Texas Two Step

Two steps forward, one step back and repeat.   Possibly the simplest dance step ever, easily accomplished with little practice and music played in two four time with a firm beat. Anyone residing in Texas has had an opportunity to practice this dance often if exposed to nightlife in the Lone Star State.  I’m changing my version of the two step these days.  One  body part healed and two more mangled.  Icing a strained hamstring is no easy task, but standing from the discomfort of a sitting position makes my knees pop and groan. Steps moving forward are gingerly and seem to require a reverse two step...or maybe a shuffle. Most of my day is spent in slow motion.

My granddog is visiting this weekend.  Belle enjoys having another voice to sing for her supper...or breakfast.  My current state of mobility makes my movement slow and clumsy. I’m lucky that my bum wrist is healed well enough to wield a crutch to assist from my seat.  Speedy moves would please these pups, but they quickly get happy when their dinner bowls are filled and placed before them.

I attended the opening performance of “Oklahoma” last night at the Performing Arts Center of our local high school.  I know many of the players and was allowed to see a rehearsal, hearing many stories as the final product gelled! All their hard work was evident. Dancing Girl, Guitar Man, her cousin and I arrived in time to find our seats right next to a couple from their neighborhood. Yes hometown entertainment is the best!

Today, after sitting nearly three hours with only a short intermission, my hamstring is clearly in reverse. 

Time to catch up...

Perhaps it is time to collect and review my thoughts more often.  The drama from my last post was a beginning of an ending.  Ol’ Abner was very ill.  I was posting frequent updates on another site for family and friends in lieu of constant phone calls. At the end of October we were advised by his oncologist to live life to the fullest every day, and don’t worry about Christmas. The man and I accepted different interpretations of that advice.  Our children circled around and embraced both versions of our concerns.  The last few months of the year involved cancelling a planned cruise and sharing an early feast with daughter’s family followed by a quiet thanksgiving with son and daughter in law. An early Christmas celebration at son and dil’s home with another small celebration at our house on Christmas Day, a day he had not expected to see. On to the new year, and we were told the following week would probably involve calling in hospice, I made anti-climactic drama of that with a wrist fracture on icy steps. Freeways were being closed due to congestion from an abundance of multi-car accidents. I awaited treatment in the emergency room amid horror stories of spinning cars making crashing noises.  Son and dil retrieved us from the hospitality of medical intervention and managed to get us safely bedded for the night. I recovered as he became more ill.  He left us less than a month later after a whirlwind of loving visitors and competent caring hospice staff flowing through our home.  My old Marine was cremated and we gathered to honor him with a beautiful wake hosted by son and dil followed by a celebration at our church the next day. Earlier this month we traveled to the city of his birth and buried his ashes. 

With a sense of quiet peace, we returned home. Son rode Harley Brown, Ol’ Abner’s motorcycle, now his. Two friends traveled on two wheels with him. As I made my final approach to turn into my little town on the lake, I felt the jarring thump of a rear end hit!
The other driver drove away after assuring me he would “take care of this”...neglecting to tell me I would have to find him first.  Our local police were as helpful as possible under the circumstances, but the next morning I took Bruce in for repairs for the second time with injury to his backside. (Maybe I should mention that we were rear-ended in November but the other driver didn’t bail on us) An attempt to rent a car was thwarted by a tumble in the parking lot. Son again had to retrieve me and after another stop at the ER, I was delivered home to nurse a strained hamstring!  RICE protocol is still in force (rest, ice, compress, elevate)...to be continued dear diary.

A stitch in Time! It IS time!

I am in the mood to sew.  My sewing isn't in a co-operative place.  It's a difficult reconciliation! After a lovely weekend retreat with some of my favorite sewing companions, I should have come home invigorated and ready to become productive.  Instead, I unloaded my equipment and it has sadly been occupying a lonely corner since I returned.  With the holidays approaching, projects could put me in the spirit.  I need to stay home a minute for that to happen.

I think I'll clean out the garage this afternoon.  No...that's not a change in plan.  We have an appointment this morning to review and possibly replan our future, so why not clear some space in the parking area.  I have shelves for oft used items that have no home inside the house.  Gift wrap and ribbon stores nicely on those shelves. Big buckets of yarn were moved to the less accessible shelves in the playhouse a couple of months ago to allow for space to store sewing machine cases. It's time to pull them out of the cases, move the cases to the garage and allow Dinah, Sister Spirit and Little Brother to hum!  Yes!  I like that plan!

Reflection

We have about a dozen young friends graduating from high school and a few more celebrating completion of a college curriculum for a degree! This is the weekend my high school class will celebrate the anniversary of our own walk across the stage for a diploma. The first event of this reunion began at noon, with lunch in a legendary restaurant,and additional events throughout the three day weekend.  We made plans many months ago to attend.  It was not meant to be.

Ol' Abner has been going through the process to fight his cancer. Yes, it is hard to say,but he has cancer.  An aggressive treatment plan was outlined and preparation began.  Two specialists would treat concurrently with radiation daily and chemotherapy weekly. First we had to consult a surgeon to have a port installed for delivery of the chemotherapy and provide a better access for drawing blood.  The radiation oncologist mapped out the location for targeting radiation, but found some suspicious fluid around his lung.  That fluid had to be removed before we could proceed.That fluid contained cancer cells, meaning we must change to a more aggressive chemo plan. He is officially considered in Stage Four, and options are shrinking as well as his life expectancy.  

This news was given to us the morning we had planned to leave for my reunion.  Additional planning called for reorganizing our weekend, actually we are reorganizing our life! We will indulge in a quiet few days of reflection.

Old...it's reality!

Aging is a tough process.  I was convinced I would do it so much better than my ancestors.  A few months ago, I realized that goal has passed me.  I often stand and walk like an old lady.  I appreciate the easy-open medicine bottles, provided for homes with no small children. Ol' Abner reminds me from time to time that I AM old, not as old as he is, but accurately classified as a "senior citizen"!  

Even our dog has accelerated the aging process, despite adjustments in her diet to control weight and keep her mind active.  She required a "knee replacement" in January.  While it is well healed, she walks like an "old lady" now.  She no longer runs, but walks quickly with a prissy little prance.  When she wants to join us on the dog friendly sofas, we must lift her up.  These days, I am grateful for the ten pounds she shed last year.

If only I could adhere to a daily "green bean" filler in my diet, and if only they made "Bright Mind" food for old humans.  

Time for a New Plan

I've been complaining continually since the beginning of the year, probably not a good idea.  I griped about the rainy weather, then the wind that dried out the ground and blew in the pollen.  I griped about being stuck on the 26th floor at Houston Methodist Outpatient Center when the weather was delightful outside. After a low score on his Pulmonary Function Test, the transplant center called us back to Houston repeatedly for further testing...I fussed.  Ol' Abner suffered a nosebleed that would not end, in a Holiday Inn, and I griped about having to explain to the housekeeping supervisor that no murder had occurred in that room. After I griped about having to spend so much time in Houston, I complained about a week of finding a Ear Nose and Throat specialist, and arriving for additional tests closer to home.  These have been my horrible thoughts lately, and I must say I should be ashamed of myself.  Don't ever say it cannot get worse.  It just did!

Strangely enough, Ol' Abner and I are at peace now.  We have answers, not good ones, but the questions are now more of what to do about it instead of "what is it?".  We will see an oncologist later today and map out a plan to cure the cancer that has been found growing in his native lung. As for me, I plan to stop complaining!

Just Fix It...please!

The first month of the new year isn't over and we have suffered all the trauma we wanted for the year.  Little Brown Dog had to have surgery to repair a torn meniscus and ACL repair (well that's what we would call it if she had a human knee), actually a ruptured cruxiate! Ol' Abner had a serious reaction to Cedar pollen and we found ourselves in the ER on a rainy Tuesday afternoon that extended into an evening thunderstorm. At the time, Dog was still in her cone and could not be left home alone.  She rode with us in the back seat.  When the storm was at it's worst, the ER staff suggested she could come in to the treatment room with Ol' Abner.   That had a calming effect on both of them. Meanwhile I had begun to experience the telltale scratchy throat.  It didn't help that I was soaked to the skin in my journey to the parking to bring dog inside. My umbrella was under the driver's seat, but I was more concerned with getting the leash attached and maneuvering her through the automatic doors with her cone clad head and shaky legs.  By the time we returned safely home, I was miserable.  The hour plus drive down Interstate 35 in pouring rain didn't improve my attitude.  Luckily Ol' Abner and Dog slept most of the way home.  I shed my wet clothes and took a warm shower, then fell into bed. I was not rewarded with immediate peaceful sleep.  I began to cough and couldn't stop...Ol' Abner slept, Dog fretted. It was a long night. By morning, he was much better, I was much worse. That's what marriage is all about, right, alternate misery?  He has spent the last three days bringing me soup and running household errands.  I have barely left my bed except to recline on the sofa.  Today, I feel human again.  I did cook a pot roast sometime in the fog and we had that to eat at intervals for a couple of days, and now he's off to restock the pantry.  At some point I was so determined to be well that I took a long hot shower, then scrubbed down both bathrooms.  A four hour nap afterward, still left me feeling as if I had been hammered about the head and shoulders.  I do NOT tolerate this form of abuse (even if it is imaginary retribution for belittling Ol' Abner's drama).  The stitches have been removed from dog's leg and she no longer must wear the cantankerous cone.  With all our ailments on the mend, the telephone has taken a powder and refuses to connect.  Will this month never end?