Knees and Early Morning Heart Palpitations...

If you were raised properly, then you were taught that one doesn't make phone calls before the hour of 9am or after 10pm. Early morning or late night calls, I was told are either, 1. rude or 2. harbingers of death or illness, so you can imagine how my heart started beating faster when my phone rang at 7:30 this morning.

My mother had her knee replaced on the 20th, and things went downhill after the surgery, she had a bad reaction to the morphine and spent 3 days following the surgery very ill. She didn't know what she was saying half the time, and why she was in the hospital, unless one of her wonderful nurses talked her into awareness.  It was very scary for me to see my mother like this.

There was talk amongst her doctors, about putting her into the rehab center at the hospital, so that she could be monitored and get a really great kickstart on her physical therapy. I was all for this, anything to help mom, but on Christmas day she went home, and we decided to put our traditional Christmas celebration off until this week.

Monday evening, daddy called me and told me that mom was back in the hospital, that her knee was infected and they didn't know what it was. Oh. Joy. Mother does so love hospitals. That and I had flashbacks of knee replacements past, and their complications. 

Dad called me yesterday with an update, the fact that she was responding well to the antibiotics and pain meds, made me feel better and the only reason I didn't go see her yesterday was the fact that I was feverish and muddleheaded. I figured that it wouldn't be a good thing to pass along anymore germs to mother, the knee hurts her enough and I didn't want to add to it with a head cold.

So this morning, I am up and in the back yard having a cigarette (Yes, with a head cold. I know. I know.) and the phone rings...not my cell, but the house phone. No one but family has the house phone number and it was 7:30am! I dashed into the house, heart pounding and answer.

On the other end were the dulcet, cheerful, well rested tones of my mother!

"Hi honey, what are you doing?" she asked.
"Mom! I almost had a heart attack! It's 7:30!" I panted in reply.
"Oh, I'm sorry!"
"No,mom. It's okay, I'm so happy to hear your voice! You sound so wonderful!"

And she did sound wonderful. Apparently they've found a good combination of pain meds for her (she has reactions to certain things) and she slept "like a baby". The infection appears to be clearing up as well. They are going to keep her in the hospital for another day at least, but it's looking good. My heart is also beating normally again.

And So This Is Christmas...

“An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Saviour has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

~Luke 2:9-12

When The Hawtness Cools...

There comes a time in a relationship when the hawtness begins to cool, things get tepid and don't work as they should. One has to ask oneself if a newer model is in order, or should one stick it out for a little while longer. There is something comfortable in staying with the familiar. You know the familiar and how it works, it's dependability; it's constancy. One hesitates in getting rid of the old, out of comfort perhaps, or fear that a newer model won't satisfy as much as the old. Yet you know that the day will eventally come when, in either a fit of anger or just calm realization, the old is eschewed and the new brought in and unveiled.

You will play with your new toy, admire the shiny newness of it all and wonder why you kept that old thing around for as long as you did.  Sometimes, especially in the beginning, when some of the shininess starts to wear off, you will miss the old; but not too much, it's nostalga after all and the newer is better in spite of the patience and time required in breaking in your new toy.

For weeks now, I've been hesitating to say anything, dreading the day that I new would soon come.  This morning was the day.  It is time.

The hotness is gone, and can only be gotten back with special attention. I am sick of the tepid, the slowness, the extra effort and the sloppiness of it all!  I've decided. I will tell Mike this morning, after he wakes up....I simply cannot take this anymore.

We need a new coffee maker.

History's Mysteries

This falls under the category of, "wow, that's cool!".

The Sea Gave Her Back


According to the article, she is a truly beautiful piece of work, and her sandals are especially lovely, very detailed. 

On of the things on my list of places to visit in retirement, is Pompey. Israel is another. 

One of the things that I really love about living in Houston is the Fine Arts Museum. The institution has works that range from religious art painted on wood that date back to medieval times, to Picasso and Kandinsky. One of my favorite halls contains marble statues from ancient Greece, Rome and Egypt. We even have a few sarcophogy, one of which has an interior painted in vivid color and hyroglyphs...it looks like it was painted yesterday.

Last year, the museum featured the exibition "Pompey", which I attended with my friend Donna and my impatient 10 year-old. It was such a moving and facinating exibition, one where we got to see not only some of the plaster casts taken from the "impressions" left by Vesuvious' victims, but everyday items like urns and perfume jars. The two things that left me gobsmacked were; the doctor's kits, complete with scalpels, forceps, tweezers and needles for stitching. The gobsmack factor was that they looked like modern instruments, only they were made of gold or silver. The second was the fine detail of the impressions of the dead.

There was one of a family, all huddled together, mom holding her infant child to her in protection. You could see the sutures on the baby's skull and their mouths opened as if they died screaming. It moved me to tears, this pitieous sight of death in terror. The man trying to protect his family, futilely, wondering what the gods were so offended by, wondering why the world was ending.

It was an incredible exibition, second only to the Tutankamen exibit I was lucky enough to see when it toured the U.S. back in the 70's. I will never forget that either. I was amazed at the workmanship and detail that went into the art and everyday implements that this culture provided it's royalty.  I've loved ancient culture ever since I met King Tut.

Now we have another addition, long lost, to the treasures from ancient history. I'm glad of it and can't wait to see it for myself.

Latest Salvo Fired by Nanny Staters...

Found this while getting my morning update.

Some people really shouldn't reproduce, and I'm not shocked that this comes from a lefty. It's not about money, it's about control. It's about power.

As one commenter stated on a blog, McDonald's should just close the restaurants in these areas and tell the people affected by the closing to go thank people like this Monet chick for the loss of their jobs.



JammieWearingFool

An Ongoing Struggle...

A few years ago,December 2003 to be precise, a major even occured in my personal life. I had what I call a nervous breakdown, and I know it's not a "medical term" but it's the best way I know how to describe what happened to me.

Basically, I ended up being diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder. I can honestly say that my breakdown was one of the best things that ever happened to me, because the many months of intense and concentrated therapy, brought to the surface things long buried and also in facing the demons that needed facing, and knowing that I wasn't the only person on the planet who felt and thought the way that I thought, was cleansing. My breakdown also, thanks to therapy, finally taught me to speak up for myself, to acknowledge that I'm not a super human and that my faults are not as earthshattering as I thought them to be.

I also learned that I have suffered from this disorder all of my life (most likely) which made sense as I looked back in hindsight at peroids of my life that were particularly hellish. It was so relieving to discover these things!

That said, for the last couple of weeks I've been feeling the symptoms of a depressive episode coming on, and like an idiot, decided to not so much ignore them, but to think that things wouldn't be as bad as they were in 2003. I had a few minor episodes since 2003, the most serious being when I took Chantix to quit smoking, one cannot do that with Depressive Disorder and I still thank God for my friend Jason staying on the phone with me till 3AM. For the most part, however, the few episodes of "depression" I've had after the breakdown, have been minor and treatable without having to go to therapy or take Prozac. However, the last few weeks have felt different, my moods swinging all Tarzan like, body aches, headaches and the extreme tiredness; all signs that something big is on the offing. I chose to ignore them and this morning the scale tipped into the blackness.

Which frightens the hell out of me, because I don't ever want to go through another 2003. Even though I can look back on it and be grateful that it happened, being in the thick of it was pure and painful Hell. Getting to the other side of it, all of those long months was the hardest thing I have ever done, the most painful thing I've ever done and something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

I suppose that I really shouldn't be shocked that this happened, given all of the changes that have happened in my life this year. It's not that I'm complaining about the changes, I'm not. They have been wonderful changes, but the brain of someone who has my disorder is wired a little differently than others and changes, especially those coming in rapid succession and throw someone like me off kilter. You see, I need time to deal with any change, good or bad.

The biggest change has been to my marital status...a HUGE change. I love Mike, love him very, very much, it's not that I don't. It's all me, you see. It's a ginormous change, going from a single parent for 12 years, to a married woman in the course of 7 months, and becoming an at home mom at the same time. I know that this has been a huge change for Mike as well. I have loved the change, there have been a couple of rough patches, but nothing serious. Then I had a death in the family recently, something that I am still dealing with and the fact that my mother is going to have her knee replaced on the 20th has me afraid, more afraid than I normally would be. I know my aunt's death, the suddeness of it in surgery, is why I'm afraid for my mother. The fact that she has diabetes doesn't help either. Normally, I cope well, just not this time and it's all because of the way my brain is wired. Then there are the daily worries, things that I've had to be hypervigilant about for the last few years, that I can relax about now...as soon as I figure out how to do that...this for the most part is tied to my not having to go it alone anymore. And I'm so used to going it alone. It's stressful, learning to to share the responsibilities, toilet cleaning jokes aside.

So Mike took me to the doctor today, and I'm starting my Prozac again. I just have to hang on until the meds kick in, and I'm pretty sure I can. I know that I have to make sure I eat, that I get out of bed and dress, make sure I keep to my normal schedule and make sure that I take care of myself. This too shall pass, this episode in life.

It's just so frustrating.

Know it All Children and My Mate's Driving Habits

Since when did my children become the experts on everything? It seems that they have answers to all of life's problems and don't hesitate to share them, voluntarily that is, with me and occasionally my husband.

Mind you, this sharing of knowledge is unasked for by me, and Mike. It also comes in the form of lectures about our vices; I drink too much coffee and am addicted to drugs, apparently, since I smoke cigarettes.  I'm also "old" and can't sing.

My favorite unasked for advice comes from my eldest daughter, Katie, when we are in the car.  I'm driving, and my 15 year-old, who has never driven and most likely will get lost going around the corner, insists on giving me driving directions.  When I started refering to has as Kate-Kate, after the Tom-Tom GPS system, I did so in the hopes that my sarcasm would relay to her that her unsolicited advice was obnoxious and annoying as all hell. I figured that since she knew everything, she'd pick up on it and adjust her behavior.
Not so, sadly, as she merely giggled and continued to relay her instructions from the back seat.

Mike says that he wonders where she gets her backseat driver gene from, this a not so cleverly veiled reference to the fact that I backseat drive when Mike is driving. I give him a sideways look, a middle finger salute and a "fuck you Thiac", which makes him laugh. I HAVE to backseat drive with Mike because he drives like a cop, ie: maniacally. He also rides his brake in heavy traffic and downloads his Mark Levin, and Rush Limbaugh to his phone when he drives. He's also been known to mapquest things on his phone enroute, as opposed to doing it at home BEFORE setting out to where it is we are going.

I still have nightmares about our first "date date", when we met up with Al, Claude and Christina at the Abita Brew Pub, and him driving on the twisty roads that led us to Abita, and Mike driving and mucking about with his cell phone at the same time. I was convinced that I was going to die, and yet didn't say a word to him because I wanted the relationship to progress. I do believe that my body language was screaming "PLEASE SLOW THE HELL DOWN AND PUT BOTH HANDS ON THE WHEEL ON THIS DARK TWISTY ROAD BEFORE YOU ORPHAN MY CHILDREN!!" but Mike was too busy driving and texting to notice. Either that or he was being purposly obtuse. By the time we got to the pub, I threw myself out of the cab of the pick-up like I was fleeing from a serial killer and lit a cigarette. Then I went in and ordered a martini, which I drank in record time, then proceeded to order the biggest ale I could get my hands on.

I kept my eyes closed on the trip home, which involved crossing the 24 mile long Causeway over Lake Pontchartrain, which is pitch black at night and cold in December.  There are baracuda in Lake Ponchartrain and fish and ever since Jaws, I've had this aversion to open waters. I didn't want to see us plunge into the dark depths, in case Mike's phone activites led to us plunging.

Since I obviously survived the trip (this isn't a zombie blog) and Mike and I are together 4evah, it all worked out.  He still drives like a lunatic, and I still backseat drive, which annoys the living hell out of Mike. We've even snapped at each other on occasion, and so on long trips I try to sleep, or at least recline my seat back and pray. On the short trips, I bite my tongue, sometimes successfully, sometimes not.

As for my know it all children, I sometimes can't get a word in edgewise, because before I finish a sentence I get the "I Know, I know" reply, which makes me see red.  Since the state frowns upon the use of  Tazers on one's offspring, I am limited to growling at the children and occasonally resorting to the standard line that all "old" people like me use; "It must be nice to know everything. Why don't you go get a job and support me, since you already know it all, and I will go back to school."

Oh God, I am my parents!