Last week I had a laparoscopic cholecystectomy. For you non doctors out there, that's what is sometimes referred to as "balloon gallbladder surgery". Now if you talk to anyone who had traditional gallbladder surgery, then you will be told that this balloon method is much easier, some even fool you into thinking that it is a piece of cake. It is not a piece of cake. I had a caesarian section once that I felt better after, but come to think of it, I had a baby at the other end of that one!
When I came out of anesthetic in the recovery room, I felt great.....really woozy and great, except for the desert in my mouth. Boy, was I dry! I was given ice chips (thank you very much!) and shipped off to a room to recover even more. I was feeling great about the world....my husband (who in solidarity had not eaten since before midnight either) was by my side and I was looking forward to hopping into some street clothes and going home. My sweet little nurse (and she was really really sweet!) advised me that I had to do three things before I could go home.....I had to eat something, drink something, and pee. No problem!!!! I've been doing all three most of my life and I'm really good at all of them! Soda cracker went down with no problem, got myself 3 cups of cranberry, 3 glasses of ice chips, 2 popcycles, and 6 glasses of water, had them unhook me from the bag of fluids that was pinning me to the bed and headed off to the bathroom. Uh......no go, if you get my drift. Nurse came in to check on me and started the water. I imagined Niagara Falls. Nothing. Soooooo, back to the bed, 3 more glasses of water, 3 more popcycles and 2 glasses of hot tea. Back to the bathroom. Uh......no success. Nurse informed me that I was "on the clock" and had to go soon or I would have to be, gulp, cathed and that meant an overnight stay. Well, it was just too much pressure for me. To say I had a "shy bladder" would be a gross understatement. For someone who considers herself to be a pretty good "pee-er" this was humiliating. I resigned myself to the overnight stay, and maybe getting a good nights sleep. I got the room next to the helicopter pad.
So, we tried again the next day. Do you remember the happy dance you did when you were potty training your kids? The clapping, the excitement, the "good job" and other words of encouragement? Well, the next day those nurses did it all except no M&Ms. But I was going home, and that was good. It was very very good.
My first visitors upon coming home, were my daughter Cari and my two little granddaughters. They were advised not to jump on me or bump my tummy so they approached very carefully. (Usually they fling themselves into my arms whether I'm ready or not!!!) Little Sharon, aged 4, asked me, "why did they take your gumbladder out?" "Well," I told her, "it didn't work right." Now, my husband had his knee replaced last winter, so this replacement procedure is familiar to her. "When will you get your new gumbladder, Grammy?" she asked with complete innocence. When I told her I would NOT be getting a new "gumbladder" her eyes got wide with concern, and she asked, "can you live without one?" I told her I could. I could see puzzlement on her little face. "Then why do we have one?" Smart kid.
Well, its been six days and I feel human again. The worst part of the procedure is the gas they pump into you so they can work in there. It goes up into your chest and shoulders and you have a hard time catching your breath or breathing. After two days or so, the gas moves downward. Ahhhh, this feeling is familiar! I know what to do now.
So, this ordeal is over. I am on the mend, itching to get back into the garden, itching to sleep through the night (on my stomach) and itching to wear pants with a waistband again. That pants thing might be next week tho.
Monday, July 22, 2013
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Willie
Russ and I lost our friend Willie this week. He passed away Sunday night, after a year of health issues that just couldn't be surmounted. We are going to miss him very much.
Russ has known Willie most of his life. He actually started out as the friend of his older brothers, Sam and Stan. But as Russ grew older, Will became a friend in his own right. These past few days we have spent some time reminiscing about Willie and the good times shared over the years.
Here is what I know about Willie. I heard that in the 50's he was a Golden Glove boxer. Hard for me to imagine him as a scrappy fighter, altho Roseanne assures me he was scrappy all his life. To me he seemed a sweet man, and I know that no man likes to be labeled as sweet, but nevertheless, that is how I saw him. And while we're talking about the 50's, he always wore that modified flattop hairdo, so popular with guys in that era.
He has a wonderful wife....a really, really wonderful wife. What has impressed me over the years, is how much they respected each other, and how nicely they spoke of each other....a match for life. Will was proud of his family. When speaking of his daughters, he always referred to them by their full names. Diana was always Diana, and Ann Marie, always Ann Marie. Kinda like royalty....no nicknames and I'm sure that's how he saw them. But Billy was Billy. Sons should have nicknames, easier to have a beer with I guess.
Will liked to hunt and loved going to hunting camp. I don't know exactly what went on there....I suppose some poker and some beer drinking, after all, like Vegas, what happens at deer camp, stays at deer camp! But I know that everyone had a good time, from the "edited" versions I heard when Russ and Joe came home. How many times Russ chuckled over some "Willie" story over the years.
He loved tripe, and how! Whenever Russ put up a big pot of tripe, he always made some extra for Will and Roseann. I don't know exactly what it is about tripe...the name doesn't even sound good, let alone the sight and smell of it as it cooks, but he loved it. We will be thinking of him with every kettle we put up from now on.
One year Russ and I decided to try our hand at making wine. Willie gave us seven crates of Niagaras and we ended up with some of the finest wine I've ever tasted. We couldn't duplicate that wine as we didn't write down the "recipe", but Will found out that I liked white wine, so after that, he always brought me a bottle or two of his homemade vino and always asked how I liked it. One year, he brought me a case....that's twelve bottles! He told me that Roseanne said it was too sour, but he told me to put a pinch or two of sugar in each glass and it would be better. So that's what I did. Plus it was a perfect accompaniment to Hershey kisses. It almost became a metaphor for living life....when life gets sour, add a pinch of sugar and eat chocolate! Thanks, Will!
Will collected friends like bees collect pollen. He has friendships that have lasted 60 years or more. If you were his friend, you were a friend for life. Everyone will miss him.
I hope his family can take some comfort in these sad days in knowing how much Will was loved, and how fondly he will be remembered. May songs of the angels welcome him, and may he rest in the tender arms of his Saviour.
Russ has known Willie most of his life. He actually started out as the friend of his older brothers, Sam and Stan. But as Russ grew older, Will became a friend in his own right. These past few days we have spent some time reminiscing about Willie and the good times shared over the years.
Here is what I know about Willie. I heard that in the 50's he was a Golden Glove boxer. Hard for me to imagine him as a scrappy fighter, altho Roseanne assures me he was scrappy all his life. To me he seemed a sweet man, and I know that no man likes to be labeled as sweet, but nevertheless, that is how I saw him. And while we're talking about the 50's, he always wore that modified flattop hairdo, so popular with guys in that era.
He has a wonderful wife....a really, really wonderful wife. What has impressed me over the years, is how much they respected each other, and how nicely they spoke of each other....a match for life. Will was proud of his family. When speaking of his daughters, he always referred to them by their full names. Diana was always Diana, and Ann Marie, always Ann Marie. Kinda like royalty....no nicknames and I'm sure that's how he saw them. But Billy was Billy. Sons should have nicknames, easier to have a beer with I guess.
Will liked to hunt and loved going to hunting camp. I don't know exactly what went on there....I suppose some poker and some beer drinking, after all, like Vegas, what happens at deer camp, stays at deer camp! But I know that everyone had a good time, from the "edited" versions I heard when Russ and Joe came home. How many times Russ chuckled over some "Willie" story over the years.
He loved tripe, and how! Whenever Russ put up a big pot of tripe, he always made some extra for Will and Roseann. I don't know exactly what it is about tripe...the name doesn't even sound good, let alone the sight and smell of it as it cooks, but he loved it. We will be thinking of him with every kettle we put up from now on.
One year Russ and I decided to try our hand at making wine. Willie gave us seven crates of Niagaras and we ended up with some of the finest wine I've ever tasted. We couldn't duplicate that wine as we didn't write down the "recipe", but Will found out that I liked white wine, so after that, he always brought me a bottle or two of his homemade vino and always asked how I liked it. One year, he brought me a case....that's twelve bottles! He told me that Roseanne said it was too sour, but he told me to put a pinch or two of sugar in each glass and it would be better. So that's what I did. Plus it was a perfect accompaniment to Hershey kisses. It almost became a metaphor for living life....when life gets sour, add a pinch of sugar and eat chocolate! Thanks, Will!
Will collected friends like bees collect pollen. He has friendships that have lasted 60 years or more. If you were his friend, you were a friend for life. Everyone will miss him.
I hope his family can take some comfort in these sad days in knowing how much Will was loved, and how fondly he will be remembered. May songs of the angels welcome him, and may he rest in the tender arms of his Saviour.
Monday, July 8, 2013
Hiss, Boo!
Hello blog buddies. Sorry I have been AFK because I was PW, and G (pulling weeds and gardening!). However, have lots of "stuff" floating around in this ole head of mine, and promise to start blogging on a regular basis now that my outside work is done (besides, it's too hot outside anyway!)
But what has gotten me off my duff and back onto the blog job today is something so frightening and disgusting that I just had to write about it. Hold onto your hats, folks, you won't believe this. There was a snake in my flower garden. THERE WAS A SNAKE IN MY FLOWER GARDEN!!!! He was laying there right beside the hosta and in front of the mum that I cut back last week. Just "laying in wait" to scare the spit out of me, is more like it.
Hubby and I decided to run up to the school to see granddaughter #1 practicing with the band, and as I went to get into the truck, there he was. All coiled up and looking ucky. So, after seeing him, I did what any self respecting woman would do.....I screamed. "Russ, Russ, come here quick, there's a snake in the garden. "There is not," he said. "Well, I'll be damned" as he looked over my shoulder. Now, being married for as long as I have, and knowing him as I do, I know he is not partial to snakes. In fact, he hates them. So maybe it was expecting too much of him to do something about it. "Get it, get it!!!" said I. He then informed me that it was just a garter snake. JUST a garter snake. He said it as if he was saying, "Just a butterfly, just a baby sparrow" It was a snake, and I expected him to get rid of it. He, being an expert on garter snakes I guess, told me that we should leave it alone as they eat insects and bugs. Not much of a comfort. I am not afraid of insects and bugs (except for large spiders and centipedes, they give me the creeps).
Well, I headed back toward the house and he asked where I was going. "I'm going to get a plastic bag and something to scoop him into the bag with" He just laughed and I guess he was right to laugh, because really, I couldn't have gone thru with it. So I just made him pull out of the driveway so I could get into the truck and not have to walk near the thing.
I spent the next hour fretting and obsessing about the snake. I just don't understand how Eve could have been taken in by such a creature. They don't look the least bit trustworthy. They ooze evilness. They slither, they hiss, they coil up. They have a HUGE ick factor. Only another snake could love them.
So after I was good and worked up, I made Russ take me home to check out the situation, and guess what. He was gone. Now you might think I was relieved, but you would be wrong. Where has he gone? Is he in the veggie garden hiding in the beans that I have to pick tomorrow? Did he find a way into the house? Is he coming back? Will I sleep tonight? Will I ever sleep again? I did get on the computer and went to paherp.com and confirmed it WAS a garter snake. I think I really did know it, but it was nice to know for sure!
The only thing grosser I ever saw in my yard, was a possum once. But that's another blog for another day. Ta ta, from wild kingdom.
But what has gotten me off my duff and back onto the blog job today is something so frightening and disgusting that I just had to write about it. Hold onto your hats, folks, you won't believe this. There was a snake in my flower garden. THERE WAS A SNAKE IN MY FLOWER GARDEN!!!! He was laying there right beside the hosta and in front of the mum that I cut back last week. Just "laying in wait" to scare the spit out of me, is more like it.
Hubby and I decided to run up to the school to see granddaughter #1 practicing with the band, and as I went to get into the truck, there he was. All coiled up and looking ucky. So, after seeing him, I did what any self respecting woman would do.....I screamed. "Russ, Russ, come here quick, there's a snake in the garden. "There is not," he said. "Well, I'll be damned" as he looked over my shoulder. Now, being married for as long as I have, and knowing him as I do, I know he is not partial to snakes. In fact, he hates them. So maybe it was expecting too much of him to do something about it. "Get it, get it!!!" said I. He then informed me that it was just a garter snake. JUST a garter snake. He said it as if he was saying, "Just a butterfly, just a baby sparrow" It was a snake, and I expected him to get rid of it. He, being an expert on garter snakes I guess, told me that we should leave it alone as they eat insects and bugs. Not much of a comfort. I am not afraid of insects and bugs (except for large spiders and centipedes, they give me the creeps).
Well, I headed back toward the house and he asked where I was going. "I'm going to get a plastic bag and something to scoop him into the bag with" He just laughed and I guess he was right to laugh, because really, I couldn't have gone thru with it. So I just made him pull out of the driveway so I could get into the truck and not have to walk near the thing.
I spent the next hour fretting and obsessing about the snake. I just don't understand how Eve could have been taken in by such a creature. They don't look the least bit trustworthy. They ooze evilness. They slither, they hiss, they coil up. They have a HUGE ick factor. Only another snake could love them.
So after I was good and worked up, I made Russ take me home to check out the situation, and guess what. He was gone. Now you might think I was relieved, but you would be wrong. Where has he gone? Is he in the veggie garden hiding in the beans that I have to pick tomorrow? Did he find a way into the house? Is he coming back? Will I sleep tonight? Will I ever sleep again? I did get on the computer and went to paherp.com and confirmed it WAS a garter snake. I think I really did know it, but it was nice to know for sure!
The only thing grosser I ever saw in my yard, was a possum once. But that's another blog for another day. Ta ta, from wild kingdom.
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