It's been 25 hours since surgery, and here's the result.... Still swollen (I mean, come on. It's only been 25 hours! Have someone whittle on your knee and see how good it looks the next day!), and still yellow (thanks to some seemingly indelible Betadine that didn't come off in this morning's shower). But overall, I am doing great. Minimal pain-- probably less than I had preop. Slept very well last night. I'm up and walking today (full weight-bearing is encouraged) but am spending most of my time on the couch, with the knee elevated and packed in ice, and will be doing so until Monday. The eight-sided steristrips cover the three suture sets (one for each arthroscopic entry port). PT starts Tuesday.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Right knee, two days postop
It's been 25 hours since surgery, and here's the result.... Still swollen (I mean, come on. It's only been 25 hours! Have someone whittle on your knee and see how good it looks the next day!), and still yellow (thanks to some seemingly indelible Betadine that didn't come off in this morning's shower). But overall, I am doing great. Minimal pain-- probably less than I had preop. Slept very well last night. I'm up and walking today (full weight-bearing is encouraged) but am spending most of my time on the couch, with the knee elevated and packed in ice, and will be doing so until Monday. The eight-sided steristrips cover the three suture sets (one for each arthroscopic entry port). PT starts Tuesday.
Friday, December 15, 2006
It is alive.
Surgery went well. Two meniscial tears-- lateral and medial. All fixed now.... Must sleep.... Enjoy weird photo-- odd perspective making my leg look bigger than the rest of me.
Monday, December 11, 2006
A Dickens of a Story....
Those who know me know that one of the things I do every Yule is read Dickens' A Christmas Carol. Something about it feels just right admidst December's cold dark nights. Especially if you read it by the fire, sipping a cup of cocoa. Ahhh.....
And by the way-- it's available on line, in its entirety.
Anyway, in today's Portland Oregonian was a piece by storyteller Garrison Keillor-- a wonderfully funny take on the Dickens story. I've pasted it below. Enjoy!
-----
I've a Dickens of a story to tell
By Garrison Keillor
(From the AP Wire)
And so Mr. Scrooge kept Christmas in his heart and made his clerk Bob Cratchit a partner and found an orthopedic surgeon who fixed Tiny Tim's gimpy leg.
Scrooge was a friend and benefactor to all and he also got his hair and eyebrows trimmed and bought a new suit, a blue pinstripe. People called him Ben. When he died, the entire city mourned.
The firm of Scrooge & Cratchit became ScratchitInc, and it got out of the countinghouse business and into condominiums. Old blacking factories and woolen mills and foundries were converted to luxury apartments with wood-burning fireplaces, eat-in kitchens with marble countertops, and hot tubs on the balconies.
Vast gritty industrial sections along the river were made over, with ethnic restaurants and health clubs with acres of treadmills - and Bob Cratchit, or R.W. Cratchit, was in the forefront of it all.
Tiny Tim was no longer good as gold. He'd become a hulking lummox and shaved his head and gotten a spider web tattoo all around his neck. He was now called Spike. His band, the Demented Beggars, recorded songs like ''Go Take a Pill'' and ''God Help You, Everyone.''
The other Cratchit children, Peter and Belinda and Martha, were employed: Peter in product resourcing, Belinda in process imaging, Martha in production processing, but they were - how should one say it? - rather stupid.
This can happen when you spend eight hours a day staring at a screen. Your brain turns to bran flakes. And for Christmas, they all went to the beach and lay in the sun.
R.W. got awfully depressed on Christmas Eve.
They lived in a penthouse atop the old barrel factory and there, late at night, brooding (despite his anti-brooding medication, Welloft), R.W. saw the ghost of Scrooge. He was with his old partner, Jacob, helping him carry a load of chains. Scrooge looked terrific.
''You'll be visited by three spirits,'' he said. ''You know the drill. Just do what they say and you'll be fine.''
And then at midnight, a spirit appeared. Not the jovial spirit with the crown of candles or the fatherly one in the long white cassock, but the spook in the hangman's hood, with the long bony fingers - everybody pays attention when he comes to talk to you.
(The jovial spirit had gone to a party at Fezziwig's and danced a jig and his hair caught on fire. The fatherly spirit had taken a wrong turn and gone to Spike's room, who sprang out of bed and reinjured his leg.)
The hangman told Mr. Cratchit that the condominium market was heading south and that ScratchitInc stock was headed for the toilet.
''What can I do?'' whimpered R.W.
''Not much. You're in hock up to your frammis,'' said the spirit. ''Try Chapter 11.''
R.W. waited for hours for the other two spirits and then went to sleep. When he awoke, it was Christmas. A fat lumpy stocking was plopped in a chair. A note said, ''Bob.'' It had licorice in it, and a rubber ball, a puzzle, a book and a big Christmas orange.
It was a proper large navel orange with thick skin, fresh, fragrant, and the smell brought back all the jolly Christmases Past when they played whist and laughed and the bubble lights twinkled and the radio played carols.
Grief and misery tend to be amorphous and make everything taste bitter, but small things, such as a well-turned sentence, the chorus of a song, a cup of peppermint tea, Jane Austen, an orange, have some power to break the spell.
The injured Spike took the visitation as a sign from the Lord that he should become a Christian pop singer. He took back the name Tiny Tim, acquired a sturdy crutch and a passable Cockney accent, wrote 10 rather similar songs that all said, ''God, you made me a shining star and rich and famous, and hey, thanks,'' and he toured the country doing sold-out shows in hockey arenas to ecstatic teenagers, but that's his problem, not yours or mine.
Let me get us an orange and we can split it. If you want to sing ''Silent Night,'' I'll sing with you.
GARRISON KEILLOR can be heard Saturday nights on public radio.
And by the way-- it's available on line, in its entirety.
Anyway, in today's Portland Oregonian was a piece by storyteller Garrison Keillor-- a wonderfully funny take on the Dickens story. I've pasted it below. Enjoy!
-----
I've a Dickens of a story to tell
By Garrison Keillor
(From the AP Wire)
And so Mr. Scrooge kept Christmas in his heart and made his clerk Bob Cratchit a partner and found an orthopedic surgeon who fixed Tiny Tim's gimpy leg.
Scrooge was a friend and benefactor to all and he also got his hair and eyebrows trimmed and bought a new suit, a blue pinstripe. People called him Ben. When he died, the entire city mourned.
The firm of Scrooge & Cratchit became ScratchitInc, and it got out of the countinghouse business and into condominiums. Old blacking factories and woolen mills and foundries were converted to luxury apartments with wood-burning fireplaces, eat-in kitchens with marble countertops, and hot tubs on the balconies.
Vast gritty industrial sections along the river were made over, with ethnic restaurants and health clubs with acres of treadmills - and Bob Cratchit, or R.W. Cratchit, was in the forefront of it all.
Tiny Tim was no longer good as gold. He'd become a hulking lummox and shaved his head and gotten a spider web tattoo all around his neck. He was now called Spike. His band, the Demented Beggars, recorded songs like ''Go Take a Pill'' and ''God Help You, Everyone.''
The other Cratchit children, Peter and Belinda and Martha, were employed: Peter in product resourcing, Belinda in process imaging, Martha in production processing, but they were - how should one say it? - rather stupid.
This can happen when you spend eight hours a day staring at a screen. Your brain turns to bran flakes. And for Christmas, they all went to the beach and lay in the sun.
R.W. got awfully depressed on Christmas Eve.
They lived in a penthouse atop the old barrel factory and there, late at night, brooding (despite his anti-brooding medication, Welloft), R.W. saw the ghost of Scrooge. He was with his old partner, Jacob, helping him carry a load of chains. Scrooge looked terrific.
''You'll be visited by three spirits,'' he said. ''You know the drill. Just do what they say and you'll be fine.''
And then at midnight, a spirit appeared. Not the jovial spirit with the crown of candles or the fatherly one in the long white cassock, but the spook in the hangman's hood, with the long bony fingers - everybody pays attention when he comes to talk to you.
(The jovial spirit had gone to a party at Fezziwig's and danced a jig and his hair caught on fire. The fatherly spirit had taken a wrong turn and gone to Spike's room, who sprang out of bed and reinjured his leg.)
The hangman told Mr. Cratchit that the condominium market was heading south and that ScratchitInc stock was headed for the toilet.
''What can I do?'' whimpered R.W.
''Not much. You're in hock up to your frammis,'' said the spirit. ''Try Chapter 11.''
R.W. waited for hours for the other two spirits and then went to sleep. When he awoke, it was Christmas. A fat lumpy stocking was plopped in a chair. A note said, ''Bob.'' It had licorice in it, and a rubber ball, a puzzle, a book and a big Christmas orange.
It was a proper large navel orange with thick skin, fresh, fragrant, and the smell brought back all the jolly Christmases Past when they played whist and laughed and the bubble lights twinkled and the radio played carols.
Grief and misery tend to be amorphous and make everything taste bitter, but small things, such as a well-turned sentence, the chorus of a song, a cup of peppermint tea, Jane Austen, an orange, have some power to break the spell.
The injured Spike took the visitation as a sign from the Lord that he should become a Christian pop singer. He took back the name Tiny Tim, acquired a sturdy crutch and a passable Cockney accent, wrote 10 rather similar songs that all said, ''God, you made me a shining star and rich and famous, and hey, thanks,'' and he toured the country doing sold-out shows in hockey arenas to ecstatic teenagers, but that's his problem, not yours or mine.
Let me get us an orange and we can split it. If you want to sing ''Silent Night,'' I'll sing with you.
GARRISON KEILLOR can be heard Saturday nights on public radio.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Yummy cookies!
I’m driving over to see my mom tomorrow, and as a treat, decided to make a small batch of cookies for her. Our family does a lot of baking at the winter holiday season—this is one of our favorite recipes.It’s an unusual cookie in that there are no eggs, which make sit a good one for people who are sensitive or allergic to eggs. You can also eat the raw dough with no worries about salmonella!
It’s also an all-butter cookie, so no evil trans fats. Best of all, the bright flavors of orange and cranberry and the chewiness created by the coconut make it perfect for the winter.
Enjoy!
-----
Coconut-cranberry chews
(Originally printed in Sunset magazine, Dec. 2001; credited to Nancy Jamison of Woodside, CA.)
Ingredients:
1 ½ C. (3 cubes) butter (preferably unsalted)
2 C. sugar
1 T. freshly grated orange peel
2 tsp. vanilla
3 ¼ C. all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking powder
¼ tsp. salt
1 ½ C. sweetened flaked dried coconut
1 ½ C. dried cranberries (e.g., Ocean Spray “Craisins”)
In a large bowl, with a mixer on medium speed, blend butter, sugar, orange peel, and vanilla until smooth and slightly fluffy.
Add flour, baking powder, and salt to mixture. Beat on low speed until dough comes together into a smooth mass—about 5 minutes. Important: the dough must form a mass. If still crumbly, beat it longer until it comes together.
Stir in coconut and cranberries.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Form dough into 1-inch balls. Place on lightly buttered or cooking sprayed baking sheet. Flatten balls slightly with the bottom of a glass (they will flatten a little more as they cook).
Bake for 8-11 minutes, just until they begin to show a bit of golden color around the edges.
Cool on a wire rack.
Note: you can frost these, if desired, with a mixture of 2C. powdered sugar, a bit of fresh orange peel, and with orange juice added to create the desired texture (around 1 ½ T.); however, this isn’t necessary. I prefer them plain.
Makes 6 dozen. Store in tight containers at room temperature.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Finals Week
Not much to write about, but rest assured that I am alive. On the action item list right now....
FINALS WEEK. Big seminar paper due no later than Thursday. I'm hoping for sooner.
Bunged up knee-- MRI tomorrow. Like I can afford it.
Holidays coming! Hoska-baking next Saturday with Valbo. (See December 05 archives)
Need to go see Mom, but the doc has had me housebound and off the knee until the MRI.
Gargoyles galleys should be coming any time now! When those come, everything else will be dropped so that I can attend to the proofreading.
Cute poodle picture above. He was almost killed by a pancake today, but survived.
P.S. Mark your calendars now for 10 pm on Dec. 13-- the Janice Dickinson Christmas Special!
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Thanksgiving Two: The Gamminator
Bill and I drove over on Thursday, Nov. 24, for a turkey day celebration with Mom and Joe.
While I cooked, and Bill made a last minute run to the store, Joe vacuumed and tidied up. We got out some of Mom's 'Spode' dishes for the meal.
Gussie watched.
Joe took the Grape to fetch Mom.
Trying out the new front ramp. (Joe almost dumped her out on the first try!)
Joe poured champagne to celebrate the occasion.
The feast! (Turkey, sausage stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, mashed sweet potatoes with a sugared pecan crunchy topping, rolls, fresh cranberry sauce, olives, and cranberry salad.) (And pumpkin pie with heavy cream for dessert.)
The diners....
Even Gussie had a plate of turkey.
Happy turkey, everyone!
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
A lovely garnish for your turkey....
As if the world isn't weird enough... and just in time for the holiday gift-buying season... comes a wonderful new gift: The Dr. Laura talking action figure!You, too, can buy one for your misogynistic, judgmental, women’s rights-hating, homophobic, holier-than-thou friends—it’ll be the best gift they ever received!
The website is suspiciously silent on where the profits for these dolls will end up. This is odd, as in the past, the good "doctor" (in physiology-- not psychology!) has been most vocal about her funds ending up supporting abstinence education or other right-wing conservative causes.
Anyway, I suggest you use the doll to stuff your turkey. Stuff it right up the turkey's... Well, you know. Kind of unfair to the turkey, though.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Happy Turkey Day!
Or as my Spanish teacher taught us, "El dia del massacre del pavo!" (pavo = turkey)
More later, but see above for the picture of our early family celebration on 11-19. L-R: Erin, Ernie, me, Bill, Scott, Rebecca, and Pookie Moose.
Stay tuned for more photos....
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Toasty warm
Bill got me a really neat early Yule gift the other day: a portable heater that looks like a little fireplace. It's very cute and also a very effective heater, and it heats for only pennies. We put it in the corner of my home office; I spend most evenings in there, working, and this will keep the room snug.I moved Ernie's dog bed over in front of it, and... well, you can see the results.
I drove over to see Mom today. Not much to report-- she's having some pain relief from the Celebrex. However her therapy has been slowed up by her problems with atrial fibrillation. She wore a portable cardiac monitor/recorder for two days, and Joe is now waiting to hear from the doc re: the results. She may need a pacemaker to stabilize her heart. Stay tuned on that. Anyway, it was good to see here-- she was cheery, although tired. Joe seems to be hanging in, too.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Weather watching
It's a helluva day at sea, sir! (Trivia buffs... name that film!)
In the last week or so, we've had something like 8 inches of rain here in Portland. In the last two days, we had a windstorm (gust to 70+ mph) and more rain; the same storms are dumping feet of snow in the Cascades. It's a mess-- flooding, trees, down, power outtages, roads washed out. Hwy 35 on Mt. Hood lost 23 miles (!) of roadway, completely cutting off the Mt.Hood Meadows ski area from humanity; repairs will cause many millions and will take many months (interestingly, said ski area continues to sell season passes. Hmmm....) The gorge is on landslide watch, and the old highway is closed.
Milwaukie is only 39 feet above sea level, so flooding always gets my attention. But thanks to the French drain bill installed aorund the foundation we've stayed snuggly dry. Yay!
Anyway, I've stayed close to home. Was going to go see Mom yesterday, but didn't think it was wide in terms of the multi-dimensional horrible weather.
That's the report. Boring, I know.
In the last week or so, we've had something like 8 inches of rain here in Portland. In the last two days, we had a windstorm (gust to 70+ mph) and more rain; the same storms are dumping feet of snow in the Cascades. It's a mess-- flooding, trees, down, power outtages, roads washed out. Hwy 35 on Mt. Hood lost 23 miles (!) of roadway, completely cutting off the Mt.Hood Meadows ski area from humanity; repairs will cause many millions and will take many months (interestingly, said ski area continues to sell season passes. Hmmm....) The gorge is on landslide watch, and the old highway is closed.
Milwaukie is only 39 feet above sea level, so flooding always gets my attention. But thanks to the French drain bill installed aorund the foundation we've stayed snuggly dry. Yay!
Anyway, I've stayed close to home. Was going to go see Mom yesterday, but didn't think it was wide in terms of the multi-dimensional horrible weather.
That's the report. Boring, I know.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Another interesting few days.
Nov. 2: Went to the Schnitzer to see Stephen King, in one of his very rare public appearances and readings—this one a benefit for Literary Arts in Portland. It was everything I hoped for, and more. He’s one creepy guy—and funny, too. He walked on stage in a black T-shirt and blue jeans, hair sticking up all mohawkish, and then started saying how he didn’t want to scare us, but he hoped we’d remembered to lock our cars before coming into the concert hall, and that when we went back to our cars, he hoped we checked the back seat before we got in. Because insurance statistics say that one in twenty people forget to lock their cars. And sometimes crazy psychopaths hide on the floor in the back seat. And sometimes they have knives.
Nov. 4: Chris Anderson’s funeral. Our family knows Chris (and family) through a combination of the Milwaukie community, school, Boy Scouts, and his photography studio. Chris took all of my kids’ senior pictures, and a month ago handled the photography for Lora (Spencer) Reilly’s wedding. We camped together on many a Boy Scout family trip, and bumped elbows at school, and he and his wife Debbie gave Katie her very first job—a receptionist position at their photography studio. Chris was one of those people who has a truly kind, sweet spirit, who seemed to delight in people, and who made you feel a little easier just because he was there. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer almost a year ago, and given a couple of months to live. He lived almost a year. Toward the end, he stopped the chemo and spent his remaining time fishing and just being with his family. The love of the Milwaukie community for this man was shown in the hundreds of people who attended his funeral, spilling out of the church and into the reception halls, where cameras with video feed had been set up for those who couldn’t fit into the sanctuary. You couldn’t find a parking place in downtown Milwaukie. It was something. The world was better for this man having been here. I can’t imagine the sadness of his family. I am glad I was able to know him.Nov. 5-6: I went to Redmond to see Mom. She’s in what Joe and I call “The Home” right now. It’s kind of nursing homey, but really pretty decent. They are keeping her clean and shiny, and she’s having regular rehab. But the rooms are small, it’s noisy, the food is so-so, etc. Joe is starting the process to get her moved home as soon as he can. This will mean arranging in-home care for several hours each day, bringing in therapists, etc. Also making some modifications—he’s already installed a wheelchair ramp outside the front door. The shower needs modification, the bathrooms need grab bars, the bed needs lowering, etc.
Mom looked stronger and more Mom-ish when I was there. No huge jumps in her overall status, but her speech is better and she’s able to reply more intentionally to conversation, which is great. She seems cheerful about being where she is, which is good, and seems more aware of the world.
Today, Nov. 7: It’s raining here in Portland. I mean, really RAINING. We’ve had 5.5 inches in the last two days and are supposed to have another 1.5 inches today. See the picture below, taken in Tillamook, where they’ve had almost 9 inches in the last day and a half. Everything is flooding. And it’s really warm out, too. In the 60s. And dark. And windy. Thanks to Bill’s fine ditch-digging last summer, and his extension of our French drain, our basement is (knock on wood) still dry. Cross fingers….
Monday, October 30, 2006
Good Samhain to all!
Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire, burn; and caldron, bubble.
Fire, burn; and caldron, bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg, and howlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire, burn; and caldron, bubble.
--Thanks to Wm. Shakespeare....
And ably sung in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban!
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg, and howlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire, burn; and caldron, bubble.
--Thanks to Wm. Shakespeare....
And ably sung in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban!
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Catching Up
After dropping off the face of the blogosphere for the last couple of months, I thought I should at least drop a note.
So, it’s been quite a time, here.
Sept. 17-22, Mom came for a long visit. Erin, Rebecca, and Scott were also here between Sept. 16-18, and we had lots of good family visiting time. We also had a great visit with Mom. An all-time visit. She saw a bunch of her friends, she and I shopped, we went out to eat a couple of times, we watched movies, and she and Bill and I hung out a lot. Bill earned major brownie points by showing up after work one day with a mess of fresh trout from Bull Run Lake—we had a fish fry the next night. What a treat! On the 20th, Mom took Bill and I out for an incredible steak dinner at Ruth’s Chris to celebrate my book being finished. That was the best steak I have ever had in my life. I’ll probably never be able to afford to eat there again, but it was amazing.
That takes me back to the Gargoyles book. It had been due on Sept. 15, but I ran two days long with the final formatting. On Sunday evening, Sept. 17, I finished it. Bill and Mom were watching TV when I came out with all 299 pages atop one hand, and pronounced it done. Hoo-ah! [Update on the book: the editor is working with it, and I should have galleys soon. She “likes what she sees,” which I think is good news. It’s still set to come out in February 2007. You can preorder it from Amazon, where I'm proud to say it is currently #1,010,635 on their sales rankings-- not bad when you consider it hasn't been published yet. (grin) I am also so very, very glad that Mom was sitting in my living room that night, and got to see me carrying out the finished manuscript, and knew that I had gotten it done.]
On Sept. 18 and 19, I left Mom to her own daytime devices as I was on a workshop team for ten new First Year English GAs at PSU (right) . The workshop went well, and Mom kept busy in my absence. [Update: The Firsties are doing great!]
Also note that on Sept. 16, Loro was married, becoming half of the Lora & Mike Reilly team. Erin was in the wedding, and she and I attended together. It was a perfect Loro wedding—held out in the woods, on a beautiful autumn afternoon. We had a very good time, and also enjoyed seeing old friends from Scouting, who we’ve lost touch with except for events such as this that bring us back together. [See really good photos on Erin's blog.]
And, on Sept. 7, Ernie had eye surgery to remove a cataract and replace it with a replacement lens. This was in response to his increasingly destructive efforts to fly (see older blog entries for details). The surgery itself turned out to be the easy part. The hard part was taking care of an elderly postoperative dog who needed routine, round-the-clock drugs and eye drops for 4+ weeks after the surgery. [Update: He did very well, except for that one “eye juicing” episode, which—fortunately—caused little or no permanent damage. The surgery has definitely improved his vision, although it is mysteriously better and worse at times, a selective process apparently characteristic of old dogs. By the way-- he's subsequently bought a set of leathers and it looking for a canine Harley group. he's thinking of heading for Sturgis.]
Mom headed home midday on Friday, Sept. 22. We hugged, and I waved as she drove off. That was the last time I talked to her, at least in terms of her normal voice, the one I’ve known for so many years.
On Tuesday, Sept. 26, I got home from my evening classes to three messages from Joe, each one truncated by the stupid answering machine. Mom had had a stroke. A bad, devastating stroke. By the time I got all of the news it was late and dark, and those of you who know me know that I can’t/don’t drive in the dark. So I left early the next morning (Bill staying to take care of the poodle) and drove over to Bend—where she was hospitalized—myself. I spent three days, then came home, then went back again two days later with Erin and Scott, who had come down for a quick visit.
It’s been horrible since then. (By the way—I sent out email updates on Mom’s condition once or twice a week; I’m not going to go back through the details here, but if anyone wants to be added to that list, email me at 7dotmoon@teleport.com and let me know that you want to be added to the list). Mom is improved, but she’s still very ill, and very impaired. At this time, there is absolutely no way to know how well she could recover, and what recovery she does make will take a year or longer. It’s very, very slow.
Mom spent a week in the IMCU at St. Charles in Bend, then moved to their inpatient rehab department, where she has spent the last 3 weeks. On Tuesday, Oct. 31, she’ll move to the Redmond Health Care Center, a multi-disciplinary facility in which she will continue her rehab and recovery. We (Joe and I) talked about bringing her home, but had to face the fact that she is simply still too ill, and would require an extraordinary level of nursing care beyond what Joe could manage. Mom still has very little movement of her right side, can't swallow easily, is aphasic, and sometimes can't understand what people say to her. The care center is a great place—checked out carefully by Joe and recommended by the St. Charles people—and it seems like the best option for both Mom and Joe right now. It’s also covered by her insurance, which eliminates one worry.
Mom had a clot-type (ischemic) stroke of the left hemisphere. She didn’t receive the “stroke miracle drug” (tPA) that they often give people in the ER immediately after it happened; she had also fractured her eye socket when she fell, and they were afraid that the drug might combine with the skull injury to cause bleeding into her brain, which would only make things worse. Bad luck for Mom…. They think that the stroke was caused by clot that settled in her heart in response to an irregular atrial rhythm that she’d been going in and out of for months, maybe even years. But, there’s really no way to know why it happened.
I have been driving over every week or so. In Mom’s more lucid and clear-speech moments, and on at least three occasions now, she made it very clear that I wasn’t to interrupt school. So, I’m hanging in, because I believe it really is what she wants. She’s always been my greatest fan, after all. And if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be here.
As for school…. Through a fortunate twist of fate, I’m not teaching this term but am instead serving as the “Assistant Director of Writing.” It’s been good, because it’s meant that my schedule is very flexible, and that I can be free to see Mom, or deal with social workers, etc. on the phone, or squeeze in homework, etc., as able. Next term I’ll be back to teaching and the schedule will be tighter, but since Mom is now more stable, it should work fine.
I am still on track to finish both MAs this spring, and I’m going to try hard to do so, because the tuition is free until the end of spring term; after that point, I’ll be back to paying full price. Most of my work now is centered on finishing my MA in writing thesis and the MA in English portfolio. The thesis is in the form of a book—Writing Down the Moon—that is on contract with Llewellyn Publishing. The manuscript is due the end of June, which is a powerful motivator to get it done.
Otherwise, I’m just hanging in. Mom’s illness hit me hard. Some days I feel like I’m in a very dark place. Other times I can forget about what’s happened for a moment, and find that I don’t feel that bad. It always comes back, though. I know it’s a grieving process we all have to go through. Mom’s still with us, but everything has changed. It’s a struggle to understand that life will probably never be the same. And yet, life goes on. It keeps going on.
So, it’s been quite a time, here.
Sept. 17-22, Mom came for a long visit. Erin, Rebecca, and Scott were also here between Sept. 16-18, and we had lots of good family visiting time. We also had a great visit with Mom. An all-time visit. She saw a bunch of her friends, she and I shopped, we went out to eat a couple of times, we watched movies, and she and Bill and I hung out a lot. Bill earned major brownie points by showing up after work one day with a mess of fresh trout from Bull Run Lake—we had a fish fry the next night. What a treat! On the 20th, Mom took Bill and I out for an incredible steak dinner at Ruth’s Chris to celebrate my book being finished. That was the best steak I have ever had in my life. I’ll probably never be able to afford to eat there again, but it was amazing.
That takes me back to the Gargoyles book. It had been due on Sept. 15, but I ran two days long with the final formatting. On Sunday evening, Sept. 17, I finished it. Bill and Mom were watching TV when I came out with all 299 pages atop one hand, and pronounced it done. Hoo-ah! [Update on the book: the editor is working with it, and I should have galleys soon. She “likes what she sees,” which I think is good news. It’s still set to come out in February 2007. You can preorder it from Amazon, where I'm proud to say it is currently #1,010,635 on their sales rankings-- not bad when you consider it hasn't been published yet. (grin) I am also so very, very glad that Mom was sitting in my living room that night, and got to see me carrying out the finished manuscript, and knew that I had gotten it done.]
On Sept. 18 and 19, I left Mom to her own daytime devices as I was on a workshop team for ten new First Year English GAs at PSU (right) . The workshop went well, and Mom kept busy in my absence. [Update: The Firsties are doing great!]Also note that on Sept. 16, Loro was married, becoming half of the Lora & Mike Reilly team. Erin was in the wedding, and she and I attended together. It was a perfect Loro wedding—held out in the woods, on a beautiful autumn afternoon. We had a very good time, and also enjoyed seeing old friends from Scouting, who we’ve lost touch with except for events such as this that bring us back together. [See really good photos on Erin's blog.]
And, on Sept. 7, Ernie had eye surgery to remove a cataract and replace it with a replacement lens. This was in response to his increasingly destructive efforts to fly (see older blog entries for details). The surgery itself turned out to be the easy part. The hard part was taking care of an elderly postoperative dog who needed routine, round-the-clock drugs and eye drops for 4+ weeks after the surgery. [Update: He did very well, except for that one “eye juicing” episode, which—fortunately—caused little or no permanent damage. The surgery has definitely improved his vision, although it is mysteriously better and worse at times, a selective process apparently characteristic of old dogs. By the way-- he's subsequently bought a set of leathers and it looking for a canine Harley group. he's thinking of heading for Sturgis.]Mom headed home midday on Friday, Sept. 22. We hugged, and I waved as she drove off. That was the last time I talked to her, at least in terms of her normal voice, the one I’ve known for so many years.
On Tuesday, Sept. 26, I got home from my evening classes to three messages from Joe, each one truncated by the stupid answering machine. Mom had had a stroke. A bad, devastating stroke. By the time I got all of the news it was late and dark, and those of you who know me know that I can’t/don’t drive in the dark. So I left early the next morning (Bill staying to take care of the poodle) and drove over to Bend—where she was hospitalized—myself. I spent three days, then came home, then went back again two days later with Erin and Scott, who had come down for a quick visit.
It’s been horrible since then. (By the way—I sent out email updates on Mom’s condition once or twice a week; I’m not going to go back through the details here, but if anyone wants to be added to that list, email me at 7dotmoon@teleport.com and let me know that you want to be added to the list). Mom is improved, but she’s still very ill, and very impaired. At this time, there is absolutely no way to know how well she could recover, and what recovery she does make will take a year or longer. It’s very, very slow.
Mom spent a week in the IMCU at St. Charles in Bend, then moved to their inpatient rehab department, where she has spent the last 3 weeks. On Tuesday, Oct. 31, she’ll move to the Redmond Health Care Center, a multi-disciplinary facility in which she will continue her rehab and recovery. We (Joe and I) talked about bringing her home, but had to face the fact that she is simply still too ill, and would require an extraordinary level of nursing care beyond what Joe could manage. Mom still has very little movement of her right side, can't swallow easily, is aphasic, and sometimes can't understand what people say to her. The care center is a great place—checked out carefully by Joe and recommended by the St. Charles people—and it seems like the best option for both Mom and Joe right now. It’s also covered by her insurance, which eliminates one worry.Mom had a clot-type (ischemic) stroke of the left hemisphere. She didn’t receive the “stroke miracle drug” (tPA) that they often give people in the ER immediately after it happened; she had also fractured her eye socket when she fell, and they were afraid that the drug might combine with the skull injury to cause bleeding into her brain, which would only make things worse. Bad luck for Mom…. They think that the stroke was caused by clot that settled in her heart in response to an irregular atrial rhythm that she’d been going in and out of for months, maybe even years. But, there’s really no way to know why it happened.
I have been driving over every week or so. In Mom’s more lucid and clear-speech moments, and on at least three occasions now, she made it very clear that I wasn’t to interrupt school. So, I’m hanging in, because I believe it really is what she wants. She’s always been my greatest fan, after all. And if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be here.
As for school…. Through a fortunate twist of fate, I’m not teaching this term but am instead serving as the “Assistant Director of Writing.” It’s been good, because it’s meant that my schedule is very flexible, and that I can be free to see Mom, or deal with social workers, etc. on the phone, or squeeze in homework, etc., as able. Next term I’ll be back to teaching and the schedule will be tighter, but since Mom is now more stable, it should work fine.
I am still on track to finish both MAs this spring, and I’m going to try hard to do so, because the tuition is free until the end of spring term; after that point, I’ll be back to paying full price. Most of my work now is centered on finishing my MA in writing thesis and the MA in English portfolio. The thesis is in the form of a book—Writing Down the Moon—that is on contract with Llewellyn Publishing. The manuscript is due the end of June, which is a powerful motivator to get it done.
Otherwise, I’m just hanging in. Mom’s illness hit me hard. Some days I feel like I’m in a very dark place. Other times I can forget about what’s happened for a moment, and find that I don’t feel that bad. It always comes back, though. I know it’s a grieving process we all have to go through. Mom’s still with us, but everything has changed. It’s a struggle to understand that life will probably never be the same. And yet, life goes on. It keeps going on.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Keeps on tickin'
Here they are in all their glory: Mom and Joe-Honey.
This photo was taken in Mom's room in St. Charles' rehab facility. The window looks out on a little alcove with trees and tons of adorable little birds. Pine siskins, I think. Here's another look at M&J. You can see the remnants of Mom's black eye. She fractured her orbit (eye socket) when she had the stroke and fell, but it's healing well.
Below are a couple more pictures of her rehab room:. She had a roommate, but they moved that woman out a few days ago, so now Mom has a private space.
Looking down the hall... even though the rehab place is "homey," you're still most definitely in a hospital.
The rehab facility has private rooms, nursing spaces, offices (for the social workers, therapists, etc.), and lots of "gym space." Mom spends up to 4 hours a day in active therapy right now, but in reality, every aspect of her day-- eating, dressing, using the bathroom, etc.-- has a rehab motive. She has rest periods throughout the day, but in between she's really busy. Here's a look into one side of the main gym. Mom and her therapist are in the parallel bars, while Joe watches.
Some closer looks (note that the gym looks out on a courtyard.... trees, plants, more birds, horseshoe pit, etc.):
Right now, one thing they do with her is put her in this standy-uppy-thing. It starts out as a chair, and gradually stands and stretches the patient (does this sound kind of like a vertical rack, or is it just me?) until they're standing. This helps circulation and strength, and helps the body remember what it's like to be upright.
Official "Barny Caption Contest." Barny is thinking.... " __________________."
More therapy. (We're not sure about the dart board. They also have a set of boxing gloves in one cupboard. One therapist reassured us that these were only used for staff meetings.) The therapist put the foam blocks down on the floor and had Mom pick them up and toss them into the plastic tub. Joe said that her free-throw average made her better than any of the current Trailblazers. (nyuk nyuk)
Here Mom is working on posture and shoulder-shrugging. Therapy is often done in front of the mirror, so that the patient can see how their body is working.
Here the therapist has her paralyzed arm strapped to a kind of skateboard, and she's asking Mom to work to move the arm across the table. Mom was actually able to move it a bit, which is progress!
She practices writing, too. Left-handed. The therapists believe that Mom's abilities to speak, write, and read were all tangled up by the stroke. So a good part of her treatment is helping all of this sort itself out again. In this session, the therapist first had Mom trace, then copy, and then generate her own letters. It was really interesting. Mom works really hard and (amazingly!) doesn't seem frustrated.
Here, the therapist is helping her stretch her leg muscles so that they don't tighten up. He had her lay on her back, knees bent and feet flat on the mattress, then asked her to move her legs/knees from side to side. And she could do it! In other words, she could move her paralyzed leg! This was great news....
Driving back and forth between Portland and Bend or between Eagle Crest and Bend, I was always guided by Mom's mountains-- The Three Sisters. According to Mom, Grandpa Joe (her dad) gave her these mountains when she was a little girl.
For me, it's helped to see the mountains, and the forests, and the animals on those long drives to Bend and back. No matter what else is happening in our lives, these things endure. It comforts me.
This photo was taken in Mom's room in St. Charles' rehab facility. The window looks out on a little alcove with trees and tons of adorable little birds. Pine siskins, I think. Here's another look at M&J. You can see the remnants of Mom's black eye. She fractured her orbit (eye socket) when she had the stroke and fell, but it's healing well.
Below are a couple more pictures of her rehab room:. She had a roommate, but they moved that woman out a few days ago, so now Mom has a private space.
Looking down the hall... even though the rehab place is "homey," you're still most definitely in a hospital.
The rehab facility has private rooms, nursing spaces, offices (for the social workers, therapists, etc.), and lots of "gym space." Mom spends up to 4 hours a day in active therapy right now, but in reality, every aspect of her day-- eating, dressing, using the bathroom, etc.-- has a rehab motive. She has rest periods throughout the day, but in between she's really busy. Here's a look into one side of the main gym. Mom and her therapist are in the parallel bars, while Joe watches.
Some closer looks (note that the gym looks out on a courtyard.... trees, plants, more birds, horseshoe pit, etc.):
Right now, one thing they do with her is put her in this standy-uppy-thing. It starts out as a chair, and gradually stands and stretches the patient (does this sound kind of like a vertical rack, or is it just me?) until they're standing. This helps circulation and strength, and helps the body remember what it's like to be upright.
Official "Barny Caption Contest." Barny is thinking.... " __________________."
More therapy. (We're not sure about the dart board. They also have a set of boxing gloves in one cupboard. One therapist reassured us that these were only used for staff meetings.) The therapist put the foam blocks down on the floor and had Mom pick them up and toss them into the plastic tub. Joe said that her free-throw average made her better than any of the current Trailblazers. (nyuk nyuk)
Here Mom is working on posture and shoulder-shrugging. Therapy is often done in front of the mirror, so that the patient can see how their body is working.
Here the therapist has her paralyzed arm strapped to a kind of skateboard, and she's asking Mom to work to move the arm across the table. Mom was actually able to move it a bit, which is progress!
She practices writing, too. Left-handed. The therapists believe that Mom's abilities to speak, write, and read were all tangled up by the stroke. So a good part of her treatment is helping all of this sort itself out again. In this session, the therapist first had Mom trace, then copy, and then generate her own letters. It was really interesting. Mom works really hard and (amazingly!) doesn't seem frustrated.
Here, the therapist is helping her stretch her leg muscles so that they don't tighten up. He had her lay on her back, knees bent and feet flat on the mattress, then asked her to move her legs/knees from side to side. And she could do it! In other words, she could move her paralyzed leg! This was great news....
Driving back and forth between Portland and Bend or between Eagle Crest and Bend, I was always guided by Mom's mountains-- The Three Sisters. According to Mom, Grandpa Joe (her dad) gave her these mountains when she was a little girl.
For me, it's helped to see the mountains, and the forests, and the animals on those long drives to Bend and back. No matter what else is happening in our lives, these things endure. It comforts me.
Friday, September 29, 2006
About Mom.....
Most of you know that my dear Mom, the Auntie Mame clone, the toughest woman I know, has had a stroke. A rather severe stroke.
She is already making progress, but it will be a long and difficult road to recovery. Not that I think she can't do it-- au, contraire! If you doubt this, you've never met her.
Send energy, prayers, cards, wishes....
- St. Charles Medical Center — Bend
- 2500 N.E. Neff Road
- Bend, OR 97701
- Main Number: (541) 382-4321
You go, Mom.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)