the ghost of gma mary

A couple weeks ago I woke up to my first cup of tea and some quiet reading.

Or so I thought. What actually happened was that I entered the living room and got sucked into a skirmish. The kid variety. Gramps had already been sucked into the vortex. This was how it went down...

Maddie: Grammy, Duncan and John lost the key to my 4 wheeler and I can't find it.
Me: Can you ride without the key?
Maddie: No. I looked all through the couch, but all I found was popcorn. (Last night was popcorn movie night...Duncan misses his mouth more often than not, but that's another story.)
Me: That could be a problem then. (I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer before my morning tea.)
Maddie: Grammy will you help me look?

So that was when I felt that first gentle tug into a situation I had accidentally stumbled blindly into. We searched between all the cushions, and I ran my hands down into areas of the couch I hadn't felt in years. We found a missing sock, but no key. Gramps lifted the couch and turned it over and we searched every nook and cranny. We did the same thing to his chair for good measure.

No key. But the floors under the couch and chair got vacuumed nice and tidy, sans popcorn and other unidentifiable food and garbage.

By the time I finished that (still without my first cup of tea), I was a bit irritated at two boys who had spent the whole time we were looking for the key THEY lost, playing in the bedroom with army men. That was when the ghost of Gma Mary materialized inside me. I marched into the kids' bedroom and informed the boys that they needed to use their brains to remember where they had left the key, and find it.

Both boys looked at me like I had sprouted two heads and was speaking a foreign language. I repeated myself, and told them to get UP and come and look for the key. They moaned and groaned and dragged into the living room. John had to recover from two feet he said weren't working before he could get to the scene of his crime.

John said he had left it on the couch and that was all he could remember. Dunc said John had the key last, trying to absolve himself of any connection to the crime. I told him his alibi didn't work, because he had started the chain of events by removing the key from the four wheeler.

After a half hearted search, the boys thought they were free and clear. I upped the ante at that point, thinking they would make a better effort to FIND THAT KEY. I told them they could not ride on the four wheeler anymore since the key was gone. They wouldn't be able to start the engine.

John: Dat's ok. I got my own four wheeler.
Dunc: I don't care. Doesn't matter to me.

This was when things started to escalate. I decided to hit them where it hurt, because Maddie was the only one upset by the missing key and loss of four wheeler riding time.

Me: Ok then, no more video games when you are here too.
Dunc: Fine.

Hmm, Dunc was playing tough guy. While I thought about my next move I looked for John, who was so crushed he had locked himself in the laundry room. My next statement was meant to win a stunning victory, but it worked out somewhat differently.

Me: John, there are mice in the laundry room. (Actually there are only traps.)
John: I am getting a chocolate milk. (YooHoo, a drink made mostly of chocolate, water and sugar.)
Me: You can't have a YooHoo if you didn't eat breakfast.

zombie grandkids- yes that is a YooHoo in John's hand

Gramps: He ate a cinnamon roll. (WTH did that come from? Now they were triple teaming me.)
Me: A cinnamon roll does not count as breakfast. It is sugar.  (Giving Gramps the stink eye)...Now he wants to follow sugar with sugar.
John: I will eat my egg then have chocolate milk.
Me: The egg that was on the table? I threw it away when I cleaned the table off.
John: But I wanted that egg. (Chin quivering and pitiful eyes.)
Me: (Gma Mary standing firm.)Then you need to eat it when breakfast is served. I don't leave food on the table all day.

I could feel myself gaining ground. I was ready to zoom in for the kill, play my ace in the hole. Then John started to cry. Which of course made Gramps totally crumple. I was breathing hard by this time and my eyes were beginning to bulge. Gramps took a breath to say something but I shot them both down before anything could be said. I included Dunc in this shot. I was going to overwhelm them with THE TRUTH.

Me: Have you ever heard of nutrient dense and calorie dense foods? Nutrient dense means that there are lots of vitamins and minerals in the food you eat and calorie dense means...

I noticed their faces. John was looking at me like I had sprouted a third head, Dunc had one eyebrow raised almost to his hairline and a smirk on his face, and Gramps' eyes were rolling in his head like he was having a seizure.

Then the ten year old slipped in and struck the final blow.

Dunc: I don't know and don't care.
Gramps: I was going to say the same thing.
John: (speechless and staring at me...)
Me: OK THEN. Since my money is what buys most of the food around here, I just won't buy any more CINNAMON ROLLS. EVER. And no more YOOHOO either.
Dunc: whaaaaat? Fine then, I WON'T COME ANYMORE.
John: (crying...suspiciously fake sounding sniffing)
Gramps: (seizure continues)
Me: FINE THEN, Maddie can come alone. Maddie, the next time you come, we will do lots of fun things together. We can shop, and go to the park.
Maddie: There is a park here?
Me: No, it is in Jasper. In fact there are LOTS of parks in Jasper. (I see Dunc is unimpressed, and I know I have to dig deep and find his Achille's heel.)
Maddie: ok Grammy that sounds fun.
Me: Oh, and we can go fishing Maddie. Lots of fishing. LOTS. (Dunc's eyebrows shoot up, and I am pretty sure he is buying this.)

So I play my trump card.

Me: Oh, and Gramps, sell Dunc's fishing rod, since he won't be needing it anymore. (Duncan has forgotten he doesn't own a fishing rod here, he uses Gramps' tackle.)
Dunc: WAIT...WAIT!!!! YOU CAN'T SELL MY FISHING ROD! I need it to fish!
Me: No you won't need it, since you won't be coming anymore.

At that point, I began to grin, and saw Dunc starting to smile, Gramps started to chuckle, and Maddie was laughing. I looked around for John, who had been strangely quiet...

He had downed a nutrient rich banana in 2 seconds. While we were skirmishing. He was going to do whatever it took to get that YooHoo.

Gma Mary had won again. She taught us well.  Jones women never lose a skirmish.

And John got his YooHoo.

...life is good... Cath
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

the starry night

One night last week, I found myself lying on a lounge chair under the stars, with my youngest daughter Deborah lying beside me on another lounger.

It had been a difficult week for both of us. I had been to the radiation oncologist and was one step closer to getting my boob barbecued.

Deborah's week had been equally difficult.  Life has been sending her curves for a while now, and every time she gets a foothold and feels as though she is beginning to move forward, something knocks her down.  This time the something was enough to make her feel hopeless for a bit, before she righted herself and decided to plunge forward.

So there we were, watching the Perseid meteor shower on the peak night in August when they were shooting across the sky leaving long trails, talking about a lot of different things.  It brought to mind a favorite song about one of my favorite artists and that song ran through my mind while we lay there star gazing.

The talking included a couple glasses of wine, so that may explain why our conversation ambled along about these subjects:

Nocturnal cow mooing.  We thought it was a romantic time of the month for cows, and the meteors were putting them in the mood.  One cow in particular bawled her way across the pasture from where we sat, mooing loudly from one end to the other.  Occasionally another couple of cows would chime in.

Tiger chuffing.  Not to be mistaken with roaring.  Deb said it was a sign of her lack of a social life, that the last thing she searched for on her iPhone was tiger chuffing.  It was replaced by cow mooing, which is when we discovered it wasn't cow sex going on, but one cow trying to find the herd.  Which totally burst our romantic notion about cows.  I was irritated at this point by the cow screaming across the road, so I.....

Stirred the cows up with my iPhone flashlight.  I know, totally mean of me, and I paid for it by being flogged by a million bugs rushing at the light and up my nose, in my eyes and ears, and...well you get the idea.  Deb also was eaten alive while Googling cow mooing.

Our California road trip.  Possibly the best road trip of our lives.  While we reminisced about the trip, we also talked about our own insignificance in the scheme of the universe, watching the sky light up with orange meteors shooting past in the sky overhead.  Then things deteriorated again when we decided to move our lounge chairs to face the house because it seemed like the meteors were coming from there.  That was when....

I peed my pants trying to get up off the lounge chair to move it.  I hadn't been to yoga in a couple months due to recouping from surgeries, so my abdominal muscles were jello, and so were my legs, which led to the above.  After we got settled down, we realized that the meteors were actually more visible in the direction we had just turned from, and somehow I made it up off the lounge, then Deb said something, I laughed, and peed my pants again. Just a little.   At that point, we started to laugh and talked about....

Estrogen levels and how they affect homicidal behavior.  I had just been taken off all estrogen, given a tablet to block my body absorbing any estrogen it might try to produce on its own, and told that the pill would probably give me hot flashes.  By a doctor who was smiling so kindly at me when he said it that I thought seriously about slapping him.  Just for a second.  Which means this ain't gonna be good, if I felt like that while I had estrogen still floating around.  About this time a leaf blew off the tree and hit Deb's shoulder, and she screamed loudly.  Which made a cow start mooing again and made us....

Laugh at shadows, more bugs, and leaves.  About that time we were sipping the last of our wine, and didn't notice Steve slip out and say something in his booming deep voice.  I jumped and screamed and so did Deb.  I thought a cow had gotten loose, circled around behind us and was about to charge us.  I invited Steve to join us, but he said no, he was going back to bed, which caused me to wonder out loud why the *#&$ he had bothered coming out at all.  Except I knew why.

He wanted to make me scream and pee my pants.

Because he is evil that way.

Thanks Deb, my Wretched Daughter, for being there to watch stars with me.  Let's do it again kiddo. Same time, next year.

(This post is in response to two prompts on Friday Reflections, how I deal with anxiety, and reflecting on my favorite song.  Somehow, this week, they were both tied together.) 

...life is good. ~cat
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

ambulance chasing

June 26, 2015 was an important day for Stevie Wonder. Due for the first checkup since nearly dying in April when his pacemaker had to be replaced after an epic failure to pace his heart (read about it here), he was understandably nervous because he had developed atrial fibrillation after the new pacemaker was placed in his chest.  His recovery from the second surgery was a bit rough compared to the first time.  I tried to reassure him that he was doing ok, and just had to give himself time to heal.  He was a bit whiny about the whole thing in my opinion, but I think that was because my patience was thin from dealing with my own breast cancer and surgery, which was taking place almost simultaneously to what Steve was enduring.

The twins were staying with us for a few days, so they went with us to the clinic. We were going to wait for Gramps to get all his tests finished, then go eat a late breakfast. We left at the crack of dawn for an hour long drive to the clinic. Duncan used the seat belt as a hammock for his head so he could sleep.

Duncan in a head sling

As we walked into the clinic (it was attached to the main hospital), I was explaining to Maddie what an echocardiogram was and the way I watched Gramps heart beating on the monitor when he was in ICU, before his pacemaker was put in. Her response to what I felt was a brilliant description was: "Disgusting!".

the long wait

 As we sat waiting, we talked, and I played a few games of checkers with the kids. Time passed...one hour, then two. As we began our third hour of waiting the kids were about to mutiny from hunger and thirst.  So I took them to another part of the clinic to get some juice and a snack.  As I was digging money out of my purse to buy juice for the kids, Maddie (who was standing near the hall) uttered the fateful words: "There goes Gramps".

I figured she meant he had walked past and was headed to the waiting room looking for us.  I said as much, and that was when she lowered the boom: "No, he wasn't walking, he was on one of those rolling tables."

"WHAT?" I said.
"He was on a rolling table Grammy."
At this point I looked a little panicky because I was caught between putting a $1 bill in a machine for a snack for Maddie, and taking off after the gurney. Maddie made my mind up quickly when she said: "I don't need a snack Grammy!"
So we took off down the hall. The hall took several turns, like a snake. Maddie had run ahead to scout Steve's location as I brought the rear up with a still sluggish Duncan. She would get to one turn, I would shout at her "CAN YOU SEE HIM?", she would shout back "YES I CAN", and then we would advance to the next bend in the hall.

In my mind the whole time was that SW had collapsed during the stress test, and they had come looking for me to tell me they were transporting him to wherever they needed to go to fix him, and couldn't find me because I WAS BUYING EFFING SNACKS FOR STARVING GRANDKIDS.

After what felt like a mile of scouting, reporting and running, I ran out of steam as I made it to the last bend and saw the end of the gurney and a nurse waaaaaaaaaaaay down the hall just going out of sight. I decided we would go back to the waiting room and wait until someone found us and told us the bad news.

So we sat there, they split Duncan's honeybun and drank their juice and I fidgeted like I had ants in my pants. About an hour later, Steve walked in the door of the waiting room.

bubba gramps

WALKED.  I jumped up and almost shouted at him "ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?"
He looked at me like I had lost my mind and said "yes".
I said "did you go by on a gurney about an hour ago?"
"No" he said.

Then it hit me.

I had been chasing a stranger down the halls of the hospital. I asked Maddie how she knew it was Gramps on the gurney. She said: "because he had white hair and was wearing a mask like Gramps does when he is sleeping."  Steve saw my face and knew something was up, so I had no choice but to tell him what had happened.

He started laughing.

He was still laughing 4 hours later every time someone called to check on him and he got to tell the story again.

an anticlimactic end to the morning, at Waffle House

I thought I had finally lived it down until Steve said a few hours later:

I would have loved to see what happened if you'd caught that gurney and saw you'd been chasing a stranger down the hall.

Steam started coming out of my ears at this point.

I am now the victim of another Steve story, which grows with "embellishments" every time he tells it.


...life is like chasing gurneys, you never know where you are going or what lies ahead. ~cath
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

life, washed down with cherry garcia

These thoughts go hand in hand with #FridayReflection prompt:  Reflect on the following quote: "Don’t compromise yourself. You are all you’ve got." - Janis Joplin

When life throws me a curve, I head for my standby coping skill...music.  Lately it's been music from my past, and last night it was the Grateful Dead.  I decided I needed some ice cream to add to my cope plan (that is my weapon for extreme emotional punches to the gut).  And my go to flavor is Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia. I grabbed some, and then spotted my newest coping obsession beckoning enticingly from a shelf on my way out.  I swear I didn't intend to do it, but suddenly they landed in the cart.

So last night was a time for ruminating, minimal communication with my family to keep them in my loop, and just vegging with music and a sugar high.  Because let's face it, the Grateful Dead still effing rocks, and Cherry Garcia slides soothingly across your tongue.

Along with a big ahhhhh of a bite of Banana Hostess Twinkies, a new flavor in a cake that is as big a part of my past as the Beatles, Disneyland, Santa Monica Beach and on and on.


And I realized as I slurped, chewed and listened, that what is happening is a bump in the road, and not a mountain. So it is time to deal, and move on, not to whine or worry.  Time to focus on the present, and let the rest take care of itself.

Sometimes, when you are grateful to be alive, all you need is the Grateful Dead in your ears, and some Cherry Garcia to wash it down.

 

...life is good with a little cherry garcia on it...  ~cat
i am @jonesbabie on twitter
 

rubberband man

Two weeks ago I opened my closet door, searching for the lightest material I could find. It had to be light as gossamer, and not add one ounce to the scale when I stepped up at the doctor's office. I knew jeans would add at least a pound of fake weight, so I dug through sweaters, tops, pants, jeans, searching...searching...beginning to feel desperate.

Then I saw it. Tucked back out of sight, never worn because it had always been too clingy. Too revealing of bulges and bumps I didn't want on display. The dress. Just a simple navy, scoop neck knit. You ladies know the type of dress I am talking about. I twisted my lips as I wondered if I could get into it. Then I lifted it off the hanger and my decision was made.

It weighed about 2 ounces. Perfect. If I could just squeeze my ass into it. I went to ask Wretch if she had a slip I could borrow. It had been so long since I wore a dress that I didn't own a slip. Wretched Daughter handed me a slip as she uttered the fateful words:

"It's a slimming slip."

That should have clued me. The key word was slimming.  I didn't have time to think it through so I grabbed the slip and headed to the shower to get ready for work. That is when the fun began. I learned some valuable lessons as I struggled to get this piece of spandex hell on:

1. Never put on anything spandex while your skin is still damp from a shower. It sticks like glue and refuses to budge.
2. Never use lotion before putting on spandex for reason #1.
3. Never EVER put it on over your head.  STEP into it.
4. Once you have put it on over your head, you are trapped.

It was nice and soft and stretchy when I was holding it in my hand. Once I got it over my head and under my armpits, it turned into a boa constrictor. It rolled up firmly under my armpits, and refused to budge. I couldn't reach it to pull it over my head, and I couldn't unroll it to pull it down.

I was stuck. At that point, I got a bit panicky, and started to sweat like a pig. Which made the boa constrict tighter. It began to feel like I would die, and end up with a rubber band buried up in my armpits.

I pulled from the front. Then realized I was pulling the bottom of the slip out over the top and it couldn't roll down. Not even one inch. I tried to unroll it from underneath, but it decided that it wasn't going to budge that way either. I tried to reach behind my back and pull it down from there.  Nope. I tried to pull the whole nightmare of a slip off over my head. Nope. By then my body was swelling from having the blood flow constricted, and it was buried even deeper into my flesh, if that was possible.

I was running out of time and made one last effort. I grabbed the front of the slip and yanked on it like I was pulling down a shade. It hesitated, then suddenly unfolded. I rolled it down my thighs, and then stopped to catch my breath.

Suddenly it felt pretty good. Or maybe it was that I could breathe again. I slid my dress over my head and looked down. Bumps, bulges and odd spots all under control. It really was a miracle slip. Wretch cautioned me that it wouldn't remold me (dang it) but that it would smooth me.  It sure did. I felt like a tire with a new tread. Today was going to be great, I could just feel it.

I drove to work. When I got out of my car, I realized that the rubberband slip was going to let me know all day who the boss was.

Because every time I sat down all day, the backside of the slip slid up and cupped my behind. I spent the entire day feeling like my ass was in a sling.

All that effort to save 6 ounces on the scale at the doctor's office.

The dress went in the garbage when I got home that night. The slip is still embedded in my skin.


...you're bound to lose control when the rubberband starts to jam... ~cath
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

make it snappy

Truth is stranger than fiction. It's a fact that I am blind as a bat without my glasses. I wear contact lenses.  There is a small period of  time when I remove my contacts, and before I put my glasses on my face, when I am blind and lack depth perception.

Tonight I took my contact lenses out. I reached into the cabinet, got out my glasses in their case. What happened next is what caused the chain of events below.
I opened my eyeglass case upside down.

My eyeglasses fell out, headed for the ceramic tile floor (brand new glasses by the way).

I grabbed at the glasses with my left hand to catch them before they fell to the floor and got scratched (only you eyeglass wearers can appreciate my panic).

As I grabbed with my left hand at my glasses, I reflexively closed my right hand.

Eyeglass case in my right hand (spring loaded closure) snapped shut with a loud crack.

On my right nipple.

I screamed and yanked.

I'm still afraid to open the glass case. 

I think my nipple may be inside.


...make life snappy... ~cath
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

nightlife is the bright life

Reminiscing tonight after seeing something on the television triggered a memory for tonight's photo response to the NaBloPoMo prompt, NIGHTLIFE.

When Jim (our middle child) was about 4 or 5 years old, we were eating dinner and talking when we noticed that Jim had gotten quiet.  We looked at him and started laughing.  He had fallen asleep in his chair, with a half eaten chicken leg still grasped in his left hand, his arm dangling at the side of the chair. As we laughed, it led to another "Jim story" from about the same time.  Steve got up before daylight one morning to find the refrigerator door standing wide open. Lying on the floor in the light cast from the open door was the red rind off a piece of bologna, an empty cheese wrapper and an empty soda can. When Steve checked on Jim, he found half a piece of bologna laying on the pillow beside his head.  He asked Jim why he had left the door to the refrigerator open. Jim's response: "because it was dark and I was afraid I couldn't see to get back to bed."

Nightlife in my house revolves around the family refrigerator.  The welcoming gleam of the interior light provides security in a darkened room, foods and treats to scavenge, and drama after a big family meal when we struggle and fight to find places to stuff all the leftovers. Then there is the unsolved mystery of the light. Is it on all the time, or only when the door opens?  Even Jim still hasn't figured that one out, 37 years later.

(Happy Birthday to my sweet Sneezer, who turned 42 on May 25.)

...life is good. ~cath
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

friday reflection: the funniest thing I saw this week

This week, the +FridayReflections prompts offered a chance to go back to previous weeks and write about something we had not used as a prompt. Since I missed a few weeks, dealing with other things, I looked back and the prompt I wanted to write about jumped right off the page and into my head:

What was the funniest thing you saw or heard this week?

If you saw what I posted yesterday you will see a photo of a 10 year old boy smiling. If you are very observant, you will notice his tie. His mother noticed it the second she saw him from the other side of the room. Here is the story behind the tie:

Jen called me the other day to share something. I had been feeling a bit overwhelmed, dealing with one thing after another in my life. I was beginning to feel as though a day wasn't going to dawn that didn't bring some major thing to endure with it. So I was half ass listening to what Jen said at first. She told me about Awards Day at school for the twins, and their accomplishments. I was proud of the kids, no doubt about that, but still miserable in my own skin. Then she told me about Duncan. 

This year not only did they receive awards for accomplishments, the twins also graduated from elementary school to middle school. So graduation was a big thing for them. Jen told me she sent a tie, shirt and jacket with Dunc so he could dress properly for such an important occasion. She arrived from work just in time to see the ceremony.

And being a mother, she noticed it right away. Dunc, who didn't hold his bottle until 3 days before Jen weaned him off it, and didn't dress himself until he was well over 5, had dressed himself. Jacket, shirt and tie in place. Except for one thing.

The tie was INSIDE the neck of his shirt. When she saw it, Jen started laughing. Then she fought the urge to do corrective dressing and let him wear it like it was. 

I was laughing as loudly as Jen while she told me this. I could just picture it, and when I did get a picture from Jen, it was exactly as I imagined. And...the tie was RED, which meant it REALLY stood out.

A bit later I was struck by the real lesson. It wasn't the laughter, although that was medicine for my soul. It was the fact that Jen got it. She understood what was important that day. It wasn't the tie. It was the fact that Duncan, the boy with ADD who had been failing the first grade, was graduating on the A/B honor roll.

And THAT is more important than a red tie inside a shirt.

...life is good. ~cath
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

Today is day 23 of NaBloPoMo over at BlogHer and the prompt is OUTSIDE. I was stumped about it until we stopped at a traffic light today. Stevie Wonder said "look what is painted on the outside of that guy's truck!"  I saw it, and as we passed by I shot this photo. Little bit of editing (I couldn't be me without tweaking a photo with an app), a caption, and here is my take on the prompt (and also the funniest thing I saw besides Dunc's tie):

inside a mother's heart

...his mother saw it, but said nothing...
it was his day to shine.

NaBloPoMo, day 22: INSIDE. A haiku.

...life, through a child's eyes, is perfect...

~ cath 

i am @jonesbabie on twitter

don't bury me yet!

Today I got the verdict. After almost 2 months, a mammogram, a repeat mammogram, an ultrasound, and a needle biopsy. 

I have cancer.

There. I can say it. Because several weeks ago I had a meltdown thinking all the what ifs. So I am past all that shit, and to the point where I am just ok, tell me what the percentages are, what my options are, and let's get this show on the road. 

My youngest daughter and I were sharing a Subway sandwich when the phone call came. She had just had a job interview, and we went out to grab a bite. And of course, after waiting for days, the call managed to come at a not so convenient time. But really, when you are getting news like that, is there ever a convenient time?

So, after about one split second, I thanked the surgeon for calling me, and made an appointment to see her in two days to talk about my options. Being a nurse, and having discussed possible options while I was having the needle biopsy, I kind of already know where I will probably go with this. 

The bad news was that it is breast cancer. But between you and me? I knew when I saw it on the ultrasound that it most likely would be. So today was kind of anticlimactic. Meh. 

The good news? That it is very small, 7-8mm. Coming from the boomer generation, I had to use my converter app to figure out just how little it was. Eight millimeters is equal to 0.3149606299 inches. (Is that even a real number?) If you ignore all but the first two digits, that is less than a half inch. Little bit more than a quarter of an inch. Tiny. With, I am told, a 90-95% cure rate. That is good news.

I told the family, they were kind of subdued. A little bit of texting, a couple phone calls and silence. My family IS NEVER SILENT. So I can feel the gears in their brains working, from here to the west coast. I told Wretch before she left me at my office to tell Steve not to bury me yet.

It is going to take a lot more than a little lump the size of my smallest finger nail to stop me. 

Although I am thinking, maybe I could ask the surgeon to slip with the scalpel and do a tummy tuck while she is resculpting my right breast to match my left.

So, don't bury me yet.

Oh, and ladies?  GET YOUR MAMMOGRAM. This cancer was so deep and tiny it couldn't be felt, not by me or the surgeon. The mammogram we all love to bitch about having has most likely saved my life.

SO GET YOUR MAMMOGRAM. DO IT. EVERY YEAR.


...life really is good. ~cath 
find me @jonesbabie on Twitter

my passion

Nothing heavy here today...NaBloPoMo photo prompt day #2 is: Your Passion.

So here it is.  I looked at things related to nursing, photography, art, reading.  All things I am passionate about.  Then I found the perfect photo.  Something I am truly passionate about.

Minions.....and Twinkies....






...laughter is good. ~cathy
find me @jonesbabie on Twitter

throwback thursday

way back in about 1986

Maddie was looking through some photos I had posted online and found one of my kids and me in about 1986.  She identified everyone in the photo but one person, and asked me "Grammy, who is that?"  I told her it was me, and she repeated her question two more times in disbelief.

She finally said:  You're as little as your kids!
I said: well Maddie I was a lot younger then, and the kids had mostly gotten as big as me (with the exception of Wretch, who was about Maddie's age).  (No way was I going to comment on what she obviously meant, which was that I was THINNER.)

Then Duncan started in: that's you?  that's YOU?  THAT'S YOU???
*sigh*
Me: Yes Duncan it is me.
Duncan: You look like you need to be married.
Me: I was Duncan, to Gramps.  That's why I was as LITTLE AS THE KIDS...I got married when I was a kid...(sort of...I was 17).  :)

Gramps, me and some of the kids and grandkids in fall 2014

Link up any Throwback Thursday photos you would like to share, in the comments below.

...laugh, life is good! ~cath
find me @jonesbabie on Twitter

the week of living dangerously

The past week has been beyond weird for my family.  Specifically, for Stevie Wonder, Wretched Daughter and Grumpy Grammy.  It started out normal enough last Monday, April 20th.  But by Thursday it began to go downhill.  I'm going to share my week since then so that if you experience anything remotely like it, you will realize you aren't alone.

Thursday SW (Steve) told me he had another dizzy spell.  This had been occurring more frequently the past few weeks, but I remembered that he first complained of some dizziness months ago (I tend to file information like that for future reference).  I got really insistent (the kids say I am overbearing when I am like this and they are right) that he call his cardiologist on Friday and tell them what was going on.

Friday he did just that.  Fridays are my off days now, and so I listened as he dealt with it.  The doctor's nurse left a note with the doctor, and Steve paced waiting for the call back, which came late morning.  He was told to call the pacemaker clinic, who tried to access his pacemaker via the wireless machine that sits on his bedside table.  Only today, for some reason they didn't receive any data...so next call was to St Jude's to talk to the tech, who told him the transmission had gone through.  More phone calls followed, and finally the nurse asked Steve if he needed to go to the ER, and of course he said no, he was fine right then.

Saturday, SW went with Wretch  to Wal Mart, and he had a spell so bad he grabbed Wretch's arm in the parking lot and bent over, which freaked her out.  He insisted on going in and shopping, leaning on a shopping cart (something he had never ever done before).  When they left, she called me even though he didn't want her to.  My response was simple:

Take him to the nearest after hours clinic or ER NOW.

Princeton Hospital lobby

Steve agreed and Wretch carried him to the nearest clinic to have his vital signs checked and be triaged.  The staff at the After Hours Clinic told him that since he was a heart patient with a pacemaker, he should to go straight to the ER.  Steve, being the cooperative person he was, said he would, but to Princeton Baptist ER in Birmingham, an hour away.  Deb was totally wretched now about what to do, and I told her that if his vitals were ok (blood pressure was somewhat elevated but he was not symptomatic) then to come home on their way and get me.  (This decision would be a pivotal one later that day).

I had been putting some color on my hair (of all days to do it!) and by the time they got to the house I was almost ready to go.  I was giving orders about medications, clothes, etc to pack, because I KNEW they would keep him.  Don't ask me how, I just knew what I felt the problem was after spending the time waiting on them reviewing all the odd signs and symptoms over the past several months.

Off we went to the ER, Steve quiet most of the way, until he said:

I feel worse today than I did the day they put the pacemaker in.

He could not put his finger on it, just a general feeling of unease.  I kept asking him different questions about how he felt, pain, etc.  Nothing but the feeling of just "feeling bad".  This hardened my resolve as we got to ER.  Within a short period of time Steve was on a bedside monitor that showed a normal rhythm being paced.  The physician's assistant came in shortly after that and had multiple tests run on Steve.  All were ok,  No odd findings and Steve was still feeling ok at this point.

Watching Steve, I still felt in my gut that something was not right.  Steve suddenly said:

I'm getting really dizzy now.  It's bad.

I jumped up and stood looking at the monitor while this happened.  AND I SAW IT.  What had been causing my gut feeling.  Steve's pacemaker was firing, but the ventricular lead was not causing a ventricular contraction as it should be doing.  So what I saw was several pacer spikes, with no heartbeat.  Then SW's heart kicked back in and he said:

Ok, I feel better now.

I stood there watching him and saw 4 more episodes happen.  A few seconds each, it caused Steve to become extremely dizzy lying perfectly still on the exam table.The PA came in, and when he indicated they would probably send Steve home because they couldn't find anything, I told him I didn't think so.  I described what I had seen.  The PA  told us he was going to talk to the ER doctor.  In a couple minutes the doc came in.  He was very kind (as all the staff had been) and listened to me.  I explained what I saw and he said he had looked through the last hour's strips and couldn't see anything like that.  I told him in a firm but polite voice that I didn't know what time it had happened, but that I was a nurse and  knew how a pacemaker was supposed to function, and THIS ONE WASN'T.  He smiled at me (a real smile, not a condescending one) and said he believed me, and that he would go look some more.  He said the tech from St. Jude's was coming to interrogate the pacemaker just to be safe, at which time I relaxed just a bit.  The doc left to chase the elusive pacemaker strip, and while I waited, Steve had the worst episode he'd had, his heart rate dropping to 28 and getting very anxious and dizzy.  I stepped to the door and hollered for the first staff member I saw (turned out to be another ER doc but I didn't know that) and I explained again, in a slightly less polite tone of voice, and thank god, this time I had a witness!  He listened to me explain briefly what had been happening, and I told him the episodes were getting more frequent and I was not taking him home until this was addressed.  He told me he would go talk to the doctor, and I waited again.

In just a minute or so the ER doc came in waving a paper and said "I found it!  You were right, and I also saw this last episode happen while I was finding this."  At this point I looked at him and said "I knew I was right, I've been reading monitors for 20 years, and the ER doc said they were moving Steve immediately to the ICU part of the ER and were going to externally pace him.

More tests, external pacing (don't let anyone ever tell you having your heart paced externally isn't painful), and an injection of Morphine and Versed into Steve's IV to calm him and help him rest. THAT lasted about 15 minutes, at which time he woke up, said he needed a shot of Scotch, and then made a ribald comment about me, at which the nurses at the desk laughed and asked if we needed the curtains drawn.  I told Steve sternly to BEHAVE or I would fix his pacemaker permanently myself.  He laughed and we waited....

He went to the CICU (Cardiac Intensive Care Unit) after the St. Jude's tech told me he thought the wire was fractured.  To test this theory, while SW was in the ER ICU, the tech turned Steve's pacemaker off briefly twice, and during those few seconds, Steve thought he was dreaming, but to us he looked like a dead person, skin waxy, eyes and mouth open and body jerking.  Wretch got through the first episode, but the second time I told her to get some fresh air and she left in tears.  I knew what was happening and the technology around me, and felt secure with the situation.  She just saw her daddy die in front of her.  Twice.

To cut things short, the pacemaker was defective for some reason, although Steve had been too vigorous with his activities and was told to take it easy on his left arm from now on by the surgeon who replaced the whole system on Monday.  Yep, Stevie Wonder had worn a 7 year pacemaker out in 2 years.  Not something the cardiology department saw every day.

By Monday I had also caught some bug and had a sore throat, ears that felt like they would explode every time I swallowed, and a cough that made me feel like I was coughing my lungs up.  But SW had a new lease on life, hopefully more than two years this time, and it was all ok.

I came away from this whole week feeling two things so deep in my gut that it was hard to deal with.

1. On Sunday, while we spent a long day together passing time, Steve took my hand during a moment alone, looked into my eyes and said "thank you for saving my life".
2. If I had not been a nurse, I would not have known what to say to the doctors.  They were good doctors, willing to listen, but my training helped me identify the solution and communicate it to them. If I were not a nurse, I would not have been able to put all the pieces together in my mind and realize what was happening.

You see, the heart can't be resuscitated with no electrical activity to sustain the beats.  That is what
fires the beats.  We live so far in the country that he would have died. even with CPR, long before any ambulance could have arrived.

Again I was left with deep feelings of gratitude, and of feeling that the reason I became a nurse goes much deeper than even I realized.

No, SW is alive and waiting for his first post op bite of real food

 ...life is sweet; savor every moment. ~cath
find me @jonesbabie on Twitter

revelations from a relaxed housewife

I've been struck with a serious case of spring fever.  I spent a chunk of change over the weekend on a new, amazingly lightweight vacuum (#Dyson move over, you've met your match in the #Shark). This vacuum, while being small, is amazingly strong when it comes to suction, so much so that I find myself being pulled along by it, rather than having to push it, and struggling to run along and keep up.  In 20 minutes the first day I (rather embarrassingly) found it was able to suck up two of the little dust canisters of dirt out of my rug. And that was just down the middle of the house. God knows what is hiding in the corners and under furniture.  I call the new vacuum (drum roll) Jaws.  (Now you weren't really surprised by that were you?)

I also bought a new mop, mop bucket and other odds and ends, including some flower and herb seeds, and some dahlia bulbs.  Of course, we all know that spring cleaning and flower planting go hand in hand, in an odd way, like ketchup and mustard.  I chose to clean my bathroom first (Steve has his own bathroom too, cleaned by Wretch currently.  When she moves out, I don't know what I'll do, because that is no longer my territory and Steve's lack of cleanliness (as in cleaning up after himself) has caused some really strange things to grow in that shower in the past.  I spent hours cleaning my bathroom yesterday.  Hours.  That included scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees.  When my knees got tired, I discovered that the downward dog comes in real handy for scrubbing floors.  I always knew that yoga would have some hidden benefits, and it paid off handsomely yesterday, saving me from crawling around on my hands and knees for what seemed hours.

Now my bathroom is ready for the twins on Wednesday.  Which means that Duncan will immediately hose the back of the toilet seat and lid, as well as the floor, when he goes to pee.  (Sigh.)  At least I will have a couple days to enjoy my bathroom before it begins to stink like a male urinal.

While I was spring cleaning, I was also cleaning out emails, and files, and stuff.  Cybercleaning I guess you would say, and ran across the following paragraphs sitting in my blog draft box.  I wrote them on February 6, 2014, almost a year ago, and decided I'd throw it in with this post.  It has nothing to do with what I just wrote, but that is kind of the way I roll.  Eclectic right now to my fingertips.


2/6/2014
Kids say the funniest things.  From the time they first attempt to say words and make sentences and butcher them in weird combinations, until they are old enough to have a good command of language but are still naive to the nuances and subtleties, kids make adults laugh.  Personally, that's why I think they were put on earth...to make grownups laugh.  It's an unwritten law of nature.

My grands are no exception to the kid rule.  Lately Stevie Wonder and I have sniggered behind our hands many times at things they have said.

jack and gramps

Jack (9yrs old and the wisest of the bunch): Gramps you better be careful and don't get fat.  The girls won't be interested in you if you are too fat.  That's why I don't want to get too fat, the girls won't like me.
Gramps: Well Jack, I'm not interested in other girls.  I have Grammy. 
Jack: Grammy might leave you. 
Gramps: After 43 years I don't think I have to worry about that.  (Thinking this would be the end of it.)

Jack: You don't ever know, Gramps. (Then the zinger.) YOU'RE 43 YEARS OLD?

dunc

Maddie had strep throat this week, so Jen took her to the pediatrician when she took Duncan for his well child checkup.  Maddie's blood pressure was up, probably because of the infection.  Jen said when they got in the exam room, Dunc (whose blood pressure was normal) curled up in a chair, covered his eyes in a dramatic gesture with one hand and laid over the side of the chair.  She knew something was coming.

Dunc: I don't think I am going to make it.  My blood pressure is too low and that means I don't have enough blood.  (He's totally normal by the way.)

john boy

Steve told me that he was displaying a bit of road rage the other day while John was riding with him in the truck.  He said that he had been hollering in the car at people ahead of him to get out of his way.  He was running late getting somewhere and told John:
"If these people would get out of the way, we'd get there faster!"

John, sitting in the back seat taking all of this in, politely asked Steve to roll his window down (he was strapped in a car seat so there was no danger of him falling out).  Steve thought John was hot, so he rolled the window down to give him some fresh air.  He said as soon as he got the window down, John leaned his head out and started shouting
"Get out the way!!!   GET OUT THE WAY!!!"
John loves helping his Gramps.  Guess that extends to road rage too.
We are still laughing.

...laugh, because life is good. ~cath 

 find me @jonesbabie on Twitter

my saturday friday reflection: things that make me smile

Participating in blog prompts is not always an easy endeavor for me.  I tend to dislike boundaries, and will shoot myself in the foot (figuratively) to avoid being tied to any one thing.  But today is an exception.  When I saw the prompt that said to name 30 things that make me smile, I knew this post was a cinch.

I smile easily.  I've always been a grinner.  So much so that as I left for school on picture day every year, mum would tell me not to smile too big (my gums would show in a geeky kind of way when I did).  I think most years I forgot her advice as soon as I was out the door.

Smiling doesn't always show on the outside though.  I experience a lot of secret smiles, and those feel just as good as the visible smiles.  Only in times of great stress do I not smile as much.  The past few months have been like that for me.  But lately I have met some goals, made some changes in my life, and I find I am smiling more.  So today I will share a list of things that make me smile, in no particular order of importance.

1. Smiling.  No, it isn't as goofy as it sounds.  When I smile at someone, they always smile back.  And that makes me smile more.  All the way inside.  (Smiling is contagious.)
2. My grands.  They turned a middle aged woman into a Grammy.  I smile every time I think of those four goofy, funny kids.
3. Star Trek movies.  I've been watching all the original crew movies tonight and realize that some of the best one liners ever written are in those movies, and they have a knack of inserting them into the most serious scenes.  (Scotty just said "then we are dead" in the Undiscovered Country, and Spock replied "I've been dead before" in that deadpan way that makes me smile every time.  As I just did.)
4. Cartoons.  Especially cartoons with no speech, just sight gags.  My dad loved the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote cartoons and so do I.

5. Audio books.  I have discovered the joy of having someone read a book to me in my ear.  A recent favorite that made me smile (and laugh out loud) was Craig Ferguson's Between the Bridge and the River. 
6. Social media.  That's right.  I can read something on Twitter or Facebook and find myself smiling.  Instagram and Pinterest have some great stuff for smiling about too.  A recent post on Facebook that I shared with my sisters was this:

And this leads to....

7. My sisters.  They make me smile.  No matter that we live thousands of miles apart.  I always smile when I think of them.  They are total goofballs, just like I am.

8. My kids.  Different than the grands because they were a lot of work to raise.  Thank goodness they all have my warped sense of humor (with a bit of their dad's too).

9. Stevie Wonder.  I married him because he made me smile.  Great at jokes and storytelling with an authentic southern accent, he stole my heart with a joke, and he still makes me smile.

10. Funerals.  That's right.  Some of the best jokes and stories I have heard have been at funerals.

11. Clouds.  I am a cloud watcher.  Not only do they totally relax me, taking me to another place, but I often find myself smiling.

12. My dogs. Especially Gabe.  He is a natural clown.  Caesar is softhearted and loving.  Gabe is a mauler and licker and loves to poke his nose in everything.

13. Ivy Jones, my grandcat.  At 15, her cranky personality makes Wretch and I laugh every day about some antic or behavior.  Today she was wailing at me when I got home, and when I gave her some of her treats, she sniffed them, then looked around at me with a haughty expression as if to say "you expect me to eat THIS?"  Needless to say, she got the real deal, some turkey meat.

Now I am getting into the smiling/laughing category, which still counts in my eyes.

14. Falling.  I am a chronic faller.  Years ago I plowed up the pavement in our local town with my face.  Hours later, sitting and waiting at the ER (Wretch was with me), I looked up to see her STARING at my face.  I looked down with my eyes only, and could see my top lip poking out beyond the end of my nose.  I looked back up at her, and we both burst out laughing.   

15. Steve's pacemaker.  Yep that's right.  The day he got his pacemaker put in, the kids showed up to be with me.  When we got him back in the room and we realized he was going to be ok, it was time for joking and smiling.

the brats

Steve's attempt at corpse pose.

16. People watching.  I love to watch people, and seeing how they interact often makes me smile.  Especially parents interacting with their kids.  Watching parents try to keep up with active kids gives me a big grin.  And a sigh of relief that I don't have to do that anymore.
17. Touching stories about real people.  Humans can do such evil, horrible things to each other, and it is always gratifying to see something good done by one human for another.  Today this is what moved me to smile, and tears:

18. Watching someone succeed at something for the first time makes me smile. The day Duncan looked up at me, (after his mommy's struggle to find the right medication for ADD) and told me "I'm smart Grammy" made me grin from ear to ear.  I knew he was smart all along, just trapped in his own head.

marmite

19. Meeting a new friend for the first time.  That first smile, and hug, sets a tone of love and acceptance.
20. Marmite.  Thought I'd hate it, but I love it.  Even the name makes me smile.
21. Meeting old friends again after years apart.  I ran into one of my best friends at my high school reunion a while back and we were both full of smiles for each other.  It was as though no time had passed, and we fell into the place we were years ago, totally comfortable and enjoying being with each other.
22. Painting.  I've been drawing and painting since I was a young child.  I often smile as I work on an idea.  It is the joy I feel, coming to my face.
23. Secret smiles.  An inside or private joke that only I understand, or something between me and another person that is shared with a glance and a smile.
24. Rewatching old movies that made me smile the first time I saw them, and smiling at the same moments when I watch them again.  It's like laughing at the same jokes, etc.  Causes smiles.

I'm going to end with #25, because it is the smile that I am wearing as I edit and read what I have written.  I live a blessed life.  A very blessed life.  In the midst of a world that can be so full of hate and anger, cynicism and cruelty, and sadness....I find reason to smile every day.

Think about it...what makes you smile?

...life is good. ~cath find me @jonesbabie on Twitter

where is your nose and lip?

my missing nose and lip

I love photography and technology.  They are my addiction.  Put that together with my iPhone and the myriad apps out there, and you have a recipe for disaster.  Or a family joke.  For me, today, it's the latter.

My sister Vicky loves to tease me about my photo edits.  Especially when I take a selfie and tweak it.  It's all in good fun, and we always have a laugh about it.  One thing my sisters and I can do is take a poke in fun.

Today I am poking her.  Her latest comment about this photo I posted to Facebook was: "where's your nose and upper lip?"

 Obviously it's in edit limbo.  But I got to tweaking some of her Facebook photos and decided to return the favor and put hers in the same place mine went. :)

 So, here's to you my favorite middle sister.  Your beauty shines through it all, because it radiates from your heart.

where's your nose and lip?

vix and dooj

...nothing compares to sisters. ~cath
find me @jonesbabie on Twitter

the bee keeper

This is a haiku time for me...I'm funneling my life into photos and haiku verses.  Short and sweet, and shared with you all.  And so, today is a haiku for my honey, the beekeeper.

...life is good. ~cath
find me @jonesbabie on Twitter