Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

“The best of healers is good cheer.”

December 2, 2010

Can I hear a hallelujah?

Yup, here I am again, and this time I am on my computer, sitting upright and wearing clean clothes. I still can’t get upstairs to the shower until I am cleared by the therapist, but in the downstairs bathroom I just took what we used to call (hope I’m not offending here) a whore’s shower. The actual description I’ll leave to your imaginations. I was able to get off the couch and into the bathroom in under 10 minutes. That is a new record, and I got a 10 from every judge except for the one from the Soviet Union (the reference doesn’t work for Russia). This is a great day and the best so far. I am sitting here with the silliest grin on my face.

During this whole time, two guys have been working on my house replacing the shingles on all three sides (some of you call them shakes). The guys have been hammering, sawing, yelling and making more noise than even I was making every time I moved. I taught one poor guy how to make coffee so he could bring me a cup and then I yelled for a second cup. He couldn’t have been nicer. Between their working, my screaming and the animals running this has been a crazy couple of weeks.

I’m going to try and write as often as I can so thanks for hanging in there and thanks for all the good wishes. I suspect they were the turning point!

“If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, “thank you,” that would suffice.”

November 25, 2010

I figure you’ve been wondering where I’ve been. Well, mostly I’ve been on the couch with only a few mad dashes to the necessary. I’m a bit better every day, but it’s slow going. The colorful epithets from earlier in the week have given way to moans and groans in a variety of tones in greater or lesser intensity. When the ohs and ahs come rapidly with no space between them,  I’m in pain and on my way to the first place I can find to sit down and get my leg up. I haven’t been near the computer in a couple of days, but I couldn’t let today pass without Coffee’s traditional music.

My friends have invited me to dinner, but I figure it is easier and less painful to be home. They’ll bring me a plate so I won’t miss any of the fixins.

The sun is not shining and the day is cold, but I feel the warmth of family and friends. I have memories which keep my parents close. Today is a tangerine, bowl of nuts and watch the parade day. My mother gave me that. I remember my father munching on the turkey leg, his favorite part, and I remember his asparagus, limp and straight from the can. My mother always made lemon meringue pie, my favorite. May I never forget that I have a lot to be thankful for today and every day.

To all of you, I wish the blessings of Thanksgiving  and the happiest of days.

“I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.”

November 21, 2010

Sorry about the timing. I know late doesn’t quite cover it, but actually, I woke up early, used my walker to get to the kitchen to make coffee then the pain hit, and I altered my plans. I came back to the den, took a pain pill and went back to sleep. Gracie and Fern joined me. Two hours later I woke up and performed, for my own benefit, the opening dance sequence from West Side Story, finger clicks and all. Right now I’m working on I Feel Pretty (in my sweatshirt and slippers).

I do feel better each day, but postings will be a bit erratic depending upon how long it takes my body to adjust to being upright each morning. I miss my sisters dearly. They made me laugh a lot and we reminisced about growing up together. We also played a few games. They decided they liked me best in a pill induced fog when it came to word games.

My hard drive died the week before I had surgery, but I replaced right away. Luckily I lost only my bookmarks and address book. All my music and pictures are safe on an external back-up drive but have to be reloaded over the next few days so I have a task to keep myself busy. Yesterday my laptop stopped recharging its battery. I don’t know what’s wrong, but it can sit for a while.

My mother was always the best remedy when I was sick. She’d bring me pudding or ice cream or whatever she thought would make me feel better. I’d lie in bed and color or read, and she’d check on me, tuck in my covers and kiss my forehead to check for fever. She made me feel special. Having my two sisters here was almost like having two mothers; however, they did forget to check my forehead for fever. I guess I’ll just have to overlook it.

“Hospitals are only an intermediate stage of civilization”

November 18, 2010

Late today and  no weather report as I haven’t been outside.  My travels are limited. I get a glimpse of the kitchen every now and then but most of my time is spent in the den. I do take a few side trips to the bathroom but they’re a necessity. A couple of naps break up the day. Gracie joins me on the couch. If I were little again, I’d probably be coloring  or playing paper dolls.

My extensive medical background led me to believe the site of the incision would hurt. That it doesn’t, I find disconcerting. Mind you, I’m not complaining, just observing.

My hospital bed had a lovely view of the tops of two smaller buildings and a walkway between them. I consider it a personal triumph that I was never bored enough just to look. I didn’t read any papers while I was there, and I lost all word retrieval skills and managed to finish only the top third of a  crossword puzzle from the book I bought. That last part hasn’t yet changed. I keep typing gobbledygoop, which I guess is appropriate given the season but triples or more my writing time while I try and figure out what in the heck I’m trying to say.

Well, my posts are small and will be for a bit until I live my life in less of a fog. I do admit, though, I’m not minding  the fog.

” May all that have life be delivered from suffering.”

November 17, 2010

Okay, I can imagine the confusion. I told you I’d be back on Saturday and wasn’t but here I am on Wednesday when I shouldn’t be. Chalk it up to  to excessive medication!

I was discharged late afternoon Monday with pages of information and several different scripts. There was no accompliahments to date categogy, but I can imagine what would have been written.

She can now move from the bed to the commode by herself. Her words are far less slurred and most conversations make sense. Getting herself and the bedclothes soaked while she drinks a glass of water highlighted the need for her to use a bendy straw, and we’re astonished with her progress. The drooling is down to a minimum.

I can imagine the goal section. We are hoping she will figure out how to walk and hold the open back of her johnny at same time. Many of the other patients are complaining. A shower is strongly suggested by anyone who makes contact with her.

Okay, for real, the nights are horrendous as sleep is at a premium. The doctor said much of that pain is probably from the nerves and their reaction to the onslaught of the surgery. It seems there was also a pinched nerve which was deadened. The days are better than I expected. I am also getting quite adept at using my walker, a skill which will serve me well in my twilight years.

My two sisters are here, and I want for nothing. They wait on me hand and foot and are also impressed by my day to day improvement. I figure at this rate I’ll be dancing by next week.

Thanks for all the kind words and comments. Tomorrow will be a regular day, and I expect I can get to some music. I’m glad you all hung around and waited!

Kat

“A hospital bed is a parked taxi with the meter running.”

November 8, 2010

Snow was on the deck furniture covers this morning in a couple of spots. I figured it came from a few stray flurries as last night was cold and it rained, poured, all day and night. Today is no better. I have to venture to the deck later to fill the feeders. Maybe I should be looking for my mukluks.

I have much to do today. Later, I’m heading to Boston to stay overnight at a hotel because I have to be at the hospital by six for surgery at 7:30.  I’m having back surgery. My back has been horrible for a while, and I tried all of the steps recommended by my doctor before we decided it was time for the surgery. They’re fusing a couple of vertebrae and holding them in place with screws. I will be in the hospital for three days so Coffee will be on hiatus. I’m looking at maybe Friday but definitely Saturday for my triumphant return to the blogosphere.

The screws have given some the opportunity to make a few remarks having to do with my sanity. I abided all the barbs and added a few of my own. I admitted I was getting screwed, proverbially of course.

I have a bit to do before I can leave so I have to get myself in gear. Talk to you Saturday!

“I hear a sound so fine there’s nothing lives ‘Twixt it and silence.”

November 7, 2010

Today looks like yesterday. It’s dark, overcast and cold. A wind is blowing and even the thickest branches are swaying. It’s a day to stay cozy and close to hearth and home.

My friend had an aunt who used to sit up until 2 a.m. so she could turn her clocks back an hour. She wouldn’t do it do it before she went to bed. Because the paper said 2 o’clock was her reason.

I used to like the sound of a rotary phone when I was dialing. First there was a click then a whirring. The phone really rang when there was a call. I could hear the click-clack of the blades when my father pushed his mower back and forth across the lawn. The clock in my school ticked off the time in minutes. When the class was quiet, I could hear time passing. A  record, when it got old, made crackling sounds. The TV always had a snow sound in the off-hours after the Indian was gone. The card attached to the spokes of my bike made a staccato sound which got more furious the faster the wheel spun. Going downhill was always the loudest. In grammar school, a hand bell marked our movements. It meant line up to go into the building, change classes, eat lunch, go out for recess, come back inside and then be dismissed at the end of the day. A police car’s siren wound in its mount then screamed as the officers raced to an emergency. The town’s alarm rang when there was a fire, and we could figure out from where the fire was. Each street had its own signal.

Those are the sounds from my childhood which have disappeared.

“Babies have big heads and big eyes, and tiny little bodies with tiny little arms and legs. So did the aliens at Roswell! I rest my case.”

November 6, 2010

The day is still dismal and it’s colder. It rained last night, and the wind blew. My front lawn has disappeared beneath pine needles, and the deck is filled with leaves plastered by the rain. Today is not at all inviting.

The computer is back, but I can’t use it. My keyboard and mouse are wireless and useless until I can load their programs. I need a mouse to load a mouse so I’m still using my laptop, and it’s driving me crazy. I don’t know how to type. I use two fingers and am usually pretty fast but not on this keyboard. It’s too small. I keep hitting the caps lock.

Clothes are sitting and wrinkling in the dryer. My bed is disheveled and unmade. I haven’t even gotten dressed yet. I’m not even sure I will. I haven’t a speck of ambition.

Captain Midnight was the TV show which helped whet my appetite for science fiction. My memories of specific programs are hazy, but I remember his sidekick was named Mudd, and he always introduced himself as Mudd with 2 d’s. I wanted to be a member of his secret squadron, but my mother couldn’t be convinced we needed jars and jars of Ovaltine.

Early Saturday morning programs were often old science fiction serials from the movies. I followed them week after week and learned a lot from watching them. I learned that the domination of Earth was the common ambition of every alien, especially Martians, and all of them, to their detriment, underestimated mankind. A hero would rise, assume the mantle of leadership and send those aliens to perdition. Our hero would fall in love with a beautiful scientist who had a doctorate in some odd science which would prove invaluable in defeating the aliens. She would place her hand over her mouth and scream at her first encounter with the alien. She’d also run away and trip and be saved by our intrepid hero. She would be wearing a suit and heels.

I’m still waiting for my first alien encounter. My neighbor from Brazil doesn’t count.

“Accidents will happen in the best regulated families.”

November 5, 2010

It rained all night, but it was so warm I left the window opened in my bedroom. Today is dreary. The leaves hanging over the deck are mostly brown now and are barely clinging to the branches. The deck is covered in leaves and pine needles. It looks deserted. I miss my deck.

I haven’t heard from my computer man. That is not a good sign.

Rainy days make me want to curl up on the couch with a good book and read the day away, but I have a few errands, nothing big, and a few house chores, also not so big. I grouse a bit but don’t really mind getting dressed and going out because I get to ride around in my new car. The old car is in the driveway and still hasn’t been cleared out, but I’m hoping tomorrow will be a nicer day.

I have broken three bones in my life. One was my wrist when I was around four. It broke when I was jumping off the fence backwards and braced myself on the ground. The judges would have taken off points for a bad landing, but I was quite proud of that cast. The next was my cheekbone broken one early morning when I fell down the stairs. It was the least of my injuries. I don’t remember falling. I cleaned up, changed, called my friend to tell her about my injury then went back to bed. I have no memory of any of  the rest of that either. The last was a fractured shoulder when I fell off the ladder while I was window washing. I also don’t remember that. I just remember waking up in the lemon verbena and going inside to use one arm to finish the window. My sisters claim that all these injuries just prove I’m my father’s daughter, but I disagreed in part. His injuries came from every day sorts of mishaps: the sawing himself out of the tree, catching his thumb with his fishing hook, slightly electrifying himself while putting up lights and cutting his fingers on a fan blade. Mine are a bit more dramatic and happen far less often. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.

Yesterday I caught my finger with a staple while I was putting up my inside Thanksgiving lights. It was most decidedly something my father would have done.

“If you read a lot of books, you’re considered well-read. But if you watch a lot of TV, you’re not considered well-viewed.”

November 4, 2010

We had our first frost yesterday morning.  Grass blades were tipped in white and the windshield of my car was covered. When I went to get the papers, I walked across the grass to hear the crunch. The air was crisp and cold, the sort of cold which takes you by surprise and makes you gasp for breath for just a second.

My computer died Tuesday. It needed help to shut done then refused to reboot. Yesterday afternoon I brought it to my computer guru. It didn’t sound good, but I’ll know more tomorrow. After I left off  my computer, I went for a ride down cape in my new car. It was so much fun driving I got all the way to Eastham before I turned around to come home.

When I was a little kid, TV was only in black and white. We’d turn it on and then wait patiently while the picture tube warmed up. The screen sometimes had white lines running across it, snow was common and the picture often jumped up and down. We had a rabbit ear antenna on top which we turned and bent every which hoping to find the best picture. I remember one antenna, a more modern version, had a knob on the front as a tuner but it really didn’t work all that well. We’d extend the ears as far as they could go and they’d get skinnier and skinnier. I remember that after a while the ears would bend so much they’d never go back into the antenna sheath, but none of that really mattered to us. We’d watchhttp://atomic-temporary-5444514.wpcomstaging.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=5039&action=edit regardless. TV was a marvel.

I was either a senior in high school or a freshman in college when my parents got a color TV. Star Trek is what I remember watching first. I guess it was all those red shirted uniforms which made an impression-either that or it was Captain Kirk with a torn shirt exposing his shoulder in just about every fight. The color wasn’t great on that first set, but we were amazed. It sure as heck beat the  sheet of plastic we once put across the screen to give us some color over the black and white.

Last night I was watching a movie on my HD TV. It was as if I were there. The colors were vibrant, and I could see every line in the actors’ faces. When I first got this set, I watched hockey, second only to golf as my least favorite sport, but the picture was unbelievable. The ice was bright white, and I could see chips fly into the air when the hockey players braked using their skates. Uniforms, even of the drabbest colors, stood out against the white of the ice. It seemed sports looked the best on an HD set. Baseball was glorious. I could even see a bead of sweat drip down a pitcher’s face.

When I was little, we had only two channels, but I was never bored. Now I have every channel my cable company offers, and I am often bored.

Is there a hockey game?