Just Pound Me Into the Ground

Sometimes, life seems to be handing you a bowl of cherries and other times, you are being pounded into the ground with a sledge hammer. Recently, it feels more like a bulldozer is after me and I am not running fast enough to keep ahead of the bad luck gremlins. We are taking things one catastrophe at a time, but I am weakening quickly. I had that little carotid endarterectomy in late August, but it leaked fluid into my clavicle and shoulder and I needed to start a bit of therapy. No big deal! The other half had his total knee done the 1st of October and is still going for physical therapy three times a week. He is really a tough old bird and by today has eliminated the need for the surgeon to knock him out and manipulate the joint. (It sounded really awful, so "my honey" has knocked himself out to attain complete mobility of that knee)

In the middle of this, my older brother was taken to Hospice in the evening of October 23rd. Nobody in his family was available to sit with him all night, so I decided that I would stay with him since I would not want to be alone if I were to die in a strange place. He passed away at 6:10 in the morning of the 24th while I held his hand. I don't know if he knew that I was there, but I knew. It was my 54th wedding anniversary. I want to thank my husband for knowing that I had to be with my brother on this special occasion.

I have been quietly losing my cool over the thought of packing for our six months in Florida. The bad part is that the vascular surgeon discovered an incidental finding an obstruction of my major artery that keeps my liver and other innards functioning. So, Monday morning I am having a celiac stent put into the artery right at my aorta. I understand that a bunch of dudes from the company that makes these things are going to be standing by laughing at my naked, old body to help the doc achieve this daring feat. Hopefully, I will still be alive at the end of the whole thing and be ready to make the southward migration to the Land of Sunshine and Golden Oldies. The AneurX procedure better work or when I wake up I will be facing a big surgery involving my aorta and ciliac arteries.

All of these things have been interrupting my routine and sleep, but I finished a whopping ironing and packed a couple of suitcases by last Saturday. I don't know how much I will be allowed to do after this surgical thingy, so I had to get ready. I don't mind packing for six months in another home when we have a Ford F150 and I can just take any volume of "stuff" with me. (If he can take golf clubs --- I can take a few sewing items --- like my Bernina and a few dozen yards of fabric) I am a quilter, after all. My anal retentive son figured out that we will spend an extra $600.00 by taking the truck instead of our Ford 500. Okay, I'll take less and be uncomfortable to save that money, but darn!

Early this morning, my youngest dingbat daughter called from New York, where she and her husband had gone to visit their son (a Junior at Nyack College) and catch a few shows. She had left her backpack in a New York taxi with her computer, good professional camera, police badges from all over the world, her Bible quizzing materials and her heart medicine. "Mom, would you call the cardiologist and give them a heads up that a New York pharmacy will be calling for a refill of my prescription?" I did and they informed me that they couldn't tell me anything due to HIPPA --- sheesh! It is an antiarrythmic, not narcotics!

We arrive at this afternoon, November 5th, 3:50p.m. and we are driving to the physical therapy place when an adorable young mother (7 1/2 months pregnant) with two kids in the back of an SUV ran a stop sign and smashed the be jabbers out of our lovely Ford 500. Nobody was hurt, but the car is a mess. You have to hand it to a really great driver ("my honey") for realizing that she was coming straight at his door and he gave it the gas and made a big right swerve. Our go to Florida car now has a smashed rear quarter panel, back door, back tire, rim and maybe axle. Quote the husband, "I hate to drive cars that have been in accidents!" This comes after forty-five years as a Ford salesman and then general manager of a large dealership. He drove new cars every year of our marriage until retirement. If you had your choice between a repaired wreck and a wonderful four-door F-150 truck ---- which would you choose? You tell me and I'll tell him. I'm beginning to lose it ---- definitely on overload!