Most likely you followed the link from my first page or the seventh or twentieth page of Random Thoughts stories. Here are some more, all about my middle son Greg, and I hope these are just as amusing and thought provoking. And, as always, your comments are appreciated.
One week from today, I am scheduled to have a hysterectomy. This is not my choice, but after a lot of soul searching, researching and talking to two different doctors, I have decided this is the right thing to do. Besides losing my baby and wisdom teeth and one other one tooth, this will be the first real part of me that will be removed from me forever. Never again will I feel an unborn baby kick inside me nor will what my children were formed in be a part of me, not that having another baby was a possibility at this point. It's just the finality of that part of me being gone forever.
A little over ten years ago, my doctors in Minneapolis decided things were not bad enough inside me to put me through this surgery. I'd had very heavy bleeding and some urinary problems, but according to my HMO, it could wait. I wanted to get it done back then because I was still living in the house and would have lots of people around me to help me get back to normal. Plus, I wanted to finally be finished with monthly periods. It was before Greg was sick and of course, I was that much younger. While I was angry about it at the time, there wasn't much I could do about it, so I forgot about it.
Shortly after that, I started getting the abnormal pap smears. I might have even had one or two prior to that, but when I had follow up ones, they came back normal. Sometimes errors can be made and sometimes the virus that causes abnormal paps cures itself. I forget what year they stayed abnormal, but it was at least six years ago. I would go back to Minneapolis to see all my doctors because even though I lived here, my health insurance was back there. I never needed a reason to go back to Minneapolis, since my children were there, so trips back were not a problem.
One year, my gynecologist was more concerned than normal. So I was scheduled for my first colposcopy. All I knew about it then was that parts of my cervix would be removed for biopsy later, and that there was no anesthetics given. It was only a few years after Greg's death, and just going to see any doctor would bring me immediately to tears. I had prevailed on the sympathy of Evelyn to take me to the doctor, then begged her to sit with me while the procedure was done. Despite her aversion to seeing me, or anyone, that way, she consented to hold my hand for the entire time. She sat facing me, so she wouldn't have to see me half naked with my legs up in the air and my feet in the stirrups. I warned the technician that I would probably start crying and that it had nothing to do with any pain or discomfort I might be feeling. Doctors and office visits reminded me of what Greg had been through and I couldn't help but think of that, and worse, remember how he looked dead.
Sure enough, as I lay down on the examining table, the tears began to flow and continued through the entire procedure. Over and over again I was asked if I was okay, and each time, I replied yes. Actually, the procedure was fairly painless despite removing several small pieces of my cervix. As Evelyn held my hand and passed me tissues, I barely even noticed what was going on or whether there was any actual pain involved. She tried to hide her embarrassment over my inappropriate in her opinion behavior, yet she never let go of my hand. I told her later and many times since, how appreciative I was that she gave me the emotional support I needed. We went home and I rested and was no worse for wear afterwards. The only thing that happens afterwards is because of what they put inside you to show the affected parts has to come out and it takes about four days to completely rid yourself of this brown mustardy looking stuff.
The results came back and what I had is called dysplasia. It's abnormalities in the cervix caused by a virus, which is why sometimes, after a negative one, the following one would be fine. The virus back then had cured itself. Not this time. My doctor at the time, Dr. Duquette, decided I needed a procedure called cryosurgery to fix it. I scheduled it for September of 2002. Evelyn wanted to go to see her then favorite band, Better than Ezra in a few cities, so it was arranged that I'd fly out, have the freezing thing, as I called it, and we'd go to the shows on our way back to Arizona. She drove me to the appointment at the Edina office but this time stayed in the waiting room. Dr. Duquette came in and there wasn't the nitrogen tank she needed to freeze my cervix, and none could be found in the office. I tried to not get too annoyed, but I did. I explained to her that it had to be done in the next few days, because I wasn't making another trip out to Minnesota just for that, so she squeezed me in at the Burnsville office a few days later.
Burnsville is about twenty minutes or so south, but Evelyn drove me again, because we weren't sure how I'd feel exactly, afterwards. Dr. Duquette came in and was so apologetic, and once again I was half naked on the examining table with my feet up in stirrups. She told me she knew there was lots of nitrogen available, and she got ready to start the procedure. Nothing happened. I could tell from Dr. Duquette's face that she was just as surprised as me, and she tried again. Nothing came out of the oxygen tank; it was defective. I didn't laugh, but I was close to it. Excusing herself, she went and found another one, and proceeded to freeze my cervix. It didn't hurt and we thought the problem was all taken care of. The instructions for after care I was given said nothing about how I might have a discharge, or as I thought of it, thawing out time, for three weeks, which is how long it lasted. It said there would be a discharge, and after a week I called the office and they explained it could go on longer, but no one told me that ahead of time. While it was annoying, it was not a major inconvenience and didn't stop me from doing anything.
Evelyn and I drove cross-country and saw Better than Ezra in Houston, Austin and Phoenix. Eventually I stopped thawing, she went home, and life went back to normal, if there is such a thing. I assumed my abnormal cervix problems were over. Freezing is supposed to be effective over 90% of the time. I always knew I was special.
When I had my first pap smear in Arizona, guess what? It was abnormal. My family doctor sent me a gynecologist after I told her I'd recently had the cryosurgery. Over the next few years, I had more pap smears, more colposcopies and always had the same results. It was obvious that this was not going to clear up on its own, yet I refused the next logical procedure. This doctor, Dr. Pilotte, wanted me to have a LEEP, which had an even higher percentage of success than the freezing. This procedure electrocutes the cervix, to get rid of the problem part. I put it off for a year at least. I told her how afraid of surgery I was, and that there was no guarantee this would work. Finally, she suggested I have an ablation at the same time. What was that, I asked her, because I'd never heard of it. When she explained it to me, I agreed. Besides doing the LEEP, which she wanted done, she was going to take care of my periods once and for all. In a short time under anesthesia, I would be boiled, electrocuted and scraped inside. My cervix in theory would be free of the dysplasia, and I'd never have another monthly period.
That was done in April 2005, and at least the ablation worked. I was told that the worst after effects would be very strong cramping, but I didn't have that. I felt just fine in a few hours after I got home. I took the next day off from work, which was a Friday and took it easy over the weekend. I was good as new or so I thought. I had to have a pap smear a few months later, to see if the LEEP had done its job. The ablation had, and I said goodbye to all that after some forty years. I was a happy camper, at least for the moment.
When I went back for my follow up visit and a pap smear, I fully expected to hear good news. Silly me. Another abnormal pap. I was more annoyed than anything else. I was doing my part, putting myself through these procedures and they weren't working. Eighteen months later, after yet another colposcopy that came back negative, Dr. Pilotte came into the examining room and said, time for a hysterectomy. I thought she was joking. I didn't want a real operation, especially since my biggest concern had been taken care of, meaning my periods. We agreed to do one more colpo in three months, and I left her office.
Two days later, I got a phone call from her nurse. The doctor had changed her mind, and it was the operation or nothing and she wanted it as soon as possible. I told the nurse, then I guess it's nothing, and she told me Dr. Pilotte would discharge me as her patient since I was ignoring her advice. That angered me, because I wasn't getting any information to help me make any decisions. Was it a little or a lot worse than it had been before the LEEP and after the freezing? What would happen if I did nothing? The nurse and I had several phone conversations and finally I decided to meet with Dr. Pilotte in person to have my concerns addressed. I had a list of questions which I proceeded to ask her. She explained how the cervix is like a film spool, two flat surfaces with a little core in the middle, and that despite the two procedures, the dysplasia had to be well hidden in the middle. She could try another LEEP, but I thought that was pointless. I told her I needed to think about it and I'd call the nurse in a few days.
I did some research on the net, but didn't really find anything useful. As promised, I called the nurse and said okay, I'd do it. If nothing else, it was buying me time. This was October and they didn't even call me to schedule the surgery till mid November. Because of the holidays, the surgery was scheduled for January 29, which at that time, seemed a long time away. I could try to find out more about what the options were, get a second opinion, and just get more information. And of course, I could change my mind. At the same time, I scheduled a pre op appointment for mid January.
Well, here it is a week before the scheduled surgery. I've done a lot of thinking and asking questions. I did get the second opinion. I talked to a friend who was a surgical nurse about it as well as my therapist. I searched the net for something that would convince me this was the right thing to do. I found it. I read that it takes around 10 years for dysplasia to turn into cervical cancer. I'd already been dealing with it for close to seven. If I did nothing, I would eventually have a cancer that is deadly but that I could have prevented. I found my reason to go ahead, and that is what I'm doing. At least, unless I change my mind in the next few days. I'm trying to stay positive and focused, but I'm terrified and am looking for the least excuse to get out of this. I like having all my body parts and had planned on leaving this earth basically the same as I came, only older and bigger. Definitely not wiser, which will be more than proven if I back out of this.
©22 January 2007This past week I have been getting things in order before the surgery I had scheduled for Monday of next week. As I usually do, I made a list of the things I needed to get done and would cross them off when I had completed them and add more things as I would think of them. Being that I knew I would be stressed and distracted, I put every little thing down I could think of, because I didn't want to forget anything.
Some things were more important than others, like getting another Living Will filled out and notarized. I'd stopped by my doctor's office last week and gotten the form and consulted my friend Barb, who was a nurse, about which things I wanted checked and which ones to leave blank. Yes to CPR and no to the ventilator. I had one from about two years earlier, when I had those gynecological procedures, but it was eaten alive by the gremlins in Lowell's car. I got it notarized first thing Monday after seeing my therapist. Cross one task off.
Right around lunchtime, I got a phone call from the hospital. I had gone over there last week, per the doctor's instructions, to pre-register, but was told they'd call me. Usually I don't answer the phone if I don't recognize the number, but something told me I should get this one. It was the admitting office and after a few questions, I thought it was done. Till the phone rang about fifteen minutes later, and it was someone else from the hospital. This woman had a lot more questions, and we talked about when I should come in for the pre-op blood test. She asked me if I was sure that was all that had been ordered for me, and I told her, I'm looking at the paper right now, and it just says type and match. She said she was going to double check with Dr. Pilotte's office and would get back to me. Sure enough, they decided I needed an EKG too. We agreed I'd go do those on Thursday, which wasn't too much before the surgery, so I put that on my list to be certain I wouldn't forget.
Later that day, I called my friend Cyndi to see what she was doing, and if she could do a favor for me. She said she was right near my house, and would stop by. Her next stops were the mall and Wal-Mart, and I said, oh, I have to go there too, so we went together. We stopped at a tire place because one of her tires was low, but they couldn't get to it for a few hours, so they put air in it and she made an appointment to get it repaired the next day. I needed to get some library books at the mall, but I decided not to get them that day, since I had two at home and hadn't started either of them. We went to Penney's so she could look for bed linens. She had an old pillowcase to try and match the texture and softness of what she was looking for, and we found them easily. She ended up by two complete sets, and then we needed to find a bathroom. I knew they usually had one near the beauty shop, so we walked over there, and sure enough, there was one. I went first, and when I got out, she had made arrangements to get her eyebrows waxed. That was fine with me. I managed to pick up an Arizona Living section from the Repulsive at the tire place. I did the so-called hard one first, but since it was Monday, it was pretty easy. I finished it right as she was paying for her waxing. Out of curiosity, I asked the girl what she charged for a haircut. It was more than I wanted to pay, so we left and headed across the street.
There used to be just one regular Wal-Mart in Prescott, but now there are two superstores with plans for one each in Prescott Valley and Chino Valley. I think it's overkill, especially since they can't find enough employees for the two we already have, but no one has me for my opinion. I much prefer Target, but since we each needed a few food items, it made sense to go there. Taking just one cart, we wandered the aisles getting what we needed and laughing about various things. I told her I never have been to that Wal-Mart and not seen Christy, Rita's sister. We filled up the cart with birdseed, toilet paper and chocolate chips (her stuff) and apple juice, a printer cartridge and a cat flea collar (my stuff). As usual, checkout was ridiculously slow, and we picked of course, the slowest line with the dullest clerk of the bunch. I did see Christy while we were waiting and that was nice. I spent more than I'd wanted to, but I could cross some other things off my list. Cyndi dropped me off at home and went on her way.
Tuesday I had decided would be the day I'd get a haircut. The last two times, I'd gone to the same girl at a chain in one of the malls here. She did a good job and it was cheap, so I had no plans on changing to anyone else. When I saw her two months ago, Lisa said she was trying to get a manager job with that chain down in Anthem. I called and asked if she was still there, and they said no. So I asked, trying to stay patient, if she'd gone to Anthem, and they said no, she was at a different location here in Prescott. I had to go to the bank first thing that morning, and decided I'd just go by the beauty salon afterwards, and hope Lisa was there. It was about ten minutes before 10 a.m., so I figured I'd be first. Only they opened at 9, and there were two people ahead of me. And Lisa wasn't there. I asked the woman who was, if she knew what an asymmetrical wedge was, and she said, yes. I told her I'd wait, but I'd be at Walgreen's for a few minutes.
When I got back, the lady who was just ahead of me, was just about done. She paid, left and I sat down in the chair. My haircut really is simple, though for some reason, after Shelly, who I'd been with for six years, had moved, It's a bowl cut, only you tilt the bowl so one side is shorter than the other. I couldn't find anyone who could get it right. Lisa had come the closest, but now I was letting someone else near my head. Jen told me she had been Lisa's instructor and proceeded to efficiently cut my hair. As always, I wanted the back shorter, but she did a great job and I was more than pleased. I headed home for a bit and some lunch before getting more accomplished. In the afternoon, I went to the grocery store to pick up my meds and get a few things before settling in for the night.
I was supposed to have an appointment with the urologist on Wednesday, but when I hadn't gotten the reminder call on Tuesday, I called them. They had me down for the following Wednesday, and I told them that wasn't going to do me much good, since the surgery was two days earlier. The woman who does the test was on vacation, so they said they'd have the doctor talk to the gynecologist, and they'd let me know what they decided. So I was not in the greatest of moods on Wednesday, but I did have one thing that had to be done that day. When Barb and I had spoken over the weekend, she suggested I stop by the Adult Center and talk to the Memorial Society people, since that's the only time anyone is there. I'd heard about them before, having worked with seniors, but wasn't sure what they could offer. Everyone knew I wanted to be cremated, but I figured I'd go check them out.
The Adult Center moved from right in town to just out of town, off of highway 89. Barb told me it was on Rosser Street and it looked like a school building. I turned on the Rosser and was in the middle of a residential area, but I was sure she knew where it was, so I kept going. Finally I saw it, and went inside. The lady at the reception desk told me they were gone for the month of January, and I was thinking, things are not going the way they should be right now. She gave me the phone number of the man who was in charge, but said she didn't know that much about it herself. I asked her to tell me what other things the Adult Center offered, so she went to get me a newsletter. I walked over to a table with handouts on it, and two were for the Memorial Society, so I took those, then the ones about what classes were offered. I thanked her and left.
I decided I'd stop by and see Sue. The last time I tried to do that, I called ahead, and she told me she wasn't up for company. I can understand that, but I'm not company. So I just went over there and knocked on her door. I did tell her that if she wanted to be alone, I would go, but she said no, to come on in. She was watching the Australian Open so we visited and talked about tennis. I love Sue because she reminds me of my mother, without being annoying like my mother was. I confide in her because I know she won't judge me, like my mother would have, and I know the difference between right and wrong. Sometimes I just want someone to listen to me. After about an hour, I left and stopped at Costco on the way home. The middle of the afternoon is usually a safe time to go if you want to avoid the crowds. I found a parking place with no problem and wandered around the store getting the things we needed. The free samples were only so-so, and soon I was through the checkout line and going back home. More things to cross of the list of to do items which was almost fully completed.
On Thursday, I still had to get my library books, but I wasn't ready yet. I had finished one of the ones at home, but the longer I waited to check out new ones, the later they'd be due. I also needed to go to the grocery store, but otherwise, I'd gotten just about everything done I had to. I had an appointment in the morning, and then I stopped at the hospital to have my pre-op tests done. First I had to go to admitting and finish that stuff. Then it was down the hall to get an EKG, which I thought was a waste of time. That's one test that I always seem to cry during the entire thing. I just can't help but think about Greg as I'm lying there, and my last view of him, as a corpse. This time was no different, and before long, tears were sliding out of my eyes. The technician had to reposition some of the leads, but soon I was on my way to get my blood work done. This I do hate, because it's so rare they can find my veins. The woman at the reception window was familiar to me from my days volunteering at the gift shop. We chatted briefly, till they called my name. I sat in the chair and this technician asked me if one arm was better than the other. That was a good sign. She put my hospital ID tag on me, and I left the building.
I had to stop by both the gynecologist and the urologist's office to find out exactly who was doing what. Not having that test the urologist needed meant he probably wouldn't fix that particular problem. I walked into the waiting room and there was this woman at the head of the line, just going on and on about her daughter and her medical problems and driving everyone in the room crazy. She wouldn't shut up, she wouldn't move away from the window. She wanted the girl to send her daughter a letter about something. The rest of us are listening and rolling our eyes. Finally, a doctor came and told her others were waiting and she finally moved on. The girl told me she'd talk to the doctor and call me later. When she did, she said he didn't have enough evidence without the test to do his part of the surgery. I wasn't happy about it, but said nothing.
I still wasn't fully committed to the surgery and knew I could change my mind up to that morning. As I drove towards home, I kept playing with the plastic ID tag and wishing it was not on my arm. I wasn't looking forward to not eating for two days but even less excited about the other preparations I had to do prior to the surgery. All the items on my list had been crossed off except for the library, and I could always have Lowell do that if I didn't get around to it, though I was sure I would. I spent some of the afternoon working on my web site, and just playing on the computer.
I slept late on Friday morning, late for me that is. I really hate getting up to the alarm clock, so I didn't. I woke up around 8 and debated whether or not to keep my appointment with Eleanor. I had tried to cancel in on Monday, but no one listened to me and I knew it hadn't been cancelled when I got the call reminding me of it the day before. I was in a bad mood, wondering why I was even considering the surgery, why I wasn't just getting in the car and driving away from this mess. On Monday, I had been upbeat and ready to face it, but here it was, just a few days later, and I was questioning everything again. I decided what the hell, I didn't have anything else to do, so I got dressed and waited till it was time to leave.
As I drove over there, it seemed as though every lousy driver was in front of me. I turned the radio up loud and sang along, hoping it would put me in a better mood, like it had done the day before. I had no sooner signed in and walked to the waiting room when she was ready for me. I don't know what it is about Eleanor, but she rubs me the wrong way. I call her by the wrong name on purpose, I give her grief about the clothes she wears. I walked in and started giving her crap and she just took it. I questioned why I was there and she gave me valid reasons why she had wanted to see me again so soon. She even asked me what she should put on my chart. I told her client was extremely bratty and unusually funny. We agreed I could wait 6 weeks for another round with her.
I had decided to stop at Safeway on my way home, and as I pulled into the parking lot, my phone rang. It was the nurse from Dr. Pilotte's office. My fingers immediately went to the id bracelet as I listened to her. At first I wasn't sure what I was hearing, but then it started to sink in. The doctors at the hospital didn't like my EKG results, so they sent it over to the clinic. There a doctor looked at it, and agreed there were things in it that concerned them, too. I was deemed unfit for surgery. I remembered how the technician had to replace the leads on both my legs and the one over my heart. Was that where the problems were? The nurse told me I needed to see a cardiologist and find out what was going on. I had to get a referral from my doctor, but Laura wasn't there anymore, so I knew I'd have to see someone there first.
I wandered around the grocery store making calls. I called Evelyn, Cyndi and Barb. I bought six items and decided there was no need to stock up now and drove towards the clinic. The waiting room was completely empty, which was unprecedented. I walked up to the window and told them I needed to make an appointment, and had been told Dr. Mazhar would be a good choice. The receptionist said Dr. Elk had the soonest open appointment, so I took that one. I could always see the other one later on. It was Dr. Elk who had reviewed the EKG so it made sense to see him. I wrote the date in my agenda and went home, still in disbelief.
Lowell was the only one I hadn't told yet, and he was sleeping. I thought about waking him up, but decided against it. The news wasn't going to change and he was tired from working. I sent an email to my friend Shirley, and one to Dave. I had asked him to take me to the hospital, but then told him he might not have to, and I would let him know one way or the other soon. Cyndi had offered to take me, and then I found out Lowell didn't have to work that morning. Before that morning, I wasn't sure who I was going to let take me to the hospital.
I tried to do some cleaning, some reading, but I couldn't concentrate. I had spent so much time and energy in both physical and mental preparation and now it was for naught. Was I willing to go through it all again in a month or so, assuming I got a clean bill of health from a cardiologist? Or was there something going on with my heart that had not yet been detected that was potentially more serious? Was I willing to do those tests to find out? I had no idea. All I knew that my plans had again been changed and I had time to think about everything and which direction I might go in the future. At least my body would remain in tact until I had some facts and made some tough decisions.
©27 January 2007And so it begins again, the countdown to my surgery. It is scheduled for next Monday, April 30, and I am going through with it despite my fears and reservations. It's been seven months since my gynecologist decided I needed the hysterectomy to eliminate my abnormal pap smears and the pre-cancerous cells in my cervix. When she had her nurse call me constantly for several days to impress on me the urgency for getting this done. After meeting with her, I agreed to a hysterectomy. Because of all this, I no longer have a job and by the time I am completely recovered from this operation, I could have had a baby. Instead, that will become even more of an impossibility than it is now.
It was the Friday before the original surgery was scheduled at the end of January that I received the phone call saying I wasn't going to have it on Monday after all. The day before, I'd gone to get the per-op testing done, which was an EKG and blood work. I'd have EKG's before and I knew it was nothing. However, as soon as I lay down on that table, the tears started, as they almost always do when it comes to the heart. Right before my son Greg died, his doctors had thought the tumor in his kidney was growing into his heart. He had to undergo several tests and it was decided to go ahead with his surgery. He died during it and I can still picture his lifeless body on the gurney as I said my final good bye to him. Lying there with the leads on my chest, my mind raced with thoughts of how Greg suffered and how helpless I was to alleviate his pain. The technician asked me if I was okay, and I said as the tears silently rolled down my cheeks. She had to adjust a few of the leads but then the test was over. I walked down the halls of the hospital and had composed myself enough to get the blood drawn. This is a procedure I dread because my veins are very difficult to find and I usually get stabbed at least twice. This time I was lucky. The nurse was good and got my vein the first try, but I was still crying. I went home and waited till it was time to get ready for surgery.
With that phone call, came a three month wait and many more doctor's appointments. It felt like my entire life was in limbo, just waiting and I was never sure for what. First I had to see a doctor at my primary care office. The doctor I'd been seeing for three years had left, so I ended up seeing the first doctor who was available and it was he who gave me the referral to a cardiologist. That appointment took two weeks to get. A week later, I got a call saying I was being referred to the Arizona Heart Clinic and my appointment there was in a month. I took that as a good sign that they didn't think my death was imminent. In the meantime, I was rescheduled for another appointment with the urologist by the gynecologist's office and a date was picked for the surgery. This was February and it all seemed so far off in the future as not to be real.
Weeks later, the morning I was supposed to go for the urodynamics test, I was in the car and driving down the hill from my house when my phone rang. It was someone from the urologist's office telling me the woman who does the test called in sick so they were going to have to reschedule it. To say I was unhappy is an understatement. I turned around and went home and back to sleep, since I had to get up at 4 am to prepare for it. The date I was given was April 18 at 130 in the afternoon. At least I could sleep in.
March came and with it my weekend visit with my daughter. I hadn't seen Evelyn in over three years. At last, something positive and for the most part, enjoyable had happened. It also brought the day of my appointment with the cardiologist. I spent less than five minutes with the doctor. He listened to my heart and the veins in my neck with the stethoscope. The nurse had told me to remove my shoes and socks, but he didn't look at my feet. He asked me a few questions. I was told to schedule a stress test. As I pulled out my agenda to write the day and time down, April 18 at 8 am, I thought, so much for sleeping in. As fate would have it, that same day I had to go to the gynecologists to sign the papers for the surgery, so I declared April 18 Doctor's Day.
That Wednesday morning, I woke up with the alarm clock, something I was no longer used to doing. I showered, dressed and drove over to the hospital area. All the doctor's offices are there. I was the only one in the waiting room and soon I was called. The stress test was fine and it was pretty cool to watch my blood flow in living colors in and out of my heart on the ultrasound. Of course, as soon as I got on the table, the tears started. I am so tired of telling people why I am crying, because I don't want their pity. The technician handed me some tissues, said she was sorry and went on with the test. The doctor wasn't there to read the results, and I was told I would hear from him soon, but it's been almost a week and no word, but also no word the surgery wasn't going to happen because of the results. I guess I passed.
I left their office but I had an hour to kill before my gynecologist's appointment. Even though the offices are within walking distance, I decided to drive around for a bit, but I showed up at the gynecologist's office half an hour early for my appointment, thinking I could just sign the papers and go home. No such luck; I had to talk to the doctor. I actually saw her at the appointed time and was out by 10. I went home because I had nearly four hours till my next appointment.
I told Lowell if I survived all this, I'd take him out to dinner that night. I had a light lunch and soon was driving back to the scene of the crimes…..er, doctor's offices. I had to arrive with a full bladder, and that was not fun at all. I got there a few minutes early, but there was no one there. I sat outside the office until they were officially back from lunch. The nurse who would be administering the test called me in and apologized for canceling it before. She said she thought she had food poisoning that day, but at that point, I didn't really care anymore. She told me she'd step out while I disrobed, but I was undressed before she was done saying that. It seemed so silly for modesty when in a few minutes she would be up close and personal with my private parts. The test itself was not fun, and I was kind of glad when she told me that men have to have it too. I felt a twinge of satisfaction knowing not just us women had to submit to this torture. And to just continue with the theme of the day, the urologist wasn't in the office and they'd call me on Monday to let me know if I had to come back to sign papers for his part of the surgery.
Wearily and sorely, I drove home. I plopped myself in the big chair and caught my breath. I went to the computer to check email and all of a sudden, the power went out. It had been extremely windy that day, but our power lines are underground, so that shouldn't have anything to do with a power outage. After about half an hour, I was wondering if the power had gone out over the neighborhood, so I took the key I keep in the front door and walked across the street to my neighbor' s house. Nan and I got to talking outside and finally she asked me if I wanted to go inside. I said sure, though I wanted to keep an eye out for Lowell. As we entered her house, the power went back on. I didn't realize how powerful I was. We probably sat and talked for another forty five minutes, when I realized how late it was and told her goodbye.
I saw Lowell's car outside and hurried up the stairs. He was starting to wonder what had happened to me. He saw my purse and keys in the kitchen, but had noticed the key in the door missing, and was starting to fear for my safety. Earlier that week, he had cancelled his cell service, so he was unable to call me. I apologized and then we began the agonizing chore of deciding on what restaurant we wanted to eat at. I suggested a Thai place which he rejected. We ended up at Olive Garden and had a very nice dinner. I took most of my entrée home for lunch the next day. Doctor's Day was over and I had nothing to do now but keep waiting.
Tomorrow, I sign the papers at the urologist's office for his part in the surgery. On Friday, I will go get my blood drawn. I have spoken to both the admissions office and the surgical department at the hospital to make sure all the information they have on me is still correct and that I understand what will happen after the surgery. Starting on Saturday, I have to limit my intake to clear liquids such as jello and Popsicles. I still have those from January's nonevent. Then there's all the preparations I have to do on Sunday, which are too delicate and repulsive to mention. I have a timetable by which to perform each one. And of course, the standard direction of no food or water after midnight.
I have the tranquilizer the gynecologist gave me so I won't be totally panicked the morning of the surgery like I was when I had some minor procedures done two years earlier. I will take that early Sunday night. On Monday morning, I will be allowed to take my blood pressure medicines with a sip of water before being driven to the hospital. The surgery is scheduled for 11 am and I should be out of the recovery room and in my room by 4. I might have to spend two nights in the hospital. Spud should be going with me, since he is the official hospital stuffed animal, but the thought of anything happening to him is beyond comprehension, so I am taking Barbara Sue instead. She is fearless and ready to support me till I am home again. I don't know who will be bringing me home from the hospital just yet.
Over the past few months I have changed my mind at least a thousand times about having the surgery. I have felt pressured into it by my gynecologist, who I know has my health and best interests at heart, yet I felt the decision was being shoved down my throat. Not to mention I felt she was covering her own medical ass from being sued down the road. I still feel that way, but I have come to realize that all this is inevitable, and why not get it finally over and done with while I am still fairly young and healthy. Just because I won't be able to drive for two weeks or lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk for a month is no reason to not to go through with it. There are other restrictions I will have to live with for at least six months, but they are at this point irrelevant.
Today is Tuesday, and I still have a whole week to change my mind another few dozen times. I know I will because I'm afraid and stubborn. I wouldn't put on odds on my actually going through with it today. I don't know if I even would come Friday. But Saturday is the point of no turning back. If I eat the Popsicles, it will be a go. Maybe.
©24 April 2007Last night, the last thing I ate was some New York Super Fudge chuck ice cream. Might as well go for the really good stuff. I seriously thought about getting some fried chicken and chow fun, but I didn't. I was not having my last meal, at least I hope not. And while there is one restaurant that serves chow fun, it's not that good and I'm done settling for anything.
I slept okay, but when I woke up, I realized only clear liquids for the next two days. No orange juice with my meds. The bowl of jello I'd fixed the night before was waiting, but instead I had a Popsicle. Oh goody. They are in the freezer right next to the Klondike bars. They'll be here when it's all over. I have to keep reminding myself of that.
A serious attack of second-guessing overtook me this morning. I was still thinking about how neither of the doctors had returned my phone call yesterday. There was only one person I felt comfortable discussing it with so I called Barb. Her experience as a nurse had been invaluable to me while I have been dealing with all this medical crap. She said she wasn't surprised neither office called me back and that no news is good news, meaning I must have passed the stress test. That's not what I wanted to hear. I wanted her to tell me the doctors are bad and not to have the surgery. She told me if I needed another pep talk to call. There's no point if she's going to be honest with me.
Everyone I've discussed this with has told me it's my decision, my body. And trust me, I did discuss this with just about everyone. I don't want this surgery. Ever since the gynecologist said I had to have it, I've rebelled. I don't like being told I have to do anything. But it still seems to me that it's too drastic a solution considering the situation. I've likened it to putting a cast on my arm in the off chance I might fall and break it. Yes, I've had the abnormal pap smears for years, starting even back when I lived in Minnesota. And I've had both the treatments to take care of the problem and obviously neither was successful. My poor cervix has been frozen and electrocuted and biopsied so many times in an effort to fix the problem.
For lunch I had jello. Right out of the bowl and left the spoon in there for when I get hungry again. I'm trying not to think of all the other things that would have been so much tastier than plain red jello. I've fasted before, just to cleanse my body and have been all right. It's being forbidden to eat that I am having trouble with.
Hockey was on so I watched that for a while and tried to read. My friend Cyndi called and she decided to come over. It was better to listen to her problems with her husband than to sit and think about what I was facing. I kept the game on as we talked and tried to decide what we wanted to do. It was the Detroit Red Wings vs. the San Jose Sharks. The Sharks are part of the reason the North Stars moved, so of course I rooted for Detroit. The game was tied and we couldn't think of anywhere to go. Neither of us wanted to spend money and I couldn't eat, so after about an hour or so, she left. It was right about the time the Wings scored the winning goal.
I had put clothes on in case we decided to go anywhere, and when she left, I got back into my pajamas. It's just more comfortable. I could feel the stress building, so I took one of the ativan's I had. Eleanor gave me two 1 mg pills and I still had the .5mg one the gynecologist had prescribed. I went for the higher dosage one to see how it would affect me. Within minutes, I was dizzy and a little disoriented, and extremely tired. No wonder the warnings read do not take this and drive. I fought the urge to sleep and read for a while but I couldn't concentrate. I went back to the computer and played games for a while.
Dinnertime came and I had more jello. I made another bowl of it for tomorrow because I certainly didn't want to run out of it. Green, for a change. The Popsicles just weren't doing it for me. As the night deepened, I spent some time talking on the phone to my friend, Bob. He's very interesting and the time we chatted went by faster than I would have liked. Then Evelyn called me. And before I knew it, Lowell was home and the day was almost over. I went to bed around 1030 and fell right asleep, because that's one of the things ativan does.
It was sunny when I woke up at 530. I tried to go back to sleep but I couldn't. I was too nervous, too edgy. I decided to run my one errand early so I got dressed and was out the door by 7. I stopped by Costco to get gas, even though I had over half a tank. I thought it was better to leave the car sit for two weeks with a full tank of gas, plus I was afraid to think what a gallon might cost in two weeks. It was almost $3 today. Then I went to Wal-Mart to get a few things.
In the instructions for after the surgery, was the warning one should eat food with lots of fiber. To me, that means shredded wheat, which I do like, and a glass of prune juice at night, which I suffer through. I did that during all my pregnancies to keep from getting constipated and it worked well, so I figured why not again. I also bought some romaine lettuce for salad. While I was wandering through the store, I saw Christie, who is the sister of my friend Rita. I see Christie more than I do Rita these days, and we had a nice visit. When I walked by the electronics section, a television set jumped out at me. I tried to jump out of the way, but it came home with me. It was a little over $100 and it'll just make it easier for me to have a tv wherever I am in the house. I also bought some more cat food and litter, so Sylvie would be taken care of while I'm not at home.
I brought up the groceries first and put them away. I thought about waiting for Lowell to wake up and help me bring the tv up, but it wasn't that big, since it's only a 20-inch screen. I walked it up the stairs and then slid it across the floor to my bedroom. It fit in the space on my bookcase the other tv had been, and I plugged it in and we were off and running. And it was not even 8 am yet. What was I going to do for the rest of the day? I knew it would pass slower than just about anything.
Take my pills, I decided and poured myself a glass of apple juice. I took the small ativan and my two blood pressure medicines and some acetaminophen. I grabbed the green jello and feasted on it. I checked my email, ebay and found out I didn't win the powerball. I called Evelyn and managed to wake her up but she tried to be gracious about it. I was dreading the first of my required steps in preparation for the surgery.
I had gotten everything I need back in January, when the surgery was originally scheduled. I walked into the pharmacy with the paper, so I'd be sure to get the right product. Even now, I can't remember if it's magnesium caltrate or citrate. All I know is I was supposed to drink it at 2. Normally, I would have spent an hour on the phone with my friend Shirley, but she had to go away for the weekend. Time was just crawling along.
I put on the hockey game on my new television set, which today was the New York Rangers vs. the Buffalo Sabers. I couldn't concentrate and I know it went into double or even triple overtime, but I have no idea who won. Cyndi called me and we talked for a bit, and I decided I wasn't waiting till 2, the hell with it! I started drinking it at 1. The instructions say to drink with water and they aren't kidding. It also said 6 of the 10 ounces should be enough, so I quit after 8 ounces or so. It wasn't as horrible as I'd feared, but it was bad.
Then I waited. The directions also said it would work within half an hour to six hours. I hoped it wouldn't take that long. I woke Lowell up and had some more jello. He said he had some things to do and left. Then I got the urge from drinking that stuff and I spent at least a good hour in the bathroom. After that, I wanted my shower so I'd feel somewhat cleaner. I didn't dry my hair and it actually looks better then it has in weeks. I put on a nightgown and tried to stay calm.
The wind picked up and it felt like we might get some rain, but there wasn't any here. I saw lightning, but no rainbow, which I take as a bad omen. Where was my Greg? I saw him on Monday down in Phoenix. Finally Lowell came home and it was time to wait to do the last two things on my list. I'll spare you the gory details and say I've done them both and now all I want to do is sleep. I took my last ativan and am drinking lots of water. I can't have anything after midnight and that drink the other torture I had to submit myself to were full of sodium. My veins are hard enough to find when I haven't fasted, so I figure I'll drink till midnight.
I doubt very much I'll sleep. I haven't looked to see what's on television. Shirley did call me when she got home, as did Evelyn, but they were both very short conversations. My mind isn't focused and I wasn't making much sense. Hopefully, if I can't sleep, there will be a movie on at 2 am. I'm going to get into bed in a few minutes, watch Without a Trace and hopefully fall asleep. Instead, I was comforted by talking to Bob and having him calm me down and make me laugh. In twenty four hours from now, I'll be done with the surgery and on my way to recovery. I still can run away, but after what I had to do today, I'm not going to. I'm going to face the music and my fears and get on with my life.
It's Monday morning and I woke up before my alarm clock. My nerves are all atingle, so much for the anti anxiety drug. I really didn't expect it to do too much, because there are so many things making me be this freaked out. This will be the first and only time, I hope, I have surgery. All those stories by brother told me about his hospital stays are still buried in my brain and still haunt me. I know things are radically different now then they were in the 1950's and 1960's. His tales of hospital life did make a deep impression on me and caused me to have a life long fear of hospitals and doctors.
I know too, that the doctor won't have any luck in finding a vein in which to put the IV in, so I'm nervous about that. My stomach, which is empty, and my bowels, which should be, are grumbling and reacting in a negative way. I took my pills with the smallest sip of water and of course, now I'm thirsty. It's not even 630 and the surgery is scheduled for 11. Yeah, as if I believe it will start on time. Cyndi told me that as soon as I get there, to ask them for some drug called versed. I think I'll definitely ask for something to mellow me out.
I've packed a few things. A change of clothes, some underwear, basic toiletries and I'm leaving Spud home and instead counting on Barbara Sue to be there for me. After all, she did come from that very hospital's gift shop. She should know how to comfort a patient. I also have a book and crossword puzzle book and I didn't forget a pen. I have to remember to throw in my medical insurance card and an ID. But I can't have any money. That's fine, I don't plan on staying in the hospital any longer than I have to. I think too, the gift shop manager would trust me for a few bucks if I found something I wanted.
I have a good three hours before I have to be at the hospital. I need to get dressed, wake up Lowell. That will take at most ten minutes. I could suggest we go out for breakfast. He'd hit me. He's listened to me whine about this weekend and wants me to get this over with more than I think I do. Looks like the Saved by the Bell gang will have to keep my company until we leave here.
What if there are complications? When we sent Greg off to his kidney surgery, no one expected him to die. It was just another operation in a series of them, and we all felt it was no big deal. It turned out otherwise, and I am prepared for that to happen to me too, although I suppose I'll never know. I have my living will which states just let me die. I don't want any extra efforts to keep me alive. Lowell knows it, and I've tried to impress on the doctors that this is my wish. Are there things I wish I had done or people I wish I could have said one last thing to. Of course, but I just have to believe if they know I wanted to say goodbye. Most likely this will not be my final random thought, but if it is, thanks for reading them.
©28 - 30 April 2007It's a week later and I've had the surgery and I'm on the mend. My bandages and steri-strips have finally fallen off. I can get up without any effort and I am sleeping through the night. I am eating normally and finally had a can of pop. I have so many mixed feelings about everything and am trying to sort it all out. In some ways it was easier than I thought, and in others, it was much more difficult.
A week ago today I was up at 5:30 a.m. and finished getting things ready. I had already made sure there would be enough money in my checking account to pay bills for a month or so if I didn't make it. I had gotten some used paperbacks to read and a crossword puzzle book to keep me occupied. My living will and last will and testament were hanging on my refrigerator, though a copy of the living will went with me to the hospital. I packed a change of clothes, some toiletries and took Barbara Sue along for moral support instead of Spud. At eight, I woke Lowell up and we drove the twenty-minute drive to the hospital. I suggested we stop at JB's for breakfast, anything to not do what I was supposed to. He didn't accept my kind offer.
Lowell took a parking spot near the back of the parking lot so we could ride the little golf cart courtesy vehicle to the front door. It took all my will power to not turn and run in the opposite direction. We walked to the admitting office and checked in. As we walked past the gift shop, I stopped in to say hello to Sue. I didn't know the two volunteers who were working there. Enough stalling, and we got on the elevator to the 2nd floor. We checked in there too, and sat till I was called. A man who was my age called out to Lowell and said something about his taking his mother to the hospital too. I knew Lowell would not want to have a conversation with this guy, so we sat facing a different direction, holding hands and not saying a word/
Before long, my name was called and they took me back to the pre-op area. I took off my clothes and got these long white support hose on my legs. They are to prevent blood clots. Didn't they know I didn't care about that? Then the fun really started. Trying to get a line in one of my veins. When I had the out patient surgery two years prior, it only took four tries to get one inserted and I cried the entire time. Now a loud, wailing cry, but a resigned and regretful one. The first nurse tried twice and said that was all she was allowed. She told me that one was now allowed to have water up until 4 hours before the surgery, not the standard nothing after midnight. It was a little late for that bit of news. I was sobbing and they always ask me if I'm okay. Of course I'm not okay. I'm in tears, aren't I? I get so tired of explaining it's not the physical pain but the emotional strain that I can't handle. Another nurse came in and she couldn't find a good vein either. I told them I wanted Lowell in there with me now, so they went to get him.
He counted seventeen stabs before the anesthesiologist finally got one to go into a vein in my foot. They had tried both arms, hands and I knew how I would look after this. I'd be so bruised but luckily I wouldn't be seeing anyone who would wonder what had happened to me. The one in the foot hurt a lot because it went in pretty deep, but that's the last thing I remember until waking up. I know my last thought was that I wanted to go be with Greg. My first thought upon regaining consciousness was that he didn't come and get me.
The next few hours are a blur, but I was moved to a room on the 3rd floor and Lowell and Cyndi were there to hold my hand. I didn't feel a lot of pain, but I was hooked up to a morphine drip. I wasn't excited about using it, but the nurse said I should manage the pain early on instead of letting it get so bad it would be harder to control. So I pushed the little button. I could have dosed myself every ten minutes, but I didn't need it that often and went an hour or more between administering the pain killer.
I made sure Lowell had called Evelyn, and a few other friends. He stayed as long as he could before he had to go to work, and Cyndi left too and I was alone with my thoughts. The nurses came in every half hour or so to see if I needed anything and if I was still alive, I guess. I was told I would have to get up that night and walk around the ward. I was attached to the IV and had a catheter in, but if Greg could survive all his surgeries, I could do whatever they asked me to do.
I tried to do a puzzle, but I couldn't make sense of the clues. I couldn't read either, so I was left to TV and my own thoughts. I felt my stomach but was afraid to look under the gown to see what they had done. There were wraps on my legs that were connected to a machine that kept massaging my legs. In a way it felt good, so I didn't mind it that much. Finally the nurse came to get me for our stroll. Before she helped me up, I was unhooked or reattached to things and then it was time to stand. It wasn't that bad. We went around the nurse's station three times before she took me back to bed and hooked me back up to everything.
Anyone who's ever been in a hospital knows it is the absolute worst place for resting. I was getting ready to attempt sleep, when they came in and told me they were moving me to a different room. There was another patient who needed a private room because he was going to be in isolation. I was only concerned that the next morning, Lowell would come by my room and freak out. I tried calling him, but had to leave him a voice mail. He had my phone and I realized it didn't matter. There was no way he could retrieve the message. They piled all my belongings on my legs and rolled the bed down the hall to a different wing.
It didn't really matter what room I was, and I found it mildly amusing to be rolling down the corridors at 11 p.m. They had managed to get me another private room, which I was glad for, because I just wanted to be alone. I think I slept about 3 hours over the entire night, in small snatches of rest. There is always something going on, noises and commotions to keep you awake. Not to mention people coming in the room to take my vitals or draw blood like at 4 a.m. Yes, they did that. I was glad when they removed the IV, though they left the port taped into my arm.
I was allowed to order real food for breakfast. The menu was brought to me and I called room service, yes, that's what they referred to the kitchen as, with my order. I went for broke and got a mushroom and cheese omelet, toast, a banana, yogurt, apple juice and cocoa. Within about twenty minutes, this feast was brought to me. I took a few bites of the omelet and ate one half piece of toast. I did drink the cocoa and that tasted good. The food was actually edible, but I wasn't as hungry as I thought I was.
Nancy, one of my nurses for Tuesday, got me up after I ate and we walked the hallways three times again. I called Barb and Cyndi. I tried to read, but had to rely on the television. At least there are shows on in the morning that I like and would keep me moderately distracted. I kept waiting for Dr. Pilotte to come in and tell me I could go home.
Earlier in the morning, the nurse came in to take out my catheter. I knew they had put some kind of packing inside me, and I told everyone who came in the room it hadn't been removed when the catheter was. I told the urologist and the nurses. I was supposed to pee on my own and I just couldn't. When a doctor from the gynecologist's office came in around 11 a.m., I told her too. She was surprised, since it was supposed to be removed when the catheter was and that what was keeping me from peeing. It was like a magician's trick, the way she kept pulling out gauze long after you'd have thought she'd be done. Within a few minutes, I began to bleed. That's an understatement. Huge clots of blood were pouring out of me. I rang for the nurse who immediately called the doctor back. Because of the amount of blood, everything that was bloody had to be weighed and reported back to the gynecologist. It was a mess and the nurses just dealt with it as though it were no big deal. I am so grateful to Nancy and Christina for the care they gave me. I felt horrible about the mess and like a helpless child. They had to reinsert the catheter and then I watched as the gynecologist repacked me. No more walking and no going home that day. I was disappointed, but relieved too that I would be taken care of instead of having to go home and be alone.
I had bled so much there would be no more getting out of bed that day for fear I was too weakened. So I stayed in bed and tried to make the best of it. The nurses were still coming in at least once an hour, and I ordered my lunch and Lowell ate most of it. I ordered a cheeseburger and French fries and ice cream. He stayed with me for a while, but had to go home and get some sleep. Cyndi again stopped by. I had the phone to connect me to my friends and the afternoon passed by eventually. I had the IV hooked back up because they thought I was dehydrating and the leg massagers were also plugged back in. My spirits were lagging.
I ordered soup for dinner and some jello. I wasn't going to order anything heavy since I knew I just couldn't manage it. The night passed and I slept off and on. When I realized I wasn't going back to sleep after 10, I watched the Simpson's. I found it ironic it was the episode where Homer ended up staying at the nursing home because Apu had told his mother he was married. I didn't have potato chips in my IV. I also didn't want that. Around 11 p.m,, I called Dave, since he was the only person I knew would be up. We talked for a good hour, and finally I was tired enough to try sleeping again.
I guess I must have slept a little, but I was awake by 4. At least I didn't have to be awakened by the tech who wanted to draw my blood. It was around 6:30 that the nurse on duty came in to take out the packing and the catheter. Two big clots came out too, but they weren't fresh blood. They took out the IV again and removed the oxygen tube. I told them to leave the massaging things on my legs. I had oatmeal and fruit for breakfast and was waiting for the doctors to come in and say I was okay.
Lowell stopped by after work and I told him to go home and sleep and I'd call him when and if I was discharged. Cyndi called and wanted to know if I wanted her to come by. I said sure. I finally managed to pee, but they weren't happy with the amount. I knew with how much I'd been drinking, it wouldn't be long before I had to gently lower myself to the toilet seat and try again. Now all I needed was the gynecologist to release me.
Cyndi came and we ordered lunch together. I told her to get whatever she wanted, since all I wanted was the soup and more ice cream. I called it in and we waited. The lunch came before the doctor. She looked at my incisions and said I could go home. I was more than ready. Since Cyndi was there already, we decided there was no reason to call Lowell. Christina, my nurse again that day, came in to take out the IV and tell me the instructions I had to follow once I was home. She called in my meds so they could be ready to be picked up. Just as I was getting dressed, Lowell walked in. Cyndi had already gone to get her car and bring it to the front of the hospital. I got in the wheelchair and we escaped before someone could change their mind.
Lowell got his car too and I went home with him. Cyndi said she'd go get my meds and then come back and visit with me for a bit longer. It felt so nice to feel the sun on my face, the breeze in my hair. Little things we all take for granted. I didn't want to, but I immediately thought how Greg never felt the sun again after he entered the hospital for the last time. Greg and thoughts of how he had suffered were always just under the surface and they broke through at both expected and unexpected times.
When we got home, I slowly walked up the stairs from the garage and sat in the big chair. I wasn't there long before I had to go to the bathroom and I used that opportunity to get into a nightgown. I watched Lowell nap on the couch and reflected on the past few days and what I'd gone through. I decided I would never ever again have surgery, no matter what. I've gotten stronger and less tired during the week and thankfully, my head seems to have cleared from the fog left by the anesthesia. I can't drive myself anywhere for another week so I've been pretty much housebound and feeling very cooped up. I don't want to ask anyone for favors unless I have to and Lowell is working days for a few more days this week. I don't feel like a new woman; I barely feel like a woman at all. Is this how it's supposed to be? And how long till I feel like me again.
©8 May 2007My daughter Evelyn had an interim job grading high school exam papers. I think the testing is similar to the AIMS testing that is done here in Arizona, and the purpose is to see if by the time they are juniors in high school, students have actually learned something and should be graduated the following year. They are tested in composition and math, but at the moment, Evelyn and her co-workers are reading essays on who should be on a United States postage stamp.
She had done this before, after she had just graduated from college. She calls me each day to complain about the kids and what they write in their papers. Besides the bad grammar and spelling, they have no originality or creativity in their ideas. The top two nominees of these high school juniors are Oprah Winfrey and Martin Luther King. I believe Reverend King has had a stamp issued in commemoration of his contributions. I also believe if he hasn't, he is the kind of person a postage stamp should be issued in honor of after his death. Oprah can't be on a stamp till she's dead. The point of the essay isn't really who one thinks deserves a stamp but is to support your argument for the person you choose. This is what these high school kids are not doing.
Talking about this over the past week has made me think about who I'd like to see honored on a stamp. I used to collect stamps as a kid and then later as an adult. I no longer collect them because the Postal Service issues too many each year to be considered a low cost hobby. And I really don't need to collect anything else as I have enough junk now for which I have little use.
The first person I thought of however, was my son, Greg. Could I come up with convincing reasons he should be on a stamp? Of course I could. I'm not a high school kid and I am capable of clear and concise thoughts and getting them across to my audience. He was an inspiration to all that were fortunate enough to know him. He endured surgery after surgery for cancer with grace and strength and never complained. He was a loving and giving individual who never reached his full potential. On the other hand, who would care about him other than his family and friends? Very few people, I'm afraid.
I would find it hard to make a case for Oprah. I do not care very much for her, but I know I am in the minority. She has done a lot for many people, all over the world. I think though she is more concerned with promoting herself and her ideas than she truly is with changing the world. She just opened an all girl school in Africa. It made the papers and the television news. Her justification was that the girls there would appreciate it more than those in the United States. That may be, but helping our country and its children should come first to any American. Oprah is one of the richest people in the world and this was no financial burden to her. It was primarily self promotion, so sorry, Oprah, if and when you die and there is a stamp issued for you, and I'm still around, I won't buy one.
Last night it dawned on me who I think America needs to honor with a stamp. He can't be, because he hasn't been dead ten years, but I think that detail could be gotten around by not actually using him on the stamp, but the puppets he created to teach children over countless years on television. I didn't grow up watching him, but I watched him with my children and used to watch him after they were grown. I watched Romper Room and Captain Kangaroo and Howdy Doody among others, but none of them were as sincere and encouraging and educational as this man. Nor are any of the current kid's programs anywhere near close to being as loving and caring and instructional as this show.
My nominee is Fred Rogers, of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. Yes, mild mannered, zippered sweater and lace up tennis shoe wearing Mr. Rogers. I haven't watched the show in years and it's no longer on the Arizona PBS stations, but he has been around forever. He liked me just the way I am, and told me that each time we visited. I always appreciated it when he said that, because I can't think of many people who like me the way I am. He never looked down or talked down to his viewers, mostly preschoolers. He made it seem like each show he did was just for them. Kids knew he was an adult, but he was reachable and not standoffish, yet he never lost his dignity. He started in the early days of television and found it was his calling and as his television show grew to be nationwide, so did his background and education so he could be more effective and helpful as a performer.
Mr. Rogers taught his audience in different ways. He used songs and wrote over 200 of them. How could a child not feel cherished when he sang "You are Special" or "Some are Fancy". He told them it was more important what was on the inside instead of the outside. Mr. Rogers tried to let children know what they were feeling or thinking was valid and they weren't the only ones who felt that way. He used the puppets and real people to teach a life lesson. I remember a show when he accompanied a young girl to the pediatrician. He talked about going to school, having your parents work and the death of a loved one. Once he even took us to the swimming pool one time to encourage children to exercise.
My favorite way he taught was through his songs, and especially his operas. I would love to own a dvd of all his operas, because I loved singing along with them. I can't decide if my favorite was Spoon Mountain or Windstorm in Bubbleland. During the week, when he was in the Land of Make Believe, the characters and plot of the opera would be fleshed out little by little, till on Friday's show was the actual performance of the opera. He authored eighteen operas, but only six of them are still shown on reruns. I probably have only seen the six currently available, but I would love to see the others. Even now, I can hear in my head, "there's never any trouble here in Bubbleland" or "all I ever wanted was a spoon, a spoon, a spoon is all I ever wanted". In the opera, a Grandfather for Daniel, all Daniel wants is some family of his own and someone to love him. Who doesn't want that, child or adult?
He taught mostly through his puppets, where he was the voice for all of them. I think he identified most with Daniel Striped Tiger, my hands down favorite, but he was also King Friday too, who led his subjects by examples. The puppets interacted with humans in the Land of Make Believe in a way that was loving and nurturing and instructional. Lady Elaine was the bully, X the Owl and Henrietta pussycat were good friends you could always count on, and the later additions of the platypus family and Queen Sara and Prince Tuesday showed that life and people change.
His human friends were Mr. McFeely, Betty Aberlin, Joe Negri and Chef Brockett among others. They often visited him in his house as well as were a vital part of the Neighborhood of Make Believe. Mr. Rogers would go Negri's music store or the bakery and it would help develop the theme for the week or just teach something new. Mr. McFeely was the delivery man who often brought tapes showing how things were made. I remember rocking horses and crayons but I know there were dozens of others. He also had famous people on the show, to help illustrate what the lesson of the week. Yo Yo Ma played his cello, Lynn Swann danced for the kids. Ordinary people who had something Mr. Rogers felt could teach a lesson about, such as a child with crutches and the man who played the Alpinstock, were also featured.
Unless the Postal Service has changed its guidelines, Mr. Rogers couldn't be on a stamp till 2014. However, why couldn't his creations be on a stamp? King Friday, the trolley, Daniel, the tree where X and Henrietta live? The Museum Go Round? I believe these puppets are the embodiment of Fred Rogers, his alter egos. They wouldn't go by the rules and could be on a stamp sooner than later. There is precedent for it, since there have been Loony Tunes and other fictional or cartoon characters on stamps. So I say, let's honor Mr. Rogers by honoring the citizen's of the Neighborhood of Make Believe. They have been a vital part of society and families for over thirty years.
So Evelyn, what grade would you give me? Did I support my case in a clear and concise manner, bringing out pertinent points that would convince someone of the sincerity of my proposal? I know you loved Mr. Rogers too, but I believe you would be fair in grading my paper.
©2 April 2007Last week I saw an advertisement for Hal Ketchum in concert down in Wickenburg, which is about a good hour's drive from here. A few years ago I never would have known who he was or even cared. As it is, I only know one song by him, which is the title of this piece. When I saw the ad, I went to the venue's web site and looked into buying a ticket. I thought about it, but didn't do anything about it. The concert is tonight, and I'm sitting here listening to music on my computer.
This current play list consists of a wide variety of artists, but in the mood I've been lately, the songs are mostly sad and remind of the things and people I have lost. Some are considered oldies but goodies, some are songs hard rock and some are country and a few are ones I decided I liked after seeing the video on television or hearing the song on the radio. I've learned to love some from other people, mostly my children and my former best friend. I've been in a very reflective mood these last few days, and I think my music selections show this.
This is how I feel right now, that it's too late to be rescued. I have been listening to music much of the afternoon while I have been sitting at the computer. There's nothing on television, nor do I have a tv set in this room. So I picked about fifty songs from my library of over 1100 songs and turn up the volume and do my work. I had been updating some of my web pages and more than half way through the task, I realized I left something out, so now I have to go back and fix over 25 pages.
Music is a very important part of my life. I have always used music to affect my mood from a very early age. I used to have an old record player that played 45's and would entertain myself with them for hours on end. As I grew up, music became more important and I would change the radio stations in the car trying to find something I liked. If I wasn't the driver, it would annoy whoever was driving. One of the first big purchases I made when I went off to college was a nice stereo player.
For a while, I used to make a new CD each month with the songs that I liked the best that month or which had the most significance to me at the time. I haven't done that for a long time, because I can take my music with me via my memory stick. It's so easy to add or remove songs from it, and I have this device that plugs into the cigarette lighter in my car that plays the memory stick. If I don't want to hear a song, I just fast forward past it. Maybe one day I'll get a car with a CD player.
I'd be in Wickenburg by now, and probably in my seat. I don't even know if there was an opening act, or Hal Ketchum is it. When I first looked into buying a ticket, I could have gotten pretty good seats. The hall only holds about 5000 so most of the seats would be good. I just couldn't do it; make myself go because I knew what would happen to me and was smart enough to know not to subject myself to any more hurt, especially now. I hope he puts on a great show.
Last night, I checked my horoscope and it said the following:
Try to keep your schedule flexible today because this would be a good day to take a day trip somewhere you haven't explored before. Pack a lunch, get in the car and go! If you can't get away, then at least try taking a different route today - new vistas will delight and inspire you.
While I've been getting out a bit more since I was allowed to start driving again after the surgery, I haven't gone too far from home on necessary errands. Part of it was lack of energy and part of it was how high gas prices are. I'd thought about driving down to Phoenix a few times, especially the last few days because it's been a little cooler than usual, but there isn't anything I needed to do there and I talked myself out of that. A short drive somewhere did sound like something that I should do. So I decided the stars must know what's best for me and all the other Taureans, I didn't want to go too far and I decided to go somewhere familiar. After all, I don't put a whole lot of faith in horoscopes, but I was willing to let it suggest something to me.
I thought about where I might like to go within about an hour of here and decided I hadn't been to Jerome for a while. It's maybe 25 miles as the crow flies, but it's another world away in reality. It is tucked away in the mountains, overlooking the Verde Valley. There are at most 500 people living there, and it's known as a funky, art community. There are lots of restaurants and shops and a museum. It's cute and would offer me some walking and shopping opportunities. I went to bed thinking about my adventure.
I thought Lowell might enjoy going with me since he was in the middle of his days off, but if he didn't want to, I hoped maybe Cyndi would. I woke Lowell up around 9:30 and asked him how he felt about taking a ride. He said sure, but waking him proved to be a challenge. I went and got dressed and he was still sleeping. I woke him up again and checked five minutes later, and he had fallen back asleep. A few more tries and he was awake and ready to go before I actually was. He chose to drive which was fine with me and soon we were on the road. He put a Tim McGraw CD in, trying to appease me with the choice of music.
Since Lowell was driving on what I had planned to be my adventure, our first stop was to put some gas in his car. There are two ways to get to Jerome. One is over Mingus Mountain on a curvy and twisting road with lots of hairpin turns and magnificent views and to some nerve wracking drop offs, and the other is the long way, going out to the interstate, and cutting back through Cottonwood, then heading up 89A. It's further and certainly less fun. We chose to take the mountain road there. I love driving that road and testing my driving skills on the tight turns but I also like being the passenger. I have a chance to enjoy the view. Also, that way, when some slow poke gets in front of me, I don't have to get as aggravated. Sure enough, several times, we had a slow driver who felt he had to apply the brakes all the time.
We took Glassford Hill Road out to the little freeway and then we were on 89A passing the new county fair grounds. The way that area is growing is obscene and it won't be long till it's fully developed. It's a short distance till you get to the top of Mingus Mountain, which is an elevation of 7100 something feet. Then you start the descent on the mountain road. Coming down the mountain, we were surprised how dirty the air was over the Verde Valley. It might have been smoke from the fire burning near Payson, or it might have been dust, but it was probably smog coming up from Phoenix. It used to always be clear and the view is incredible, the wide valley spreading out and the mountains of Sedona off in the distance. In the eight years I've been in Arizona, the population has probably doubled and everyone has to drive, so, the air gets polluted and it has to go somewhere. Maybe it was mostly dust. Whatever it was, it ruined the view but not our spirits.
I would guess there are maybe 30 or 40 different stores in Jerome, and we visited most of them. Some of them only I went into while Lowell waited outside. We passed a restaurant that claimed to have the best burgers in Jerome, but we were not to be swayed to eat somewhere else. We went to one store briefly before climbing the three long flights of stairs to the restaurant. At the top, we caught our breath and again looked over the Verde Valley and the rest of Jerome. At the top level of the hill was a garden that was probably a community garden and a scarecrow. It seemed out of place and yet perfectly natural. Jerome is known as a ghost town that nearly died until, in the 1970s, the hippies discovered it and resurrected it. Most of the houses are set up in the hills and not much different than they probably were forty years ago. Restoration isn't a big priority in Jerome.
We got to the restaurant before the lunch crowd showed up because while we were sitting there, it definitely got crowded. While waiting to be seated, we were treated with a view of their desserts. They had tiramisu, which looked good, but a chocolate cake that made the one from Costco, the one that was seven pounds of cake, seem to be a cupcake. I put the thought of dessert behind me for the moment. Since we got to choose our own table, we picked one at the end of the porch that had the same view we'd been admiring earlier. I had the Ghost Burger, which was cheese, bacon and mushrooms and Lowell had the Haunted House burger, which had cheese, bacon, grilled onions, guacamole and I forget what else. I chose a baked potato as my side and he picked the steak fries. Lowell and I talked about unimportant things while we waited for our food. I don't tell him often enough, but I am proud of him and like having him around. We commented on the people around us, like the man in the t-shirt that read, "Grandfather is my name, Spoiling is my game". We decided it was a stupid shirt to be wearing and agreed maybe it was the mans only clean shirt. He also surprised me with the news he was treating me for lunch. I
Lunch came and it was delicious. They had the accruements for the burgers inside the restaurant, so I went back for some lettuce and tomatoes, mustard and mayonnaise. I tried Lowell's fries and he had some of my baked potato. As everyone knows, left handed people are 17% more likely to take food off someone else's plate, and since we're both lefties, it was only natural we'd try the other's food. I didn't exactly join the clean plate club, since Lowell finished my baked potato for me. I was more than full but I couldn't stop thinking about the chocolate cake. When she took away our plates, I asked our waitress if it was as good as it looked, and she said it was better. I asked her why they didn't sell smaller pieces, since one of their slices was the equivalent of two regular pieces of cake. She said she has suggested that they sell smaller portions, but so far, the restaurant didn't go for it. Lowell surprised me by saying we'd take a piece of cake to go. She brought it to the table and I had to try it before we left the restaurant and it was really good.
Lowell paid and I went to look at the little store next to the restaurant. It was supposed to be a general store but what caught my eye was the doll house in the window. I had to go in and look at it, but I didn't need it and it was $200. Of course, that was fully furnished. I met Lowell outside and we walked down the stairs. He put the cake in the car and we wandered up and down the streets and in and out of the stores. I like to look for unique items, especially earrings. I love to look at the paintings and photographs, but usually they are out of my price range. The t-shirts promoting Jerome interest me, but I'd never wear one around here. They had some cute ones, but I really don't need another t-shirt.
I really hadn't planned on buying anything but the stores are filled with one of a kind items and in one of my favorite stores, a pair of earrings caught my eye almost immediately. They are blue squares with a silver square inside. I think she said it was most likely lapis lazuli and mother of pearl glued on wood. I couldn't resist. But while the saleslady was writing the ticket for them, I noticed some photographs. One immediately drew me in, and looked more like a painting, or at least a photograph that had been digitally enhanced. In the forefront were some blooming prickly pear cacti, there was a rainbow in the right hand corner and the Red Rocks and Cathedral Rock in the center. To the left, was a kite soaring in the sky. I splurged and bought that too. It made more sense than buying bandages that looked like bacon or a Sigmund Freud action figure. There was also a wallet that looked like bacon, more famous people action figures, as well as bizarre books like 50 Relatives (or boyfriends) worse than yours. I told you the stores had interesting items.
After my purchase, I knew I wouldn't buy anything more, but that didn't stop us from visiting more stores. Thankfully,I didn't see another pair of earrings I liked better than the ones I bought, not even at the store that has the most unique ones. They have some made by an artisan who uses old pottery, but they are fairly expensive. They also didn't have many in stock, which was good for me. We did stop in a candy store and buy some for later. Up and down the streets and before long, we were back at the car.
This time, Lowell put Montgomery Gentry in the CD player. We each had a few bites of the cake before we headed out of town. It was really delicious. As we took the one way street away from Jerome, we debated going back the way we came or going down through Cottonwood. We ended up going down into the Verde Valley but while we thought about stopping either in Cottonwood or Clarkdale to see what was there, we didn't. As we neared the interstate, I suggested we go to the casino. We see advertisements on TV all the time for it, and I'd never been there. It is only about 2 miles north, so we drove up there to check it out.
After parking, we walked into the casino. I guess it's nice, the décor was okay and it was crowded for mid afternoon. I couldn't sign up for the membership club since the computers weren't working, but I knew I wouldn't be gambling enough to make a difference. Lowell found a machine near the front, but I wandered around the casino to find a luckier one. I saw the bowling alley, and Johnny Rockets. I didn't see anyone singing about the virtues of the casino nor where they stand to film those commercials. Talk about disappointing. The cigarette smoke was getting to me but I finally picked a five-cent slot machine. Within less than two minutes, I'd lost my entire dollar. I didn't even win one time. I am not a gambler. I walked back to where I thought Lowell would be, and sat down a few machines from him and lost another dollar. I was done. He played maybe seven dollars and then we left.
It was a short drive back to Prescott, listening to Trace Adkins, and we talked about what we'd done and seen. We talked about the time we took the back road through Cherry not too long ago and how much fun that had been. He complained as usual about all the idiots on the road. We commented on the lack of cows but that we had seen sheep and horses. Both of us were still full from lunch and kind of sleepy. We made one stop before going home, but finally, just four hours after we'd left, we were back at home. The time had passed quickly and I hope Lowell enjoyed himself as much as I did. The weather was perfect, the food was delicious, the company a treat as always. I'm glad I listened to my horoscope and let the vistas delight and inspire me. Maybe I should let the stars guide me more often, at least if I like what they say.
©22 May 2007There are more stories I have written to read. Please remember these are my original stories and thoughts, and to copy or otherwise use them without my permission is a copyright violation. I would love to hear your random thoughts on any of these stories.