clickmom

hospitalization 2012

Emails from the husband's first 36 hours of incarceration hospitalization:

1. I really need to switch rooms. This guy is the angriest guy I've seen ( and I know my brother!). If he ever goes for this MRI I'll  beg for a new room then. It's hard to ask when he's right next to me

Now he's complaining about the parking fees at valet parking

(I offered to call the nurses station from the safety of my family room and see if I could get his room switched.  Nurse was so accommodating I suspect they had taken bets on how long he would last and she was going to win) 

2.   I don't know what the phone number is but yes if it can be done discretely

Too bad on the parking. A fee may have caused his brain to explode and now he'll calm down when his sister checks and tells him it's free

3.  They're picking him up for MRI now

4.  Yea she just came in and said she got the message

Thanks

I asked him if he was switched to a new room yet.  They did switch him.

5.  Just 2 seconds ago right after angry roomie came back. New room #, bed 2. Nice view. Thks

Okay, here is the kicker, husband's new roommate was a generally pleasant homeless dude with a fondness for the vegetable medley,  He had charmed the food service guy into providing him with double portions of the vegetables.

6.  If homeless roommate farts one more time I either need to jump out the window or stick a wine cork up his backside. I'll leave you all with that pleasant thought

The next morning I was talking to the husband when suddenly I heard what I thought was muffled crying coming over the line.  I pleaded with him not to cry and to think positive and when he finally was able to choke out a few words he told me he wasn't crying, he was laughing because the new roomie had just stood at the trash can by the foot of husband's bed and let a very musical one rip and rip and rip.

Then he was in the hospital for more than two whole days and nothing seemed funny anymore.

Looks like he'll be sprung tomorrow.  This time I am frightened.  I asked the doctor to have a visiting nurse come in every day to change his bandages.  I'm overwhelmed too.

We already don't agree on the doctor's orders.  One example of dispute is how much the husband can do.  When the doctor said the husband should stay off his feet and keep his feet elevated at hip level or higher as much as possible, even walking from a car servie into his office being too much walking, I assumed that meant the husband should pretty much not walk.  So when the husband suggested we stop at the barber on the way home from the hospital so he could go in for a shave and a haircut (this takes about 45 minutes BTW)  we disagreed.  It is going to be a very long recovery period.  

And BTW- the husband's office is setting him up at home with a computer and what ever else he needs so he can work from home for as long as necessary, which the doctor described as two to three weeks, which the husband decided means two.  I'm exhausted just thinking about it.

this year's b-day beats last year's in suckitude

Anyone remember last year's birthday when I made the family re-do my birthday weekend because I felt unappreciated?  hahaha.  Joke is on me!  (Whoops, can't find that post to link to it. Perhaps I neglected to mention it. You get the jist, we had a redo the weekend after my actual birthday)  Anyway, that is what I did last year, never imagining that this year I could top last year's apathy with this year's husband's  medical crisis! 

How does this sound:  spending your actual birthday in the emergency room with your rapidly going septic -dual soles of feet burned off -infected open wound- limping and puking husband!  Woo Hoo!  Par-tay!  Quick!  Someone dance with me!

They are so very nice in our new new town emergency room.  I was bowled over by their niceness.   You know that me myself being completely spastic and accident prone and having given birth to two (possibly three)  accident prone kids, having a husband with infecto-feet,  and having been physically responsible for my terminally ill ancestry, I have spent more than my fair share of precious time negotiating the ins and out of a variety of hospital emergency rooms, and I declare the new town ER to be 5 star.  

The good news is I dragged kicking and screaming brought the husband to the ER while he was still in the early stages (or something) so this should be a piece of cake of a recovery compared to last spring.  We totally know the routine here.  I think he needs some new material.  The foot thing is so over done already.  Snooze.  Boring.

I kid!  It was scary as hell.  I was crying with a mix of fright and relief once we we got to the ER and must have seemed like such a mess that the people in line in front of us waiting for the triage nurse told us we could cut them and go in first.  Also, the guard slipped me my own box of hospital grade cardboard tissues.  But probably everyone looking at the husband was thinking that if someone that tall ever fell on them they'd end up broken and they simply wanted him as far away as possible.  Also, he was kind of green and an obvious puke risk.

No, but seriously, he had a fever of 103 and was in no way capable of kicking and screaming.  He was like a lame little hurling trembling lamb.

I was supposed to drive back to stepford and have lunch with my babes yesterday but that didn't happen.  Disappointing.

Four things that managed to make me smile yesterday DESPITE EVERYTHING ELSE FALLING TO PIECES in the order that they happened:

1. My babes sent me a Sponge Bob Edible Arrangements fruit basket thingie. I mean, an Edible Arrangement is exciting enough on it's own, but the Sponge Bob container makes it sublime.

2. When the husband hurled all over the ER waiting room floor the dude whose shoes were in the line of fire did this most hilarious jerky side stepping dance in an effort to flee the diameter of splatter.  I'm laughing just remmbering the poor dude's facial expression of horror and dance combo.  In retrospect though, I probably should have offered the guy a few bucks for a new pair of sneaks.  Ooops.

3. Lil sis sent me a video of my niece singing happy birthday to me.

4. I saw a falling star come down right in front of me during a crazy out of the way expedition that the GPS took me on.  I follwed the directions because I was too tired to figure them out on my own.  Could it mean something?  Think about it.  Some people think nothing is random.  Falling star!

The husband had some hospital assigned roommate issues.  Tomorrow I'll make a post of his emails to me.  Poor guy.  Be sure to check back in.

long day

Long day.

Dropped limpster I (bear bait) off at the vet this morning for x-rays take 2.  She was so not happy and slightly confused  about skipping breakfast.  Then they had to literally drag her into the back room.  Now I know why vet offices all have smooth floors.  It wasn't pretty and I was shaking by the time I walked out.  

I came home to lounge around with Josh and wait for Evan to wake up.  I called the vet to see why they hadn't called me to pick limpster I up at 1 o'clock. That was right before Evan made his appearance for the day.  They said she wasn't awake enough to come home yet, wouldn't give me a fucking clue if they saw anything or not, and said they'd call me back to tell me when I could pick her up.  They called me back at 2 to say I could pick her up at 3:30.  I had the brilliant idea that the kids and I would go grocery shopping for dinner supplies before we picked the dog up but surprisingly my kids hate grocery shopping.

We picked limpster I up.  I was half expecting her to come out in a cast because I suspect that her limping problem all leads back to that time last summer when she leaped off of a ledge and splattered herself on the street 8 feet below and started to limp a couple of days later, but she came out unadorned and the vet showed me where he saw something but wasn't sure what it was and now we get to take her to an orthopedic specialist tomorrow.  In any case it is in her right "wrist."  I think it's odd to call it a wrist on a dog, shouldn't she have four ankles instead?  Whatever.  I'm not a vet.

Limpster II (the husband) came home from work with the chills and no appetite.  At first his fever was 100.4, then an hour later, at 10PM, it was 101.4, so I called his foot doctor to get some antibiotics called into the all night 24 hour pharmacy.  Bitch didn't call me back, but somehow his fever is back down to 100.3 and hour later.  Last spring's 2 hospitalizations are still fresh in my mind, so I'd rather over treat the man.  Wouldn't you?

I pretty much spent the entire on my butt dozing in front of the television.  When I take not needed naps while Josh plays Skyrim on the xbox the sounds of Skyrim end up in my dream, amd I get really weirder than usual plots.

I had a fantasy that I would take the boys to the city tomorrow.  Not happening.

wanted: more of a life

Bear bait did not have her x rays this morning.  I was supposed to bring her in fasting because they needed to knock her out to get her to stay still enough for x rays and Josh got up early, went down stairs and despite the fact that her food and water bowl were sitting on the kitchen counter and not the floor fed her and gave her water.

Fuck.

I had a fit.  

I feel like I walked around all afternoon asking how I was going to manage the morning without feeding her, but then I realized that I had been worrying all afternoon in my own head and that noone had any clue I've been worried sick for the past 3 weeks.  The kids don't even know I have fondness or connection at all for the dog. 

When bear bait begs and whines in the evening I tend to threaten her life, which is okay to do according to me since she doesn't speak english and has no idea I'm not telling her how beautiful she is.  Also my pet name for her is "Fatty fat", from that period in her life when the hsband was giving her 4 or 5 greenies a day and she turned into a round ball of black fur before I figured out someone else was feeding her beside me,  so the boys have this idea that I hate her, and they have no idea that I am completely dedicated to the freaking dog and actually do look forward every day to wandering around the fields with her.  Also, they have no idea that for three weeks I've been freaking out over this limp that will not go away.  I just don't want bear bait to suffer.

SO, the kids don't have any clue how I feel about the dog, or have any idea that I sit around wanting more, or that I long for some kind f idenitty that has absolutely nothing to do with taking care of anyone besides me.  I'm about to be 47 and I have to yet to seriously emotionally or physically take care of myself.

Which brings me  to my (hello captainobvious!) brilliant conclusion of the day,  which is I Need To Get A Life outside of and which has nothing to do with being an unappreciated cook and chauffer   a mother.  Which is probably why I am still stinging so much over [email protected]  [email protected] was going to be my train ride out of domestic hell.  The way I feel right now I'd beg the editor to let me work for my old budgetless newspaper for free just to be in a place where I was working again.  But I'm pretty sure the stepford paper does not need photos of new town.  I could go all local newspaper here and start over, but the newspaper is not where I want to end up ultimately, so instead I am goign to search out contests,  attend the local camera club meeting next Monday and sign up for a photo class at the local art center, even though I suspect that none of the classes are for advanced level photographers.  Long term, I wil reapply to [email protected] next fall, along with Columbia and  The School of Visual Arts.  Maybe I'll apply to a couple that are closer to new town but not on the list just in case.  Or maybe I'll only apply to the best ones and if no one wants me next year, I'll apply to a broader range of schools the third time around.  I wish Rhode Island was closer because I'd love to apply to RISD.

Okay, step one: decide on which series are worth developing and which to ditch  and which direction to go.  

Oh, and get this.  The sentry told me yesterday that she has a friend who graduated [email protected]'s MFA program in photography.  I'm going to pick that woman's brain too.

limpster I and II- Happy Birthday Josh!

So, bear bait (aka: limpster I) is finally going in for her x rays tomorrow morning.  I was just thinking that maybe she wasn't limping as badly as last week when suddenly she could barely walk. Turning to the husband I asked "What if she needs some huge surgery or something?  I don't know if I think it is fair to put an animal through too much medically." Josh, always listening and always quick with a reply says "Well, Evan has that bow and arrow..."  Hello!

The husband (aka: limpster II) had an unfortunate accident (??) this weekend.  We went up to enjoy some utopian goodness only to discover that the heat in our utopian house was not working.  While the industrious HVAC repair man was working away on the forced hot air heat I got the brain storm idea to turn on the bathroom floor tile warmers.  Well, to make a long story short, one of them malfunctioned and the husband ended up with 2nd degree burns on the bottom of both of his feet.  As if he needed more foot related trauma after last spring!  Anyway, he looks as if he walked (or more accuratrely stood around) on hot coals and it just sucks.  One ER visit and one podiatrist visit later we wait and watch to make sure he heals and doesn't end up all infected.  I reminded the husband that last time he ended up with infections he had been walking around barefoot in a hotel pool for three days.  This time he should be in the clear.  I had a mini breakdown alone in my car today and then I pasted my brave face back on.  I really wish there was nothing I needed to pretend to be brave about.  Let the healing begin! 

In other non limping related news, I spastically spilled my coffee all over my new lap top today.  I thought maybe it had escaped serious injury but then I started to get a message about an overloaded USB port when nothing was plugged into a USB port.  Shiiiiiit.  I'm usually not so careless.  I feel so freaking stupid.  

I thought I was over the [email protected] disappointment, but when it was mentioned this weekend I got teary eyed again.  I'm still profoundly bummed.  Also, I really have to send my camera out for repair.  There are so many spots on my sensor I can hardly photoshop them out any more.  Luckily they haven't spotted up a crucial area of any photo, but they have worn out their stay, and it is time to start fresh!  I wish Canon would come out with a medium format camera I could use my 35mm lenses with.  How awesome would that be?   I need to sit down and rethink some of my current photo series.  I would like to continue with the road kill and the kids portraits, but feel like I need to bring them to a new level.  Think think think.  I'll be fixating on that for a while.

Baby Boy Josh turned 11 today.  Can't believe how grownup my babies are getting.  Josh is going to be taller than me any minute now.  Also, I notice he is starting to shed some kid like behavior.  Damn kids growing up so fast!  Who said they could?  Not me! 

Someone was tired today!  I made him deviled eggs for breakfast, nachos for lunch,  and beeer can chicken with stuffed potato skins for dinner.  Maybe he was just feeling a bit sluggish due to his excessive trans fat intake.  I feel like a cook at one of those chain strip mall restaurants.   He said it was a good day even though we had to pick up bear bait's x rays from last summer's limping episode at the utopian vet, and drive back to new town in the middle of day for the husband's foot doctor appointment when Josh would have prefferred to be eating lunch and then we really didn't do anything exciting.

Evan's very nice friend came over for a while this afternoon and the two of them did the cinnamon challenge.  That was good for a few laughs, because what could be funnier to an 11 year old boy than your older brother spew/blowing pumpkin pie spices out of his nose?  

To be honest I thought it was amusing too.

bait, rejection and cancer

Something is wrong with bear bait.  2 weeks ago she started limping, so I didn't walk her for a few days and then the husband (not knowing) took her out and she started limping again.  I took her to the vet last Monday, but when bear bait goes to the vet she is so busy whining and trembling that it is hard to evaluate her.  She ended up on anti-inflammatory (5 days) and antibiotics (still taking).  I think the anti-inflammatories helped.  Anyway, the vet said not to walk her for a week, and bear bait wascuh-raaaazy with too much energy for that week, and this morning I thought that if I didn't take her for a little walk that I'd find her climbing the walls (literally), so I took her to the fields, and she was so thrilled she ran in circles barking her head off.  By the time we had walked a mile I thought I saw a mild limp and then over the rest of the day the limp evolved into not putting her right front leg down at all.  Sheet.  Tomorrow it is back to the vet.  I hope they can squeeze her in.

In other news, I did not get into a show that I submitted some photos from my rejected [email protected] portfolio to.  I'm not broke up over it, as a matter of fact I recently read Stephen King's non fiction book, On Writing, in which he tells this story of putting a long nail into something and then sticking all of his rejection letters onto the nail.  These days there aren't rejection letters since rejecting you on the internet if more eco friendly, but I am totally going to get me a long nail and start printing out those rejections.

Also, I am going to rewrite my artist statement and make it much more political.  I'm going to add some fire to it.  I'm going to make it more personal/  Also, I'm going to look around for some more contests to submit to.  I'm going to totally whore those photos out everywhere I can.

I went back to stepford this morning to pick up my past mammograms so I can get a new mammogram.  Another one of my friends was just diagnosed with breast cancer.  It is terrifying.  I feel like we are all doomed to get some kind of cancer.  Growing up in Manhattan 2 blocks from the Con Ed plant we used to actually gather in front of the living room window and watch as the smoke stacks blew steam (can't even imagine what was in that!) and now that I just spent the past 14 years in a sewer Jersey,  and lost both of parents to cancer, and have THREE close friends with cancer I feel the whole we are all doomed to get cancer scenario even more.  I'm getting the big squish on Thursday.  Fun fun fun! 

 

down

Something is wrong with bear bait.  2 weeks ago she started limping, so I didn't walk her for a few days and then the husband (not knowing) took her out and she started limping again.  I took her to the vet last Monday, but when bear bait goes to the vet she is so busy whining and trembling that it is hard to evaluate her.  She ended up on anti-inflammatory (5 days) and anti-biotics (stil taking).  I think the anti-inflammatories helped.  Anyway, the vet said not to walk her for a week, and bear bait was cuh-raaaazy with too much energy for that week, and this morning I thought that if I didn't take her for a little walk that I'd find her climbing the walls (literally), so I took her to the fields, and she was so thrilled she ran in circles barking her head off.  By the time we had walked a mile I thought I saw a mild limp and then over the rest of the day the limp evolved into not putting her right front leg down at all.  Sheet.  Tomorrow it is back to the vet.  I hope they can squeeze her in.

In other news, I did not get into a show that I submitted some photos from my rejected [email protected] portfolio to.  I'm not broke up over it, as a matter of fact I recently read Stephen King's non fiction book, On Writing, in which he tells this story of putting a long nail into something and then sticking all of his rejection letters onto the nail.  These days there aren't rejection letters since rejecting you on the internet if more eco friendly, but I am totally going to get me a long nail and start printing out those rejections.

Also, I am going to rewrite my artist statement and make it much more political.  I'm going to add some fire to it.  

roll on

I went to the doc today to get the results of the tests he ran.  He whipped out the standard test results first and said "You're a healthy woman.  You're an incredibly healthy woman for your size."  

Fuck you doc.

Then he whipped out the other test results and those were the results that were all about hormones and nutients.  Pretty much anything that is stress related in me is completely depleted.  Vitamins?  Deficiant.  Hormones?  Barely there.  The doc explained it all as "When you are stressed out you'll eventually run out of that."  

It seems I did not handle the whole moving ordeal gracefully.  Luckily I haven't stopped whining about how hard it is to move, so it's not as if I was pretending I was a moving champion.  My bankrupt adrenals are not a surprise.  This new doc sent me home with a bag of replacement supplements.  It was weird to be given a bottle(s) of stuff without doing some arm resistance to make sure they are right for me.  I miss my stepford chiro.  I'll take the supplements.  Fingers crossed.  I gotta get over this hump.

I tried yet another chiro this morning.  He did do some stuff to my neck, and I'll go back until the current pain has subsided but 1. It wasn't a love connection, I can tell he's not going to be the guy for me and 2. he is moving offices to even farther away from me.  This should not be so hard!!  How many chiros can a girl sample before finding a right one?  It's about to drive me crazy.  Doodies. 

I only cried once today about [email protected]  I'm already thinking about how to reapply.  Rolling on rolling on. That is what I do.

sometimes I have no idea what to title these posts

So, I noticed that bear bait smelled, and she shouldn't be so far from her last bath that she smells.  Naturally, I was convinced that she has cancer.  Makes sense, doesn't it?  Our last (best) dog started to get stinky and then he died of cancer.  Of course he was about to turn 13, not 8, but cancer runs in bear bait's breed, so I was getting my panties in a wad.  

Then last week bear bait started to limp.  Oh ,my goodness, paw cancer? I didn't walk her for a couple of days, hoping to relieve something, but when I couldn't take her pacing the hardwood floor and incessant back yard barking due to non walking restlessness I gave in and leashed her up.  She did start to limp about a mile in so I returned to Sylvia and brought bear bait home.  Saturday the husband took bear bait out and he admitted that she started to limp again, Evan said she wasn't limping but I think he might have been trying to protect the husband thinking I would hurt him for doing the wrong thing to my canine girl friend. 

Today I brought bear bait to the vet.  I was right about the smell, but it is her yeast ridden ear that stinks, not her cancer.  And she doesn't have the three different tick born illnesses that they could test for in the office, and bear bait was in usual form shaking and whining and never gave much of an indication to what if anything was really bothering her.  The vet's theory?  ARTHRITIS!   Holy guacamole.  My girl is OLD!  In any case, bear bait is on bed rest, antibiotics, anti-inflammatory, and two kinds of ear drops.  Next Monday I have a phone conference with the vet scheduled to discuss her progress or lack of.  Poor girl!  I wanted to request sedatives to help with the bed rest, but this is a new vet and I didn't want to give her the wrong impression.  

Next time I'm bringing my portfolio and asking her if she thinks people might be interested in memorializing their dead pets, so I figured I'd be super sweet and as opposite of creepy as I could be this time around.  

still bumming

Yesterday would have been grandma's 100th birthday.  I was trying not to think about it too much.  I did manage to mention it to the kids one time without tears.

Then things got good for a few hours when Matt and I went to a mall for a day.  Matt found some shirts on sale that I had an additional 25% off coupon for.  That was sweet.  I found some bras to replace the ones that the underwires poked their way out of.  That was good.  I found some undies for Josh, who needed larger undies in a most desperate way.  That was good too.  

Then I ended up at the grocery store where there was kid in the dairy aisle who was screaming "Shut up mommy!" over and over again from his shopping cart seat.  The mom kept saying "Sush"  and "Sush."  I wanted to stab both of them.  I wondered if John Quinones was going to jump out and ask me why I didn't intervene.

Then in the parking lot I saw a wondrous freaky creature of my special kind of ultra realistic nightmares.  She had gray streaked hair down to the back of her knees, which were easily 7 inches away from each other due to the seriousness of her case of anorexia and then she glared at me, not cracking a smile on her synthetically plumped Angelina Jolie blood red painted lips.  I heard the clomp clomp clomp of her 5 inch heels as she headed for cover and I didn't get to sneak of a photo of her.

Then the whole [email protected] rejection thing.  I was not prepared for the rejection.  Also, I didn't think we'd hear so soon.  I just ordered a ton of paper to print my portfolio on.  I'm going to print up a few copies anyway.  Maybe I can get someone around here interested.  At least I'll have time to take more classes at the local art centers.  There are plenty to choose from around here.  I'm totally goign to reapply next year.  I don't have the energy to think about it yet though.

I'm really feeling sad and lost.  I wish I could lock myself in the posh club (which I miss more than you could know)  for the day but instead I have to take Matt to the airport.  I love picking him up at the airport, I hate bringing him there to leave us again.