Argh

My

Back


Itches.




And I don't see the doctor until Friday.

Would someone come over here and gently scratch my back, please?

"Back" in business

For the record, I had a cyst removed from my back today.

It was a big sucker, too. I'd say it was roughly an inch to an inch and a half across and deep.

But no worries. I'm doing just fine. No pain, no problems.

:)

Postscript:

So I also went to get my hair cut this morning. My barber also trimmed my eyebrows, but it looks like he slipped and cut a wee bit too much off the one above the left eye.
I didn't notice that until a wee bit ago.

So I had to try and even it out on the other side.

As you can see...it didn't help. SIGH...

Revelations

It was today when it hit me...the house is really mine now.

I was downstairs in the basement. Just replaced the roll of paper towels I keep down there, and went to throw the empty one away when it hit me.

I turned and looked across the floor, as if I was outside my own body, or looking through the world through new eyes. "This really is my house now", I said aloud.

I just stood there for a moment, letting that reality sink in. I always knew the place would be mine, someday. I just honestly thought it'd be after My Kid's death. Never while she was still alive in a nursing home.

Even though I received the paperwork, confirming the sale weeks ago...it was so...surreal.

I'd bought new placemats for the dining room table today, and new throw rugs for the kitchen. The old, vinyl placemats were getting beyond the point of cleaning, and the rugs? Forget it. There were a lost cause.

Almost dinner time. I'm going to go heat up some leftover pasta that I'd made last night. Quite good, actually. Campanelle pasta with chopped sirloin and sweet sausage. Figured I'd make enough for a couple nights, and I was right.

It really is my home now. That concept is still trying to settle in.

One of many unhappy firsts

It looks like this will be the first Thanksgiving that Mum won't be able to be there.

We've talked about it, and while there's no firm decision yet, all signs are pointing to her not being able to join the family. Between a very long drive both directions, her uncertain mental state, and how she'd handle the whole experience, we're thinking it might be best if we didn't bring her.

The thought of it hurts beyond words.

But as I've always done, I try and do what's best for her, as unpleasant as it might be.

I'm going to suggest we go over and visit as a family sometime that day. Even if we can spend a little time with her, even if she's not aware of what day it is, she will still feel part of the family.

Remember...

I cannot take credit for the following. It appeared years ago...decades ago, actually...in my local newspaper.

My brother cut it out and gave it to me. It's been in my wallet ever since.

It has special meaning to me. I just want to share it with you.

Please continue to work hard. Achieving success is not easy, but nothing worth having is.

Please don't be afraid of failing or making mistakes. I have made them, some in raising you. Few of life's mistakes are permanent. Most are just hard learning experiences. Learn from your mistakes.

Please make the choices that you will confront in life wisely. Life is fragile, not to be feared, but to be respected. Drink from the river of life, but drink slowly and carefully. It is one river that will never dry up, but it can drown those who do not respect its power.

Please wear your success with the same humility with which you wear your failures. You will experience both of these in your life. Let each of them lend to your growth as a person.

Please have the courage to stand up for your convictions, to speak up against injustice, to lend a hand to someone not as fortunate as yourself. To give of oneself is to truly give.

Please give to others in life the same respect and honesty that you desire from them.

Please be happy in your life. Happiness is not a constant state. Welcome her when she comes like a budding plant welcomes a spring shower. Know that some days will be better than others and that the sad times help us to appreciate the glad times.

Above all, please always know that I am here for you when you need me, my counsel is given to you from the depths of my heart and soul. Always well intended. Please know that I love you.

-Author Unknown

Our story thus far...

Okay, so when last we left this soap opera we call "life", I said that the nursing home called me saying My Kid has aspirated.

They gave us a couple options. The first was a feeding tube, which I said "no" to. I consider that a life support device, and that's something The Kid told me, years ago, in no uncertain terms, she did not want. It was out.

Then they said that they recommend her to be a candidate for Hospice care. For those who are unaware, hospice is more for terminally ill candidates to keep them comfortable in their final days. The problem is, medical insurance will only pay for either a nursing home stay or for hospice care, not for both. If we went the hospice route, that would've meant we'd have to fund the nursing home bill, and there's no way we could afford that.

Still, Sunday, we talked to the hospice folks, and even let their nurse check her out. She said that The Kid's lungs sounded clear, sounded good, and she wasn't in any pain or suffering. In essence, she said, she's not a candidate for hospice at this time.

We opted not to take hospice.

Monday, I talked to the speech therapist and she said that since we declined their recommendations, they asked if I would sign a waiver releasing them from any responsibility, and go ahead and feed The Kid. (Remember, this was Monday. She hadn't had any solid food since THURSDAY, existing only on IVs.)

I signed off on it that afternoon. There was a delay in the doctor treating My Kid signing it, so that night was a little rough on her. She still was only on IV.

Tuesday, the doc signed off, and she was given solid food. I should note here that, back on Thursday, the doctor also ordered her anti-depressants "gently lowered", since there was a chance that they were causing her to be lethargic, and that might've caused the problem with her being unable to eat in the first place.

Tuesday, she was given semi-solid food. More like a paste, I'd say, and she ate the whole thing for breakfast. She ate all her lunch.

I spoke to her Tuesday night, and it was amazing. It was the first real conversation we'd had in six months, almost. She was clear, she understood what was going on, she asked what it was like outside, she said she was warm...

She spoke to my brother for almost 25 minutes. They talked about everything, and he didn't have to coax a conversation out of her. He said it was amazing. Everyone who spoke to her said it was amazing as well.

Mind you, for every bit of good, there's always a bit of bad. Seems they might've over-lowered the medication. She's gone a bit more manic today, but she's still eating, she's still moving around. She's also taken to cursing and being bitchy, but she's still moving. ;)

I understand that there's time involved in properly dispensing anti-depressants, that it can take some time to determine the proper level. That's all right. At least she's still alive, unlike three days ago, when they were ready to write her off for dead, almost.

It surely is never a dull moment...

Holding pattern.

The previous blog "Aspirated" has been deleted pending further information.

I might be getting mad pretty soon...

Faith God Hope Love Trust

Originally posted over at my old DeviantArt page. Reposted here since this is more of a blog thing...




For those of you who aren't aware, and even for those of you who are, my mother has had more than her share of problems as of late. She's been diagnosed with depression and cognitive disorders, as well as dementia and possible onset of Altzheimer's.

The last year of her life, and to a certain extent mine, has been extremely difficult. For three months, she was in a psychiatric hospital and only within the last week been transferred to a nursing home/rehabilitation centre. She's looking at long-term nursing care, where she can get 24/7 care and support.

She's not going to be able to come home again.

Just as background, my mother and I have always been very close. My father died when I was 11, so for the longest time, it'd be me and her. My brothers, all older, had for the most part moved out by the time I came along, settling into lives of their own. They and I both knew that I'd be the one to take care of her as she got older, and that was something I willingly accepted and enjoyed.

Over the last year, she'd become more anxious, more nervous, hearing and seeing things that weren't there, sleepless, restless...

I did everything I could for her, but it finally reached a point, three months ago, when I knew I did all I could. We made arrangement with a social worker she'd been seeing, and she admitted herself to the hospital.

Over the last couple months, I'd seen a strong woman fall apart. Someone once sure of herself disappear and this new person appear.

Every day, I'd get a phone call and there'd be some new development. Blood clots near her lungs. Falls, where she'd cut herself and they'd have to watch her because she's on blood thinners. I got to the point where I'd just wake up in the morning and wonder what would happen next, and be in fear of that inevitable phone call telling me just what that was...

Today, I got a call from the nursing home. A piece of food has entered her lungs. She's aspirated. She's forgeting how to chew her food and they're either going to have to alter her diet or, Heavens forbid as a last result, they might have to put a feeding tube in her.

When I got that phone call this morning, my brain just shut down. After making the obligatory phone calls to let my brothers know, and after talking with them for a few minutes, my brain shut down. I needed to just walk.

I always liked walking. It's very relaxing, just me, my feet, the pavement, the sounds of the world around me. When it's right, it's one of the few times I can stop thinking, stop worrying, stop wondering if I'm doing the right thing or if I've said the right thing or what's going to happen next and I can just BE. It's so rare for me to just BE. I savor those moments.

While out walking, I was crossing a bridge, and someone had scribbled these words on the railing.

Faith God Hope Love Trust

Stopping there, I leaned on that railing on those words. I'd seen them before, mind you. Such simple concepts. If you don't believe in God, you can substitute Allah, The Universe, The Flying Spaghetti Monster, whatever you wish. It's the concept of something greater than all of us, and for me, the word God works just fine. I'm not going to debate religion with anyone. My beliefs are my own, and I'm not interested in sharing them right now. Just accept these words and leave it at that.

Faith God Hope Love Trust

At some point, I know someone's gonna come along and clean those words, those powerful concepts, away. I took my crappy cell phone, used the even crappier camera and did my best to catch those words, because I believe that's something that must be shared.

So I share them with you.

Faith God Hope Love Trust

Don't bother with comments. They're disabled. Don't bother to note me about this. The thoughts and prayers are appreciated, but either you've gone through something like this before or you'll go through it yourself some day. If it's the former, you understand what I'm going through and that's good enough for me. If the latter, understand that when your time comes, know my thoughts and prayers are with you. Just reflect on this, and hopefully it will help you too.

Faith God Hope Love Trust