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NaNaNaNa-NaNaNaNa-HeyHey-GoodBye!

And this will tie up another successful round of NationalBlogPostingMonth. I DID IT!

Looky looky here! No skipped days! Woo Hoo!

Early on in the month, being (anal) some what nervous that I might not be able to come up with post titles inspired primarily by the letters B and P (and sometimes M) I got busy and wrote some post-it note lists of inspirational B and P inspired post titles. Since my life is so full (except for the private time to blog), I had no trouble coming up with my daily titles. I thought, here on the last day of NaBloPoMo I'd share some of the post-it note ideas that didn't make it.

First my other last day alternate title was:
NaBurntOut!

Others that didn't make cut were: NaBlowByBlow, NaBloPositiveReinforcement, NaBloPoMomentInTheSun, NaBloPoMoveAhead, NaBloPoMindBoggling, NaBloPoMountingEvidence, NaBlowYourCool, NaBlowAFuse, NaBlowMe (a personal favorite), NaBlowMyStack, NaBlowItAllSkyHigh (read that in falsetto please), NaBloPoMoveOn, NaBloPoopedOut (very appropriate considering), NaBlownAway, and NaBlowMyMind.

In other news, Mom had two transfusions yesterday. It seems that she might be rejecting at least one of them. (I did not know one could reject blood. Did you know that?) The big hint for me was all the vomiting, dry heaving and bile. Dad seemed to think it was all normal again. I made mom call the doc and now she is doped up on benadryl and two different anti nausea medications. This is another reason why I can not imagine the two of them living alone. No one ever wants to call the doctor.

Also, I eavesdropped on dad talking to some of their friends today. One night I just might hit him over the head with my incredibly sturdy stainless frying pan. If he doesn't stop calling every single thing they stick into my mother an "infusion" I might duct tape his mouth shut. It's almost as annoying as dad just plain old making up diagnoses and symptoms and giving his own life philosophy and his own recollection of high school bio back in the dark ages when there were all of 17 elements on the periodic table and leeches were still commonplace. I'll infuse something right up his......

Anyway, the (crazy) husband is hopping a plane to Chicago with Evan tomorrow to go to a Giants game with some old friends who are gathering in balmy Chicago, in December to sit outside and watch football. Anyone want to guess what the forecast is Sunday? S N O W!! So if you happen to be watching and they pan the audience and you see a small huddled in navy blue human form with orange ski goggles shivering next to a really tall bald guy who refuses to wear a hat in the snow then wave to the tv it's my kid!

Josh is sleeping at a friends Saturday night, so it's down to me and Matt! And I told Matt he could hang with some friends at the movies. So it's me! And (barfing) mom! And dad sleeping on the couch! PARTY!

I had a babes lunch today and normally I don't mention my troubles at a babe lunch but today I just let it flow. I feel like I am putting other people in uncomfortable positions when I discuss, but this whole grandma/alzheimers thing has me freaking out. I stopped by to see grandma after the babes lunch and she was in bed but seemed more with it. She looked better than yesterday at least. After a little chatting she started to get weird again but I had to leave and pick up the kids by then, so I was happy to get out.

Alright, I'm saving just because the clock is ticking on me here. Ciao NaBlo!!

NaBadNewsAgain

So, I was talking to the doctor at the OFH today and she used the word Alzheimer's when referring to grandma, and I was like WHAT??? and then as if a curtain was pulled off my eyes I realized how neatly her strange behaviors can be attributed to this condition.
I mentioned the sudden interest in all things sex related, but what I haven't told you about is grandma acting like a little kid. I have seen quick passing hints of it before, with teasing or game playing, but this morning I spent an hour and a half with grandma and the entire time she spoke in a kid-like voice said she wanted her mommy and recited little rhymes for me. When the nurse came in she refused her medicine by crossing her arms, shaking her head, stamping her foot and saying "NO! I don't want to!" in that pouty little girl voice too. I was shocked. It was like being in some bizarre episode of the twilight zone with her.

I wanted to cover my ears and run from the room. This seemed like too much too handle. Can grandma be losing her grip on reality that fast? I wanted to blame the UTI, surely the medicine she is taking couldn't be right. Did they stop giving her the pain killer like I asked? I didn't think so, it must be the painkiller. How could it be that my poor grandma who has suffered so much being alone with out grandpa for so many years and so profoundly hurt by her big brother who stole her entire life savings from her and left her penniless and so let down by her kids who don't visit, how can poor grandma be expected to suffer even more? Where is the part where you get a break for being good? Where is the karma? The payback?

And now I am faced with the reality that grandma might have to go back into the rehab place I so insisted she didn't belong in just a few short weeks ago. And it makes my heart sink right down into my chest. I practically have to dig in and grab it before it hits the ground and I leave it there to be stepped on some more. But I can't because I have to take care of mom and dad and the three real reasons why I wake up every day and have the strength to get out of bed. Right now that's a real challenge.

NaBloPhoneCharger

Mostly I charge my iphone in the car. That is because I almost live in the car. So, charging in the car is just the most convenient. Yesterday Evan closed the car on the tip of my charger, so today I ended up at the Apple store. Naturally the sales person who started yesterday (this always happens to me) came up to help me and when I told her I needed a car charger for my iphone she showed me something that was a combination charger and radio player. The thought of broadcasting my own personal music collection (instead of tediously and laboriously actually changing CD's because then I would have move more than my thumb. I'd have to move maybe even my whole arm and possibly the other one too.) thrilled me to no end and I grabbed it immediately. Having some extra time on my hands I went to the shoe store and replaced my mom clogs with new exactly the same but new mom clogs, and also picked myself up a coiuple of chanukkah gifts. I decided that this year I'd be giving myself some gifts. I deserve them. Then having precisely the corrrect amount of time I needed to exit the mall, stop at the store for tonight's dinner, and pick up Josh, I headed for the parking lot. I tossed the goods into the back, hopped into the drivers seat and unwrapped the charger/radio broadcaster, plugged it in and read the message on my iphone. It said "Warning: this device is not designated for the iphone. You will not be able to make or receive calls while it is in use." or something like that. SO I had a choice, and it was go back to the Apple Store and get a cheesy only do one thing charger or get dinner. Guess who had takeout tonight?

But I got toally off track because the reason I even thought about writing anything about the charger is because poor Evan is the kid who is in the wrong place at the wrong time and Evan is the one who does stuff like break my nose, fall on my head, drop a hamster, and more. And I was not happy about the charger mis hap but when I thought I was going to have a charger and radio broadcaster instead of just a plain old charger I thought about this whole post I could write about the charger mishap happening for a good reason. Like maybe Evan's luck was going to change and I wouldn't have any more broken/pinched stuff or little fuzzy creatures wouldn't fall from great heights onto tile floors, or even if he only stopped spilling his drink at dinner every night. I thought the whole charger incident was a good omen (I have to stop with the omens) and the beginning of a new kind of luck. And then I saw that the new charger didn't work and when I went back to the store I bought the exact same charger I already had. But I am stopping believing in omens.

NaBloPinCushion

I woke up after a less than refreshing 6 hours of sleep this morning with one singular goal in mind: finding a little chunk of time before 3pm in which I would nap. SOunds easy enough with three kids in school all day, right? Wrong. Welcome to my life. First stop after drop off was the acupuncturist. Yup, folks, I have to turned to acupuncture to help un-pinch and hopefully soothe the pinched nerve in my neck. SO far so good, this was week three for me. After week one I wasn't so sure, the acupuncturist isn't all warm and fuzzy and I had trouble reading her, but it seemed to help a tiny incrementally itsy bitsy bit so I went back at week 2. Then I noticed that it was truly helping and also as an added benefit I have increased flexibility which is making me very happy. Today the acupuncturist told me the flex part was due to my chi finally flowing. Go chi! Flow baby flow! Stick me baby!

I tired to nap on the table (truthfully, you can't make me lie down and expect me to stay awake these days) but I was already covered in needles and I was lying on my side, needle side up, and every time I dozed off my right shoulder would relax and head for my chin and the places in my upper back with needles in them would move and I'd startle awake trying really hard not to scream over the background muzak she had going on. After three (or maybe 6 because I am a. tired b. dumb c. stubborn and d. resourceful and I was already in a prone position and I needed a nap time dammit!) attempted dozes I was fully and acutely awake and noting could have lulled me back to dream land.

Then I suffered a torture which I had never even dreamed could exist before. Previously the acupuncturist had used cups on me, but this week, must have been sadistic week at the 'ol poke em full of holes office, because she whipped out this plastic similar to the glass cups device which had big air sucking syringes at the end of them and she's push them onto my skin and then draw out all the air while my skin painfully rose like a bubble inside the neck of the device. I had only two things on my mind at that point . Sleep was not one of them. The two things I thought was "I am so totally going to bruise" and "OOooWWWOOOoooWWW!!!"

Then, because maybe the acupuncturist got a ticket on her into work today or something else she smeared baby oil on my back and brushed it off with something I couldn't see but imagine to look much like the copper grill brush which works so well scraping dried animal fat and burnt on food marinades off my grill all summer. OooWWW again people. Let's hope I am a fast healer.

I left the needle pusher at 10 and thought I could do a quick swing by the store for groceries and then nap sweet nap time. But no, as luck would have it, I also thought I'd call another colon rectal surgeon and not be able to get grandma in to be seen today. But as (Murppy's ) luck would have it, not only is this surgeon willing to see grandma at her tender age of 95 and 3/4 but she also had a last minute cancellation for 4 o'clock. And as (Murphy's) luck would have it this surgeon also requires her patients to have an enema before their exam.

At the pharmacy picking up enema supplies such as the enema itself and also old lady diapers and absorbent disposable pads (just in case) who of all people should be in the grown up diaper aisle, but the Mick Jagger at 17 look (and dress) alike kid Matt and I see every single morning smoking outside of the school. The kid who inspires my same old boring anti smoking speech that I am fairly certain makes Matt want to gauge his eardrums out because he is not now or is he is ever likely to smoke and I just can't stop lecturing. So young Mick is in the diaper aisle working stocking shelves and my plan is to dash by him grab a diaper for grandma and quickly exit out the other end of the aisle, only I pause because there are too many choices for my overcrowded mind and young Mick asks me in this surprisingly incredibly deep voice "Do you need any help?" and I actually turn around to him and say "Can I say something to you? You really shouldn't smoke." And there may have been more, you know there was more, out of my (big) mouth, but the end of the story is that young Mick is cutting back. He used to smoke a pack a day and now his pack stretches for three days and he says he really does want to quit.

So, guess who gave her grandma an enema today! Yes, I did, and that is all I am going to say about it. Use your imagination. Now make it even worse.

The new doctor, second opinion, that I was hoping had a non surgical answer for me, said that there is no non-surgical procedure available and the procedure recommended by the other doctor (which is called an Anal Encirclement - does that not make you imagine spear wielding natives surrounding a camp fire of accountants?) didn't work and that was why no one ever does it anymore. There are different degrees of surgery, but all are pretty invasive. Then she cautioned me about all the risks of putting grandma under general anesthesia including death and losing the little part left of her mind that she still has, and I think grandma is going to have to suffer this one through. The doctor suggested waiting until the UTI was cleared and then reassessing the situation. Also, grandma can be encouraged to push her intestines back inside of her abdomen, but enough of that.

Came home, took off my shirt and saw that each little skin sucking device did indeed leave a nice purple circle back there and also I look like the scratching post of a multi cat home. With spots. Oh so pretty, guess who is lying on her stomach tonight? Right now I can honestly say that no one needs a drink more than me, and if you do, I'd love to hear about it because if the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence what happens when my side is covered in sewage?

Now I am going to combine my long anticipated nap with a good night's sleep.

NaButtStories

Last summer we went to party where one of the guests brought a big bowl of ambrosia which this family had never before had the pleasure of experiencing. It's called Texas Caviar. And the recipe has no less than three cans of assorted beans in it along with some other stuff. Matt got a hunkering for texas caviar this weekend and on Sunday when the husband was out dong manly sport related stuff with the other two kids Matt and I went shopping for ingredients. We came home and can opened, rinsed, and chopped our way to bean caviar heaven and sat down with a 5 pound bowl of fiber and a really big bag of chips. We munched and munched beside each other on the couch until I had to excuse myself to get some work done. Periodically I'd call down and ask Matt what he was doing. His answer for the next 90 or so minutes remained consistent "I'm eating texas caviar!" He'd reply and I thought he must be eating slowly. Also, I was thrilled that he was eating so much wholesome fiber! Hahaha on me because when I went back down stairs Matt had polished off about 2/3 of the 5 pound bowl of beans/heavenly goodness.

Needless to say we were forced to isolate Matt in the end of the house that Matt's bedroom is on later in the evening and also we had to pass out the air raid equipment before bedtime. But I am pretty sure that the beans were helpful in doing what beans do second best, or should I say second day, because tonight when Evan was supposed to go brush his teeth he staggered out of the bathroom (only a minute or two after Matt slunk out on his way back his computer) blue in the face and I, through my heavily tearing eyes gave him permission to skip a night and tossed him a bandana to cover his face and breathe through.

The dog is still making wind virtually every time she moves, (without bean assistance) and I am also jealous that she is on a low carb diet that I should really be on. One thing I have determined watching her hunt for food around here is either dogs are capable of human feelings regarding food or the desire to carb load is all instinct because the girl is a beast on this diet and all over every crumb of bread and even managed to steal and consume a left over apple pie. But the gas? Still as rancid as ever. My mom has begged me to give her normal food again, (wimp) but since these days the devil manages to steal more bread than ever, because dad can not understand the DO NOT LEAVE YOUR TOAST/SANDWICH/PIE UNGUARDED rule under which we live here, the devil has had more variety in her diet than usual. (Donut anyone?) Blap.

Grandma is feeling no pain on the pain killers I managed to get prescribed for her in the ER. Now I just have to find a doc who will touch her old and infirm butt and fix it. Those pain killers are knocking gram into oblivion though. I spoke to Natasha (the director of nursing) about lowering her dose. Now the trained seals have to do their 2 day circus act so grandma can get less (street drugs) painkiller, because I might sue the OFH (which is what motivates every single policy in the joint) or something if they just cut the frigging pill in half (Instead of risking the over dose) without doctors orders. Luckily Glinda the good nurse of the north was there today and she agreed to skip a dose so grandma could actually wake up long enough to eat and drink something. (I never did ask Glinda what she did with that pill ... hmmmm) Grandma was pretty (drugged out of her senses) down this morning so I ran back later with the antidote to what ever ails my favorite senior and she perked right up.

NaBloggersSharePainMo

I hear you Y!

NaBloPoMo'sBaconBar

Made the purchase with great hesitation- went back for more the next day. You can't believe how good it is.

NaBloPoMoney

Last night when I was at the ER with grandma the husband was in charge of putting the kids to sleep. He let Josh stay up late to watch the end of a DVD they had rented. First the husband bargained with/bribed Evan to pretend that Josh had been dutifully put to bed at 9. Then he turned to Josh to make sure that the child who had begged to stay up late was down with the ruse. Josh wanted to know how much he'd get for lying to me, not realizing that his bargain/bribe was the staying up past his bedtime part. The husband fell prey to Josh's abundance of adorable (sucka) and agreed to the same deal he had cut with Evan. They would get ten dollars to say Josh had gone to bed at 9.

During dinner tonight the subject of bed time came up and I (having been filled in by the husband who can not keep a secret ever) asked what time Josh had gone to bed last night. A hush fell over the table. All three boys stared at their laps. Then Evan boldly spoke up and said that he had gone to bed at 9:45. I turned to Josh and asked again what time he had gone to bed. His face lit up a smile spread from cheek to cheek and he announced "I went to bed at 9 o'clock last night!" then he turned to the husband and added "Now you owe me ten bucks!"

NaBloPoMoreERGoodTimes

Just got home from another exciting 12 hour venture into emergency room hell. Today's lucky victim: Grandma.

Emergency room observations:

1. Saw handsome hunk from the down the street there with his niece said to self "It's a good omen!" WRONG It's meaningless!

2. Grandma noticed an older lady sitting there for a long time turned to me and announced for every one to hear "That old lady sure has been here for a long time!" Grandma has no idea how old she is.

3. WHy oh why must I talk to everyone? (I get that from grandma!) I ask grandma's ER neighbor how long he'd been waiting and he turned to me and spoke jibberish and sounded like Latka from Taxi. I back my way into grandma's room. The next thing I know crazy Latka is being wheeled out for a psych eval. I have to shut my mouth and learn to look away.

4. I spend inordinate amounts of time trying to figure out what the guy in the next bay did to require both a neck brace and gauze bandaged feet.

5. I listen to every other family member's sob story why? And I really hope Sam and Rachel are okay.

6. I never knew what oral contrast can do to an old girl. And now I am afraid I am once again permanently scarred by the sight (and smell) of oral contrast after the CAT scan.

7. I knew she had a UTI since last Tuesday from now on I am taking her to my own doctor.

8. ER docs are stingy with the painkillers.

9. I can sleep just fine after drinking vile waiting room coffee/swill.

10. And that is what I am going to do.

NaBloPieceOfPaper

A few weeks ago I stopped in to see my original pilates teacher. I like her a lot. She has a great perspective on life and also, she is totally hilarious. I could listen to her for hours and she's a great teacher too. Also, she's the one who looks and sounds so much like my aunt lillian that if I ever found out aunt lillian gave a baby up for adoption I'd stand up and shout "Look no farther!" Anyway, my original pilates teacher has a little box on her desk and in this box are a bunch of fortune cookie sized slips of card board and each slip of card board has a word on it. What you are supposed to do is pull out a word and reflect on that word throughout your day. On my way out of the studio after saying HELLO I automatically reached into the box to grab a word and much to my surprise got a word I had never gotten before. I got GRATITUDE. My original pilates teacher gasped, opened her eyes wide and half whispered "Oh, that is a great word for you! Think about it." My initial response went something along the lines of "Sure, I have so much to be grateful for every one around me is dying a slow and painful death." I walked out the door. I saw a brilliant blue sky. I said "Okay. Well, the sky is blue." and thinking that would be the limit of my gratitude and the last I'd think about GRATITUDE I stomped to my car.

As I go through my life since that day GRATITUDE keeps popping up. It pops up all the time. I can't shake the concept. Obviously the biggest area of gratitude I have is that my kids are healthy, happy and just fabulous. But little by little I am noticing that if I train my sights on being grateful for what is good then what is bad seems less of a big deal and much easier to handle. For example, when I am explaining my situation to people they are always astounded that my folks are living with me. And truthfully, it isn't easy at all. But then I explain to the people what a gift this has been for the kids who would not have otherwise seen their grandparents in the next 5 years and never would have developed the relationships and special memories they are making by being able to see my folks every day. So I find myself being grateful for this family time together. As hard as it is having my parents around, it is incredibly rewarding to see them growing closer to my kids each day and growing that specialness that I always wished could be there for my kids. I wanted my kids to feel like I do about grandma about their grandparents.

Also, I like to know what is going on and if my parents were in Florida they would not be as open and honest with me as they have to be here because here I am the one taking them to and talking with the doctor. They are relying on me to remember things for them.

Even though I am crazy with worry about grandma I am aware every minute of every day how few people get to ever have a 95 year old grandma. (I just love her tiny little stinky self so much.) I am so grateful that I still have her.

I'm grateful for this easy existence the husband gives me. I can buy three times more food than we need (OMG- did I ever over cook this year!) for Thanksgiving and not even blink an eye. I can have a teeny tiny little job because I love it so much I'd do it for free and not have to feel like I need to jump back in to the rat race and bring home the bacon. I can be at every dreadful school event they conjur up. I can go to the gym for 1/2 the day.

I can take pictures with my ridiculously over priced iphone and share them with you.
And when I am tired down to the bone I can get into my warm and comfy bed and have a good nights sleep.

Good night and Happy Thanksgiving.