I have no idea how many stuffed jalapenos I have eaten in this life, but I know the number is less than the amount I have wanted to eat. Still, I'm pretty sure I have consumed enough to create a life sized statue of me. Before I lost 100 pounds.
If fried cheesy jalapenos have ever upset my stomach, my Texas memory holds no record of it. I cannot say the same of any other fried or buttery food, but still I try to have it all whenever I can get away with it. I have redeemed myself a little bit recently. It's only taken my whole life, but I can finally admit that Sonic food causes sonic thunder in my tummy. Their cheese tater tots and extra long chili cheese coney no longer haunt me. The jalapenos are my one remaining weakness. Okay, also iced tea, but that's not fried so it really doesn't count.
I suspect that my persistent failure in the art of stuffed poppers lies in my refusal to bring a deep fryer into my home. I don't trust myself with one. I just know I'd try to fry everything and I don't want to become famous for creating beer battered lasagna. Honestly though, there are very few occasions when I can be trusted to make a healthy decision when offered so many tempting bad ones. Which brings me to this past Thursday morning.
I very foolishly assumed that I was the kind of woman who could wake up early in the morning to put a pot roast on. Lunch was quickly approaching and totally blown, and my husband suggested something that always puts a skip in my step. He thought we should eat out. I was still in a morning/afternoon fog. This is the only excuse I have for ordering $30 of breakfast. More than half of it came home in styrofoam, which really did not help my conscience.
Soon after the breakfast-fest my tummy let me know that what I did was unacceptable. This is when I realized that I had had enough. I decided to go cold turkey and give up the restaurants. Of course, a few exceptions would have to be made. I am a Southerner and therefore have an all consuming need for iced tea. Chipotle and Jason's Deli salad bar are still my friends, and friends don't give up on each other. Then there's the bigger question, would I have to give up my weekly cupcake?
This got me to thinking about how I felt when I quit smoking. There was both a sense of relief and panic. I was relieved to have made the decision to quit, but also dreaded the moment of denying myself a cigarette when I really wanted one. Would I give in? Would I make exceptions? How often had I tried to do something all at once only to fail? The scent of cigarette smoke could make my mouth water like there was a steak in front of me. What would I do when I craved a steak?
I'm actually just stalling here. The quest to eat right will always remain. It's despair that I want to give up cold turkey. I am so used to hearing comments about how I need to be careful of this, or worry about that, or how everything isn't actually okay, that these ideas have now taken hold in my own thoughts. This is not how I want to live. I need to be fearless. I need to know that maybe I can be that guy who somehow survives his parachute not opening. Otherwise I'm just waiting for the heart attack.
The truly frustrating part is that I am doing better now than I have in more than a year. I should be celebrating my life instead of feeling like a scared bunny. This is why tonight, while I was still alone, I did a dressing change. Traditionally my mom will change the dressing for me. We've got a system that works well. Very much a luxury for me. Tonight I needed some small victory. I quickly showered, briefly rested in my loveliest of robes and then changed my dressing. And then I put dinner on. I felt... relieved.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Tazmanian Devil
Originally written on 08.24.09 at 5:30 a.m. after having gotten up a half hour earlier to feed a ravenous tummy. That summer it was not uncommon for me to eat 3 times during the night. Now as long as I have a snack before I go to bed the most I'll need is a 3 a.m. glass of juice. Yet another reason why I love 2010.
Ice hung in the night air. For hours the air conditioning had not shut off. From the depths of the bedroom came a terrifying howl. It is the hunger cry of the Tasmanian Devil Stomach of Lake Dallas! The time is 5 a.m.
Once the TDS has awoken only a hot snack can put it to rest again. The smaller animals of the dwelling sense the danger and scurry from the room. The pitiful but still beautiful and vibrant woman that the TDS has inhabited has instincts to chase, but instead quietly shuts the bedroom door behind her. She has no wish to wake and therefore have cook snacks for the Sleepy Bear Handsome Man.
No time is lost! Flight of the Valkyries plays in the distance as the TDS shows no respect for the still young energy efficient refrigerator and throws the door wide. No food is safe. Tortillas, cheese, salsa and pepperoni are snatched up and tossed to the counter with vengeance. The TDS is starving but still decides to cook its prey. Even a TDS knows that a warmed quesadilla is better than a broken up cold one.
But one was not enough, so a second was thrown on the fires. The poor faithful dog watched on from a distance, not even attempting to come closer for a morsel of tasty tasty quesadilla. Not one bite would be tossed or dropped on this night.
The TDS has finished both snacks but still lingers near the warm fire. Would two be enough? In the distance the TDS hears a voice, strikingly similar to Elizabeth Taylor portraying Maggie the Cat... "Brick, honey, please make that your last quesadilla." The TDS temporarily retreats and lets the young vivacious woman find a comfortable resting place on the overstuffed couch, waiting for the peace and sleepiness of a full tummy to calm its growlly ways. Waiting.
Ice hung in the night air. For hours the air conditioning had not shut off. From the depths of the bedroom came a terrifying howl. It is the hunger cry of the Tasmanian Devil Stomach of Lake Dallas! The time is 5 a.m.
Once the TDS has awoken only a hot snack can put it to rest again. The smaller animals of the dwelling sense the danger and scurry from the room. The pitiful but still beautiful and vibrant woman that the TDS has inhabited has instincts to chase, but instead quietly shuts the bedroom door behind her. She has no wish to wake and therefore have cook snacks for the Sleepy Bear Handsome Man.
No time is lost! Flight of the Valkyries plays in the distance as the TDS shows no respect for the still young energy efficient refrigerator and throws the door wide. No food is safe. Tortillas, cheese, salsa and pepperoni are snatched up and tossed to the counter with vengeance. The TDS is starving but still decides to cook its prey. Even a TDS knows that a warmed quesadilla is better than a broken up cold one.
But one was not enough, so a second was thrown on the fires. The poor faithful dog watched on from a distance, not even attempting to come closer for a morsel of tasty tasty quesadilla. Not one bite would be tossed or dropped on this night.
The TDS has finished both snacks but still lingers near the warm fire. Would two be enough? In the distance the TDS hears a voice, strikingly similar to Elizabeth Taylor portraying Maggie the Cat... "Brick, honey, please make that your last quesadilla." The TDS temporarily retreats and lets the young vivacious woman find a comfortable resting place on the overstuffed couch, waiting for the peace and sleepiness of a full tummy to calm its growlly ways. Waiting.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Envy
Writing down my thoughts is hard. Well, it isn't all of the time. Sometimes what I am thinking and what I want to type come together perfectly. Other times the writing process makes me feel like I'm the Nowhere Man floating in his swirly cartoon world.
I guess that is a good reflection of how my speaking thoughts are, too. I usually tell the end of a story first, get lost, realize the story is rubbish, remember that the middle is good and then wandering off down some other path. The end of the story (which I would have started with) was that I took a nap. The middle is about a butterfly garden and birthday bellinis. The side story involves paying bills with a goat.
I don't know how many times I have started to relate something that I read about or saw on the news, and then had to stop talking because I had forgotten the critical point. Was it always to run with scissors or always to run with the bulls? I just don't know.
It's easy to say that you remember the important things, but what is the excuse when you forget those, too? As kid I truly believed that I could still remember everything that had happened to me on everyday since I starting keeping memories. I loved that knowledge. Somewhere in Junior High I stopped wanting to remember. There were too many memories that were too painful or confusing. Mostly confusing. I couldn't understand why there was someone living in my home that would not speak to me, why my family loved each other so much but still seemed so pitted against each other. I guess those two things made navigating a conversation a little tricky. One person who won't speak and then several others who are passionate speakers. But that was then.
Now I live with someone who adores me and a cat and dog who hang on my every word. I'm mostly just embarrassed how I acted with my family. Very easy for me to believe that I encouraged strife. I also know that I was a kid who was just wanting to know where her place was in her family. And there's forgiveness in that.
I think I've veered off again. Time to bring up the goat?
One of my hopes of writing is that it will help me to organize my casual thinking thoughts. Maybe I won't feel so random. But maybe random speak is something that is just me. I do envy my grandmother a little bit. She's been keeping a daily journal since... this would be where I am missing critical information. I cannot think of a time when she did not keep a journal. She writes a little in the morning and then more in the evening. Everyday. In ink. I feel like I need the luxury of both Spell Check and Cut and Paste.
I guess hoping for eloquence in my everyday life might be expecting too much from a blog. But then again, why not hope for too much? Life is grand and the impossible should be hoped for. Maybe I'll start by remembering to hit the Save button.
I guess that is a good reflection of how my speaking thoughts are, too. I usually tell the end of a story first, get lost, realize the story is rubbish, remember that the middle is good and then wandering off down some other path. The end of the story (which I would have started with) was that I took a nap. The middle is about a butterfly garden and birthday bellinis. The side story involves paying bills with a goat.
I don't know how many times I have started to relate something that I read about or saw on the news, and then had to stop talking because I had forgotten the critical point. Was it always to run with scissors or always to run with the bulls? I just don't know.
It's easy to say that you remember the important things, but what is the excuse when you forget those, too? As kid I truly believed that I could still remember everything that had happened to me on everyday since I starting keeping memories. I loved that knowledge. Somewhere in Junior High I stopped wanting to remember. There were too many memories that were too painful or confusing. Mostly confusing. I couldn't understand why there was someone living in my home that would not speak to me, why my family loved each other so much but still seemed so pitted against each other. I guess those two things made navigating a conversation a little tricky. One person who won't speak and then several others who are passionate speakers. But that was then.
Now I live with someone who adores me and a cat and dog who hang on my every word. I'm mostly just embarrassed how I acted with my family. Very easy for me to believe that I encouraged strife. I also know that I was a kid who was just wanting to know where her place was in her family. And there's forgiveness in that.
I think I've veered off again. Time to bring up the goat?
One of my hopes of writing is that it will help me to organize my casual thinking thoughts. Maybe I won't feel so random. But maybe random speak is something that is just me. I do envy my grandmother a little bit. She's been keeping a daily journal since... this would be where I am missing critical information. I cannot think of a time when she did not keep a journal. She writes a little in the morning and then more in the evening. Everyday. In ink. I feel like I need the luxury of both Spell Check and Cut and Paste.
I guess hoping for eloquence in my everyday life might be expecting too much from a blog. But then again, why not hope for too much? Life is grand and the impossible should be hoped for. Maybe I'll start by remembering to hit the Save button.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Childhood Magic and Cake
My very first memory of my grandparent's house was watching the presidential debate between Carter & Reagan. That evening 2 things happened: I learned of my family's political standing and I started checking under my bed to make sure that Nixon wasn't there.
Even though this is my first memory of their home, it is not the first one I think of when I look back at that time. I think of magic and baking. My grandparents lived in a large frame two-story house that had a thick wood front door with a lion's head knocker. The living room was long and there was light and windows everywhere. From there, large glass french doors opened up into the dining room where the piano and books were kept. Then there was the kitchen.
There were always surprises waiting to be found. My grandfather would hide a fresh package of Play Doh in the pantry and my grandmother would have the candy cave filled with baked and bought treats.
The candy cave was an unusually built in cabinet that I have not seen in another home. Perhaps you have. I believe it was a section just big enough for double cabinet doors which were above and below. In the middle was a countertop where all things yummy were kept. There were cookies and candies wrapped in bright foil twists and in the center of it all on its own covered glass pedestal was a yellow layer cake with thick chocolate frosting. Oh yes, I was a pudgy child.
I loved to help my grandmother bake. I can still remember her clay mixing bowl with the blue painted trim and just how her chocolate chip cookie dough tasted. Cookies were something that we would make together, it was the cake that she would have made before I got there. I loved seeing that cake waiting for me. It gave me a sense of magic still existing somewhere. And real magic when you are a child - there's nothing like it. It's believing that the most wonderful dream really did come true. Not the dream where you win the lottery, but the one where you remember how to fly.
Things like that just seemed possible at their house. There were so many rooms to be explored. So many unexpected places. There were traps (sometimes you could not get out of the upstairs bathroom), random pieces of art (my grandfather's foil paintings on the wall, my aunt's butterfly on the pull down shade), strange shaped rooms (the dormer room's ceilings were shaped to the house. in this room I first said "butterfly". the force of the word made me take a step back). Small animals could be found anywhere, as could a good story. That home was a wonderland of delights.
That yellow cake with chocolate fudge icing will always be the cake that I am craving at 2 a.m., but the cake that truly throws glitter over my world is the pink bunny cake from my 4th birthday. My aunt made it for me. A strawberry cake with the most perfect pale bunny rabbit nose pink icing. It was a flat cake in the shape of a bunny head. I think it may have had gumdrop eyes & nose. All cakes no matter how fancy are measured by that pink bunny.
My aunt's home had a different kind of magic. Whereas my grandparent's house felt like it was the magician, my aunt's house felt like it was located in magic. The only other building you could see from her home was their barn. I caught my first fish in the watering pond just down the hill. At night you could see the Milky Way from their front yard. A small horse roamed there looking for fresh crab apples. Their son is about my age and I thought he was the luckiest kid. I was thrilled with his three wheeler. We would go off riding into the pastures, picking milkweed and trying to scare the cows. Maybe he tried too often 'cause they didn't hardly budge for us. My dad would take us on what seemed like long walks down some dirt road into the middle of nowhere. There was always a creek and some long abandoned home with only spiders there to greet you from the porch.
I actually have few memories of my aunt's home, but the ones I do have are vivid with detail. They are fresh in my mind now because I recently received a message from someone who is from that time. For me she was the creator of magic. She was one of those vital women in my life that were like my mom, but not my mom. Her magic was in her long dark hair, her bright eyes and a smile that contained the happiest of songs. My memories of her always involve laughing and singing. I can remember some camping trips and watching movies (Wizard of Oz, Young Frankenstein, 7 Brides for 7 Brothers - the first two terrified me and I still love the last two). But like all childhood magic she had left my life too quickly and to suddenly. I have no idea what our future holds, but knowing that she is still out there feels like knowing that tonight I might be able to remember how to fly. Who knows? Maybe tomorrow I'll find another bunny cake.
Even though this is my first memory of their home, it is not the first one I think of when I look back at that time. I think of magic and baking. My grandparents lived in a large frame two-story house that had a thick wood front door with a lion's head knocker. The living room was long and there was light and windows everywhere. From there, large glass french doors opened up into the dining room where the piano and books were kept. Then there was the kitchen.
There were always surprises waiting to be found. My grandfather would hide a fresh package of Play Doh in the pantry and my grandmother would have the candy cave filled with baked and bought treats.
The candy cave was an unusually built in cabinet that I have not seen in another home. Perhaps you have. I believe it was a section just big enough for double cabinet doors which were above and below. In the middle was a countertop where all things yummy were kept. There were cookies and candies wrapped in bright foil twists and in the center of it all on its own covered glass pedestal was a yellow layer cake with thick chocolate frosting. Oh yes, I was a pudgy child.
I loved to help my grandmother bake. I can still remember her clay mixing bowl with the blue painted trim and just how her chocolate chip cookie dough tasted. Cookies were something that we would make together, it was the cake that she would have made before I got there. I loved seeing that cake waiting for me. It gave me a sense of magic still existing somewhere. And real magic when you are a child - there's nothing like it. It's believing that the most wonderful dream really did come true. Not the dream where you win the lottery, but the one where you remember how to fly.
Things like that just seemed possible at their house. There were so many rooms to be explored. So many unexpected places. There were traps (sometimes you could not get out of the upstairs bathroom), random pieces of art (my grandfather's foil paintings on the wall, my aunt's butterfly on the pull down shade), strange shaped rooms (the dormer room's ceilings were shaped to the house. in this room I first said "butterfly". the force of the word made me take a step back). Small animals could be found anywhere, as could a good story. That home was a wonderland of delights.
That yellow cake with chocolate fudge icing will always be the cake that I am craving at 2 a.m., but the cake that truly throws glitter over my world is the pink bunny cake from my 4th birthday. My aunt made it for me. A strawberry cake with the most perfect pale bunny rabbit nose pink icing. It was a flat cake in the shape of a bunny head. I think it may have had gumdrop eyes & nose. All cakes no matter how fancy are measured by that pink bunny.
My aunt's home had a different kind of magic. Whereas my grandparent's house felt like it was the magician, my aunt's house felt like it was located in magic. The only other building you could see from her home was their barn. I caught my first fish in the watering pond just down the hill. At night you could see the Milky Way from their front yard. A small horse roamed there looking for fresh crab apples. Their son is about my age and I thought he was the luckiest kid. I was thrilled with his three wheeler. We would go off riding into the pastures, picking milkweed and trying to scare the cows. Maybe he tried too often 'cause they didn't hardly budge for us. My dad would take us on what seemed like long walks down some dirt road into the middle of nowhere. There was always a creek and some long abandoned home with only spiders there to greet you from the porch.
I actually have few memories of my aunt's home, but the ones I do have are vivid with detail. They are fresh in my mind now because I recently received a message from someone who is from that time. For me she was the creator of magic. She was one of those vital women in my life that were like my mom, but not my mom. Her magic was in her long dark hair, her bright eyes and a smile that contained the happiest of songs. My memories of her always involve laughing and singing. I can remember some camping trips and watching movies (Wizard of Oz, Young Frankenstein, 7 Brides for 7 Brothers - the first two terrified me and I still love the last two). But like all childhood magic she had left my life too quickly and to suddenly. I have no idea what our future holds, but knowing that she is still out there feels like knowing that tonight I might be able to remember how to fly. Who knows? Maybe tomorrow I'll find another bunny cake.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Grumpy Hindsight
I have to go to bed and I forgot to take all of my pills so now my heart is beating faster than I like and that makes it harder to fall asleep and that half a sleeping pill won't help now because I just remembered that I have forgotten to take the potassium pill for a couple of days now so I will be waking up several times tonight because of foot cramps and my body might not have gotten low on potassium if I hadn't forgotten my water pills the day before and woke up feeling like a whale and if my scale hadn't said I was Miss Piggy weight then I wouldn't have taken the extra water pills this morning and why did I have breakfast out, it always makes me feel icky in the morning and then I don't want lunch and I eat dinner too late and then I don't want a snack before I go to bed and I wake up at 2 a.m. hungry and the only thing in my fridge that isn't sweet that doesn't require cooking is a cheese and pickle sandwich and it's hard to fall back to sleep with foot cramps and your mouth tastes like pickles and then you weigh in at Orca weight in the morning but your not quite sure if it was the cheese and pickle sandwich or the lack of water pills and so you take more water pills but because of that you don't want to have to take the potassium on top of all of that because you're sick and tired of pills so then you get the foot cramps at night and why are the only pants I own jeans, why don't I have one nice pair of pants in the closet so when I need them I don't have to do marathon shopping when I am Miss Piggy weight and I have to stop hiding my jewelry because I always forget where it is and then I panic trying to find it, I mean seriously, the first nonliving thing that I would grab if there is a fire would be that jewelry and I can't find it anywhere which means if there ever is I fire then I will die while digging through the linen closet in the closet and now I really need to be asleep but I can't find my book anywhere and I left it on the ground on my side of the bed like I always do which means Jane is sleeping on it but I don't want to move because I just got my tubing all how I like it and Coco is resting peacefully next to me and if I bend over now then I'll get a head rush and probably get tangled in my tubing and I have no idea what I am going to wear to lunch tomorrow because I only have jeans and a short black dress that is a half size too small now that I am Miss Piggy weight and Karl will look prettier than me when we go out and all of the dresses that I tried on today showed the blasted tubing coming out of my chest which I would feel better about if Karl would let me put a butterfly sticker on it and Jane needs to be taken in for a bath in the morning which I bet I sleep through because I was up all night eating and rubbing out foot cramps and I don't have any mascara and I'll be the only woman at lunch without any mascara on and then they'll know that I actually spend all day in pjs and not in some fabulous outfit that I will find after I drop Jane off at her appointment and of all of the three loads of laundry that I had to do why did I choose the one that does not have a thing in it that I will wear tomorrow, just boxers, jeans and pjs....Ugh! Okay, I am thankful for the special medicine that I get to have and that it works. I am grateful that there is not one person that I know who will be spending the night in a hospital tonight. I'm thankful that this house has a dishwasher. I'm thankful that my husband does not mind if I poke him when he starts snoring too loud. I am grateful for the existence of peace, healing, laughter, tears, courage, dancing, singing, smiling, creating, love. I am grateful for cool breezes on a blue sky day. I am grateful for and amazed by the wonderful people that surround me in this life and by the natural beauty of the world that surrounds us all. I am thankful that I am peaceful now and ready to drift off to sleep andthat Coco is resting nicely on my legs.
I have to go to the bathroom. And I'm hungry.
I have to go to the bathroom. And I'm hungry.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Long Story About A Short Doctor's Visit
I prefer to not start my day cursing but that snooze button was asking for it. Going off every 5 minutes after I had a night of waking up every 2 hours. Grrr! I know, I know, it was just doing as I asked it to do. Not like I was going to wake up 2 hours earlier than usual on my own. Amazing how much colder the house is at that time of morning. This also includes the clothes I had laid out the night before and the water I used to brushed my teeth with. Out of the icebox and into the snowdrift. Shivering and hungry is not a good way to start the day. Neither is having a doctor's appointment.
I would have been the grumpiest grumpy girl in the whole land if it weren't for that blasted happy song in my head. I want to stomp around all morning, but instead I'm slightly skipping. I'm cold, hungry, really not wanting to go to the doctor and now I am skipping.
I did warm up, I did eat & my chariot arrived right on time. I should note that Mom was my chariot on this day and getting to my house on time looking all cute meant that she had to get up much earlier in a much colder house. And so we drove to Dallas.
Now I'm not saying I know for a fact that Dallas drivers are trying to kill us, I'm just saying that they sure do aim for you alot at high speeds. Maybe the song in their head is a little less happy. Town just hasn't been the same since Stevie Ray Vaughan died.
We made it to Baylor intact and on time. First stop, waiting room. No matter what time my appointment is at I am never the first patient there. Nowhere close. There are easily 20 other people waiting with me. Some are caregivers but others are trying to avoid a transplant list, on the list or have had their transplant. I am typically the youngest person in the room but today is an exception. I recognized one woman who is about my age and who I know has ph. I briefly saw another younger woman who was obviously having liver problems.
I try to make a little conversation with at least one other person while I am here. A good intention of wanting to be supportive of the stranger next to you can be the last thing that they needed at the time. I have never had a person cry when I made a comment about the weather, but I have been snapped at. I'm sure I have done the same. I do know that no one in that waiting room feels like this is all okay. Our lives have been limited in a way that we were not expecting. Death has been introduced early, but has not taken our hand. In fact, it's still the same game in that we do not know when we will die. All that we know is that the chance of dying from organ failure has increased. Everything else can still be considered chance. That day's random conversation was a nice one and I know we said a prayer for each other.
Now it's time for my echo cardiogram. I have a love/hate relationship with echos. I love chatting with the technician, finding animals in my heart images (there's an owl & a muppet!), feeling all sleepy from listening to my heart and getting good test results. I hate getting poked in every sensitive spot on my ribcage, being all sleepy when I still have another doctor's appointment and worrying that the animals on the screen are showing major heart damage. I also do not like the cold gooey gel they use. Somehow it does not respond to body heat. It seems to only get colder and stickier. Yep, don't like that either.
20 minutes later I'm dressed and taking the escalator down to the next waiting room. My name is called and so begins my favorite part. I go to the back room to have my temperature, blood pressure, oxygen saturation and weight taken. I love the women in this room. One is single, her family is in Marshall, she has a lovely smile and today she wears tye dye. She is also the best phlebotomist. The other woman is married with 2 or 3 small children, her family lives in Mexico and she keeps me motivated on my walk test.
Let the walkin' begin! For 6 minutes I walk up and down a hallway. Original instructions were to walk at a comfortable pace. Took me awhile to figure out that walking faster is a good thing. The farther I am able to walk and still be able to breathe the better the future looks for me. A walk test can be a very quick indicator of the progression of my ph.
My first few walk tests I had trouble not strutting. I also had trouble not stopping to catch my breathe or regain my balance. On this walk test I ruled that hallway. Almost. I did as well as last time, which was pretty great. I really felt like I could have done better but I was too tired. Not sure if it was lack of sleep or lack of medication.
Returned to the back room to have my stats taken again. I say my good-byes to the girls and I'm off to the exam room to wait for my nurse and doctor. Our nurse comes in first to get more information from me. She writes down the quantity of pills that I take daily, my lack of symptoms. Then the appointment takes a turn. This will be my nurse's last month at this hospital. She's taking some time off. I love this woman, truly trust her, and this news is awful to me for completely selfish reasons. She introduces us to our new nurse.
Both of my dietitians stop by for a quick visit. These visits are basically a formality at this point that I still really enjoy. I like both of the women. I also think it's funny that if I talk about eating out a little too often that they think this is fine. But then I have also seen other patients come in eating hand over fist from a plastic bag filled with candy.
My doctor comes in and we review the results of my echo and make plans for future visits. He reviews the notes my nurse has taken and asks me how my medications are doing. I admit that I could take less of one of my pills if I could only remember to take the others when I am supposed to. I apparently believe so much that I am healthy that I forget my pills. Almost everyday more than one is either taken way past the scheduled time or forgotten altogether. I kind of love that this made my doctor happy.
When I first met my heart specialist I was thrown by his optimism. Now I look forward to it. His focus is keeping me doing what I want to be doing. He also makes sure that I am getting the appropriate testing done at the right time. Last year I got too close to needing a lung transplant. I'm pretty much okay with the regular appointments, but it's a little hard for me to stay 100% positive that they will all have a good outcome. I visit my favorite phlebotomist and she does her thing while we chat. Find my favorite nurse for last hugs (and a few tears) and then we're out of there.
I wish I could write that we went directly home. Instead we had lunch and then did some marathon grocery shopping. Doesn't seem to matter how good or bad the appointment went, I seem to always have a slightly manic must keep moving thing going on. When we do finally get home I am exhausted. And yet Karl & I still went out to dinner that night.
It is now Friday. I have been writing on this since the appointment on Tuesday. I had thought that this would be much easier. After all, it did go well. But there are so many emotions that these visits stir up for me. I have learned that it is possible to feel fine and then have test results come back negative. These surprises seem like a betrayal by my body. It's something that I try very hard not to think about. Very difficult to avoid the closer it gets to an appointment. But I also have strong happy anticipating emotions. Maybe this time I will learn that my body has healed itself even more. No matter the news, I always keep my focus on what it is next.
I hope that I have accurately written how I feel at this moment in my life, because somewhere someone is working on the medicine that will help me to cure myself and these visits and everything that goes with them will no longer be routine.
Tonight there's a cool breeze, the tension is gone and all that's left is peaceful, happy and strong. The only thing on my mind are happy thoughts for you and "Everyday in Every Way I Am Getting Better and Better".
I would have been the grumpiest grumpy girl in the whole land if it weren't for that blasted happy song in my head. I want to stomp around all morning, but instead I'm slightly skipping. I'm cold, hungry, really not wanting to go to the doctor and now I am skipping.
I did warm up, I did eat & my chariot arrived right on time. I should note that Mom was my chariot on this day and getting to my house on time looking all cute meant that she had to get up much earlier in a much colder house. And so we drove to Dallas.
Now I'm not saying I know for a fact that Dallas drivers are trying to kill us, I'm just saying that they sure do aim for you alot at high speeds. Maybe the song in their head is a little less happy. Town just hasn't been the same since Stevie Ray Vaughan died.
We made it to Baylor intact and on time. First stop, waiting room. No matter what time my appointment is at I am never the first patient there. Nowhere close. There are easily 20 other people waiting with me. Some are caregivers but others are trying to avoid a transplant list, on the list or have had their transplant. I am typically the youngest person in the room but today is an exception. I recognized one woman who is about my age and who I know has ph. I briefly saw another younger woman who was obviously having liver problems.
I try to make a little conversation with at least one other person while I am here. A good intention of wanting to be supportive of the stranger next to you can be the last thing that they needed at the time. I have never had a person cry when I made a comment about the weather, but I have been snapped at. I'm sure I have done the same. I do know that no one in that waiting room feels like this is all okay. Our lives have been limited in a way that we were not expecting. Death has been introduced early, but has not taken our hand. In fact, it's still the same game in that we do not know when we will die. All that we know is that the chance of dying from organ failure has increased. Everything else can still be considered chance. That day's random conversation was a nice one and I know we said a prayer for each other.
Now it's time for my echo cardiogram. I have a love/hate relationship with echos. I love chatting with the technician, finding animals in my heart images (there's an owl & a muppet!), feeling all sleepy from listening to my heart and getting good test results. I hate getting poked in every sensitive spot on my ribcage, being all sleepy when I still have another doctor's appointment and worrying that the animals on the screen are showing major heart damage. I also do not like the cold gooey gel they use. Somehow it does not respond to body heat. It seems to only get colder and stickier. Yep, don't like that either.
20 minutes later I'm dressed and taking the escalator down to the next waiting room. My name is called and so begins my favorite part. I go to the back room to have my temperature, blood pressure, oxygen saturation and weight taken. I love the women in this room. One is single, her family is in Marshall, she has a lovely smile and today she wears tye dye. She is also the best phlebotomist. The other woman is married with 2 or 3 small children, her family lives in Mexico and she keeps me motivated on my walk test.
Let the walkin' begin! For 6 minutes I walk up and down a hallway. Original instructions were to walk at a comfortable pace. Took me awhile to figure out that walking faster is a good thing. The farther I am able to walk and still be able to breathe the better the future looks for me. A walk test can be a very quick indicator of the progression of my ph.
My first few walk tests I had trouble not strutting. I also had trouble not stopping to catch my breathe or regain my balance. On this walk test I ruled that hallway. Almost. I did as well as last time, which was pretty great. I really felt like I could have done better but I was too tired. Not sure if it was lack of sleep or lack of medication.
Returned to the back room to have my stats taken again. I say my good-byes to the girls and I'm off to the exam room to wait for my nurse and doctor. Our nurse comes in first to get more information from me. She writes down the quantity of pills that I take daily, my lack of symptoms. Then the appointment takes a turn. This will be my nurse's last month at this hospital. She's taking some time off. I love this woman, truly trust her, and this news is awful to me for completely selfish reasons. She introduces us to our new nurse.
Both of my dietitians stop by for a quick visit. These visits are basically a formality at this point that I still really enjoy. I like both of the women. I also think it's funny that if I talk about eating out a little too often that they think this is fine. But then I have also seen other patients come in eating hand over fist from a plastic bag filled with candy.
My doctor comes in and we review the results of my echo and make plans for future visits. He reviews the notes my nurse has taken and asks me how my medications are doing. I admit that I could take less of one of my pills if I could only remember to take the others when I am supposed to. I apparently believe so much that I am healthy that I forget my pills. Almost everyday more than one is either taken way past the scheduled time or forgotten altogether. I kind of love that this made my doctor happy.
When I first met my heart specialist I was thrown by his optimism. Now I look forward to it. His focus is keeping me doing what I want to be doing. He also makes sure that I am getting the appropriate testing done at the right time. Last year I got too close to needing a lung transplant. I'm pretty much okay with the regular appointments, but it's a little hard for me to stay 100% positive that they will all have a good outcome. I visit my favorite phlebotomist and she does her thing while we chat. Find my favorite nurse for last hugs (and a few tears) and then we're out of there.
I wish I could write that we went directly home. Instead we had lunch and then did some marathon grocery shopping. Doesn't seem to matter how good or bad the appointment went, I seem to always have a slightly manic must keep moving thing going on. When we do finally get home I am exhausted. And yet Karl & I still went out to dinner that night.
It is now Friday. I have been writing on this since the appointment on Tuesday. I had thought that this would be much easier. After all, it did go well. But there are so many emotions that these visits stir up for me. I have learned that it is possible to feel fine and then have test results come back negative. These surprises seem like a betrayal by my body. It's something that I try very hard not to think about. Very difficult to avoid the closer it gets to an appointment. But I also have strong happy anticipating emotions. Maybe this time I will learn that my body has healed itself even more. No matter the news, I always keep my focus on what it is next.
I hope that I have accurately written how I feel at this moment in my life, because somewhere someone is working on the medicine that will help me to cure myself and these visits and everything that goes with them will no longer be routine.
Tonight there's a cool breeze, the tension is gone and all that's left is peaceful, happy and strong. The only thing on my mind are happy thoughts for you and "Everyday in Every Way I Am Getting Better and Better".
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Abandoned In The Dark And Cold
We loved you.
You were so warm and bubbly. So sweet.
We enjoyed our time with you.
But then we forgot about you.
You were pushed aside, left in the dark.
We made others a priority.
And so you withered.
I wish we could get this time back, to be able to enjoy you again.
But we can't. We just threw you away and I am so sorry for this.
Oh apple crisp! Your topping was like no other.
I'm sorry I crowded the refrigerator and abandoned you in the dark and cold.
You were so warm and bubbly. So sweet.
We enjoyed our time with you.
But then we forgot about you.
You were pushed aside, left in the dark.
We made others a priority.
And so you withered.
I wish we could get this time back, to be able to enjoy you again.
But we can't. We just threw you away and I am so sorry for this.
Oh apple crisp! Your topping was like no other.
I'm sorry I crowded the refrigerator and abandoned you in the dark and cold.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
I'm Not Crazy, I'm Shopping
I blame it on sales. Somewhere some store is having a sale right now. What you want can probably be found in several stores, but only one will have the price that you will triumphantly tell friends and family about. "I bought this mint condition yacht for $4!"
Finding the perfect item on a ridiculously good sale and then having the beloved last for years beyond expectations is the reason that we drive ourselves to the brink of madness trying to decide if we should buy a second one. And then there's the question of gifts. And if you do this, should you also buy a second for yourself? "And so I bought a second yacht in red. I got you one in purple."
If you live with someone else then you may be taking their preferences into consideration. You start to question what your loved one would really like. "I think the yellow yacht makes me look hot, but the blue yacht matches my eyes. Did he say he preferred speed boats?"
Counting on over purchasing now to be safe and returning later is just asking for it. The receipt will get lost. It does not matter if you kept in the the bag or your wallet. The only receipt that you will be able to find is the one for the mojitos you had after your shopping frenzy. "Maybe I really did want 2 yachts and a speedboat."
This brings us to commitment. Maybe you do not want your conquest to last forever. You may want to change your mind sometime in the next 5 years. Donating may now be your only hope. "This year's speedboat comes with an apple corer! What? Goodwill won't pick up a yacht or a speedboat from my home?"
Insanity guaranteed. Pity the people that surround such a shopper. They are subjected to hours of conversation that they must not engage in under penalty of death. Noncommittal supportive grunts are all you can offer. Some blessed souls recognize the mania that sets in after their loved one has spent hours searching the internet, calling stores & driving to stores. You: "I can save $.50 buying it on Speedboats.com but I get the apple corer if I buy it from the store." Loved One: "Dearheart, you can have both the $.50 savings and the apple corer if we buy it from the store that's in the next state. Let's go."
My husband is one of those loved ones. No worries, we did not actually leave Texas. We did go to a different county. Today we drove to 3 different locations of the same store, I spent 2 hours searching online, and I also called 5 other locations.
Today we bought dishes. The sale was so good that I also bought a digital crockpot. I'm still not sure why Karl so supportively helped me find these dishes. One store was willing to hold a 4 piece place setting for me, the other store would not hold anything on clearance. Apparently because I am a girl, or because I don't do dishes, I need 8 place settings for just the two of us. It is very possible that my husband saw the signs of long term mania set in and decided that driving to 3 stores and crossing county lines was a worthwhile use of his day off. Love One: "Let's buy all of the speedboats!"
But maybe, just maybe, he also fell in love with the delicate blue bird pattern with cherry blossoms and a lovely pale blue rim. Hey! Is he using one of the soup bowls as a coaster?
Finding the perfect item on a ridiculously good sale and then having the beloved last for years beyond expectations is the reason that we drive ourselves to the brink of madness trying to decide if we should buy a second one. And then there's the question of gifts. And if you do this, should you also buy a second for yourself? "And so I bought a second yacht in red. I got you one in purple."
If you live with someone else then you may be taking their preferences into consideration. You start to question what your loved one would really like. "I think the yellow yacht makes me look hot, but the blue yacht matches my eyes. Did he say he preferred speed boats?"
Counting on over purchasing now to be safe and returning later is just asking for it. The receipt will get lost. It does not matter if you kept in the the bag or your wallet. The only receipt that you will be able to find is the one for the mojitos you had after your shopping frenzy. "Maybe I really did want 2 yachts and a speedboat."
This brings us to commitment. Maybe you do not want your conquest to last forever. You may want to change your mind sometime in the next 5 years. Donating may now be your only hope. "This year's speedboat comes with an apple corer! What? Goodwill won't pick up a yacht or a speedboat from my home?"
Insanity guaranteed. Pity the people that surround such a shopper. They are subjected to hours of conversation that they must not engage in under penalty of death. Noncommittal supportive grunts are all you can offer. Some blessed souls recognize the mania that sets in after their loved one has spent hours searching the internet, calling stores & driving to stores. You: "I can save $.50 buying it on Speedboats.com but I get the apple corer if I buy it from the store." Loved One: "Dearheart, you can have both the $.50 savings and the apple corer if we buy it from the store that's in the next state. Let's go."
My husband is one of those loved ones. No worries, we did not actually leave Texas. We did go to a different county. Today we drove to 3 different locations of the same store, I spent 2 hours searching online, and I also called 5 other locations.
Today we bought dishes. The sale was so good that I also bought a digital crockpot. I'm still not sure why Karl so supportively helped me find these dishes. One store was willing to hold a 4 piece place setting for me, the other store would not hold anything on clearance. Apparently because I am a girl, or because I don't do dishes, I need 8 place settings for just the two of us. It is very possible that my husband saw the signs of long term mania set in and decided that driving to 3 stores and crossing county lines was a worthwhile use of his day off. Love One: "Let's buy all of the speedboats!"
But maybe, just maybe, he also fell in love with the delicate blue bird pattern with cherry blossoms and a lovely pale blue rim. Hey! Is he using one of the soup bowls as a coaster?
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Cake, Forgiveness, Setting the World to Rights
In my world, cake makes all things better. Wonderful layered yumminess. Or single layer with the perfect icing swirled or drizzled on top. Oh cake! That you would be my middle name. Actually, Honey Cake doesn't sound that bad. Mmm... honey cake with cinnamon icing drizzle.
The last couple of days my world has been a little tilted. Grumpier, tireder, more sullen. Not at all how I want to spend my time feeling. But there it is. I know I have plenty of cause to have an off few days, and I'm pretty sure I'm entitled to a solid month or two. But grumpy, tired & sullen are boring to me. Who wants to feel like they're boring?
Whenever I do get into one of these moods, my biggest concern is that I am not annoying to the people around me. I'm not into making other people's lives miserable. I am always assured that I am not a 24/7 mope, but it just occured to me that asking too often for a personality check probably is annoying. Guess the lesson here is do the best you can, forgive yourself the rest. That's what I try do for other people. Maby I should do the same for me.
Oh! A little bite of carrot cake fell on the floor. Poor Jane, always at Grandma's house when I drop the best food. I wonder if I can eat that? Nope, covered in dog hair.
Today's accomplishments are that I helped Mom clean my house (yep, she's that fabulous) and I made all of my meals for the day (5!). I love having a clean space and knowing that I am able to successfully nourish myself. Especially since this time last year... ugh, nevermind.
Tonight, for the very first time, I made a seafood chowder. And is is fantabulous! It has tilapia, shrimp, sea scallops, potatoes, carrots & celery. I healthed it up quite a bit, but it still came out all yummy and creamy. This delicious cake is the only reason Karl will be having seafood chowder for dinner. Unfortunately, he will not be having any cake.
That is all for me tonight. Karl just called, he is on his way home to me, & I have a little bit of joyful dancing to do before I go heat up dinner. I hope that ya'll have a peaceful easy evening that includes a really great belly laugh. Tomorrow anything is possible! Isn't that just wonderful? Happy cake dreams ya'll!
The last couple of days my world has been a little tilted. Grumpier, tireder, more sullen. Not at all how I want to spend my time feeling. But there it is. I know I have plenty of cause to have an off few days, and I'm pretty sure I'm entitled to a solid month or two. But grumpy, tired & sullen are boring to me. Who wants to feel like they're boring?
Whenever I do get into one of these moods, my biggest concern is that I am not annoying to the people around me. I'm not into making other people's lives miserable. I am always assured that I am not a 24/7 mope, but it just occured to me that asking too often for a personality check probably is annoying. Guess the lesson here is do the best you can, forgive yourself the rest. That's what I try do for other people. Maby I should do the same for me.
Oh! A little bite of carrot cake fell on the floor. Poor Jane, always at Grandma's house when I drop the best food. I wonder if I can eat that? Nope, covered in dog hair.
Today's accomplishments are that I helped Mom clean my house (yep, she's that fabulous) and I made all of my meals for the day (5!). I love having a clean space and knowing that I am able to successfully nourish myself. Especially since this time last year... ugh, nevermind.
Tonight, for the very first time, I made a seafood chowder. And is is fantabulous! It has tilapia, shrimp, sea scallops, potatoes, carrots & celery. I healthed it up quite a bit, but it still came out all yummy and creamy. This delicious cake is the only reason Karl will be having seafood chowder for dinner. Unfortunately, he will not be having any cake.
That is all for me tonight. Karl just called, he is on his way home to me, & I have a little bit of joyful dancing to do before I go heat up dinner. I hope that ya'll have a peaceful easy evening that includes a really great belly laugh. Tomorrow anything is possible! Isn't that just wonderful? Happy cake dreams ya'll!
Thursday, January 7, 2010
How to Ruin Lunch & Make Your Dog Drool
Ughhh.
I am posting this little story to serve as a warning for any future culinary delusions that I may have.
I wanted to be a smarty pants and create a yummy, yet healthy, version of a Taco Bell Mexican Pizza. Please, Future Honey, remember that the only reason fast food tastes good is because it is prepared with ingredients that you refuse to admit exist. Using anything else other than those ingredients leads only to low self esteem and heartburn.
I would write out this unfortunate recipe that was supposed to result in a cookbook, a restaurant and then my own show, but I am trying very hard not to let lunch revist me. I need a serious tummy medicine.
Poor Jane wanted a sample (she thought I might have been overreacting), but alas, the mexican pizza contained spicy chili and I was not in the mood to create a recipe for peanut butter doggy truffles filled with milk of magnesia.
So here is your one and only warning Future Honey. You are no match for the culinary minds of fast food restaurants. Stick to something easy. Like Indian food or souffles.
I am posting this little story to serve as a warning for any future culinary delusions that I may have.
I wanted to be a smarty pants and create a yummy, yet healthy, version of a Taco Bell Mexican Pizza. Please, Future Honey, remember that the only reason fast food tastes good is because it is prepared with ingredients that you refuse to admit exist. Using anything else other than those ingredients leads only to low self esteem and heartburn.
I would write out this unfortunate recipe that was supposed to result in a cookbook, a restaurant and then my own show, but I am trying very hard not to let lunch revist me. I need a serious tummy medicine.
Poor Jane wanted a sample (she thought I might have been overreacting), but alas, the mexican pizza contained spicy chili and I was not in the mood to create a recipe for peanut butter doggy truffles filled with milk of magnesia.
So here is your one and only warning Future Honey. You are no match for the culinary minds of fast food restaurants. Stick to something easy. Like Indian food or souffles.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Soul Mate
I think you have more than one soul mate. A soul mate can be family, friends, a husband... or some random stranger you see in a grocery store. Today I found one of my soul mates. He's a boy of about 17, I think he has brown hair, probably brown eyes. I know he wears, possibly owns, an olive green puffy coat. I forgot to check out his taste in shoes.
What makes him one of my soul mates is this: he was sitting in front of a Starbucks, fork in hand, eating a chocolate cake. Not a slice of cake, the whole cake. The cake was round and had pretty icing piped around the edges. Little red cherries nestled in small mounds of chocolate icing happily beckoned to all who passed by.
Ah, the beauty of it all. Some other guy was standing next to my soul mate trying to talk to him about something. I think he was just trying to score some cake. I suspect my soul mate also thought this, because he hardly seemed to answer a question, kept his eyes on the cake and just kept on eating. That is sooo like my soul mate!
What makes him one of my soul mates is this: he was sitting in front of a Starbucks, fork in hand, eating a chocolate cake. Not a slice of cake, the whole cake. The cake was round and had pretty icing piped around the edges. Little red cherries nestled in small mounds of chocolate icing happily beckoned to all who passed by.
Ah, the beauty of it all. Some other guy was standing next to my soul mate trying to talk to him about something. I think he was just trying to score some cake. I suspect my soul mate also thought this, because he hardly seemed to answer a question, kept his eyes on the cake and just kept on eating. That is sooo like my soul mate!
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Fowl Revenge
There is nothing that I want more right now than a taco. Unfortunately, no trace of Mexico can be found in my kitchen. The flour tortillas have been used for my husband's lunch (I am way too good to him), the crunchy taco shells are all gone (why did I keep an empty box in the pantry?), no salsa anywhere. The lettuce has faced the firing squad and was abandoned in the crisper, or rather, the wilter. I do have cream cheese so my honor as a Southerner is intact. What I do have is turkey. Lots and lots of turkey.
We bought our house a used upright freezer for Christmas this year. It waits patiently for us in the garage. New to the idea of hoarding food, we were not used to it's bells & whistles. The bells being lots of shelves, the whistles we had not yet discovered.
After successfully freezing pizza rolls and jalapeno poppers, we graduated to whole chickens and then a turkey. All was well in the world of frozen overstock food. Then came New Years. Karl discovered the whistles. The freezer had an interior light. We had not noticed that the light had gone out because of the infrequent use of the freezer and it's relative newness. Our modest bounty had for the last 3 days been slowly defrosting. Our frosty garage was the only thing that saved us from the unpleasant task of cleaning out a stinky expensive mess.
I brought in the new year feeling like the Grand Cook of Lake Dallas. Since then I have made 5 lunches for us & for the freezer (which is now on an outlet of its very own) I have made turkey pot pies, chicken rellenos, turkey quiche, chicken cheesy casserole, turkey pablano casserole, turkey and herby cornbread stuffing, lemony turkey pasta, spicey peanut chicken pasta, turkey sweet potato stew... and there is still enough turkey for 2 more meals. I don't know whether to curse the existence of turkey or go buy 3 more for the freezer.
We bought our house a used upright freezer for Christmas this year. It waits patiently for us in the garage. New to the idea of hoarding food, we were not used to it's bells & whistles. The bells being lots of shelves, the whistles we had not yet discovered.
After successfully freezing pizza rolls and jalapeno poppers, we graduated to whole chickens and then a turkey. All was well in the world of frozen overstock food. Then came New Years. Karl discovered the whistles. The freezer had an interior light. We had not noticed that the light had gone out because of the infrequent use of the freezer and it's relative newness. Our modest bounty had for the last 3 days been slowly defrosting. Our frosty garage was the only thing that saved us from the unpleasant task of cleaning out a stinky expensive mess.
I brought in the new year feeling like the Grand Cook of Lake Dallas. Since then I have made 5 lunches for us & for the freezer (which is now on an outlet of its very own) I have made turkey pot pies, chicken rellenos, turkey quiche, chicken cheesy casserole, turkey pablano casserole, turkey and herby cornbread stuffing, lemony turkey pasta, spicey peanut chicken pasta, turkey sweet potato stew... and there is still enough turkey for 2 more meals. I don't know whether to curse the existence of turkey or go buy 3 more for the freezer.
Monday, January 4, 2010
First Day Jitters
And now I have stage fright.
I guess I really shouldn't though. This is my blog & I very much doubt that anyone will ever come across it, so the stage is mine to do with as I please.
Today was...hmm.
I woke up at 4 a.m. with a mad need to pee. Which is strangely a good thing, but inconvenient at 4 a.m. And I would love to know why a house that just celebrated its 3rd birthday would have been built without a vent in the bathroom. Winter in Texas is why heated toilet seats exist at all. We have no idea how to keep our bums warm for the one month that is winter.
I try to rush back to bed, but I also have to figure out where Jane is sleeping by her snoring. Tripping over an 85 lb dog can get you into bed faster than you wanted.
I am all cozied up again when the symphony begins. It starts slowly with the low baying of a neighbor dog. The music escalates as the yappers join in. There is a pause, and my husband does his solo snoring part. He finishes & the howling begins again. Two hours later they finally all call it a night and I am able to drift off peacefully to some vivid nightmares.
But tonight I got to have cake & tomorrow is looking pretty great. Oh yes, there will be cake for breakfast.
I guess I really shouldn't though. This is my blog & I very much doubt that anyone will ever come across it, so the stage is mine to do with as I please.
Today was...hmm.
I woke up at 4 a.m. with a mad need to pee. Which is strangely a good thing, but inconvenient at 4 a.m. And I would love to know why a house that just celebrated its 3rd birthday would have been built without a vent in the bathroom. Winter in Texas is why heated toilet seats exist at all. We have no idea how to keep our bums warm for the one month that is winter.
I try to rush back to bed, but I also have to figure out where Jane is sleeping by her snoring. Tripping over an 85 lb dog can get you into bed faster than you wanted.
I am all cozied up again when the symphony begins. It starts slowly with the low baying of a neighbor dog. The music escalates as the yappers join in. There is a pause, and my husband does his solo snoring part. He finishes & the howling begins again. Two hours later they finally all call it a night and I am able to drift off peacefully to some vivid nightmares.
But tonight I got to have cake & tomorrow is looking pretty great. Oh yes, there will be cake for breakfast.
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