I'm as ready as I'm going to get. Christmas Eve with my mother's side of the family-my parents, brother and his family, sister, aunts, uncles and cousins at my Grandmother's house. Rumor has it there will be bulk containers of Ten Penny Ale, and there'd better be. My daughter is singing in the church choir and my two oldest sons are doing something for the service (??-not being the religious type I don't remember what exactly) but we'll get gussied up to go watch them for the children's service before heading over to gram's. It's one of those deals where you try to make everyone happy but invariably several or not. My SIL being a prime instigator...:mad: But I digress.

Then my parents, bro & family, sis, FIL, BIL are coming over Christmas Day Don't know where we're putting everyone but we'll figure it out (all part-in thanks to Jim's post about the big family dinner for Ma, we really want to do it while we and everyone else can rather than waiting until it's convenient for us). I'm going to miss my Uncle from ME this year, he's still going through chemo for lung cancer (non-smoker) and he obviously wants to avoid our little snot-nosed germ factory at all costs, since he's prepping himself for a trip to AZ for the winter so he can continue his treatments at the VA Hospital down there.

Sorry to hear about your wife's health :(, somehow I must have missed it. Best wishes to you two and I'll have a drink for you both as well.

Just so you know going in, pictures are REQUIRED.

Like you've obviously already figured out, convenience is way the hell over-rated. As are decorum, grace, manners, and anything that even remotely resembles avoiding jokes that most folks might consider to be 'crude' or 'distasteful' or other such nonsense (Dear Sweet Barb telling Ma we were just gonna have to burn her corpse since I'd decreed "I ain't diggin' no more holes in the yard!" and Darling Wife adding "Viking funeral pyre!" would pretty much describe that particular genre).

Smile, from the inside out, accept that those that matter don't care and those that care don't matter, and enjoy the hell out of it. Make sure you find a minute or three to stand on the sidelines and just marvel at the wonder of three hundred and eighteen simultaneous conversations as well as other usually overlooked inconsequential markers that really are the core of love and family and what really matters in this time of reflection.

Cranberry sauce on the carpet? Overly lubricated in-laws? Dried out stuffing? Cops showing up cuz yer just that damn noisy? None of that matters. One human bean touched, warmed, loved - that matters.

Thank you, Swamp, Mistress, Dee8go - and everyone else - for 'listening' while I vent, for offering words of support and encouragement, for accepting me and my ridiculous world for what they are. May these few days of pause and observation bring to you all the peace, joy, wonder, and love that this crazy world has to offer.

Consider this a permanent and unconditional invitation to drop in whenever for grub and/or grog and/or exposure to utter chaos. Mi casa is su casa, in every sense of the words - even though I've yet to meet a single one of y'all in the flesh, your love and support has been felt. Thank you.

thanks to you Ramonajim for keepin us real....

I forgot to post here yesterday.. But I'm back from Vail. It was fun

No problemo. Doing these things while you can is so much better than lamenting the fact that you DIDN'T do them once your loved one has died, is Sooo much better.

When we discovered that my mother was dying of lung cancer in 2007, we planned out everything we wanted to do together before she died. We talked to each other about it, went on a few trips together, and generally accepted her approaching death as a normal part of life. By the time she died, we had done most of out grieving and we had done a hell of a lot of living.

That's the way to do it. Our culture doesn't encourage much of that, but it should. You guys are going about things the right way from the sound of it. I'm looking forward to dropping in on you the next time we come up to Frederick.

Hey, it's the last Hump Day of 2009. I hope everybody has a happy new year's eve as well as a happy hump day. Nobody seems interested in talking about their uncollectable debt today, so I think I'll go home early.

Good day to you, sir!

Last Hump Day of 2009 sounds promising. It all gets better next year, right?

Spent the better part of the morning today trying to register 4 cars (got one done, found I'd lost the title for the wagon, had the wrong form for the 72 Benz, and decided to wait until April when the CT registration expires on the silver Miata cuz I was just that f'n fed up dealing with MD MVA).

Took Youngest Kidlet (he's out for 10 days :D) to Joanie's for lunch then Christmas shopping. Wound up with some $5 jeans for me, an outrageously fun pair of strappy Italian leather lace up boot things for Darling Wife, and a pair new jeans and an electric green shirt for Kidlet (struck out at the vintage stores for him).

Then spent the bulk of my afternoon/evening trying to get Ma & Ed's bills brought back under control. Dear Ed has the best of intentions, but is seriously lacking in the implementation department. Add to that the fact that Ma has a long history of squirreling little bits of money into LOTS of different accounts and then forgetting how to get into them, and we've got a recipe for cornfusion. Which is where I'm at tonight.

Ah well, Barb & Louis just got here, Kidlet is up from his nap, and I'll figure out a way to get some manner of adult beverage into me and all will be fine.

Happy New Year to y'all!

Whoudda thunk CT didn't hold the exclusive rights to unpleasant DMV experiences??? :D

Hope you can catch your breath in '10!

snowbunny...

Hey, it's Hump Day. Happy Hump Day to everybody!

Happy Hump Day!



Back to school, and am having just a little bit of fun back at school.

It's 2:00am and I am waiting for the police to show up to talk to my bi-polar neighbor who is currently NOT ON HER MEDS and is shrieking unmercifully. Unfortunately, we share a common wall and she woke me up our of a sound sleep. This is not the way I wanted to wake up this morning. She can't be forced to take her meds unless she commits a crime. In my eyes she has because she woke me up out of a sound sleep...rrrrrhhhhhhhh. Have a good one you guys.

My damned alarm clock woke me from a sound sleep, dammit! My neighbors were pretty quiet, though. Sorry yours was howling, Mistress.

That sucks!

Working a half-day today and then catching a train to Philly for a trade association board meeting and some group sales training tomorrow and Fri morning with my new salesman. Not really in the mood for it but duty calls.

Sorry for the disturbances to your slumber Mistress, but glad you bumped this thread - wasn't sure what day it was until I saw this!

I'm pretty much over the first sinus infection I've had in years (used to get 3-4 a year - had forgotten how much they suck!). Darling Wife is mostly over her cold, and Barb is still miserable with hers. Between three runny noses and one seriously leaky dog (female pup + UTI = LOTS of cleanup opportunities) our household can take credit for the elimination of at least a couple acres of rain forest with all the paper products we're going through.

We're trying to establish new routines around the Big Yellow House. Seems like every time we get settled into something vaguely resembling a rhythm, a wrench gets tossed in and we start all over again. As has been the case most often lately, the most recent wrench is Ma.

Just about midnight Friday, Ma started seizing. Woke me up from a seriously deep nap on the couch. By the time the paramedics get there (all of 4 minutes after Darling Wife called), she's back to normal. Oh well, ambulance ride for you Ma, gotta get you checked out. Very nice young ambulance guys help Ma into her wheel chair, out and around to the front of the house where they've got the gurney waiting.

Ma can't very often stand up out of her wheel chair anymore. So, standing her up involves giving her a big ol' bear hug while she's sitting down, then pulling her upright. Every now and then, she forgets to straighten her legs out and put her feet on the ground. Both Darling Wife and I told the very nice young ambulance guys about this method and the possible hiccup.

The taller of the two very nice young ambulance guys (who was SO sweet with Ma) bends over, gets her arms settled around his neck, and stands her up. Ma's legs stay bent, and she starts sliding down the taller of the two very nice young ambulance guys, taking his sweat pants with her as she gently settles with a cross legged thump in the grass next to the gurney.

Pants go back up right quick, and I jump in behind Ma and use my knee under her butt to help finish getting her lifted to a standing position. Much giggling and silliness in the back of the ambulance as Ma and Darling Wife tease the very nice ambulance guys all the way to the hospital.

Hospital is positively slammed. We get through what we gotta get through in the ER (CT scan, blood work, neurological exam, etc) in ~ 4 hours. Then we wait another 6 hours for a) a doc to write the admitting orders, and b) a bed to be available. It's nearly noon by the time Ma is taken upstairs.

Doc Oh comes by that evening. He reminds us yet again just how wonderful a good human doctor can be. Tells us what he knows based on the work done in the ER, orders more tests, lets us know we should count on Ma being in the hospital for several days.

Net results, as we know them so far: tumors in Ma's head are continuing to shrink, causing Doc Oh to use the 'statistical aberration' phrase again; leptomeningeal disease (LMD - cancer has spread to the lining of Ma's brain), which has an exceptionally high response rate to a couple of relatively non-toxic drugs (response = hold at bay, not cure); blood clots in Ma's lung, abdomen and kidney (treating those with industrial strength blood thinners, which when combined with her insanely low platelets means Ma stays in hospital due to bleeding risks).

All things considered, Ma is doing great. She's been alert, fairly sharp, and making sure to show everyone her purple hair. Doc Oh wants to send her from the hospital to a rehab house for a week so that she can get some focused PT to help her regain some strength.

Best possible outcome from this chapter: the LMD responds well, the blood clots continue breaking up without incident, Ma goes to 'spa' for a week, and we bring her home for several more months of feeding her salmon.

Far less rosy, but entirely possible outcomes: the LMD doesn't respond. Prognosis: 2-4 weeks. Blood clots misbehave, heart gets plugged or pneumonia ensues. Prognosis: anybody's guess, but chances of Ma beating either of those beasties are pretty slim.

Darling Wife is realizing that we have to figure out how Ma wants us to deal with the very likely indignities of her being unable to do even the simplest of tasks. Her gut says bring Ma home - get her a hospital bed for her comfort and safety, work shifts (between me, Darling Wife, Barb, and Ed, we can have someone with Ma 24/7 if we have to). On the other hand, Darling Wife knows how upsetting this may be to Ma - in their family, old people come home to hospital beds to die. And more than anything else, Ma is displeased that she can't always get to the bathroom by herself. If (when) she can't clean herself up, how much will that upset her? More if we're doing it, or if a hospice nurse is doing it? No obvious answers there.

Ma is far less disoriented at home (home being our house now). She is less likely to go all child-like (OOoooohhhhh!! Doggieeeeeee!!!! every time a dog shows up on her hospital TV). She gets to have 'her' cats in bed with her at our house, get visits from all three of the canine goons, hear (and occasionally join in on) the chaos just a few steps from her bedroom that is our kitchen, and have as many piles of newspapers and magazines in bed with her as she wants.

Heaviness to ponder, for sure. Seems the universe has a knack for pointing me & Darling Wife in a direction when it sees fit - figure this one'll work itself out soon enough.

In the meantime, we're actually all doing well. Ma is happy, mostly comfortable, and only now and then afraid. The rest of us are remembering to breathe, stopping to hug each other often, and mostly able to laugh it off when the three more or less functional adults are in three separate rooms cleaning up three different critter explosions all at the same time.