The newest member of my family...

...ABBY!!!

Abby is an 11 week old Golden Lab and when the weather gets better, I'll be teaching her all sorts of tricks...right now she's having enough trouble learning how to avoid leaving puddles and piles on the floor!

In the pictures of her with me, you can see some of the bruising left from the hospital. But you haven't seen anything...the rest of me is so bruised that I could have a guy busted for aggravated assault if I were so inclined.

I know these pictures suck but I haven't felt well enough to get up and take any myself. When I do, I'll have some great pictures because she's always doing something adorable, I just never have a camera when she does. Feeling better will help me get some really great pictures for you guys.

Now I feel the need to go back to bed...I just wanted to introduce you all to my newest, bestest buddy, Abby!

Introducing my grandson!!!

Good morning!

Yesterday my hemoglobin dropped to 6.9 which is quite low so I spent the entire night getting blood. I'm on my second unit now.

I would have written sooner but apparently I was unconscious. I'll do my best to keep in touch with you guys...if anyone figures out what's wrong with me, I'll let you know!!!

I'm going back to acting like I'm really, really, really sick now.

See ya!

I want a new dog!!!

I feel ready now. I lost Payton in August and after thinking about it for a few months, I'm finally able to consider finding another canine friend. Odd that Mike Vick is thinking along the same lines, isn't it?

I can't believe that he has the gall to make that desire public but after he actually got another job and is, stunningly, accepted by the NFL and the Philadelphia area...it shouldn't be a surprise that he wants what he wants, no matter how evil he has been in the past.

One idiot actually made the argument that since Vick would eventually have a dog anyway, we should allow him to have one now. Why should we allow that? Who is being considered in these circumstances? Mike Vick and only Mike Vick. It's as though people think he has the right to a dog and that no dog has the right to be free from one of the worst dog abusers in dog abuse history. Dog ownership is a privilege, not a right and no one has a God given right to own a dog, not even the God of Philadelphia.

I want an English Mastiff but financial concerns will probably limit me to a mutt, something that I can easily live with because I want a dog to love, not to show off or make me look like a macho man. Chances are that nothing short of a pit bull will satisfy Mike Vick's self-centered desires.

Anyway, while Vick makes public his plea to own a dog (like a child molester asking to adopt a 4 year old), I'm making public my plea to own a dog who will love me and be my buddy. If you have a dog that needs a home, let me know...I have a home that needs a dog.

All I want for Christmas is to leave this hospital and find a dog waiting for me.

:)

Today I have the worst nurse I have ever met...

...and I have met some god awful BAD nurses. It took a while for her to really annoy me since I was in such a good mood but once she got going, she did a great job of breaking at least 3 cardinal rules of nursing.

First she refused to give me my xanax and ranted about all of her reasons for doing so. While she was ranting, she actually threatened me with a bed alarm if I got out of bed without asking her first. All of the nurses have reminded me to call them before I get up but not one of them has threatened me with restraints if I don't.

Then, after refusing to give me the xanax, she changed the dose of my pain medicine and told me that my doctor had changed the order. The doctor didn't. So, her reason for not giving me my xanax was that I was on such a high dose of pain medicine but she lowered the dose all on her own. The doctor never reduced the dosage at all but I didn't find that out until later.

Then she argued with me and tried to tell me that I had fallen yesterday when I know that I didn't fall. I told her that I hadn't fallen and she asked me what DID happen after I told her nothing had happened and at that point I realized that she was just going to argue with me continually so I stopped talking to her myself.

By the way, you do not EVER:

Threaten patients
Change doses without a doctor's order
Argue with a patient after you have broken the above rules

So, now I'm stuck with a nurse who is writing her own orders and obviously doesn't want me to have any of my medicines. Interesting. BTW, her name is Seebe, she calls herself Sybil and she works on 5 Center at Central DuPage Hospital in Winfield Illinois.

With any luck at all, I will never see her again.

PS I haven't seen her again and I won't. They gave me to one of the best nurses I've ever had, Flo. I'm safe again!

Hi folks...

...I'm still in the hospital but after close to 2 weeks here, I finally have a nurse who knew that there were computers for patients and she had the motivation to find one for me. So, for now anyway, here I am!

First of all, a health update...I had another stroke and this time I have insurance so instead of sending me home with a doctor's appointment, I've pretty much been kept here for what seems like forever! The aneurysm that I've had was operated on the other day and I probably would have gone home by now but the day of the surgery things went a tad askew.

I came out of surgery in a pretty good mood and nothing really hurt too much at all. But then, an hour or two later, I started feeling like crap and my back began hurting something awful. After a CT scan, a blood draw and an assessment of my vital signs and other symptoms, it was clear that I was hemorrhaging from one of the arteries that they had operated on. I was in the ICU of course and I was no fun at all. I was crying for my mother who is no longer with us and eventually it occurred to me that my father is still living so I grabbed the phone and called him to tell him that something was wrong and I was scared. Being in Tampa, he didn't have much help to offer but I'm sure that I worried the hell out of him so my work there was done.

I stayed in ICU for a bit longer than expected and I must say, that experience sucked BIG TIME! I had other people's blood put in my veins...a major, but lifesaving, ICK! Also, I had one of those lovely catheters in me and when they took it out I was still leaking blood so I couldn't get up. Of course that meant that I had to use a bedpan and let me tell you...they are as hideous as you've heard. I actually missed my catheter.

Of course, I was not lacking in tubes hanging out of me. There was a triple lumen IV hanging out of my right groin, a regular IV hanging out of my right hand, an arterial line hanging out of my left wrist, a blood pressure cuff on my right arm and one of those stupid oxygen measuring things that sticks to a finger tip. At this point I'm down to a double lumen PICC line in my right arm that is there to receive narcotics and to give blood, thereby cutting down on the holes in my arms. Oh, I forgot the sticky things attached to my chest to monitor my heart...one of the few things that hasn't broken since I've been here.

I'm also taking blood thinners which have me full of bruises and bleeding out of numerous orifices...some natural and some man-made. I have new parts in my brain that may or may not get me patted down at most airports. I can't wait to see how they work.

Last week while I was freshly stroked and somewhat confused, I came into contact with a mean dude who was trying to be intimidating by staring me down and sticking his chest out at me. I wouldn't have remembered any of that except for the fact that I was keeping notes and I wrote down his name and what happened. I read that note yesterday and knew that his name was Harold. The note reminded me of the incident and of Weird Harold. Tonight he is my Patient Care Tech. I don't think he knows that I remember what he did but I do. I'm not going to bother complaining about him yet, I'll just let him keep being nice and I'll get him later on this blog. In the meantime, I might just pee on him...that's what he gets for assuming that I'm a confused old lady. He obviously didn't think that I would remember him being an abusive employee...and if I hadn't been taking notes, I wouldn't have. It's amazing how many people here treated me quite cruelly since they figured that I was too out of it or confused to tell anyone. I'll tell you about that later...now I just want to concentrate on getting myself out of here in one piece.

Well, in the last hour I've taken dilaudid, xanax and lunesta...and Family Guy just started so if I hurry, I can fall asleep watching my favorite show. Hopefully, I'll get the computer more now that I know it's available or I'll be home so fast that I won't miss anymore days visiting you guys. With any luck at all, I'll be home by Christmas.

One way or another, I hope you're all enjoying your holidays and I'll be home soon!

:)

In the hospital

My Mom is in the hospital. She had another stroke. She will be having the aneurysm fixed and will be back by Christmas.

On

Were you all aware...

...that there are places on this planet that currently have a temperature of 2? And that's not counting the wind chill factor which is really what gets you. I can put on 3 pairs of socks, one pair of footie's, large shoes, long johns, jeans, a t-shirt, a long sleeve pull over, a large sweat shirt, a coat, gloves two hats and two scarfs and within 3 minutes of being outside my pupils freeze solid. It's like walking in liquid nitrogen.

I used to think that I hated hot but I've changed my mind, I hate cold. I used to say that you could always put on more clothes but I already look like a really fat homeless lady so I don't see how adding any more clothing would help. Once I tried a blanket on my lap and one wrapped around my shoulder but I just looked like an old Italian homeless person. That was no good so I'm back to my regular homeless look.

My "shop" has tuned into a rather cozy little place. I took pictures yesterday which I'll put up here in a minute. Oh heck, I'll do it now.

This one is my TV, my coffee cup and my coffee cup warmer. I could even make toast in my coffee cup warmer if I wanted to. It has a broil setting too but I can't imagine being stupid enough to broil something in a toaster over and then complain that it caught on fire. By the way...on the front of the toaster oven, it says, "In case of flare up, keep door closed." What the hell is a "flare up"? Shouldn't it just say "FIRE"? Anyway, here it is, with my hairbrush:



That must be some nice carpet because I didn't notice he orange juice on it until the next day. It never absorbed. I was able to wipe it off after I finally figured out what the hell it was.


And here is my entertainment center...I can keep in touch with the entire world. I also have 2 kinds of phones out there, a land line and a cell phone. The boom box speakers are perfectly placed for optimum audio quality. If you happen to have an extra relcliner, I could use it:

This is just in poor taste...

What a PRICK!

Recently...

...I found the garage. It was a mess and not pleasant to be in. But, as it's gotten colder and children are closer to my person for longer periods of time, I decided to hide in it. At first I would read books and then I began to look around. After a while of that, I noticed that there were some pretty cool things tucked away.

Someone had built two walls out of one side of the garage and fashioned them with shelves and cabinets. There was also a counter which I quickly cleaned off.

Oops! I made a clean spot.

I took away everything I could carry and left what I could not. I put up Styrofoam walls after cutting holes for the electrical stuff. I found a HUGE piece of something really heavy, covered with some soft of tightly woven linen and it wouldn't surprise me if it was marble. I tossed that on the counter. (Now that I think of it, maybe I should take the linen off of that sucker.)

Anyway, next I cleared the floor area of everything except a large red can that
said FLAM on the side. Other letters have faded but the can was pretty light and it didn't stink so I just left it lodged under the counter.

There was a lot of junk on the floor but then again there was so much junk on the entire floor that the junk from one little 8' x 7' room-like thingie wouldn't be noticed. So, I cleared out my roomie thing. Then, I took remnants of carpet off of a shelf that couldn't reach. I could have, but my shoulder doesn't agree with me. I had to get help but that's all the help I had with my little project.

Halfway though this project I noticed a wall heater. It didn't put out much hot air at all, but it is -4 outside so every little bit helps. Oh, I should mention that, from the beginning, the center of my world was a toaster oven that I found right before I began decorating. Like the Tigres and the Euphrates, I had begun my cilvilation and subsequent migration out of the house-O-children and into a satellite place to be, all because of a warm spot in the garage.

Now that I've made it comfortable, I need to make use of it. Isn't that what men do when they build a shop?

There is a huge difference. All I want to do is find a place to be alone. I could do that in the house and be welcome to do it. But, that's not good enough, men...is it? That's why you guys use power tools. Now you HAVE to go to the garage. It's your little way of leaving the house. No woman wants a tablesaw in the den.

I like to knit. That's not an activity that will get you kicked out of most rooms. I would need power tools. Damn, I HAVE power tools! They're all over the garage! I just need to learn to use them all. Anyone wanna help?

Uhm, I found this out there too:

The last occupant of this place was nuts...and he has no expiration date! That explains the demons I felt out there.

Did you even know the song? Tis a sad, sad dity it is...


Clementine


In a cavern, in a canyon,

Excavating for a mine,

Dwelt a miner, forty-niner

And his daughter Clementine.

Oh my darling, oh my darling

Oh my darling, Clementine

Thou art lost and gone forever,

Dreadful sorry, Clementine.

Light she was and like a fairy,

And her shoes were number nine,

Herring boxes without topses

Sandals were for Clementine

CHORUS

Drove she ducklings to the water

Every morning just at nine,

Hit her foot against a splinter

Fell into the foaming brine.

CHORUS

Ruby lips above the water,

Blowing bubbles soft and fine,

But alas, I was no swimmer,

So I lost my Clementine.

CHORUS

Then the miner, forty-niner

Soon began to peak and pine,

Thought he oughter jine he daughter,

Now he's with his Clementine.

CHORUS

In my dreams she still doth haunt me,

Robed in garments soaked in brine;

Though in life I used to hug her,

Now she's dead, I draw the line.

Although I assume we cease to exist after death on this planet, who knows what they're doing out there. If there is any degree of life after death and BEFORE Nirvana, it is a degree of people too messed up to work toward Nirvana. So, that sort of proves that the ghosts we come into contact with are generally the dumber set of ghost clique-ery.

Dumb ghosts seem to have some sort of liberal idea that they are entitled to be in my home. Most ghosts seem to think that the home in which they appeared for the first time. They've head bad stories and just to freak them out, I have them watch Betelgeuse every morning just to show them that I COULD bring them to dust. No one cares if you dust a dead guy.

My most annoying little ghost Friend (I don't know why but this one seems to be in most of my ghosts stories. Anyway, now she is trying to change the words to Clementine. She's a devil...no pun intended. This should be good.

It snowed again...

...last night but it was only an inch or two, just enough to guarantee a shovel in some one's immediate future. Luckily there is a testosterone induced mini-man here, he's just big enough to shovel but not yet pimple laden so I can almost tolerate him. I think 14 will be a crazy age for this kid, I picture him looking like our 8th grade class geek. (That guy is probably a computer whiz today and would hack me if he saw his name on Google so I'll act like I'm smart and leave his name out of it.)

I like acting like I'm smart. I am smart in one way, I know people. (Of course there are 6 Smarts One Needs To Feel Truly Smart and people-smart is just one of them.) Actually, I know honest people, dishonest people won't be known so I don't understand them until I see their behavior patterns repeating themselves. When I was married, my ex would argue in a mean way while I was arguing and then he would get meaner as I began to cry. But when I noticed that he always got nice when I stopped crying and started to get mad, I decided to get mad right away and put a quick halt to his festivities. He became frustrated and now I'm divorced. I guess he needed me to be a bit more pliable but when the dilemma is my mascara vs. his sense of successful emotional manipulation, my mascara wins every single time. I've been using mascara longer than I've known any man so I need to have more respect for that little tube of black stuff that I apply daily, confident in my optimistic outlook. I never put on mascara thinking that I'm going to cry later in the day.

Crying is is always unexpected, unwelcome and unflattering. You never expect to see the stuff sliding down your cheeks on the backs of tears shed BEFORE the mug shot was taken. I hate going to court if there's a mug shot involved...the judge only has one chance to form a first opinion of me and I would hate to think he formed it over orange juice and bagels while looking at a picture of me after a night of hard partying, a serious making out session and a good drunken crying jag. He might think ill of me.

Anyway, I would prefer the mug shot scenario over an argument with my ex. I used to think that I would eventually die from a heart attack suffered at the hands of his homicidal maneuverability. One day he would finesse the life out of me as he sapped my strength daily. What a psycho.

If I had met the psycho when he was 14, I wouldn't have married him. The "ICK!" factor I felt when I met him would have been so severe that I couldn't have gotten over it, booze or no booze. I've seen pictures and his zits were the type that you need to defend yourself against. Testosterone wasn't good to him...ever. It gave him zits, made him bald and attacked him with a sexual urge that he hadn't the brains to control. That's a bad combination.

Well, enough about zits, I'm going to go decide what to do today. Once again, I feel pretty good about putting mascara on, I don't lose as much to crying as I used to.

Now THAT'S a video game I can follow!

"What do you have to be angry about?"

Are you a furnace cleaner or a furnace ignorer?

"There was about 2 inches of dust, fuzz, and peanuts in the bottom of it. Yes peanuts. Whole uncracked peanuts. How peanuts got down there I will never know. We haven't had any whole peanuts in the house."

Recently I visited a friend...

...I've known for a long time through my daughter, who is as pleasant and mystifying as am I. I always assumed she was good, after all she is my daughter. But, I never expected her to be doing my material. I'm sort of unhappy about that because she isn't passing the credit along.

Her friend was talking about my daughter's antics as I was slowly recognizing the tactics my kid had used. Her friend laughed and added, "Who else but Annie would come up with something like that!?"

Well, I would. My daughter was using Meg's Original Pranks without so much as a single credit. I would have been nice enough to give my mother credit, especially if the prank was one of those pranks that develops along with the parties involved, like prank phone calls. I used to use 3-way calling to "connect" other people together on the phone so that I would hear:

"Hello?"

"Hello?"

"Who is this?

Who is THIS?"

It was fun back then but today they have aps on I-phones that disguise your phone number so my kid does a high tech version of the prank, but the original is mine and she should have mentioned that to her friends.

That's it. I just wonder what other stuff she's taken credit for that was originally mine.

Blackbird

I guess that would drive out the demons who would dare to wipe out a holiday that happens right in the middle of the biggest holiday season of the year. I think our next revolution will happen, not by angry mobs of drunken rabble, but by flash mobs of Christians in praise of their Lord.

Ahh...I love people.

Last night I met a wonderful person...her name is Chris and she was a child during the Uprising in Nazi occupied Poland during WWI. She was a peach and we had a LOT to share on the train ride back to Elgin. It's official...I attract other old people therefore I am old.

The ride was so pleasant after it occurred to me that I could really be myself around a nutty but fun old lady. I could say whatever popped into my old head and I did. We talked about the day when it was safe to wear a fur coat because those suckers are warm and worth every penny they cost to wear. But, I don't look good in red so lately I go out of my way to avoid PETA and that herd.

Chris and I learned that we both prefer to wear fox, we both like a nice steak and we've both been around long enough to have stories that involve more than one continent. Of course, she had more Nazi stories and I had more flashbacks...but we made it work.

Is it me...

...or is this sale poorly targeted?

NOW I have a winter-wonderland!

But...before the snow came, some hearty men chopped down a tree in the yard next door:

What's YOUR passion?

I have a friend (Sally)...

...who is having a colonoscopy today. Yesterday, while speaking to a nurse on the phone (who was asking her some pre-scope questions) my friend had an interesting little dialogue. At one point the nurse asked if Sally had any questions to which Sally replied:

"So, the doctor does this a lot, right?"

The nurse, in an attempt to make Sally feel better responded, "Oh yes, it's his life's passion."

Sally was a bit taken aback, "Looking up people's butt's is his passion?"

"Yes." replied the nurse.

Alrighty then. I don't think that comment would put any one's mind at ease and now Sally is a bit concerned as well. But, she and I have planned a small surprise for the passionate butt doctor.

I am going to draw notes on her butt.

I haven't decided what I'm going to do yet but arrows on the butt and a red NO ENTRANCE sign for other portals seems appropriate, don't you think? If you have any ideas, I'd be happy to hear them. I can't do it for a while because Sally just finished downing a gallon of purgative designed to make her inner butt as clean as a whistle and she's in the can right now.

When I asked her what the liquid tasted like, she said, "It's a mix between sea water and lake water." I can't imagine a worse taste. Luckily, it came with a flavor package. I guess if I had to drink sea water, I'd want it to be cherry flavored as well.

Well, eventually Sally's insides will be as clean as her outsides and I'll need to come up with something witty to draw on her ass for her passionate doctor. I am so curious about that man...I wonder how old he was when he decided that assholes would be his life's work and yes...his passion.

I SAW nurses and wanted to be one, I wonder if he saw butt's and wanted to inspect them or if he marveled at his own ass as a young child. Maybe it's something about the sphincter that gets his blood pumping...maybe it's the amazing topography of the large intestine or the mysterious recesses of the small intestine. It could be the pinkish hue of an inflamed appendix or the way a hemorrhoid peeks out of a nice, tight asshole. I don't know what gets a proctologist going in the morning but luckily for Sally, there is one of them eating his breakfast right now getting ready for her and we now know that he is passionate about his job. I just wish I knew if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Now THIS is funny

Looky...looky!!!

If memory serves, this is SNOW!!! I haven't seen snow during the day in decades. It might snow a tad in Atlanta but you have to get up before the sun does if you want to see it. Yesterday I saw little tiny white balls that people were calling snow, but snow is supposed to be in the form of flakes so I didn't call it snow. And then, this morning, I looked out the window and identified absolute flakes hitting the screen.

I didn't have glasses on but I could tell that the white stuff was blowing up and down the street. I got dressed, long johns and all, and went outside to look at the strange substance and decided to grab a picture for you. Maybe someday soon I'll have a picture of the winter-wonderlands of my youth!

An hour later:

Well, it's not quite a winter-wonderland yet but here is a snow update for the street on which I live! I will keep you updated on the accumulation, shabby though it may be: