Monthly Archives: November 2019

Blue Bird

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Blue Bird

I think I have a team of angels around me. Many are the clients I have met since starting my business a handful of years ago. The business is set up as a concierge, more times than not, I work with elderly clients. I’m usually brought in by the adult children who worry about their parents safety or want to improve their quality of life. I never know what I’m walking into until the situation reveals itself. Before I can blink I’m attached to my new friends.

Many of my clients are sick and/or elderly and we typically part ways when they die or move to a nursing home. That’s the hard part. I saw a blue bird this morning and was reminded of a dear client.

Clara, she comes as a blue bird per my request. I didn’t want a cardinal because well, that’s been overplayed. Clara was the mother of an acquaintance of mine. The business was fairly new when she reached out several years ago and asked me to meet her parents. We have since become close friends.

I felt an instant pull toward Clara and honestly I would have visited her for free. If she turned down my services, I would have wept. She had a soul that pulsated love and good energy. I’ve only met a few people like her in my life and I was desperate to be around her. She and her husband lived on a small farm and she was pretty sick when I started. Within a week I suggested that she transition to hospice to be as comfortable as possible.

It was an interesting work environment. I did a lot of laundry and light house keeping which is typical. I also washed outdoor furniture and helped prep for meals and social events. I made my first quiche ever for Clara because she was hosting a breakfast. I’ve since made many and they are super easy and quite impressive. Clara had a way of getting you to do things slightly outside of your comfort zone and then you felt a little bit of pride for the successful stretch.

One of the most memorable days was helping Clara shower before she transitioned to Hospice and got a Home Health Aide. It’s not something I typically do but she was uncomfortable and I would have done just about anything for her. She lost what was left of her hair in that shower. It upset her husband, she was relieved.

Clara moved to America from China as a teenager. From what I can remember she taught herself English over a single summer. She and her husband met at a private prestigious high school. She went on to become a nurse and eventually worked at that school. She was intelligent, kind and just being in her presence made you a better person. She had a life rich with experiences, family, profound friendships, service, world travel and she hosted many delicious meals. Thank you blue bird for the visit this morning.

A Tale of Two Turkeys

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A Tale of Two Turkeys

Happy almost American Turkey Day. I guess we can still call it Thanksgiving though my childhood version of Pilgrims and Native Americans sharing a farm to table style of meal has been destroyed by, I supposed some level of…what’s the word, awareness. Yes we are colonizers, land grabbers, murderers, rapists and pillagers or at least most of our ancestors were to some degree. If you can put that in a dark corner, lock the door, anoint your feet and pray for forgiveness….then follow me toward a new version of Thanksgiving.

We typically host Thanksgiving dinner because we have the big dinning room table (seats 10). My husband helps to clean the house but most of the cooking, shopping, cleaning and planning falls on my shoulders. NBD I’ve cooked at least 30 Thanksgiving birds in my tenure – I’ve tried them all from Butterball to heirloom organic and all the Tom’s in-between. I’m a tad tired of it at this point. The idea of having my hand up inside some still ice coated underbelly of a 16 pound bird mid morning the last Thursday of November is no longer appealing. You guys, I get a pass this year!

I’m just shy of three weeks post OP from my ACDF surgery and therefore I still have activity restrictions (THANK YOU sweet Geezus, thank you) – translation – I can’t handle the bird duties this year. Whoot! Whoot! and hells yes! We are still hosting (big table) but my hubs is making the bird. I will make a vegetable, soup and cranberry sauce – everything else will be purchased pre-made or brought by guests. What’s that smell – pumpkin pie??? No friends that is the smell of kitchen liberation!

Now you may recall that the hubs is an Engineer…that basically means he has an innate need to over analyze, speculate, theorize and generally drive himself crazy trying to determine the best course of action in any given situation. Don’t get me wrong, these traits have made him a very successful business man (hence the big table) and have provided us with a really nice lifestyle…it’s also a tad amusing.

The hubs has been studying everything turkey related – brine, dry rub, defrosting, infusion, best cooking methods, pans, racks, twine, spatchcock, voodoo and Reiki. I’m kidding about the spatchcock – I’m afraid to send him down that rabbit hole. OK I just whispered spatchcock with no explanation and now we wait…

He purchased the first turkey last Friday. It was frozen from the upscale market that we prefer to go to for meats and Brooklyn bread. Here’s a bio –

Chad – 1st Turkey

Born May 2, 2019, Lancaster, PA

Parents – Fred & Ethel

Siblings – Chelsea, Carlie, Christopher, Chet, Charlie, Chickie, Charlotte, Chuck & Zoe

Hobbies – Clucking, chasing breezes, looking for Da Vinci code clues under pebbles, Scrabble

Weight: 14.46 pounds

We have 13 people expected for Thanksgiving Dinner so it’s a little small but we can make it work. Chad was the largest organic bird in the bin.

Three days and 17 hours of additional turkey studies later….

The hubs decided yesterday that there needed to be another turkey option and he went to the even more upscale Italian market. Second turkey bio –

Antonio – 2nd Turkey

Born – June 1, 2019, Brooklyn, NY

Parents – Tony & Maria

Siblings – Little Tony, Anthony, Ant, Tina, Marie, Guido, Giovanni (Gio), Angela & Joey

Hobbies: Stick ball, poker, making pasta with Nonna and frequenting the Bada Bing Club!

Weight: 12.67 pounds

I’m going to be honest and say I have no idea why a second turkey was required. Antonio is currently in the freezer and he’s not talking. For the record I have my own idea of the ideal turkey (one that comes prepared). Ideal turkey bio –

Nick – Ideal Bird

Born – January 20, 2019

Parents – Tom & Sheila, Backyard in Philly

Siblings – Carson, Donovan, Randall, Michael, Vick & Jim

Hobbies: Cheese steak connoisseur, E-A-G-L-E-S!!! fan, fly fishing, snorts butter by the pound and deals hardcore whoop ass in bar brawls on South Street.

Weight: 16.43 pounds

Whatever you celebrate may it be happy, with plenty of reasons to be thankful.

Vigilance, My Constant Companion

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Vigilance, My Constant Companion

Well hello blog friends. I’ve been pretty quiet since I got back from the hospital 12 days ago. Don’t let that fool you, my thoughts have taken on a squirrelish  pattern, darting between cars on a 6 lane highway during rush hour.

Hard to know how successful the surgery was at this point. The surgeon proclaimed it “perfect” so I’m counting on that to be accurate. My zombie arm has improved greatly – now I’m afraid of accidentally undoing all the good the surgery did. Plus I have weird sensations in other areas. Hoping it’s just my nerves coming down from some fairly traumatic events.

Recovery from surgery is a strange place to be in mentally. I expected the physical pitfalls – pain, medication issues, potential blood clots, physical restrictions, general discomfort and overall ickiness. I was not fully prepared for the anxiety, mood swings and FFS tears (who am I).

Before I give you a glimpse into my particular rabbit hole of recovery I need to first state the obvious…I’m very fortunate. I am relatively young and healthy. My recovery is projected to be months and isn’t terminal. The surgery I had was to correct a problem and prevent further damage. It was to relieve the chronic, relatively short term pain (months, not years) I experienced and hopefully prevent further damage.

This isn’t terminal cancer or some chronic debilitating disease that I have to manage for however much time I have left on this planet. I am mindful of this and deeply grateful. I also recognize that the fickle finger of fate has the option to change her mind at any point, even the best strategic plans and intentions can implode at any moment. I’m aware of the transient nature of life and my blessings are abundant.

Some things I have observed about myself…

I’m pretty much a rule player. Sure I may wax poetic about what a rebel I am but when the rubber meets the road, I’m a by the book gal. I want to follow discharge directions to the letter, sadly the letter is fuzzy.

Having more questions and curiosity than the discharge papers accounted for, I took to Google to quench my thirst for knowledge. Probably not ideal. There is a wide range of opposing opinions by medical professionals in regard to Anterior Cervical Discectomy & Fusion.

To brace or not to brace? Collar or no collar? Movement or none? When can I drive? When can I safely load the bottom rack of the dishwasher or put a fitted sheet on the bed? I feel safe pouring dry kibble into the dog food bowl but filling the water bowl seems like risky business. These are the activities that stump me daily.

I’ve already contacted the surgeon’s office about a potential blood clot and difficulty swallowing (which to be fair, are valid concerns and warranted calls) I draw the line when asking about specific mundane household chores. I see the surgeon next week for my first follow up visit since my surgery, I’m making a list.

I’m afraid of breaking myself. My biggest hurdle right now is the mental bandwidth I’ve handed over to fear of botching this surgery. Some is valid, some is unlikely. I find myself in a place of fear more often than I anticipated. It takes months, perhaps up to a year for bones to fuse. During this time of healing I will need to be mindful of what I do and do not do physically. Which activities are considered high risk and should be avoided? Vigilance will be my constant companion for the foreseeable future.

Some people don’t appreciate gruesome neck scars. I was able to drive yesterday for the first time since the surgery. My first errands out included dropping the kids off at school and getting some thank you gifts for my friends. My scar is supposed to air out so I didn’t cover it. There was a definite look of disgust on one clerks face when I came back into the store to borrow a pen. Her exact words were – “Take this pen, we have 100 of them. Now get out.”

Do you have a surgical recovery story? Any pro tips? Feel free to comment with your words of wisdom.

 

 

Fixed It

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Fixed It

Well hello my blogging friends. I am happy to report that I got through my ACDF with all parts in tact and a few extra…two discs replaced using a combo of my bone and donor bone and a nifty titanium plate with 6 or 8 screws. I feel frickan’ fantastic and I’m not high right now. Got out of surgery a little over 24 hours ago and I am amazed at how good I feel. I suspect there will be some pitfalls along the way but wow what a difference. My right arm is my arm again, not some alien appendage that causes me pain 24/7. I forgot how good it feels to not feel bad all the time. It’s like a rebirth. Anyway, that stuff is nice but boring so let’s get on to the funny stuff before I go night-night.

The hubs and I got caught in traffic on the way to the surgery check in. The traffic was so bad I grabbed my backpack and walked the remaining 4 blocks. I did that to get there on time only to encounter an empty desk upon arrival. That was unsettling but I had faith in the surgeon so I didn’t walk out the door. The vacancy lasted long enough for me to call a general service number to confirm the room number, yup I was at the right place. So much for my efforts for being on time. I just got seated in registration when the hubs came through the door.

After about half an hour I was sent to hospital purgatory. It’s a holding pen before you get to the specialized OR area. This was a fun place. It was set up like an ER with curtains for privacy between beds. The first lady took basic information when she asked me my weight I told the hubs to cover his ears. She said I could whisper it to her, so I did. He said she’s probably lying and sonofabee I was but only by like 2 or 3 pounds and I rounded down so shoot me.

Anyway, I happened to get my period that morning because WTF not. I am 51 years old folks this should be in the rear view mirror and yet here we are…I mention this to another nurse who had the task of rubbing me down with antiseptic cloths (this would be the worst porn scene ever). Anyway I mentioned the menses to my new friend and she gave me mesh underwear and a sanitary pad that could double as a mattress. It was YUGE. I kind of felt bad for the pad, there was no way it was going to live up to it’s potential. I’m at the trickle stage this pad was worthy of postpartum tide. Oh and on one trip to the bathroom part of my gown went into the bowl so I had to explain that mess and get a new gown, at least I entertained the staff.

It was clear that I had at least an hour to go or so in purgatory so I encouraged the hubs to go get something to eat. He was already on Yelp looking for options, he didn’t fight me when I made the suggestion. Mind you it was noon and I didn’t  have anything to eat or drink since Midnight. I would have given my still tingling zombie arm for a coffee at that point. Half an hour after the hubs leaves…

Me: If you send me food pics I will cut you.

Hubs: I literally had my finger on the send button,

Me: Get yo fine azz back here…it’s moving day.

Half an hour later I was sent to OR prep and he was sent somewhere else, a waiting room.

Hubs: I miss u

Hubs: OK, just remembered u don’t have ur phone, so I’m talking to myself.

Once I got settled into my room I sent him home to be with our kids. My friend Kristy dropped by to bring them dinner – a chicken parm sub and a Brooklyn Pizza from our favorite local place.  I also got soup from Lisa, my Rocky Horror partner. And Amy just went full on ridiculous she made soup, cookies, orzo salad and salmon….oh and my friend Iris made me a spectacular chicken soup with matzo balls and magic. I am blessed beyond measure friends. I hope you all have people like this in your life.

Anyway back to the hospital stay. People joke all the time that hospitals are no place to rest and damn that is so true. I had a roommate Joan, 83 years old. She was in so much pain they had to take her for an MRI to see what was going on. Her surgery was way more complicated than mine and I felt guilty for feeling so good. We chatted a good chunk of the night because neither one of us could sleep, too much beeping, plugs coming undone, the compression sock alarm that nearly gave me a heart attack. Every time I needed to pee I had to be untethered by a nurse, it was an ordeal.

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Rare pic of me wasted.

The lab lady came in at 4am to take blood as if that’s a normal thing…we can’t wait until 8am for this? My surgeon came by for a visit at 5:57am, he must sleep 4 hours a night, max. I was glad to see him though he said the surgery went “perfect” and I believed him because my arm was feeling awesome. I got to shake his hand and thank him and ask weird questions about bone grafts. I won’t bore you with those details let’s just say I have some cadaver parts and I’m totally cool with that. I plan to donate my body to science when I die so perhaps I will be able to return the favor.

So in-between the chats with Joan, vitals being checked, alarms going off and the 4am Vampire – the man across the hall from my room threw several tantrums throughout the night. I heard him being abusive to staff, screaming without regard for any of the other patients and just all out acting like an enraged toddler, it was ridiculous. He was at least 20 years younger than Joan who was in extreme pain and was pleasant with everyone she came in contact with – this guy was the opposite. Needless to say I didn’t sleep much.

I got discharged at 11am and I walked out the door, no wheelchair. First stop was a Starbucks to supplement the tepid weak coffee I got with breakfast. There was a lot of food for breakfast, I only ate the grits (Paul I’m sure you would make better grits). Got a Chai and walked the three blocks to the car, it felt good to be outside. Things were going pretty good, until they weren’t.

About 20 minutes into a 45 minute drive I had to vomit. Told the hubs to pull over, he didn’t. Instead he handed me a Mutt Mit (dog poop bag) and I used that, tied the bag to avoid spills and repeated the process two more times. The fact that he had the foresight to think of this raised his stock considerably. We handled that like champs all the while doing 60MPH headed home like we practiced it. Now I’m waiting for my neck to be sore from that mess so tomorrow may be a rough day.

Anyway, it’s been smooth sailing since then. Fingers crossed we stay the course.

 

 

Confession

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Confession

I’m terrified. There I typed it, now maybe that useless-hell-bent-on-turning-me-into-a-raging-asshole emotion will take a respite now. I’m not terrified all the time, just when I try to sleep or allow the distractions of daily life to melt away so I can concentrate exclusively on all the shit that could possibly go wrong during my surgery. Actually it’s the post surgery chance of blood clots that gives me the willies. Blood clots are sneaky MFers and they do not discriminate. I’ve had some close calls with the bastards before so unlike the Boogeyman, I know they exist.

Obviously I haven’t shared this particular scenario with my kids because I suspect they have their own fears and I don’t need to add to that. So this is my safe space for venting the truth. My husband and I discussed it briefly, it’s amazing how much that man pretends to forget. Whenever you are asked to gather your Advanced Medical Directive, it’s a stone cold reminder of how temporary this life is for all of us. Having those reminders in my face is jarring.

It’s weird how we beat ourselves up, at least I do. I’d like to be some stoic champion that flows through life chakras all aligned and shit no matter what curve balls smack me in the face. Spoiler: I’m not that person. And while I’d like to pat myself on the back for not deep diving into a pity party about my “situation”….I know how ridiculous that is given how fortunate my life has turned out.

I do miss exercise though. I’ve been a gym rat for 30 years. My husband joked about that the other day, the monthly gym fees that have been paid – the very gym which likely exacerbated this condition. I’d still do it all over again. Exercise has been my mental health regime my entire adult life. I don’t drink alcohol or do drugs (though I am dipping into the Xanax this week so I can sleep) and I haven’t gone on a killing spree so clearly the gym was working for me. I haven’t had that since August and I can feel the depression nipping at my toes.

So I’ll walk because I can still do that. And I’ll walk after the surgery because moving is the best way to prevent blood clots. I’ll remind myself that this is temporary. An expensive (really f*cking expensive) and painful inconvenience. I’m actually grateful for the pain in my arm because it reminds me why I’m letting someone cut into my neck and replace some parts. Otherwise this whole situation would seem insane. The near constant pain in my dominate arm coupled with the knowledge that doing nothing could send me into Depends a few decades earlier than anticipated is my motivation.

I’ll remind myself to not worry about the things that will be out of my control like driving, getting kids out the door for school, my clients, my mother, the dog, feeding my family, weight gain, the 2020 election, the fact that my daughter has blue hair now (it’s really cute), do we have enough toilet paper… All that shit will be out of my hands starting Wednesday until I’m well enough to pick them all up again.

I did order myself some socks for the recovery…

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