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TISMF

From today: Here is an “interesting” update. Went to see the husband with Evan and Josh just now. I brought the bottle of protein/nutrition supplement that His wound care doctor wants him on (because in the last week or so I do think it’s been helping his foot ulcer to heal.) When I change his bandages there is blood there, which is a good sign since the whole problem is caused by lack of blood flow to the foot and surrounding area. There was no blood on the bandages outside the day after the wound care center would poke and prod in that wound. So, I was excited to see the blood there.

So, it did occur to me that this latest bout of fainting and weakness began after Husband had started taking this dietary supplement but it’s all protein, vitamins and a few amino acids, so I figured it was coincidence. But the timing did seem super sus and I even mentioned it to one of the doctors, but with disbelief, because it seemed crazy that a nutritional supplement could fuck him up so bad that he looks like he is having seizures. I mean, that does sound crazy, right?

SAY IT WITH ME NOW…..
1,2,3…….THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS COINCIDENCE.

Today, while standing around the hospital bed the bottle is on his hospital tray because I’ve been talking to the nurse to see if they can administer the nutritional supplement to him when I’m not there…. when Evan looks at the bottle, sees the ingredients, and says OH, I KNOW THESE AMINO ACIDS from my pre-workout energy drinks. THEY ARE BOTH VASODILATORS.

So, just so you don’t have to google it, vasodilators will relax your arteries and veins, allowing more blood to flow through them, which is great if you’re working out and need blood flow to your tired muscles but NOT GREAT if you have ravaged veins that already can’t clamp down hard enough to send the blood back up to your head when you go from sitting to standing.

All I can say is THANK GOOD the wound care doctor has it in her notes that she suggested He take this stuff because I would be fucking crushed if I did something that accidentally made him so weak that he fell and broke his back and he ended up in the hospital in pain. Needless to say I immediately told the nurse the next time she poked her head into the room and now I’ll stop giving it to him (and they won’t start giving it to him) and see if he bounces back once it’s completely out of his system.

Fucking insane, right? I was ready to keep him on this supplement indefinitely!! SMH.

TISMF

I called the doctor. He said to call the kidney specialist. He happened to walk past as I was talking to the nurse and she put him on the phone. He mentioned sepsis and that is a very real threat considering the open wounds on his feet.

Because yesterday he stood up, started walking, froze, I ran over and he was unable to talk or move. I grabbed him, called for a Josh to get the wheelchair (thank good he was right there) and husband was rigid and couldn’t help, but we lowered him onto the chair and as he was recovering from that I took his blood pressure (because the doctor had asked earlier if it was low) and it was 79/60 which means it was even lower during his episode.

I don’t know how to describe how I know when he is going into crisis. All I can say is that my spidey senses start tingling.

Well friends. Here we are again on the friend update chat. Guess where I am! If you said ER for husband you would be correct. Blood pressure bottoming out. Could be a million different reasons including sepsis. (The diabetic foot ulcer plus the new attempted de-skinning of his right big toe) He got the express treatment. Straight into a room, no waiting. No hallway. He is currently hooked up to all of the monitors and they’ve already gotten 6 vials and 2 little airplane bottles of blood from him. Now we are waiting for the doctor.

The fun never ends! Guess who WAS going to have herself a day of friends and relaxation tomorrow! If you guessed me, you would be correct. The timing is as spot on as usual. I’ll update you when they figure out what’s going on.

Heart enzymes are elevated indicating a possible heart attack. (67) They just took another blood sample to see if they’re going up or down.

They’re going to do a CAT scan on his head (because of all the falls the past few weeks) and abdomen (it’s tender and he has diarrhea) just took even more blood. A lot of blood taking happening.

Also, they finally looked at his foot wounds. Thank god. I know they don’t look infected because I’ve been changing the bandages but they did not look infected the last two times they were infected so…….

His third lumbar vertebrae is fractured from the fall he took Wednesday night.

They’re admitting him

67 but doctor just told me that he always runs high because of the impending total kidney failure. THE FUN NEVER ENDS

Oh my god. What a mother Fucking day.

I left the hospital around 5:30- mostly because I couldn’t take the mask burning my delicate nose cancer skin for one more second. I was there for over 6 hours- N95 securely in place the entire time.

He is definitely there for the weekend. Everyone at this hospital is so Fucking nice. It makes such a big difference. Holy smokes. Tomorrow I’m bringing the nurses a cookie platter.

The neurosurgeon wants him to wear a back brace to take some pressure off of his broken back. They ordered one for him. They want to do an MRI and I am so Fucking tired that I can’t even remember what they want to do an MRI of. His head, I think.

The broken back pain wasn’t even the actual reason I brought him to the ER! I brought him to the ER because his blood pressure was nosediving so hard that he was twitching and rigid and unable to move or speak all at the same time. Makes Mitch Mctaitorturtle look like a novice with his basic “staring off into space” act.

The ER doctor was amazing. I told her that he had place specific memory problems ever since the attempted angiogram in December and she (on her own volition) asked the radiologist to compare the CAT scan they did today with the one from a year ago when he had the strokes and she said that there was a new spot on it so, she couldn’t say when it happened but there was another “event” in the past year. I am telling you!! Woman doctors are the fucking best. I fucking love it when I am listened to.

And you know what the icing on the cake is? Tomorrow I was going to leave him with Josh for the whole day so I could drive to Long Island for a backyard barbecue with the women of the high school reunion committee. God damn. I was so prepared with hostess gifts and a charcuterie board and everything!! I have a new dress for the occasion! I was going to take the ferry across the sound back afterwards and enjoy every second of the filthy sound water air on my face. I could literally see me, standing on the front of the boat with my new dress blowing in the breeze, one hand securing my sun hat to my head, blue zinc oxide hiding my nose cancer. I was so close!! SO CLOSE! I was practically 24 hours away from a day for myself!!

Now, I’ll spend my morning sitting by his hospital bedside, instructing the nurses on his wound care maintenance rituals, and then me and Josh will be enjoying a GF/DF charcuterie board in front of the Saturday night movie on TV for dinner tomorrow.

Okay, the Josh part sounds pretty nice.

You know what else is going to be nice? Not having to sleep and stay tuned in to hear the sound of him crashing to the ground. Last night I was all tucked away in bed. Teeth cleaned, bite guard in. CPAP mask adjusted perfectly in my nostrils, eyes half closed, sound machine thrumming, about 2 exhales away from dreamland, when I heard something. What did I hear? I did not know. Was it Josh? Was it him? Was it a body crashing to the ground? No way to know unless I drag my sleepy comfy all warmed up and cozy self out of my happiness bed cocoon and check. So, I grumpily turned the CPAP machine off, hit the lights, and got up and made my way half way down the back staircase to discover…. It was not in fact the husband who was lying safely in bed it was Josh slamming a door!! Almost had to punch Josh for scaring me out of bed, but I was actually naked so I just stealthily dashed back to my happiness cocoon and drifted off to sleep.

Husband texted me to say that he is quite sure his roommate is dying of something and he isn’t going to take his mask off. I assured him that the hospital wouldn’t put a contagious person in the room with him
(Which is hilarious since we all know with 100% certainty that I am the covid paranoid one around here) but just in case I did check with the hospitalist when he called me tonight and he reassured me that the roommate’s coughing is not due to something contagious. Can you even imagine?? We have been on fucking lockdown for 3 and a half Fucking years and they put him in the room with a Covid patient? I would have lost my mind twelve times over about that. I bet the dude was a smoker and now he can’t breathe.

Anyways I am so tired I am going to take sweet baby best puppy in the world into the backyard for her last chance of the day to do you know what I mean I am going to crash like I haven’t crash for a long time. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I have to get to the hospital early so I can teach them how to change his foot bandages. Hahaha. And bring the ointment because they don’t think they have it in the pharmacy. (I bet they do though)

Oh wait. I forgot to tell you about the three separate incidences of road rage and one incident of drag racing I got to witness on my mere 20 miles highway journey back from the hospital. These people were pulling all kinds of throwing the finger out of the car window and brake checking and lane changing in front of me and behind me ( not directly to me but I was close to the arguing drivers ) and I was so afraid that somebody was going to cause an accident that would end up with me getting rear ended. Everyone is a maniac and I don’t want to share the road with these people.

TISMF

Just woke up from a really intense dream. Background: the other night the only one to respond to my request for ash reveal support was one of the ladies from my high school reunion committee. But this woman is fresh out and rehab and seriously struggling with a ton of childhood stuff as well as her sobriety. So after I opened the box we talked for over an hour and during that time I pretty much assumed the role of therapist. At this point in my life I’ve had so much therapy with so many different people that I feel like I could be a therapist. But at some point I was talking to her about how the adult in us all really, has to take care of the child in us that didn’t get the care we needed. This woman had a really neglectful life and as an adult tries to shrug it off but you know, then she drinks her pain. So…

In my very chaotic dream last night I was at some kind of resort but I needed to catch a train to somewhere. I was at the train station with another person when we realized we were at the wrong tracks and the other person went running off but I was distracted by all of these art supplies that I just realized were super valuable so I went back for them. I knew I was gonna miss my train and then there was this tiny little girl who was super sad and I said something to her, ran off to get the art supplies, and when I came back there were adults surrounding her trying to help her and she was rejecting all of them. I bent over to talk to her and she fell into my arms and hugged me so I hugged her back and then this feeling of warmth and wholeness and satisfaction just came over me head to toe. It was so strong that I’m sure that I was actually releasing some good feeling brain chemical in my sleep and actually feeling good. I felt so superior for being the only person that this child would trust. I tried to hide it because, you know, I always have to be modest thanks to my repressive upbringing. Then I told this little girl I would help her find her mom and somehow we were driving around in a car at the beach with my dad - and I felt so much love for him FYI- he rescued me when he married my mom- looking for her mom when I realized that I should’ve stayed in the same place where I found the girl and found a security guard so … I don’t know what that part of the dream means but I would like to focus on how good I felt when that child embraced me because I feel like that’s connected to the part of me that needed a reminder that adult me could be the one adult who looks out for the wounded child that is still inside myself.

Oh my god. Just so you know I am still laying in bed dictating this text so that I could do it fresh before I forgot the dream and the phone typed “wounded child” as “golden child” and I just think the phone wants me to know I’m special.

TISM PHOTO CRITIQUE GROUP

Wenches. Listen. I opened the box of Bob's ashes last night.

Ladies...
Ladies...
Ladies...

NEXT TIME HOW ABOUT WARNING A GIRL???

Uh, the chunks??? Was not prepared for the chunks. The chunks were ... jarring. I will not elaborate. You can reach out privately if you need details.

Luckily I was prepared for being shook and had a friend on video chat while I opened the box. She is a nurse, and you know nurses. They aren't phased by gruesome because they either have seen it all or they just pretend to have seen it all. The nurse thing.

Disappointed that the ashes are a dark gray. Was hoping for lighter. It's fine. I'm finding an awful lot of fascinating ways that folks are incorporating ashes into all sorts of things. Pretty sure our relationship with death needs a tweak. Yeah. Feels a bit like going to crazy town. If I had a collection of ashes (and a winning lottery ticket) I might buy one of each thing. But not in a sad way, more in a "I can't wait to see the look on people's faces when I tell them" way.

Bob

So, I just got off the computer for my virtual photography critique. This is the group of women who all went through the same masters program as I did. And I did something that makes me super vulnerable. I told them about this blog. Hey Wenches! Here I am, sending off my words into the atmosphere for almost 20 years and never even trying to find an audience. (Ever since that weird interaction early on with a group of online bullies, I have no interest in what strangers think) What was important to me has always been to just put things into words, not looking for feedback here, not looking for the sweet sweet validation I crave in so many other aspects of my life. Just looking for a nice safe place to let loose with some stories.  Maybe one day my kids will look back and read some funny stories from their childhood or something. I don't know. I don't even think I actually care.

Anyways, I shared two projects with the critique group. The easy one was my current way of looking at the dying beech trees. Instead of making images from a distance of a large part of the tree I have been getting almost aggressively close and I was happy with the results and wanted to see if other people thought they were strong images as well. I got an enthusiastic reaction, so YAY! Love me some enthusiasm! Next step is to continue to make more images and see what I get. I just love photographing in this way, where I have no control over the light and have to approach the quest for photographs like a hunter. Heading into the woods, looking for my victims! (Insert evil laughter) (Also, sorry, kind of tired over here, and that means I am getting silly) Yeah, but you know, the hunt is part of the fun for me.

But the project I spent the most time discussing was my Bob project. Recall: my bestie Bob died at 49 in 2014, I have his ashes and I made the promise to his dying father that I would take those ashes to Italy and leave them in beautiful places after a discussion with Bob's L.A. best friend where we both agreed that is what he would have wanted because the last couple of years of his life he often talked about selling everything and buying a one way to ticket to Italy where he would roam around looking at all the beauty. He actually told me that he didn't care what happened to his body. (Which I totally understand! I feel the same way) Well, Bob didn't ever make to Italy, so getting him there and leaving parts of him in magnificent vistas is truly on the top of my own bucket list. But, I have told you that before, I know. I can never just start in the middle of the story! 

My critique group suggested that maybe I don't wait to start photographing Bob (or rather, his ashes), and that I start now. All this time, which, I can not believe has been almost 9 years, that is a long time, and the thought of it makes me cry, is the kind of time that feels like forever and just yesterday at the same time, I only ever thought of bringing his ashes to Italy and I never even opened the box to look at his ashes. But, I am going to look at his ashes tonight. I wish I had someone here to hold my hand while I looked, and I don't want to wait for one of the kids to be around because, you  know, I don't want to be a creepy weird and sad mom, so maybe  I will try to phone a friend while I look. I am trying to decide if I should bring his ashes to Italy as ashes or try to do something with them first and bring them in solid form. People do some crazy stuff with ashes, and I don't want to go too wacky with them, but I have some ideas floating around my little brain. So, the first ting I need to do is unbox Bob and see what I am dealing with. The next thing I need to do is obsess even more about what shape and form I want him to be in when I leave him in Italy and if it is not ashes I will have to take care of transforming him. There is a company that will convert a person's ashes to stone, and I would be tempted if it wasn't ridiculously expensive. But, I think that this might be more of a DIY situation, due to me being a DIY kind of girl and also being able to use the process as a way of coping with my grief which still hits pretty hard. Okay, step one happens tonight. I will look at the ashes. I will be brave. I will not cry. I may have just lied to the world wide web. 

TP

https://clickmom.typepad.com/.a/6a00d8341c1b4353ef02c1a6cdd15a200b-pi

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TISMF a few days ago and forgot to post

Pretty sure I’ve vented about this before but it’s a constant in my life, so …. Here we go…

So. I have this thing that if I ask the husband what he wants for dinner he always says something I can’t eat and today, I’m getting ready to go to the store and I said to him “I’m trying to think of some stuff to buy for some dinners” and he says “How about lasagna.?” We all know I can’t eat lasagna… no dairy no gluten so…. he’s so predictable and …. he’s so fucking stupid and self centered and I asked him if he knew what I was allergic to and he doesn’t even know what I’m allergic to. Not even the potentially deadly hazelnut allergy.

Oh, and just a reminder, I have been gluten free since 1999. OVER TWO DECADES. Dairy free since 2007. FIFTEEN YEARS!!!!

I am not loved and respected in this relationship. I wish I could pack my car up and drive away.

Part two: so, he kind of gets a stick up his ass when I point out to him that 1. He only requests foods that I’m allergic to and 2. He doesn’t actually know what I’m allergic to.

And he says to me that I should make what I want to eat for dinner and I explain to him that we have opposite tastes in food. For one thing, no animals would die if I was cooking only for myself because I do not crave bleeding flesh the way he does. I said I’d probably have soup or salad and then he goes “Okay, let’s have soup AND salad then! I’ll eat soup and salad”

Which, uh…. no he wouldn’t!! I can count on my fingers how many salads he has eaten in the 34 years sonce we have met. And henwoukdnt eat the salad I would make for myself because the salad I would prepare for myself would have real greens and stuff like sprouts, sheep Roquefort, artichoke hearts, or olives on it, and not iceberg lettuce with ranch. But anyway then he starts talking about pea soup because HE loves pea soup and I just sat there with my mouth hanging open because if I’m gonna be honest with myself, I’m in this position because since 19 fucking 89 I’ve been cheerfully (okay, maybe cheerfully initially with resentment gradually creeping on over the past half of this relationship) preparing the favorites of this emotionally repressed, incapable of gratitude, self centered man-child and I have no one to blame for his uncaring and indifference but myself. I accepted it from the get go. Maybe it was how I was told I needed to be, maybe it was just a continuation of how I had been treated within my family, (where I was literally told- continually- that I had to take a back seat to my sister because I “was fine” and she needed something) maybe it was all of that, but ultimately it took me 30+ years of marriage to realize that my needs matter too. Young me had no idea that old me would grow angrier and more bitter by the minute. Dang.

But really, I’m fine, don’t worry about me, pea soup is on the stove (I made lentil soup for myself last night, I’ll eat that) and I’m not making him a salad because he has an upset stomach, so I can grab some wild arugula I’ve unintentionally but happily got growing outside and make one for myself. I hate making separate meals.

Food is such a huge issue. I’m starting to wonder if my current unhealthy relationship with food needs to be examined through the lens of my historical relationship with food. Oh god. That would be so revealing.

THIS JUST HAPPENED.
Husband: Hey, what kind of ice cream do we have?

Me: describes the three choices currently in the freezer

Husband: Okay then, I’ll have the ice cream sandwich.

Me: Sitting up straight on the couch staring him down: YOU KNOW I’M NOT THE WAITRESS, RIGHT?

Shoot me, right? I can’t with him. So over being a part of this.

falls

I used to keep a running list of all the times the husband fell just in case someone medical asked the bruises.

I stopped because it just got too sad because I’d have to write things like “when I left the room he tried to pick something up off the floor” or “while I was walking the dog…” or “I was upstairs in bed when I heard the crash” and then I’d describe his wounds and the questions I asked him that he wouldn’t be able to answer. Like “Did you hit your head?”

I have to start again though, because right now he is falling so often I can’t remember if it’s been four or five separate falls. One happened when in the middle of the night he tried to grab his walker which was too far from the bed and he fell forward off of the bed. He scraped his right knee. Then he fell on top of his walker in his room trying to pick something up from the floor. He scraped both knees and his forearm. Then there was another fall where he scraped the opposite elbow and both knees again. I’m pretty sure there a fourth fall that I can’t recall the details to. And there was tonight.

Tonight, he went to bed around 8:30. At 10:15 I heard him using the bathroom and he called to me to tell me he wouldn’t be getting up. I figured he was down for the night. I stayed up late waiting out a downpour to take Luna outside. We went out around 11:30, came in, closed up the house. I was upstairs, I was in my room, having just finished brushing my teeth I was putting oil on my face when I heard the crashing sound.

I called down, I put my pajamas back on, and found him lying on the bathroom floor. One bandaged knee was oozing blood. I could see one elbow was reopened. He did not have his walker with him and it was dark. He managed to slide himself into the hallway, sit up, and scoot on his butt to the bed where he gently rolled to his knees and pushed himself up into the bed.

Once sitting he was able to use his walker to walk back and forth to the bathroom successfully.

I rebandaged the bleeding knee. I’m praying he doesn’t try to get up again in the night. It’s going to be hard to go to sleep tonight.