It’s Picture Time

It is high time I show off a toy I bought with some Christmas money!  I had been wanting a digital camera for a long time.  My brother and sister-in-law gave me the means to buy a Samsung Camera.  I researched several cameras.  I liked what I saw in the Samsung, and happened to catch it on sale in January.  Normally the camera is selling for $150.00.  I think I paid $110.00 fot it.  I was quite pleased with my purchase!

Below:   (Left to right) My niece-in-law holding her baby and my great niece  Payton, and aunt  holding another great niece Khloe.  Since there were five babies in the family being born wirhin months apart, my aunt thought it would be fun to have a joint shower.  It was fun, but oh so hard on the pocketbook!  I know, I know, my little great nieces are adorable, thanks!

Baby shower

Flowering plant in my kitchen

I never wanted a black cat, but somehow she wormed her way into my heart.  The name Hell-ga fits her.  She’s energy on four paws.  See that white and orange ball in the background?  Helga will throw it up in the air. and sometimes catches it.  The balls can reach five to six feet in hieght.  Sometimes the balls  land in strange places, like in my backpack, or I’ll feel something soft hitting my back.  She’s more entertaining then the TV.  I will try to get someone to capture her on video with my camera!

My kitty Helga

Relaxing Is Not My Forte

The reason for my recent  doctors appointment was that I needed a physical exam for an up coming dental procedure.  The doctor completed the basics of the appointment.  However, she sent me to the hospital for the most difficult parts of the exam.  I needed a blood draw, an EKG, and some chest x-rays.  All three tests require a person to be very still while being taken, and that is not an easy task  for me. 

I remember as a kid going to physical therapy.  My physical therapist would make me lay still on a matt  for a  half hour to practice being as still as I could.    To an eight or nine year old, that was physical torture!  I wanted to be up moving around, for goodness sake!  I kept on wondering what the kids were doing in class, and I would envy them for learning something I wasn’t around to learn.  I got eight hours of sleep at night, that was enough rest for me!

If I was trying extra hard to say or do something, but was not having much success; my Dad would tell me to, “Relax, relax, Re LAAAAX!”  I know he just trying to be helpful, and even supportive  in his own way.  However, quite often I would lament, “That’s not very helpful, Dad!” 

Years later I understand what my  physical therapist and my Dad were trying to accomplish.   There are times when I wish I had tried harder to work on being as still as I can.  That way when I need to hold myself ridiculously motionless, I would be more practiced doing so! 

How did I survive the blood draw, EKG, and x-ray?  The phlebotomist was smooth!  I had his assistant holding my wrist and forearm, and Beth was holding my shoulder and upper arm.  The vampire was in and out so fast, I didn’t know he had done anything!  I praised the phlebotomist for his swift and painless work!  

The EKG test was harder!  After the specialist got all the wires taped securely to my chest and abdominal areas, which took a bit of time to set up, all I had to do was sit quietly.  The first test was hard to read.  He said he would try one more time with me sitting up.  If it failed, he would have me lay on the examination table. (Laying down on a narrow exam table is not relaxing to me, and might have taken more time to calm myself.)  Instead, Beth told me to wiggle; sometimes reverse psychology works wonders!  The second test was not perfect, but it was good enough for the purpose it was taken for.  Two tests down, one more to go!

The dentist wanted three x-rays.  (Flashback!  As a kid, I would be x-rayed at least once a year, I guess to monitor the growth of my bones.  It  was a horrible experience; being taped down by lots and lots of masking tape, in the hopes that it would help tame the wiggles. How could I stay still when I was dreading the pain of the tape being taken off!)   This time there was no hard table, and no masking tape!   Two of the three images had to be retaken, but the x-rays were, to my relief, painless and quick. 

I think the x-ray technicians enjoyed getting to practice driving my power chair around whenever they needed to reposition me.  A few times I thought they were going to decapitate my head on their hard,immovable  equipment   It was an interesting experience trusting complete strangers, but “professionals have control of my power chair.  

I left home that morning at 9:30 without eating, because I was not supposed to eat before the blood draw!   By the time I returned home at 3:00, I felt exhausted and starving.  Maybe I should practice relaxing a bit more!  I believe it is never too late to form better and healthier habits

A thoughtful gift

I have received one of the most useful gifts ever this past holiday season!  A friend gave me a lap desk.  I am using the desk to prop up the books I read so that I’m sitting with a better posture while I’m reading!  Technically, I have just used the lap desk to read one book so far, but I know the desk will get plenty of use!  Gone are the days of hunching over books, and holding open books with my elbow!  Gone are the back and neck aches from hours of staying in the same position! 

I remember when I first caught the reading bug!  There was no way I could hold a book in my hands.  I lacked the strength, and the stability to do so!  I would be one very dizzy girl, if I could have held a book, because I’m pretty much in constant motion!   The one way I could hold a book open was to sit W legged style.  To sit this way, your buttom is on the floor, with your calves bent back on each side of your hips.  I would hold the left side of the book open with my knee, and turn pages with my right hand.

I learned almost too late, that W sitting is really bad on the hips!!  I think my left hip is slightly out of place. So far, my hip has not given me much pain, except when the weather turns cold!  After I learned about my hip, I had to figure out new way to sit and read.  I tried side sitting, which is as close to W sitting as I could get.  Initially, I was quite pleased with how I was sitting, with my back resting on a wall.  However, as I began  to get engrossed in the story, my concentration on keeping balance and posture started to ebb away, and I got extremely uncomfortable.  I have tried reading books resting on my lap.  If it was a new paperback, turning the pages could be quite difficult, and often the book would fall to the floor as I flipped to the next page.  Sometimes I would ask a family member who  was close by to turn pages for me.  Sitting bent over reading a book on my lap was taxing on my back!  So, attempt number three at finding a new position to read was reading at the table.  Turning pages was still hard.  Some of the books slided across the table when I went to turn pages!  Some dicem (sticky, non-slip material) helped a lot.  Turning page still was a problem!  My sister thought that the eraser on pencils might be the trick!  She taped cotton balls to the lead end of the pencil, and then wrapped massive amounts of masking tape around the end.  The pencils looked strange to people who did not know the significance of them, but to me they represented a sister’s love!  Or, more accurate, one sister’s desire to be rid of the chore of turning pages for her younger sister!  I can not believe nobody has thought a lap desk would benefit me before now!  I am just grateful for my friend’s concern over my back, and forethought into seeing the lap desk as a possible solution to a lifetimes problem! 

 I have two books I want to recommend to anyone who wants a good read!  The first book on my must read list is: “The Trumpet of the Swan”, by E. B.  White.  A parent will do anything to see his child succeed!  When a Trumpeter Swan sees that one of his ducklings can not communicate with his family and friends, he finds a trumpet for his son to learn to use.  This is a lovely story of learning to communicate even when it seems impossible.  I know, I know this is is a children’s book!  I happen to believe that its good to read children books from time to time, because it brings back a touch of innocence into our lives!  If you have to find a child to read it to, than by all means, do it.   

The second book I am recommending is:  ”Petey”, by Ben Mikaelson.  In 1922, Petey is placed in a institution because the affects of his cerebral palsy was causing too much strain on his family.  The institution misdiagnoses Petey, therefore he does not get a proper education.  Sixty year later, Petey is moved to a nursing home where a boy comes to his rescue and the two become friends.  This book is a teen read, however because of it’s subject content, I believe most kids pass it by.  It is truly a good and fast read!  If it says anything about the book, I read it three times, in a row!  I rarely read a story twice!   True, I wanted to deck out Petey’s parents, and most of the people that ran the institution, but Petey’s attitude and spirit for life  is infectious!  I highly encourage youth and youthful at heart to read these two fabulous books!

You’re Never Ready

I am sorry I have not written anything in quite some time. I have been going through some rough, sad, and downright exhausting times.

My Dad entered the hospital on February nineteenth with congestive heart failure. The next day he went to the Critical Care Unit with a breathing tube down his throat. The breathing tube stayed in a full seven days, but those days dragged so that it felt much longer! His breathing didn’t improve the way the doctors had hoped, however by the next Friday, the rotating doctor said that the breathing tube had to come out.

I should have ordered a ride to the hospital that day, but I did not. So, when my sister called to tell me I should get to the hospital, my only option of transit was to hop on two  city buses to go to approximately four miles.   When I arrived about a hour and a half later, the breathing  tube had been out for several hours.  Mom said the hospital had called asking  for permission to take out the tube,  but hadn’t realized they would proceed without his family being close at hand.   It made us upset knowing that he could have slipped away without any loved ones being present!

Family and friends stood vigil in a waiting room for the rest of the day.  My brother, sister, and I went to Dad’s bedside.  We were encouraged  that he was trying to talk to us.  However, his throat was dry and stratchy from the breathing tube, so he had to  struggle a bit to be understood.  After several tries, my sister figured out what he was trying to say.  “Let’s get the show on the road!” A very typical phrase  Dad liked to say.  It was his way of saying, “Let’s do everything we can to get me home as fast as we can go!”  The three of us bursted out laughing.   it was a relief to see his personality again!

Dad asked us what he needed to do in to order to go home.  My heart dropped right then.  I thought if he needed to ask that question, then he was far worse than I  imagined!   We told him that he had to continue to rest, and start breathing better.  We each, as if in harmony  started demonstrating how we breathe.  Dad began to breathe like me in quick shallow breaths.  I stopped forcing myself to breath, or rather, hyperventilate, and inwardly groaned.  To myself I thought, “Seriously, Dad!  Don’t follow my way of breathing!  Please, mimic Marilyn or Jim’s intake andout take of  air!” 

Dad had three possible breathing  resources   available to him.  He had the regular two-prong nose thing-a-bob, that didn’t do squat.   Next he had a sleep apnea machine which covered his mouth and nose.  It did a fair  job.  However, his best source of oxygen came from a full frontal mask.  The only part of his face that was not covered by the mask was his forehead, and family were constantly stroking his forehead, or smoothing out his bangs.

On Saturday, Dad was moved out of the Critical Unit and into a private room.  My sister and I happened to arrive at the hospital just as they were moving him.  I naturally thought it was a good indicator that he was getting his own room.  After Dad was all settled, we finally got to see him.  He wasn’t much better from the previous day.  He was more asleep than awake, but I sensed  that he knew we were there!  I felt like insisting that Dad be taken back to Critical Care where he received closer supervision, but then reasoned the medical staff knew what they were doing.

I am told that Dad had an eventful day on Sunday.  The nurses got him up into a recliner for a few hours, that he drank some apple juice, and had a few bites of mush.  I did not witness this happening, because  my cupboards held silm pickings, and I ,thought I should take advantage of having a car, so I went grocery shopping.   My sister said I didn’t miss much, that it wasn’t our typical Dad sitting in that recliner; he was still pretty out of it.  Sometimes in life you just have to except the decisions we have made, because if you don’t, it will just rip you up inside! 

The next morning, shortly after eight the call came.   All I heard was my personal assistant repeating the request, “Can I get her there Asap!”  I knew!  My adrenalin kicked in, it had to have, because I don’t think I could have functioned without it!  I rushed to my bedroom, and picked out clothes.  I was always cold at the hospital, so I grabbed the warmest sweater that was in my closet!   

Meanwhile my personal assistant was trying to figure out how to get me to the hospital.  It is not easy for me to find transportation at the drop of a hat, regardless if it is an emergency.  I will explain it all later.  Somehow a cab van appeared!  Bless the driver!   He was appraised of my situation, and when we got to the hospital  he tried make sure I knew what was happening.  I didn’t want his small talk; I just wanted to get to my Dad’s side!  Only because there has always been a force within me to prove that I am a thriving soul, I tried my best to answer his question, and then indicated that I was really in a hurry!

As soon as I reached the room, I saw my Dad, my positive outer shell of my Mom, and a tearful eyed sister.  I asked my sister what I didn’t have to ask.  Dad’s body was shutting down.  Family trickled in.  The small room got smaller and hotter!  I have never been present while someone was going through the final stages of life, but I was right where I belonged that day! 

The hospital’s chaplain  came to talk and pray with us.  My Dad had beautiful ruddy red cheeks, and when they started fading to an ash color, my heart nearly broke.  His cheeks pinked back up a few times, and a nurse came in to ask if we wanted to take him off the oxygen.   Not everyone was there yet, so with Mom’s pull we had the nurse leave.      I knew he had gone on to his new home.  I think everyone knew, but letting go is the hardest part!  When the nurse pronounced he had passed, Mom proclaimed that he had slipped out the back door, just like he would do when he went out to work on the farm.  Everybody had to chuckle at the truth in the statement! 

I was in that room for approximately five hours.  I needed out!  I needed to process through what had happened.  So, my personal assistant who had been quietly by my side the whole time helped me to get out.  I write when I need to work things out.  I was numbingly  trying to write on my communication device , called the Pathfinder, when it decided to freeze  on me.  I ran through all the things I know to get it back working.  Nothing worked!   It felt if the Pathfinder was giving me a free pass to mourn, but didn’t want the pass, I wanted to communicate, even if I only wanted to communicate with myself.  I wanted, no needed someway of getting myself to cry, and I couldn’t find one!   Darned technology, seemingly to always  fail when I needed it the most!

Locked Out, or is it Locked in?

 Approximately 12:15 in the morning I became trapped in my bathroom for two and a half hours.  After helping me onto the thrown, my personal assistant, Beth decided she needed to go and get something from her car.  As soon as my front door closed behind her, my heart started racing.  Did she make sure the door was unlocked?  I didn’t think so, because she had slipped outside way too fast.  Why didn’t I have her wait until I got out of the bathroom, I berated myself.   If I had Beth wait, I would have been in my wheelchair and therefore able to open the door for Beth.  Then I could get myself nicely into bed, where I desperately wanted to be!  Sure enough, after a short time she pounded on my front door saying  she had locked herself out!  This is not the first time Beth has locked herself out of my place; I would think she had learned a lesson! 

I spent two plus hours trying to talk myself into getting off the toilet, opening the bathroom door, and then knee walking to my front door to open it.  Up until my mid teens I knee walked everywhere at home.  I would hop down off chairs, recliners, and sofas, land on my knees, and go do whatever was on my mind.  It wasn’t enough to just knee walk, I felt the need to run on them 75% of the time.  Family members grimaced every time they saw me running, and they would warn me that I was going blow out a knee one day.  I just thought like many kids do, that I was invincible.   

Most of my pants were worn thread bare at the knees.  It is safe to say, that when I got into high school,  I did not think it was cool to have pants with thread bare knees.  I started spending more and more time in my wheelchairs, which I told myself I would never do.  On top of that, my knees began to deteriorate, so I really had no choice, but to use my wheelchair full time.    It has been at least twenty-three years since I have spent large amounts of time knee walking.   My knees ached just thinking about walking on them again! 

If I was really going to be the heroine of the night, I needed to do a couple things first.  I wanted to pull up my pants, because if I did work myself into jumping off the toilet, and fell flat on my stomach, I wasn’t about to be rescued with half  massed pants!  I pushed myself with my legs up into an arch above the toilet, and with only my right hand, I inched the pants up.  Having my pants up served a duel purpose.  One.  My bum was no longer cold!   And two, I had an extra padding around my knees.  However, I wanted a softer landing strip, so I pulled the rug in front of the toilet over to the side where I would land.  There still was maybe a foot of bare floor between the rug and door.  I didn’t like that, so I tried pulling the hand towel down.  I thought I could kneel on it, and sort of slide within reach of the door knob.  I could barely touch the bottom of the towel, but I couldn’t grasp it firmly enough to yank it down.   So, there I was afraid I would harm myself by doing something I did thousands of times as a kid!  It definitely sucks growing older sometimes!  

Meanwhile, Beth went to find my apartment manager, but could not arouse either of the two on-site managers.  My neighbor was still up, so Beth told her about our plight and asked if she might use her phone.     She tried to call anyone she  could think of to come help us, only two people responded, and they didn’t  know how to help!  She even tried calling 911, but they didn’t think in an emergency.  How did they know it wasn’t truly an emergency?  By that point I could have fallen off my thrown, and had broken a hip!  Instead, they advised her to call a locksmith, and that’s what she did.  The man wanted $175 dollars to open my door!  

 There is a new rule I am enforcing in my home.  My personal assistants can not go outside when I am in the bathroom.  If they absolutely have to go outside, they have to make sure to take the apartment key, and or make certain the door is unlocked!  I will train everyone on

Remembering Duke

Remember back in November, I wrote a post about my dog, Duke?  Well, here is just a few things that I miss about him. 

I miss Duke’s licks(kisses).  Sometimes I’d be busy at my computer, and he’d come in  to give me a kiss.  It  wouldn’t be until a little later that I would realize he had done so.    I would just smIle with the knowledge that I was loved, then I would try to remember to give him an extra long pat when I took a break!   

I miss Duke finishing the yucky end of bananas, or cleaning out the last bit of yogurt when I couldn’t eat it all.  Now I have to suffer through eating them all by myself.  Duke was my own personal  hoover vacuum!  He cleaned my floor while I ate.  Now I need to ask my personal assistants to sweep my floor after every meal. 

I miss  our walks!  I thought Duke  looked so majestic when he walked next to me.  I think he was conveying to the world, “Hey, look at me, I’m out walking with my lady, and I couldn’t be prouder!”   As we would pass fenced in yards, the dogs within would start barking at us.  Duke never barked back, if anything his grin became wider, and I think if he could he would have challenged the dogs to beg their humans to take them for walks, too!

I miss having Duke lay on my feet!  It was sure nice when my feet were icy, Duke was better than a heating pad!   I used to  think  of him like my big fluffy  pillow.  Well, at least his coat and skin were soft, but weighing at an average 75 to 90 pounds he was good at playing  an anchor, or  a huge bolder that frequently held me captive  in  boxed in places.   Like in my room, for instance. my desk is in front of me, my bed is in back of me, and a wall is to the right of me.   The only escape is a narrow path on the left of me.  If Duke decided to lay right in the middle of the said pathway, I was frankly trapped until he moved.    I finally  got smart and kept treats in reach, if he got up when I asked, he would be rewarded.   However, if he remained like a stone, I was simply S T U C K until at last Duke  remembered he was a dog and not a rock, and slowly stretched and got up, as if to say, “Okay, I am done ignoring you now!  What are we going to do now?  Walk, eat, how about a nice rump scratch? “    I do not especially miss those times when I had to wait for her to move!

I miss Duke at my side when I have to open my front door!  I could at least imagine that the big red dog beside me was intimidating!  Duke would more likely lick a person to death rather attack someone, but I like to think he would protect me if there was any real threat.   His tail could whip someone really good!  Oh wait, it was me who usually got whipped by a happy tail!

When friends ask me if I have considered getting another dog, I am thinking how could I possibly find an awesome dog like Duke.  I doubt one exists!   It shocks me to no end when I hear my family ask me if I will get another dog.  They were not that keen of me getting Duke, but then he was just a puppy, and a male, at that.  I had my qualms, too!  Duke was not a perfect dog by  all means, but he was eager to please me more often than not, and that made all the difference!  Maybe my family figures I didn’t do so bad by Duke after all.   I highly doubt I will find myself getting another dog, if I do you, my wonderful readers will be the one of the  firsts to know!

Smells From Childhood

10/17/2008

I reintroduced myself to black licorice the other week.  I was shopping, and suddenly I had a craving for something in the sweets isle.  However, I did not want my normal candy of choice, peanut M&M’s.  Noticing a box of Panda Licorice, childhood memories came flooding back to me! 

 

Grandpa’s red pickup permeated the smell of licorice!  Even his carport reeked with the smell of licorice, of which I could never understand because it was exposed to the open air. I thought the air would sweep the smell away.  I just convinced myself that Grandpa bought stockpiles of licorice, and hid it in every nook and cranny that he could find.  I absolutely love the smell and taste of licorice, because it was Grandpa’s smell. 

 

When the box of Panda Licorice was opened, and I smelled that unique oder tinkling my nose, I was back in the safety of my Grandpa’s lap, and  watching his his favorite show, wrestling.  It certainly was not my favorite show to watch, but in the name of love I was able to tolerate that one insane love of his!    

 

While I am writing about the smells I associate with Grandpa, I have to mention this.  Grandpa was a rockhound.  Mom often has  said that they couldn’t go to the beach without both of her parents butts ending  up in the air, as they were always on the hunt for agates. 

 

Grandpa had a barn full of rocks and equipment that he turned rocks into gems with.  There were saws, sanders, buffers, Polishers, and everything else that could be needed that kept his hobby running.  I loved sitting in the corner of the barn, and watching him work with his rocks; making some into jewelry.  It was his element and his passion.  I loved the pure earthy smell of the rocks being grinded!  Grandpa never went anywhere without a small handfull of rocks rattling in his pockets, just waiting for his grandchildren to find a unique stone that we had to have.  

 

What smells instantly transport you back into your childhood? 

Posted at 9:03 AM by useuraac@yahoo.com