Anniversary of 3s

It's been three weeks today since I had my surgery and it's been 33 years today since Glenn and I got married. As far as the little annivesray goes, I'm walking a few steps on the abused foot, but not putting full weight on it.  It seems to not appreciate action--and tells me so by swelling, so I listen and use the knee wheeler after a few steps.  

How about that other anniversary?  In 1977, we talked about getting old together, but it was just some cloud-infused, lovey-dovey talk then.  I remember talking about how we would rock on the porch together when we were grey.  Now, it's a reality.  About one hour ago, he said "Want to go sit on the porch?"  Of course, the grey part isn't reality...if you discount Glenn's beard and ignore that one of my big adventures today was using Lady Clariol.

I'm not sure what our spouse standards were when we found each other.  Now, I would say that I'm glad I married someone who makes me laugh, remembers to ask me if I need anything when I can't move around,  irons an even crease in my jeans (ironing jeans??!!!) and loves me when I haven't worn makeup in three weeks.

I wish you all the same happiness.

 

The Shower

Today was D-Day for the shower.  At my doctor's appointment on Monday at 9:30, he wrapped my foot, told me to leave it wrapped for 48 hours, and then I could get it wet.  So, at 9:30 this morning, I called to Nurse Glenn, "let's hit the showers!"  I loaded up all of the items that I had packed two weeks ago to bring to my downstairs bathroom and headed up. 

It's getting easier to get around since I can take a step or two in my walking boot, and I've become very quick at scooting up the stairs in a seated position so there were no major events in making it to the bathroom.  Hop into the shower...and I do mean hop.  Ah, yes, full force spray.  Feels so good!  The only down side was that I took a really good look at my foot while I was washing it.  Wow, it looks like it's been through surgery or something equally grueling. 

The very best part was I'm mobile enough to get to my stash of bath time products.  Not to sound too much like Andy Rooney, but...have you ever really looked at what you use to get ready to face the day?  For me it's special bath soap & facial cleanser; shampoo & conditioner; root lifter and hairspray and then we get to the creams...now I may have a few extra, being cream-addicted, there's spray lotion and body cream, eye cream, lip cream, face lotion and hand cream.  Today I pulled out my extra special wintertime balm to treat the skin that was under the dressing.  Then there's the makeup--not even going to enumerate the products.  I ask you, in my very best Andy Rooney voice, "do we really need all of this?"  I answer--"Yes, and I'm always willing to take suggestions on new items."  However, the products do take some time to apply, so I may be hearing Andy Rooney queries in my head, but in my ear I'm hearing Nurse Glenn call from downstairs, "are you ready to come down yet? " Ten minutes later 'Now should I come and help you down?" Finally, he just shows up, peeks in and marvels at all of the jars and bottles I've spread over the bathroom counter.  he just doesn't get it,

48 Hours

Not the TV show, but the time I have to wait to get in the shower.  I went to the doctor this morning.  The big heavy wrapping came off and the stitches came out. I was the first patient for the new staff nurse.  She got to remove my stitches....lucky for her; unlucky for me.  "I've only every removed head stitches...and that's much easier than this! "  OK, no medical experience here, but I could have given her a few hints:

1. Don't stand in the light and cast a shadow on my foot.  Adjust the light, or step to the other side.
2.  Hold the snipping scissors in your right hand and the lifter in your left hand.  You're not successful cutting with your left hand.
3. Try to stop your hands from shaking.
4. Don't be so concerned about hurting me; just GET IT OVER WITH!

They rebandaged my foot (much less volume than before); put a snuggie on it; gave me scar cream; provided instructions on massaging my toes to get them to point the way they should (spooky); gave me shower instructions; and put me in a walking boot.  The "walking" part is a dream at this point.  Doc says I can walk "to tolerance" which today means only about one step.  However, it feels like progress.  The boot is very cool--it can be pumped up to apply pressure.  Sort of an Air Jordan apparatus. Think I'll be able to dunk now that I have this? 

Nurse Glenn insists that this recuperation hasn't been hard at all for him.  But when we got home from the doctor and I'm scooting up the stairs, his first question was "you don't need that chair to get on your feet in the house, do you?"  Sounds to me like someone who wants to retire!

43 hours and counting!!

Is This All There Is?

The postings have tapered off because the routine is setting in.  I wake up first, wheel my way to the kitchen and make one-handed coffee.  Controlling the knee wheeler with one hand, I take the coffee basket to the sink while manuveuring the wheeler backwards, park sideways, put on the brakes, rinse the grounds, back up and redirect the wheeler and return the basket to the coffee pot.  You get the idea.  After about 10 minutes, I'm brewing the coffee.  All this time, Farley is pacing and looking mournfully at me.  How can I not drop everything and feed him?  20 pounds of cat gets really hungry after a long night.  After about 15 minutes of pacing, he starts to cat-whine.  "Please, Gari, I feel faint!"  With no response from me, he finally goes to the steps and looks up.  "Is that nice Glenn coming down and saving me the trip?"  I can almost hear Farley sigh and then he gathers his energy and heads upstairs to stand in the doorway and stare at Glenn until he spooks him into getting out of bed to feed him. 

And so the day goes.  Nurse Glenn only says to me about twice a day now "I'm taking a break outside."  Which means, "hope you have everything you need, cause I DON'T HEAR YOU!"  We've become a good nurse and a good patient, respectively.

When things are this quiet, little things bring big excitement.  Like a hole in the yard.  Thursday we decided to go out for a little drive.  When we got home, there were 4 people from the city in our yard.  Glenn  had called the Engineering Department about the hole.  Apparently, football and unexplained holes hold equal fascination for men.  I took this photo from the car; if you look behind the mailbox, you'll see 5 guys peering into the center of the earth.  I've decided that's what the hole is:  a start on getting to earth's core.  None of the 4 guys from the city knew what the hole was.  They suggested it might be an old cistern or an original drain that routed rain water to the ravine across the street.  These ideas are less exciting than the ones I got from you readers:  a hole that Glenn is preparing to dump me in or a direct route to Wonderland where I could meet the Mad Hatter!  What the city people were very clear about was it's not Worthington's problem and don't mess it up and create more problems that you'll be responsible for!

Need Some Cheese With That Whine?

I think we may have hit a milestone on Tuesday.  I was complaining about my foot tingling which happens when it swells.   Glenn was in another room and his only response was "it's not attractive to whine."   A more tuned-in person would have recognized caregiver stress, but not me.   I went ahead and asked him to hook up my electric ice pack and I heard "I'm in the middle of something and I'm not going to jump up right away like I've been doing forever."  Oops!  But, almost immediately, he came around the corner to hook up my ice.  Venting must feel so-o-o-o good, but responsibility is a much stronger driver!

Someone was coming in to clean on Wednesday so it seemed like a good day for Glenn to go to the cabin.  A little distance is a good thing if you have someone asking you to satisfy every one of their little desires.  (Parenthood, anyone?) 

Like most of you that I've heard from, I've been thinking about that mystery hole in the yard.  Here are some of the possibilities that I've come up with:

• Rhinoceros pit (it's too big to be a groundhog den and a rhino is the only other animal I know that gets underground). 
• Sink hole.  Remember the one on Broad Street that ate the Mercedes?
• Infestation of prairie dogs.
• Small children with shovels.  We've seen this activity  before!!

I welcome your suggestions as to possible causes!

Holey Sunday

Not HOLY Sunday--I'm moving around, but am a long way from heading out for church services.  I mean HOLEY Sunday.  The Burriers came to visit Sunday and brought dinner.  Once more I was the queen, sitting on my throne, waving to people passing by and trying to be a part of the kitchen action.  It's hard to participate while sitting on the sofa sideways.  So I was thrilled when Caroline wanted to know where she could find one of those "scraper things" to get the batter out of the bowl.  Finally, I could offer something:  "not that drawer, the next one."  I AM helpful. 

      OK, a new crew to give me lots of attention; however, I didn't realize how nervous I make some people.  Grant comes in and starts toward me.  "Grab him" Katy says.  I pull my walker over to get up from the sofa and Katy starts toward me.  She follows me like I'm a baby who just started to walk!  After dinner we head out to the patio.  The crowd roars with appreciation as I get out the door, scoot down the steps and make it to a chair.  I continue to be the queen on the throne. 

     Then something changes drastically.  Katy and Jamie notice a hole in the front yard.  All mobile people go to look at it.  Must be groundhogs digging a den.  Looks deep.  Let's fill it with water.  Suddenly Grandpa and the girls are feeding the hose down the hole 

     Uh oh, the hose goes down 7 feet This is not a groundhog den; this is a groundhog apartment complex.

 Suddenly watering hose and watering cans were much more interesting than Grandma. 

  

Friday: Is the Bloom off the Rose?

How are the roses holding up?  Well, the bloom is definitely off the literal roses. 

How about that figurative rose:  being in a new role, that of patient.   Life as a patient takes a strange toll...you start thinking about yourself all of the time...then you start to think that you might be the center of the universe.   That slides into thinking that certain others (i.e., your nurse) should think about you all of the time, too.  Uh oh, bad news!  Nurse Glenn helped me to the patio to enjoy the nice day.  He got me all set up, verified that I had my phone and went in the house to prepare a meal.  I realized that I needed a pillow to prop up my foot, so I called him and placed my request.  Hmmm...what's this?  He didn't immediately appear.  Wait, wait, wait.  Still no Glenn, then I checked the time.  It's been 4 minutes since I called him.  Egad:  not the delay, but egad, who is this person who checks the time delay on delivery of a kindness?  You've just turned the corner from appreciative to demanding.  Time to U-turn on the attitude!

It's easy to think that it's all about you.  People show up and the first thing they say is "how are you?"   And usually bring some fabulous homemade food.  Thank goodness, almost immediately they get distracted from me and focus on my mobility toys.  I'm trying to decide on my favorite:   crutches, walkers, knee walker and wheel chair.  The most popular with visitors has been my Knee Walker.  Adults use it as a chair.  The younger crowd tries it out.  Here's Amanda, who faked (maybe) a blonde moment and looked for the motor.  Sarah knew the trick when she tried it out but she liked the wheel chair best because it manuevered like a kayak!  Who knew?  

 

 No one has wanted to try out the crutches or walkers.  The wheeled items are most popular...visions of wheelies dance in their heads.   If I get good enough to pop a wheelie on the Knee Wheeler, I'll be sure to post the video!