Another Day, Another Zoom Appointment

I donned my pajamas and a slightly over-sized, polka dot Bow Tie o’ the Day for a recent Zoom appointment with my crazy-head doctor. She wanted to check on how my bipolar noggin was dealing with my surgery adventure. I have been a patient of hers for years, and I would recommend her to anyone who needs guidance in dealing with their bipolar brain. It is an added bonus that she is the spittin’ image of a sock monkey in the great outdoors. 🐵🏔🤡

The Huntsman Cancer Hospital Adventure: Days 6 and 7

My hospital room had a sweet and calming view, 24/7. No view is swell enough to make a person want to stay in even the finest of hospitals, however. From the first moment I arrived, all I wanted to do was get out. On the 6th day of my stay, the doctors shut down my epidural, so I could get used to the pain I would be feeling for the near future. In a matter of hours, my torso went from being numb and number to being on fire with blazing pain. It was not fun. My belly was a hunk, a hunk o’ burnin’ OUCH. I did manage to eat a hospital last supper of Cardiac French Toast, which I liked more because of its name than its taste. And on the 7th day, I put on my pajamas and an orange spider/white spiderweb Bow Tie o’ the Day, and then I high-tailed it for home as fast as Suzanne’s car could take us.

The Huntsman Adventure: Day 1, After Surgery

I wasn’t feeling giddy with joy after my surgery, but I still had spark enough to put on a fresh wood Bow Tie o’ the Day. I mean—I figured if I was gonna be somewhere people were constantly inspecting me and my incisions and drains and vitals, I owed it to them to give ’em something fashionable to look at. My daily neckwear ended up being a dandy curiosity for my nurses and doctors. And, of course, it made me feel more like myself during my hospital stay.

Here’s the skinny on my surgery. The operation took nearly 6 hours. The incision began at my belly button and went straight up all the way to my breastbone. (See, I really was gutted.) My surgeon spent nearly half of the surgery time fighting her way through the scar tissue adhesions left from my first Hanky Panky surgery three years ago. She was able to remove the pesky pancreatic stone that has been stuck in the pancreatic duct recently: the calcification which has been causing all my painful drama this year. She also widened the pancreatic duct to make it more likely any new calcifications my pancreas might grow will be able to pass freely out of my Panky. She did not have to remove any more of my remaining half pancreas. Let us all cross our fingers and toes that this is my last apocalyptic run-in with my dastardly Cranky Hanky Panky. Frankly, I’m tired of it being a topic.

Hey, I’m realistic. I know my pancreas is never going to be completely pain-free or normal, but I’m hoping its peculiarities will be easier for me to live with from now on. So far, my situation is looking to be on the upswing. I am blessed, yet again.

Almost At The Finish Line

Since I’m in the final stretch on the path to surgery, I’ve been tying up loose ends and getting my files and housekeeping in order. The house—and the occupants thereof—must be able to chug right along without me while I’m stuck in the hospital for a week or so. I’ve stocked the pantry. The case of Skitter’s wet food I ordered showed up on the front step. I’ve organized the face masks by color, so Suzanne can easily find matches for her office attire. I’ve loaded as much of my music as I can onto my phone, so I can lie there in the Huntsman Cancer Hospital and listen through the post-surgery pain and boredom. Heck, I even spent the better part of a day cleaning all the light switch plates and polishing every doorknob in the house. I don’t know why I felt like I had to polish the doorknobs. I just knew I’d feel like something was left undone if I didn’t do it.

Anyhoo… All of this prepping has worn me out. I found myself compelled to hang around in the candy aisle at the grocery store this morning, on a search for sugar energy. Here I am, wearing a cheap party Bow Tie o’ the Day. I am in my fave area of said candy aisle: the shelves o’ licorice. You’ll also note that I brought a lengthy sweet-tooth or two to the store with me, in the guise of my vampire Face Mask o’ the Day. 🦇

Don’t Be Askeered

I took this selfie at Harmon’s in Farmington, where I was grocery shopping. After I got home and looked at the photos to choose one to post, I got a bit skeered myself. The spiders/spider webs Bow Tie o’ the Day and the carved pumpkin Face Mask o’ the Day were both fun-looking enough on their own, but my so-pale-I’m-glowing skin looked like I had whitewashed my face before heading out to shop. Put it all together and I unwittingly achieved a sort of Lon-Chaney-in-Phantom-o’-the-Opera look. Kinda shocking when you’re not expecting it, eh? Needless to say, no shopper in the store dared to come down any aisle where I pushed my cart. I felt magic. It was a quiet and pleasant shopping venture—except for a toddler who caught a glimpse of my face, immediately screamed, and then began to cry. Yup, this look is just not family-friendly. But I still stand by the killer fashion, of course. 🕸🕷🎃💀

Mom Rules The World

I finally got to give Mom her birthday hugs, a few days after her actual birthaversary. Mom loves sunflowers, and I was able to find a snazzy Shirt Full o’ Sunflowers to wear for her. It only made sense for me to wear my bees Face Mask o’ the Day with it. In honor of Mom’s fun belief that she is a witch with always-sharpened broom, I donned my flying witches Tie o’ the Day. Mom also liked my pig earrings and my chicken Sloggers shoes, which I chose just for her. She’s such a farm girl.

I managed to find a soft batch of marshmallow Circus Peanuts, which is one of Mom’s fave store-bought treats. We opted to stick a birthday candle in one, so we could sing to Mom. She blew it out like a pro, despite her oxygen difficulties. Of course, she’s had 91 years of practice at blowing out birthday candles.

Mom was more “with it” and energetic than she has been recently. Even Skitter noticed it. Suzanne and I had a wonderful few hours of conversation with the old dame. I was so pleased with Mom’s improvement, and I give credit to the fine cast o’ folks at Millard Care and Rehab. They look out for Mom like she’s family, and it shows.

I often say that Mom was my first blessing, and it is still true. My gratitude for having Mom runneth over—still and always.

Hey, I Look Like Uncle Fester Again!

Striped Bow Tie o’ the Day and I are aware that growing older can sometimes be jolting. More often than not, growing older means making a series of unanticipated small adjustments. Take closed captioning, for example. You know it’s a service that lives somewhere there in your television’s settings, but you never think about it. You go decades without ever contemplating turning the CC setting to ON. Think about how many televisions you’ve owned in your adult life, and then think about how many of them you turned on the CC for. I’m guessing most of you folks have never used that service. A few of you older ladies and gentlemen might admit that the CC on your current tv gets some use. I certainly never imagined I’d be using CC, but now I freely admit that I always have the CC setting on, and CC it’s on all 3 of our tv’s. It’s a godsend for me. But using it happened sort of by accident. And it’s just another thing in my life that is all Mom’s fault.

A few years ago, each time Mom would stay with us, we noticed we had to consistently crank up the tv volume in order for her to hear what was happening on screen. Adding to the noise pollution in the living room was the fact that Mom and I were always having a conversation over the tv sound. One evening Mom was sitting on the couch and Suzanne and I were siting on the love seat watching who-knows-what on the turned-way-up tv. Mom and I were loudly chatting/yelling up a storm about some relative or other, and I turned to say/yell something to Suzanne. OMGolly! Suzanne’s face was frozen by all the Mom/me/TV noise. She was pale and petrified. She was afraid to move. I quickly diagnosed her problem. I got really close to Suzanne’s ear and calmly said, “Run for the stairs. Go up to the bedroom and close the door. Don’t come down until Mom’s asleep and there is no noise except her snoring.” That’s when I knew something had to be done. Mom wouldn’t consider getting hearing aids. So I found the CC setting, and turned it to ON whenever Mom visited. I still had to yell slightly to talk to Mom, but I didn’t have to out-yell the too-loud tv, so Suzanne’s ears didn’t get injured enough to make her catatonic anymore.

As my own hearing sputtered with age, and after one of Mom’s later visits with us, I left the CC setting to ON for a week or so. I found I liked it. We’ve had it on for years now. Between my hearing aids and the closed captioning, the tv volume is able to be in a normal range. I tell you this long story of CC because—for some unknown reason—for the past two weeks, the CC on my tv is discombobulated on one of its lines. In between working properly, it gives basically the same wrong “translation” over and over, no matter what is said on the tv: “Hmm, 1 des0erate need.” It does it on every channel, no matter what I’m watching. At first, I thought, “Oh, goody! It’s a secret code for me to figure out.” Then it just got annoying.

And so I’m griping. I’m not griping about being old enough to find comfort in the joys of closed captioning. I’m griping that this service I never dreamed I would ever need is not working. I made the adjustment of letting myself come to count on it, and recently I can’t. It gives me a headache to go back and forth between the correctly captioned words and then the stoopid “Hmm, 1 des0erate need.” I’ve had to jack up the tv sound again. I’m sure it’s a temporary thing, and CC will be back to normal soon. But until then, every once in a while, I swear I can hear my own voice in my own head turn very crotchety and spoiled and dramatic, and say, “They need to fix this right this minute. Don’t they realize how many of us old farts depend on CC? This is not fair.” Yeah, cuz malfunctioning closed captioning is the bigliest problem in the whole wide world right now.📺🤓

And Then Life Happened

A funny thing happened on the way to see Mom on her 91st birthday yesterday. Well, I guess it wasn’t a funny thing, and we never really got on our way. The car was packed with birthday stuff and Skitter’s bed, but my stoopid Cranky Hanky Panky decided it wasn’t in the mood to drive 300 miles in one day—not for me, not for Mom, not for any reason. I’ve argued with my stoopid pancreas often over the last two decades, and I can usually talk it into cooperating at least a little bit when it’s truly important. But not yesterday. Nope. I couldn’t wrestle my panky into compliance in any way, shape, or form. I even stooped so low as to promise my Cranky Hanky Panky I wouldn’t make it go through its surgery next month, if it would just be nice enough to lay low so we could visit Mom on her birthday. My stoopid pancreas knew I was lying. So I guess it’s not so stoopid after all. It got all the attention yesterday. And I didn’t get to go to Deltaville for Mom’s bigly day.

I have heard Mom had a bunch of guests drop by. I’ve heard she had a wonderful time. BT/Mercedes sent me this photo of Mom enjoying herself. I’m trying not to feel bad about not getting to be there, but I do. As soon as I can get my stoopid pancreas in gear, I’m taking a second 91st birthday to her.🎂🎈🎁

They’re Surprisingly Tasty

A day before my surgery was cancelled, a package showed up at my front door. It was from Becca Crane. I have never met her, but she has been a regular TIE O’ THE DAY reader for years. The package she sent was full of movies and treats, meant for me to indulge in during my post-surgery recovery. When the surgery was postponed, I had a dilemma: do I indulge in the movies and treats right now, or do I wait until after my surgery—whenever the heck it is re-scheduled? I decided I would show restraint and wait. Well, it’s been a few weeks now since the care package showed up, and today I gave in to my curious sweet tooth. Cork Bow Tie o’ the Day and I scrounged through the treats contained in the package and found this BOX OF BOOGERS among the offerings. For whatever reason, boogers sounded like just the thing for my breakfast this morning. I don’t know exactly what that says about me, but it does say that my never-met pal, Becca, knows me very well.🤡

I’m A Zombie Now

Bow Tie o’ the Day and I just returned home from 6 hours of escorting Rowan from his apartment to his dentist, and back to his apartment again. He had his teeth cleaned and 2 cavities filled. It was a long day. As far as I’m concerned, the only thing more mind-numbing than a trip to the dentist is somebody else’s trip to the dentist. I am nearly comatose. But I did want to check in today and say “howdy” to y’all. 😩