna be dead,

Cut out the struggle and strife,

It only complicates your life.

Well I cut down women, I cut out booze,

I stopped ironing my shirts, cleaning my shoes,

I stopped going to work, stopped reading the news,

I sit and twiddle my thumbs cos I got nothing to do,

Minimal exercise,

To help uncomplicate my life,

Gotta stand and face it life is so complicated,

Ladi dah di dahdah, ladi dah di dah dah,

You gotta get away from the complicated life, son,

Life is overrated, life is complicated,

Must alleviate this complicated life.

Cut out the struggle and strife,

It's such a complicated life.

Like old Mother Hubbard

I got nothin' in the cupboard,

Got no dinner and I got no supper,

Holes in my shoes, I got holes in my socks,

I can't go to work cos I can't get a job,

The bills are rising sky high,

It's such a complicated life,

Gotta stand and face it,

Life is so complicated.

Ladi dah di dahdah, ladi dah di dah dah

Gotta get away from the complicated life, son,

Life is overrated, life is complicated,

Must alleviate this complicated life.

Gotta get away from the complicated life, son,

Gotta get away from the complicated life.

And so it goes.
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Just a Thought: Humor

The poor baby!
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Spiteful Caturday

Hrumph!

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I was Floored, Literally

Before anything else I must say that I made the best smothered pork chops Saturday evening.  The Sazerac certainly did its part in making them so.  There were parts of the recipe that I’d forgotten and the cocktail helped my memory enormously. Yes, I could only eat one, but that means there are 2 more delicious meals to look forward to in the week ahead. 

It was a lazy, typical Autumn Sunday here. Foggy, misty, gray skies and little breeze to speak of. After a brief walk on the boardwalk I was short of breath and very damp, indeed. No, I didn’t take a slicker. Came home, took a shower, shaved, and made breakfast. 

For some reason I was anxious all day. Too much time alone, I guess.  I was also tired and went back to bed to read and fell asleep again. I didn’t feel right when I woke up. Not at all refreshed.

Poured at glass of iced water The first clue something was amiss was I couldn’t keep the water down. Nothing came up but the water.  Strange. 

Feeling kind of weak and dizzy, I thought it a good idea to put solid food in my stomach; have a few of those frozen entree things but nothing stirred my appetite.  I closed the freezer with the promise that I’d be back again later hoping my appetite would kick in and something would eventually strike my fancy.

I turned to leave the kitchen and miscalculating distances, crashed my right shoulder into the door frame.  This threw me off balance sending me into a sprawling pratfall onto the living room floor - flat on my face. I hit hard.

While lying there becoming intimately acquainted with my lovely pecan flooring, gathering my jumbled thoughts I assessed the body for any damage. Breathing was difficult, I was stunned and dizzy. When I realized everything moved and there was no pain, I got up slowly and made my way to the bed where I laid myself on top of the covers, still fully clothed.

Breathing heavily and shaky I tried to remember what had happened. It suddenly dawned on my frazzled brain that I had reached the lowest level of platelets and hemoglobin that my body could tolerate. Then I fell asleep.

And this is what I woke up to at 3:30 Monday morning.

Guess Who??

Taken  Monday morning at the Cancer Center. My glasses saved my head from hitting the floor, but I have these exquisite deep purple (my fave color) raccoon eyes, and large, swollen bruises on both legs and arms. (I can't wait until they begin to turn that lovely shade of Chartreuse.) This is what low platelets can do to you.

As long as I lay quietly in bed I was fine, but as soon as I had to exert myself - even go to the bathroom - I couldn’t get enough oxygen to keep me up right. 

My regular appointment for Labs was Tuesday, but I knew I wouldn’t make it that far ahead. I called the Center and they told me to come in right away. Gathered all the energy I could muster and made my way to the car. The outside air was cool and brisk so my shortness of breath was brief.

Plopped into a wheel chair, wheeled into Triage, port accessed, blood drawn, then wheeled into one of the bedrooms in the Infusion center to await results. What a surprise when they came: platelets=12, hemoglobin=5.3…we now know my limit and I know the signs to look for.  But, Oy!  at what a price!!!

Just to be safe, they did at CT scan of my head. I was told a tiny brain, gray matter of some kind, was detected, but no internal bleeding. Again, the glasses saved my head.

I received, replacement fluids, platelets, and 2 units of whole blood and was able to walk unassisted to my car 11 hours later.

Still weak and short of breath I was glad of my appointment with the doctor this morning.  At least it didn’t take 15 minutes to put on and tie shoes as it did a day ago. I’m in much better shape today.  Sore and swollen, but better. 

I'll know more later.

And so it goes.

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And Then There Are Days Like This...

I always like to plan my day, especially if it is packed with events, meetings,

appointments, etc.  Learned my lesson years ago about scheduling too close together - not leaving enough breathing time for possible delays, so with any luck, I am always either early or on time for whatever is next on the gay agenda.

Then there are those days that da Debbil seems to laugh out loud and say, “oh, you think this will run smoothly, do you?” (followed by his evil laugh) and of course,  1 or more incidents, obstacles get thrown in my path and I get mortified and muddled.

Today was one of those days. Of course the medical establishment was heavily involved - and to blame - but (as usual) it could only be sorted out by ‘self’ with much running around from office to office, lab to lab.  My entire medical history is available to 4 thrilling CDs that I had to pick up, deliver, and sign for at various places at certain times of the day.  That’s what made me late. 

By the time it was all signed, sealed and delivered I was10 minutes late for the final chemo treatment and infusion of a single unit of blood ordered for this afternoon. Hurry up and Wait! I don’t like being late. Period. It’s annoying and rude to be so and I avoid it if at all possible. 

Of course, when I finally arrived at the Center, they discovered my vitals were all over the charts, nothing was normal. It took a good half hour for calm to be restored to my mind and body, and since I was spiking a moderate fever, that helped to slow me down. Tylenol was given to bring down the fever - they will not infuse if fever is beyond 100.5’, and I was at 100.8’  The blood was late in arriving, so that worked out well. 

The Center staff was having a similar day. Irate patients and emergencies made the place almost hostile. Eventually, they got my drip going before more Hell broke loose. Blood arrived, but so many staff were otherwise engaged in some emergency that it took another half hour to get back to me. Once they shot me with Benadryl, I was left to my own devices - in my own little relaxed world. 

Then the battery in the Nexus died, so there was no reading opportunity to take me through the next 2.5 hours. I could have sworn I charged it yesterday, but I guess not. Brain fog, again. 

The Chemo was given first.  It was noted that during this final cycle the drug has been burning my flesh from the inside out leaving a spot about 4” round with dry peeling skin and stinging like Hell. This had not happened previously. Thank the Goddess these are the last injections of the fourth and final cycle of this nasty treatment regime.

I don’t know if this treatment will ultimately prove worthwhile, or what comes next if it doesn’t, but I am just happy that it’s over.

I just got in at 6 pm., too tired to cook a proper meal, so it will be a frozen entree tonight. After supper I plan to finish the London Blitz Diary of 1941 (which is on the iPad, not the Nexus, or I could have finished it today) which has been alternately a scary and tedious ride.  I don’t know how these people remained sane for so long. But, that was the British throughout the war.

Anyway. Made it through the day.  It’s over. Home safe and sound. Barring some violent drug reaction overnight, tomorrow is a free day. If the weather is anything like today - high of 74’ F - I will be out and about early with no plans at all, so who knows what I might get myself into…

And so it goes.

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Forgetful Caturday

We all have those moments, don't we?
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Just a Thought: Traffic

Yep.  That pretty much sums it up.  Just two more days...

More later.
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Caturday Tripping

Don't I wish!!!

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Adventures in Dry Cleaning

So, there I stood with a fist full of receipt/tickets waiting in a rather long line (especially for the day of the week and time of day) to pick up items being dry cleaned and others being pampered some other way. 

The 2 counter clerks seemed to be in a tizzy, running in circles and making

excuses to the customers being served as to why their items couldn’t be located. OK, this isn’t one of those same-day quickie cleaners, they take time and do a very good job. I  have all my dress shirts, kilts, tuxedo, vestments cleaned and pressed there as do many clergy in the area.

What was bothersome to the customers was that the items were to have been ready a week ago and they were nowhere to be found. That chain-link mechanical snake and carousel thingy (how’s that for a description) was almost in constant motion as they went round and round spot-checking ticket numbers.  All to no avail.

Each question by the clerks like “were there special instructions for these garments?” was met with teeth-clenched, irritated answers. Nothing special, just ladies evening dresses and men’s suits and dress shirts with French cuffs. This was going nowhere fast. 

The rather translucent clerks finally asked the customers to stand aside so the other waiting customers could be served.  They refused to budge.  Charming people.  It was all about them. Everyone else can wait. So, there.

With that, a few customers ahead of me emitted  groans and left the store. There were 2 of us left standing behind the 2 - now obnoxious - customers who were practically crawling all over the countertop. 

Suddenly the store owner arrived with a new batch of garments and as he wheeled them in to be placed on the snake belt, the clerks practically knocked him down trying to get at those hangers. They eventually found missing garments, but the customers were anything but happy. They didn’t want to pay the bills.

The owner - calmly smiling all the while - told them they didn’t have to pay, but the garments would not leave the store; they could leave whenever they wished to leave. They stared at him with eyes wide. What did he mean?

The owner produced the original ticket with special instructions, including removal of certain stains that required a lot of TLC. The two customers must have enjoyed one hell of a party because his and hers were quite a difficult mess to clean up.  The point is, the cleaners DID the job and as the man said, “after working that hard to get the garments looking like new, they’re not going anywhere for free.”

At this point let me say that I have no idea of the relationship between these people; if married, why separate receipts? By their attitudes one could tell they weren’t from around these parts. So all that will (blessedly) remain a mystery.  I’m just sayin’. 

New version of the Utility Kilt.

The person who had been next to me suddenly remembered something in her car and ran out the door. The cheap-ass whiners finally coughed up the cash and when they said they’d never be back, the owner said over his shoulder, “great, thank you” and they were gone.

It was finally my turn. I know my stuff was in because they told me it would be delayed because of the Kilts. The owner returned to placing the new items on the belt as my slacks, shirts, jackets, and kilts are hung next to the counter.  The already frazzled counter clerk looks at the kilts, then at me and said “oh, another problem. These were a nightmare to press properly, please don’t bring them back again.”

I looked at her in shock. They’ve always done kilts and not just mine, but the rental ones from the Formal Wear store across the highway. (Having just witnessed a fierce battle I wasn’t in the mood to fight.) As I mentioned this the owner came over with an exasperated expression, about to cover for her, when the other customer returned from her car. 

Seems she had forgotten 3 girl’s school uniform skirts in the car, and guess what?  They were pleated skirts. The other clerk stopped in his tracks and rolled his eyes, the owner stopped breathing, the clerk handling my transaction let out a sigh and as I started to laugh, I heard, almost inaudibly - - “shit!”  

These poor folks were clearly having a very bad day. That’s not my problem.

I paid for the cleaning and as I turned to leave I said, “I’ll see you when these need cleaning again, or what?” The owner smiled, resigned to his fate and said, “sure, but I know we’ll see you before then.” I must make a point of visiting the cleaners again while wearing a kilt. Show off their fine work, and all that. My bad?

I'm thinking I might just wear the kilt to the post-Labor Day party at the Irish Pub next Monday.

And so it goes.

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Domestic Caturday

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Another Day: Where Am I?

Day Two of Cycle Three of Chemo, that’s where! 

Today was “Let’s Bitch About the Summer Traffic” day. And man, did they ever bitch. It was inevitable; it’s August. There were plenty a damning story - or a harrowing tale of the stoopid - to tell.  I listened and chuckled to myself feeling grateful. I simply do my little centering exercise before hitting the road then tune out the madness. No stress for me.

One older gentleman (using the term loosely) bellowed for a half hour about having to drive to the Center in heavy traffic no matter the time of his appointments. He’s just moved here from the DC area and hasn’t figured out the back roads yet.

Granted, everyone has to spend some time on the Coastal Highway, but using back roads can cut that time considerably, if you know how to do it.

If you are unfortunate enough to live in one of the newer developments with outlets only to the highway, your ass is grass, as we say. Whether you need to travel north or south, you’re going to pay the price.

Most of today’s complainers lived south and/or west, so the patients who also live in those areas shared the secrets of avoiding the worst of highway travel. The routes may take them out of their way, but they’ll still get to the Center in less time and stress-free. Those living north and west already know the shortcuts allowing them to simply cross the highway and not get stuck on it.

As I wrote a while back, this is the first summer I’ve had to face highway traffic - and on a daily basis - so it was either find a good quiet place for my head or sit up and wait for it to explode.  I chose the former and it works well for me.  It’s also how I found my fab silver queen farmer’s parking place, so the cloud had a silver (queen) lining.  Oooh, sorry!

Following my treatment, and as suggested by Roger (the dear) over at 3rdnlong, I hung around and visited with a new patient who seemed overwhelmed. He was about my age, I suppose. When he was ushered in alone, his eyes were the size of dinner plates; they were much smaller when I left him. He wasn’t sure what to make of the chatting, carrying on, or the humor between patients and staff. I hope our time together helped to relax him a little.  

I just received this: one of the daytime cooks at DL was riding his scooter home on Coastal highway in heavy rain on Saturday clinging to the shoulder of the road using the bicycle lane, when he was hit by an SUV trying to dodge slow traffic in the turn lane. He’s in hospital with broken pelvis, broken leg, and shattered right arm.  Doctors are hopeful, but he’ll probably never be a professional cook again. 

You couldn’t get me on the highway on a scooter on a clear afternoon, but in a heavy downpour??? He was crazy to even try it. He was warned and made his choice. He’ll be in hospital for months, then rehab a few more months. I’ll visit in a few weeks, after all the painkillers and surgeries, when he’s on the mend.

Sometimes smart people do stupid things. As I raise my hand in total agreement.

And so it goes.

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Just a Thought: Sick Birds?

Where to take them, then?

It Was All a Lie

Remember when I wrote that I had a 3-week hiatus  from the Center and Hospital?  Remember that?  Well, I lied!  All Hell suddenly broke loose yesterday: the Port-a-Cath replacement surgery was  rescheduled for today, Friday. I’ve broken out in some sort of rash. It doesn’t itch, just red bumps on both arms and legs.  Think it could be from stress? Ya’ think? Maybe. 

My white cells are in the sub-basement again, so it’s another 5 days of Neupogen shots (started yesterday!) one-a-day through Monday. New blood work on Tuesday, and then it’s check the port-a-cath healing and remove stitches next Thursday.

Had a call earlier that due to the low blood count, there will be blood work done when I register this morning. 

I’m being picked up by taxi shortly, off to the same-day surgery wing. Being the height of the season, there is no one to take me and pick me up afterwards. Due to some liability mumbo jumbo, I can’t drive myself home, it’s an insurance thing.  Bless their hearts. The hospital wouldn’t release me, in that case. Bless their hearts, too.

The taxi service can’t drive me home, either.  Same reasons apply.  So, the surgeon’s assistant, Kelli, will do the honors to make sure I get home safe and sound following the procedure.  They don’t come much nicer than that.

The phones (house and cell) rang all day yesterday as things came together, fell apart, and came back together - miraculously in some cases.  One call told me to report to pre-op at 11:30 a.m. seems they had no record of the initial scheduled time of 8 a.m. They checked, called twice more to get more information, checked with the surgeon’s schedule, and finally called back at 5-fucking-30 to re-confirm the initial arrival time.

I don’t know if I am coming or going. The last food and drink passed my lips at 6:30 last night and it’s likely that nothing will until around noontime today. If anyone asks if I am lightheaded, I’ll deck ‘em!

I’ll relax when I arrive in hospital where there are no ringing phones or insipid questions being thrown at me. Where I can look forward to being knocked out for a while without a care in the world. 

As Anne Marie (the dear) wrote in a comment recently: plus ca change, plus la meme chose. An old saying, but so true.

I don’t need LSD (life is already too bizarre) but where can I get a bit of happyweed?  Or, happy-anything? Jeez!

More later.

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"Win, We Must…"

"For Our Cause Is Just…."    Stupid!

Have a look at this new poll, please:

37% of Mississippi GOPers Would Back Confederates in New Civil War.

A new Public Policy Polling survey found that 37 percent of Republicans who voted in the Mississippi primary runoff election between incumbent Sen. Thad Cochran (R-MS) and state Sen. Chris McDaniel (R) said they would back the Confederate side if there was another Civil War.

Let me hear it once more about the “new” South. Just as lost in the past as the Old South.

The rest is HERE.

And so it goes.

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