The Jays.

 

 

We have more then one kind.

 

How exciting is this?  This is so cool. 

 

 So just we are all straight.  Steller Jays are named after a guy named Steller.  They have the top notches are really noisy and love to hide food.  They are very shy and only recently  have come to the feeder. 

 

Scrub Jays are a western, non-migrating bird and not a jay.  They are related to their darker and larger brother the Crow.  They are wicked smart and are able to remember where they put all their food.  They love the peanuts and chasing the lesser bird and much prettier cousin away, the Steller Jay.

 

I love my mornings at my computer when they come and squawk at me until I give them some breakfast.

 

Nice to have a few quiet mornings.  Only one appointment today and then lunch with some friends. 

 

How Normal is that?????

 

Loving Gonzaga today.

She is sort of going back to school. 

Because her immune system is so compromised  and she had no immunizations because she can't have them because she is taking something to keep her immune system compromised.....  see what I have to live with everyday.

She can't go to school in a classroom.   So everyone says, "Can't she take on-line classes?

Oh yes she can but college is not on-line classes. It is planning dinners for the neighbors, watching Big Bang and eating pizza with the boys.  It is late night study sessions that turn into tired hysterical laughing sessions.  It is trying to wake up your roommate for a class or going to a movie or bra shopping.  It is so much more than going on-line.

The biggest obstacle has been her course of study.  She is in the Engineering Management program.  Classes have to be taken in a certain order. 

Yesterday she heard from her advisor. They are working on developing a way for her to take her circuits classes on-line.  She was hesitant but was so happy once those fears were overtaken by excitement.  She also found one of her really good camp friends is going to be attending SPU and won't be "leaving" for college.  Anne has a car, loves Mary-E and there will be a chance for some of the very necessary social pieces of college.  Sort of.

At this point we love Sort of..... We totally love Gonzaga.

Antys, Anxious, Jittery, did I mention Antsy

It might be the Death Wish Coffee. Or it is just starting to get to me. 

We, why do I say we?  Let's just say, the days are running through my head.  The first call, the flight over, the night in Sacred Heart Hospital. The first admission.

I realize we are 7 months into the post transplant period.  Two hospitalizations, one blood clot and some GVH and here we sit.  Our 9-11 appointment with the GVH doctor was changed.  I am sure we are going to have to have another discussion on how to taper  prednisone/hydrocortosone since the taper anticipated the now canceled appointment. 

Oh, dear.  I am watching the affects of the drugs on her body and her spirit and it is making me crazy.  Her skin has huge stretch marks in places no one ever thought they could be.  Her body is being marked forever with scars.  I am afraid to even think about what this is doing to endocrine system, her bones, her spine, her.......

Okay.  I will stop this now.  I will clean off the dinning room table because it is time to start entertaining again.  Time to pull out the good dishes and using them.

Better Food Please

http://www.facebook.com/sally.a.lanham#!/BetterFoodPleaseAtSeattleChildrensHospital

I started a Facebook Page about the Hospital Food at Seattle Children's Hospital.  Spread the word....

The sun is up, I should walk the dogs.

The Plan:

Water the yard.
And feed the birds.
And floss my teeth.
And fill the yard waste bin with something I don't want.
And do some more desk clearing.
And do some laundry and hang the sheets out to dry.
And rake up the irritating pine cones on the side of the house.
And do some gardening on that side and maybe plant a tree or two. 
And decide what outing we can do today to get Mary-Elizabeth to do some more walking.
And call my mom and tell her about the newest news on Featherville Idaho.
And look on E-bay for Ice cream forks lest I ever return to the 1988's.
Contact my newly found Barnes Cousins and send them some pictures of the family and plan a mini-reunion.
Go on an archaeological dig and find more pictures in the basement and everywhere.
Talk to friends.
Figure out something for dinner.
Finish War and Peace
Finish the two quilt backs so I can start a new one. 


Reality:
Some watering,
Potatoes dug,
The yard waste filled a little bit,
The Russians are almost to Moscow
My cousin Jane came over.  She is moving to Seattle and lots to say.
Trip to Snohomish in search of a desk for Mary-E
A lovely lunch at a Thai Restaurant,
Lots of walking around a cute little town,
Child not exhausted and would like to go again.

Sometimes the things you end up doing are much better than the Plan.

 I think the Spaghetti Nebula just happened without a plan.

Faulkland Islands, Trinity Ridge Fire, Double Cord Blood Transplants.

What?  Are you crazy?
Do you have a screw loose?

Don't you remember January of 1982?  Some Argentinians landed on the Falkland Islands.  They were not welcome and the Brits sent a bunch of ship to "defend the empire".  We waited for  three weeks for the ships to get there. 

It was so so weird to sit around and listen to the news about how they were sailng and where they were going to engage the enemy. For those of you that forgot, the Brits won, lost a couple of ships.  200+ Brits dies and 650 or so Argentinians.

The Trinity Ridge Fire is taking forever to arrive at Featherville.  Yes, the fire people named two fires starting within a day or two of each other Trinity Bridge and Trinity Ridge.  It is not fault my spelling is off sometimes. 

More than a week-ago my Cousin Judd was told to go to his cabin and take all of his cherished possessions with him and get out.  The fire was coming.  The fire is still not there.  They are waiting.

Mary-E had a double cord blood transplant.  And we are waiting.

It is the not knowing when the waiting will be over. 

I know that during the Falklands, we were in law school and it was January and we were deep in our books.

I know those from Featherville have been trying to figure out what to do.

I know I have been trying to be busy and doing positive things with my time. 

Sometimes the waiting gets to me.  Today my friend Liz took me to the Pacific Northwest Alaska Quilt show in Tacoma.  Sometimes waiting is a good thing.

Sometimes things just GO

It's not right or wrong, it just is.  All day, we spent all day at the clinic.  No way around it, and someone asked if spent a lot of time waiting and we really did not.

In at 10:30:  Back into a room.
Heat the child
Look for vein that wants to cooperate
Look some more for a vein that wants to be invaded.
Look again.
Look yet again.
Find the vein, Mom looks away.

I want her to have a port put in because I cann't stand the pokes but then I don't think that is a reasonable request.

IVIG, 138 minutes plus a flush or two.

Then a doctor appointment.  Never were we bored or kept waiting, not really.  It just is how the day goes.

I am practicing the "nature, time and patience" chant a lot.

I spoke to Michael Reinfelt today.  His daughter had a transplant many moons ago.  He and Susan came to visit us during transplant.  He told me it took about 4 years before life really settled down. 

I guess we have a bit of a way to go.  I can do this.  She can do this.  Sometimes I just assume this is going to over and done.  We have had no big set backs, no big serious issues, no ICU, no drilling of bones to stimulate growth. 

WE can do this, we can do this, we can do this.  Said three times while twirling around.

Now if I could just figure out why I have the urge to buy wine and make Muffalletta sandwiches.

Fires are burning.

If you are from Idaho and have lived in Southern Idaho where fires grow to thousands of acres in a few hours, you appreciate the power of flames.  Feather ville front porch.


Lots of fires happen other places than Seattle.  I drove by Cle Elum an hour before they began understand and fear and flee fire.  

 I have a cousin that is waiting for his house to burn in Idaho.  His house is in Featherville.  It is such a feeling of dread, knowing it is coming, hoping the wind with shift, hoping it will be okay but resigned to the fact it might very well happen no matter how many fire trucks are sitting in the town ready to defend.

 Everyone is very aware of dread and fear.  What it is like to know something is going to happen and we can not stop it.  It creates that pit in the middle of the abdomen and waits and grows and nags.  It does not hurt but it makes you aware of something you are ignoring and can not fix.

Tomorrow is one of those days for Mary-E.  She has to have various blood draws and some IVIG (Immune Globulin).  She is dreading the insertion of the IV and then the infusion.  IVIG can cause some serious allergic side affects.  I hate each time she has to give blood and get poked.  It is ugly.  Her body is so so tired of all the assaults and shows it's anger by creating really really big bruises and lumps.  I am grinding my teeth just thinking about it. 

I called Cousin Judd and he was driving a load of something to Montana.  He had been to Featherville and had taken out a few items and said good bye to his house.  He was keeping himself busy until he heard the news.

I think I will find a project, or maybe make a list of projects.  Something to keep my mind off of tomorrow and of course all the other things I know could come or not.

Freezer needs to be defrosted
Cupboard needs to emptied, sorted and cleaned out.

Somethings even surprise me.

Entry Pageviews United States 373 United Kingdom 35 Singapore 12 Australia 5 Germany 5 Russia 5 Bulgaria 4 Canada 3 Indonesia 2 France 1       A while back I learned I could find out who is reading the blog.  The array of counties amazes me.  Anyone out there should let me know why and what brought you to this place.   Thanks for stopping by.

Pageviews by Browsers Entry Pageviews Safari 186 (40%) Internet Explorer 159 (35%) Firefox 60 (13%) Chrome 23 (5%) Mobile Safari 10 (2%) Opera 8 (1%)

Defining where you are and where you come from...

Facebook wants to know where my home town.  I don't have a good answer for that question. 

I have lived or my parents have resided in the following places since my birth 12 years ago. ( I adhere to a different calendar than the rest of you.)

In Chronological Order:

Born in Council Idaho
Riggins Idaho
New Meadows Idaho
San Antonio Texas
Parma Idaho
Moscow Idaho
Alexandria Virgina
Washington DC
Ogden Utah
Spirit Lake Idaho
Dalton Garden Idaho
Hayden Lake Idaho
Caldwell Idaho
Oxford England
Midland Michigan
Mt Pleasant Michigan
Dietrich Idaho
Walnut Creek California #
Moscow Idaho
Ontario Canada#
Zurich Switzerland#
Boise Idaho
Seattle Washington
Eugene Oregon#
Cancer World

# Only visited Mom and Dad.

Now how do I pick a town.  My favorite, length of stay, best memories. 

It is so hard to tell.  Each place made an impression. Each place was important in shaping the person I am today.  It is all such a jumble. 

I realized on these last few years that while I have lived in Seattle for almost half my life this is not my home town.  I claim it, I love it, I have been as happy as anyone could be but I don't think it is the last stop on my journey.  I am always looking for the next place.  Some think that is weird but then look at all the places I have missed in my life journey.

and we are here on this strange place called Cancer World.

Until we are off of Cancer World we will stay put.  I will water my trees and grow Grampa's beans.  I will re-purpose my life and will continue to think about what it next.  I guess this picture says it the best.

Construction

I recently sent an e-mail to my friend Beverly.  She works for the City of Seattle.  To her horror I reported how she might have brought up our plight of the bad food we were being served while in the hospital.  All while she was being served something wonderful from Specialties.  I am glad the Lisa Brandenburg learned my whining is unending.

Anyway, while we were in-patient Beverly sent me a notice from the city explaining the lengthy construction project to be done between February and late September.  The plan was to completely re-do 85th from 15th Avenue NW to the freeway.  Huge project, long project, difficult project.  85th has become a major transportation route over the past few years.  I am not the only person that moved to Ballard.

So we have been living with the project.  Big equipment, big things that go into the ground.  We pound and dig and saw and make all sorts of noise.  We lay cement, we lay pavement we paint and putter and do more stuff.  

We have lived here long enough to know how to avoid it.  Then something happened to me.  Maybe it was going to happen anyway, but it certainly happened sooner than I thought.   I became intensely curious about the project. 

 I started driving on 85th as much as possible.  I loved seeing the progress, the big holes that appeared and disappeared.  I love watching the skill with which the digging guys picked up large items and small and moved them.  It really has been and education in what happens and what is below a street.  Granted there are lots of places and times that guys just stand around, looking in the hole or
 at the curb and contemplate the cost of beer or the best place to find a hamburger.

I realized the other day they were on the last part of the project.  I will miss them when it is gone.  The street will be perfect, the curbs continuous and the pot holes gone.  No more daily surprises.  Just a road. 

Meb has been under re-construction.  I won't miss when the bulldozers and grinders and cement trucks leave the site.  I will always remember what went into making the path smooth.
I

Cancer World is hard to understand.

We are here.  We are still your friends. We don't call you back. We can't write a thank-you card.  We certainly can't schedule anything.  We are here.  We know you are there. You have helped us all so so much.  Calls notes, offers to stay with the child. Errands, money, coffee cards, groceries, meals, hugs, open ended offers of help.  Prayers, novenas, more prayers, chains of prayers, the list is endless.  We know you are there while we are in this box, in this tiny space with a very very small part of the population. 

We worry in ways you don't. We fuss about things that you have never heard about. 
We talk a different language.  We have different acronyms and lots of weird stuff in our car and in our purses and in our homes.  Some of us have more than one home and Ronald McDonald means a completely different thing to us than to you.

We are sad about different things.  We look at our children and your children.  They have all had there struggles and challenges.  Ours have a certain flavor. You never had to see our child pull out handfuls and brushfuls of hair.  You never had to tell you lovely daughter she could not go to her first dance with her best friend that came from Chicago to visit because her "counts" were too low.  You never watched your daughter secretly die in bits and pieces as her friends go back to college while she monitors her blood sugar and worries about every surface she touches.  You never had to try and explain to her why her friends don't want to visit or come by or take her somewhere "safe".  You understand how hard it is for them to have a friend that has had cancer not only once but twice.  She does not understand why they are afraid, reluctant.  

But, we are still here.  She is at home. She has only been back in the hospital twice.  She is not like Mario in ICU bleeding from her lungs  while having her life supported by a respirator.  She has never been in the ICU.  I can't imagine what Mario's parents are doing right now. 

Mario, Luis, and Mary-Elizabeth had double cord blood transplants with-in days of each other.  They are 18-20, they all had relapsed ALL, they are Hispanic. They have lovely parents and Luis's grandmother makes killer mole'. We have all spent time together, complaining, crying, laughing and learning how to live in Cancer World for the second time.  It is so worrisome when one of the kids is sick.

 I guess being in Cancer World means there are no boundaries between your personal pain and that of all the parents and kids. 

Can you tell that I spent too much time at the hospital today. I had to vent.  91degrees makes me grumpy. 

This was my fortune cookie yesterday.

The Dishwasher hates me or Returning home.

The dishwasher and I have been at odds for a very long time.  I think I should not take it personally but then maybe I should pay more attention.

We have been in this house for 18 years.  In that time there have been 4 dishwashers that have lived with us.  The first one had a beige outer skin.  It was functional. Push buttons, no real bells and whistles.  It was asked to leave by the first of three white dishwashers.  Let's face it, I am not a brown of any shade, kind of girl.

The first one had not been in the house more than a week and someone tipped over a chair and dented the front of the dishwasher.  It worked fine until 2004 after cancer came the first time.

I had no complaints but then it decided one day to catch on fire.  Not a big fire but a enough smoke that we called the fire department and some really cute guys came.  They looked at it and agreed there had been black and gray smoke coming out of the vent. I was told that no kind of smoke should ever come out of such a device.  It was their suggestion that the dishwasher be escorted out, sooner rather than later.

The second white dishwasher was "professionally installed."  That is where a guy comes and you pay them $150.00 because you are sure having your ex-huband install the last one might have been the problem.  The guy looks at the set up and ponders why it is "wired" the way it was wired.  He must then be told the story of the kitchen lights taped together with scotch tape.  He then understands.

Several years go by (5).  Meb is cured, college happens, Mom and I go to Spokane to pick up Mary-Elizabeth, the dishwasher dies.  Again, while I am gone.  It just gives up the ghost.  We have always said that Koo killed it but he denies all culpability.

Mom and I go to Sears to the outlet area.  Since my last dishwasher was installed, the world has become stainless steel.  No slightly dented, or slightly unloved dishwashers for us.  Upstairs to the real dishwashers.  Holy Cow, when did dishwashers become a million dollars.

Delivery arranged, 900 years from now.  Installation guys come with the item. 

They deliver on Sunday.  Who knew?  Guys come, take away the dead dishwasher to be recycled (for a fee).  Opps, it won't fit into the spot because the water dohicky in the back is not in the same place and it has to be moved by the plumber and then the electrician should be called to really wire it in and not just plug it in, and the cabinet guy should come to rework the cabinet so it will fit, since it is 1/8th too wide.

I convince the guy to hook it up, plug it in, put it back as far as it will go and then I just give up. Hey, I think I have a lot on my plate. 

Cancer comes back.  

 The house gets really really mad. No one is here, everyone is spending time with Mary-Elizabeth at some place called the hospital and like a spoiled brat, it has a tantrum.   It wants some attention so it gets a new bathroom and while the plumber is here more than one time somehow Heidi Behrens Benedict brings all the pieces together.

It works, it is finally  installed completly, the plumber even moves the cut off valvue so it is not BEHIND THE DISHWASHER.   Ya think? Life is good.

Sally goes away for the first time in many many moons.  She goes and sleeps and walks on the beach. She helps celebrate her mother's 80th birthday.  Then the call comes.

"Mom can I use dishes that are not run through the dishwasher?"

Call repair guy, have him fix it, have him order the weird partthat helps the upper rack stay up, it seems weird. 

Sally goes to her 40th class reunion.  DISH WASHER LITTLE DOOHICKY BREAKS SO ONLY ONE RACK CAN BE USED.  (Did I mention the fridge had to be replaced in May?)

Really, Really, Really. 

So everyone lets get things straight, perhaps I have not been clear.  I need some things to go right.  I need to have a break here.  No more trips to the hospital.  No more broken house stuff. No more root canals. No more. 

Just say NO.....

Okay.  I promise not to leave ever again, and if I do, I might not be coming home.

Returning to Our Roots

Boy it is amazing what a difference 40 years makes and how much it does not make.  40 years.  We are the group that never trusted anyone over 30.  News flash, we are almost twice the age.

I had never been to one of my high school class reunions.

10th year:  I had started law school the Monday before and I was totally freaked out about reading a million pages of cases.

20th year:  Mary-E would have been about a month old and I was not willing to take her across the state with questionable air condition.  Again, I was a bit overwhelmed with the new addition to may family.

30th year: I was not able to find a place to stay when I finally decided to come. 

4oth:  Nothing was going to stop me!  It took a lot of planning and there were some hiccups but I made it. 

I had to go.  I had to be there. I had to see everyone.  I had to drive by our old house and see how big the trees were.  I had to try and find Topper. I had to see the long gone Wilma.  I had to have Hudson burger, even though I only had one one time.

It was so odd at how strong the pull was this time. 

Essentially it was a group of strangers.  You could have gathered 140 strangers, put them in a room put a badge on them and we would have all mingled, asked the same questions revealed the same personal details. 

Over the days we reverted to that earlier time.  We reminisced, laughed about shared memories. We dug up old memories of events from long ago.  We connected.  We remembered, people we had not thought about for 40 years came back into the front of our memories. 

It is an interesting thing to do.  Is it necessary?  No.  Is it something that enriches our lives? Yes.  Am I glad I went? Absolutely.

What surprised me the most?  How much the time in Coeur d'Alene shaped us as a group.   We were on the edge of the hippies, not quite baby boomers, not really very radical.  But I think as a group we made an impression.  An impression on each other and those who knew us.  A kind note in a year book.  A time we said hello to someone that seemed left out.  An invitation to a party. An e-mail.  A promise to say an extra prayer.

As I drove back across the state and the mountains that separate me from CDA, I realized how much of a hold it still has on me. 

My family left North Idaho in about 1974 ish.  We have traveled from North Idaho to Michigan, California, Canada, Switzerland, Michigan.  I have lived in Dietrich Idaho, Moscow Idaho and most recently Seattle. 

When people ask me where I am from, I always say Coeur d'Alene.  It is the touchstone of my life. 

As I drove down the street I realized why I am so disappointed every year in my attempts to grow petunias.

All is Quiet on the Western Front

And I am hoping it will stay that way.

Mom arrives today, I leave this morning.

I am sure she will whip this place into shape.

August 4, 2012

Leaving is a good way for me to measure progress. 

August 9, 2012

Grampa's beans.

First Time in a million years.

That I am not buying school supplies, uniforms, locker stuff, dorm supplies.  It seems so so weird.

I had always wanted Mary-Elizabeth to take a year off from school.  Never two and never for cancer.  I saw exotic road trips with her friends visiting the world's largest ball of string, volunteering in Ecuador building wells and cementing her Spanish.  I saw a year abroad doing some sort of weird research.

I never saw this coming. 

I really have nothing to complain about.  She is up, she is around, she has only been back at Seattle Children's eating Chef Walter's award winning food twice since March.  She is half way through the transplant year, she did not die from the blood clot.... the list goes on. 

What really sucks is that I spend so much of my energy finding the silver lining to all of this.  I have the opportunity to "grow a deeper faith".  To learn lessons in receiving instead of giving. To find happiness in the small moments when cancer seems far away.  To take this time to find a new path into my new future. Okay I am done complaining and whinning.  I just have to some times.

I am lucky.  She is blessed. We are fortunate to live in such a time when a double cord blood was available.  I am truly blessed and oh so grateful. 

There are just times that I don't want to have to be so grateful.  I just want to buy a matching rug and garbage can and small consentrated laundry soap and cute dishes and perfect knives and markers and post-it notes and all the things that we do before school starts.

Go figure.  I am sure that if I look back to posts a year ago I would see much complaining about such things.

Enough, time to focus on attending my 40th class reunion and really looking back.  40th, from the group that  never trusted anyone over 30.  Should be interesting. 

If you print ti often enought people start to believe it.

http://wljhowell.wordpress.com/2011/07/12/haute-healthy-local-cuisine-coming-to-a-hospital-near-you/#comment-456

Ms. Howell thinks they serve edible food at Seattle Children's Hospital. 

Maybe the world is flat.  If we say it often enough do you think it will be true?

Side Affects.

Leukemia = treatment

Treatment= chemo therapy and radiation

Chemo and Radiation= Low counts, compromised immune system, loss of executive functioning, loss of hair, shortening of tendons, issues with weight gain, problems in the sun, mood swings due to steroids, anxiety, higher risk of "secondary cancers........

End of Treatment=relief, more anxiety, getting back to life as it once was, sort of.  Graduation for Junior High, Graduation from Holy Names with honors, Admission into 9 of 11 colleges, freshman year, first summer, return to college, RELAPSE.

Relapse 57 months post treatment = Life flight from Spokane to Seattle, deeply colored chemo to achieve remission, 36 hours home then 25 days back in the hospital, Remission

Remission= one round of intensification, 6 days of methotrexate and a couple of other things, a couple of weeks off, etoposide and some other stuff over 5 days,

Remission and intensification= international bone marrow search.

No Match= Double Cord Blood search

Double Cord blood transplant=longer stay in the hospital, successful engraftment, baby cells that have a lot to learn, long slow road back to health, 100 or so blood transfusions of some sort, low platelets for a long long time, lots of steroids, high blood sugar and need for insulin, weird purple hands, weird blood pressure, weird hormone issues, loss of fertility, BK virus (bladder/kidney), need for lots of pain meds....... eventual release.

Release= almost multiple, daily appointments for the first 100 days.  Lots of med checks, lots of scans, blood draws, lots of changes, lots of "ummmmm, everyone is different. GVH flairs

GVH= ickie oily oral meds, lots more steroids

Steroids= so many things I could not even guess.  Some very obvious, some very deep dark and scary.

Steroids and other stuff=blood clots.

Blood clots= more time with Chef Walter's food and lovenox.

Lovenox=(was supposed to be in pill form in 2005) two shots a day and blood draws a couple of times a week, then only every other week or so and huge, huge bruises and nose bleeds and lots of bleeding stuff.

FINAL SIDE AFFECT = RETURN TO A NORMAL LIFE.  We hope anyway. 

Time with the Boys....

So every now and then we get to take a break.  We joined Patty Page for time on the USS New Orleans. An amphibian transport vessel.  24, 000 tons when loaded with the Marine's various toys. 

It is a navel ship, but was built to transport 1000 or so Marine's to various locations.  It was pretty cool, lots of long hall ways, cramped quarters and few places to "recreate".  Young, young sailors, not many women.

As we proceeded it became more and more apparent there is a rift between the Navy and the Marines.  Small comments: "we will be taking you into their housing area, we don't care for that area so please accept my apology in advance if it is not as tidy as we would keep it". 

Because the tours are up and down steep sort of laddery sorts of stairs Meb did not feel like she would be able to make it.  In our absence, she was discovered by several sailors and entertained.  They were going to make sure she was well taken care of during our absence.  I think it was in exchange for her silence on where they sneaking away and smoking.  She found out lots about how the ship worked, who was able to have the week-end off and where the extra beer was hiding.

I found out that when the N.Orleans struck the USS Hartford, ( a nuclear sub), it was not their fault.  The Hartford was in the wrong part of the Straits of Hormuz.  

Tooth Aches.....

Looks good to me.  I was sure that I had just been grinding my teeth.  I was sure there was nothing really wrong other then I was in huge amounts of pain and my glands were swollen and I couldn't chew and I was really really grumpy.

Now it could have been from spending time with my family"  What do you want to eat?"  " I don't know."  "What is around?"  "I don't know?"  "Lets take the shuttle to the International Terminal and eat in the airport and eat in the food court." "Hell no" "Okay, where do you want to eat?"

So I came home and I was much more empathic about tooth aches.  I was ready to find the closest barber with a good pair of pliers.  Off to the dentist.  X-Ray.  Then the dentist wanted to touch it.  Are you kidding me?  DON'T TOUCH MY OUWIE!!!!

Then an appointment for an Endodontist.  Not even a dentist.  Endodonist stands for: Person that is going to drill a hole in your already hurting tooth and dig and grind and muck around in all three of your curly roots and pull out a bunch of stuff while looking under a microscope and keep digging until you scream and complain and almost hit her.  Then she says, "I would like to work about 10 minutes longer"

She closes you up and then says:  "We need to do that again in a couple of weeks."

What ever I did, what ever I said, I am really really sorry.

So after that process I go home.  Take some left over pain meds and go to sleep.  My lovely daughter comes home and reminds me a toothache is nothing.

Should Be's

Should be..... picking up the house for the house keeper

Should be...... watering and fertilizing the garden

Should be..... doing laundry

Should be.......cleaning off my desk

Should be........finding more stuff in my basement for Liz to sell

Should be.........finding a job

Should be...........getting my blog a publisher

Should be..........loosing weight

Should be.........walking more

Should be..........swimming every day

Should be..........repacking for the Reunion in CDA this next week-end.

Should be......staying home this next weekend

Should be.......weeding the side yard.

Should be.......preparing a petition for the staff to sign about the food.

Should be......less stressed and worried.

Should be.... cleaning out the garage.

Should be...... making a list of what I should be doing.

The list goes on and on. 

 My cousin Jean told me once that I "shouldn't should on myself"  She is a very wise women.

So today's reality:

Leave at 9:00 when the house keepers arrive.
Find Breakfast (love this task).
Go to Children's for a previously unscheduled blood draw because of huge hurting bruises from Lovenox.
Come home to a clean house.
Polyclinic for M-E for a wart issue.(Yes we could have it removed by Derm at children's but we were not impressed with them.  They were the three coats that showed up and looked at Meb and pronounced she had hives.  Silly peeps, we knew she had hives.  When asked what caused them the all scurried out of the room saying things like:  lots of things cause hives;  we don't know it could be the air; hives are very mysterious.)

Home to maybe do one or two of my "should be's"

She has escaped but I did not....

She is out, She is out, She is out.  She has escaped the horror that now surrounds each and every blood draw. Her bruises are solid PURPLE. She is giving herself two more shots a day.  Each shot = a bruise.  It is nuts.  I look at her bruises, and scars and the stretch marks from the prednisone.  It makes me so sad.

With each admission and each time the process becomes more complicated and hurtful and frustrating: she cries, she is sad and then we move on.   Today she needed to get out today so she could go to the Ruby Project class and do some printing.  Photography is a great thing for her right now. Great Distraction.

I, on the other hand had challenges and a couple fun things today.

 Did not sleep in;
Did arrive just as the donut lady was serving to the  SCCA floor;
Had coffee with Amber and Karen;
Missed rounds;
Met some new people with a 9 month old ALL baby, let broken heart heal;
Tried to take a nap but then quicker then you could say "Discharge"they were pushing us out the door; 
Dropped Mary-E at the house and headed for my root canal appointment;
Found a great parking place;
Was on time and there was very little paper-work;
Met with the nice doctor;
Could not convince her that a hand full of pain meds and time would make the excrusiating pain in my tooth go away;

OMG. 

Never go to the Root Canal lady without a fully charged I-Pod.  They drill and dig and then start again. Then they dig some more.  I never thought it would end. 

And when it did, it was a lie.  I am expected back for one, maybe two more chances for drilling and digging and ......

I will have a book loaded on my I-Phone, it will be charged and I will have really fabulous earphones. 

My ordeal will be over in a few weeks.  She is not so lucky.  Headphones fix my situation.  I wish  I could find the magic ones that would fix her.

  

We're Back in the Hospital Again, We're Back in the Hospital Again....

Should be sung to an old country western tune.

But I had such a great time in LA with my family and with the weather and with the rental car.  It was grand.  Dinosaurs, Saber Tooth Cats, (no tigers, they are different), Van Gough, Nixon, Melrose, Compton, Norma's Restaurant, Kindle Donuts, Nigerian Delegation, Quiet Spoken United Pilot that did not understand how we could let the Japanese have the first 787 and not an American Airline, Sabine and Stephan from Munich.  It was wonderful.

Wonderful ends and reality begins.

Above the cute toes, a swollen leg.  Clots in legs cause swelling.

She was complaining when I came home.  I looked, I assessed, we went to dinner.  Then we called Dr. Fassett and then we went to the hospital and then she had an ultrasound and then she was admitted and then.....blood drawn, lovanox (yet two more shots a day).

Lots of blood draws, blood clotting  before it can be tested....

Cancer is creative.  I have to adjust my thinking.  I have a six month old baby.  As baby's grow, they are unpredictable.  They grow and change and just as you have it all figured out, they change again.  I am 6 months through this process.  I should not be surprised when there are new developments.

Okay, I can't fix this situation.  So I shall concentrate my efforts on identifying the warbler I saw by Nixon's birthplace.