KC Update

Posted on by

Good news! I was wrong.

KC had her surgery this at 0730 today. The doctors took her phone away from her before surgery because a couple of them wanted something to do while they sedated her. Once awake, they gave it back so she could finish a game she’d been playing. Sadly, one of the operating room staff had finished it for her so now she’ll have to start it again. That wouldn’t have been so bad, but she was almost finished beating it.

Anyway, she came through the surgery just fine. Reports are she gets out of the hospital on Thursday. She didn’t say if it was this week, or even this month … just Thursday. Logic tells me, which it rarely does, that it’s this coming Thursday, the 7th.

I believe the only possible problem is that the selected donor was left-handed, and that’s the elbow KC had replaced. So, there’s going to be a power struggle between KC’s arms since she’s right-handed. That would be fun to watch, don’t you think? I mean, there KC is, trying to write down something when her left hand snatches the pencil from her right hand then get into a slap-fight until she stands up and yells “KNOCK IT OFF!” Then, of course, everyone looks around to see what’s happening and see KC’s hands going at each other.

Even more fun would be watching them fight over the remote controls. Don’t you think?

That’s it. KC is OK.

KC and Others

Posted on by

Many of you probably don’t know, or maybe you just don’t remember, that KC, the ‘other’ California Kathie, is having surgery tomorrow in San Francisco. Apparently her doctors found a willing donor for the ‘new’ elbow she needs. We will be thinking good thought toward her all day tomorrow, instead of only once a day like normal.

The doctors were going to use titanium for the joint, but the guy on the surgical team, who hooked up the bungee cords used to replace tendons, quit in fit of anger over which color he could use, and moved to Nicaragua. He was also told he had to start wearing underwear in surgery, not just the gown, which ruffled his feathers the wrong way.

So, they paid a visit to the San Francisco VA Hospital and found a willing donor, from WW II, who figured he didn’t have much use for his remaining elbow, and gladly donated it for Kathie’s cause. We’re anxious to find out how things turn out.

Continuing the medical theme, I established contact with my new Primary Care Provider, Dr. Sen, who works for the Legacy Health System here in town. I know, I just went to the doctor a week or so ago to re-establish contact with my former PCP whose front office determined that I was no longer a patient there. Now, I am not. Perhaps the young lady I spoke with at the previous doctor’s office is a prophet and knew I was going to switch.

My appointment was this morning at 8:20 am … gotta stop here and share how redundant that statement is … I mean, “…this morning at 8:20 am” … “morning” and “am” pretty much convey the same meaning. Actually, they convey the exact same meaning. So, I’m going to quit being redundant and use “only” military time in the future. I makes more sense to me. So, let me start over …

My appointment was today at 0820 … see how much cleaner that is? … and I was impressed with the vast size of the waiting room, and that there were three (3), yes, 3 (three) really adorable ladies, sitting behind a counter that didn’t have bullet-proof glass to protect them, waiting to check me in.

On the end sat Kristin, a familiar face. Someone I’ve known since the 90’s,  before she could legally date. Here’s an old photo that I’m absolutely positive that she doesn’t know exists. Find Kristin

030301-lindadankristen-01

Incidentally, in case you’re wondering, she’s sitting on the lap of one of her first “Love’s”, her brother Daniel, who also happens to be my, and Diane’s, favorite son-in-law. So, that kinda means that Kristin, when it’s all said and done, is also part of our family. She is, after all, Aunt Kristin to our Grand Children Cedric, Lydia, and Jeran.

kids at Pacific Beach

Here they are all grown up, with their older cousin, Logan …

PICT1936

Diane is better this morning after eating toast so I’ve decided that toast has magical healing properties and I’m looking for some venture capitalists to invest with me to produce it locally and sell in on-line to all those unfortunate millions of folks who don’t have toasters. They have computers, but not toasters. How unfortunate is that? Might be a Hundredaire yet …

I suspect I better stop. Diane is up roaming around the house and I know she’s wearing herself down. Won’t be long before I’ll have to stuff her back under the heating pad and start making more toast.

Hope all is well with everyone.

Caulking and Other Stuff

Posted on by

Not much happened today except for the caulking I did around the porch beams. Now all I have to do is hope for a 50+ degree day so I can paint it. Anything lower and the paint is too thick to spread.

Got a call from the VA hospital today to ask me if I was going to use the dermatology referral. I explained that I had but was thinking about making a new appointment to have my terminal back rash investigated a little more fully. The guy I was talking with told me he could set up a 3-way with my dermatologist, if I wished. After a fairly long pause, I explained to him where my head went when he suggested a three-way causing him to clarify he meant call them so I could make the appointment. I knew that, of course, but he didn’t know that I knew so he was suitably embarrassed.

Got my meds Saturday and now I’m almost normal again. Almost. I’m not dizzy like I was and I’m probably OK to go on the roof. I don’t need to, but I could if I wanted to. That, or just extend the ladder all the way to 24′ and time myself.

I’d ask Diane to time me, but she’s pretty sick right now. I cooked lunch for her and fear I gave her food poisoning. She’s pretty miserable. All I cooked were eggs … over hard for her, easy for me. We each had two of them … her with an English Muffin, me with a toasted bagel with cream cheese. For dinner, even though she wasn’t feeling well, we ate a frozen Freshetta pizza. They’re square and not too bad if you add extra pepperoni, which I did. I don’t think Diane got a lot of nourishment out of it.

As an older brother said, quite often, actually, “This too, shall pass.”

It will be better tomorrow. If not, I get to force her to go to the doctor.

 

Church, Pigs, and Heritage

Posted on by

I didn’t do anything today except go to church. It surprised a lot of people. It’s good we went because Pastor’s birthday was November 1st, All Saints Day, so we got cake. We were actually late for the service because we stopped at Safeway on the way and got the cake. It had raspberry jam in the middle. Very good.

After church, we brought Diane’s Mom, Jean, home with us, just like a normal Sunday. It’s a good day to spend with family. Diane whipped up a terrific lunch of broccoli, carrots (for her), mashed potatoes, applesauce, and pieces of dead pig. We have no idea how long the pig has been dead because the pieces were frozen together so well that she had to use our portable jaws of life to pry them apart so she could fry them. They did, I will add, look a lot like pork chops. Tasted like them, too.

Diane also baked a terrific cherry crunch pie, our favorite from Marie Callender’s. It’s frozen, like the pig parts, and will last pretty much forever. We don’t have them often, but as soon as it’s baked, she buys another one just to have it ready for the next time we decide to have one. Marie also makes a pretty good lemon meringue.

I’m curious about that last word, meringue. I honestly don’t know how something spelled like that can be pronounced like mə-rang, or meˈʁɛ̃ɡ, depending on your nationality. I guess that falls in the category with why me, and most people I know, call Washington Worshington. In know, it’s a pretty minor difference, but I’ve discovered that some Worshingtonians take exception to my pronunciation of their favorite state. Funny how things like that come creeping out of the woodwork, like all the sudden naming conventions for some sports teams are totally unacceptable.

Take the Worshington Redskins, for example. Since that’s a double whammy from me, I wonder if it is, in fact, technically correct, kinda like a double negative. You know, like saying, “I ain’t no idiot!” or, more grammatically correct, “I am not no idiot!”

In my humble opinion, I think the ACLU need for everyone to be politically correct in all things is getting out of hand. The Redskins? Really? I heard one Native American on the news say that referring to her as a Redskin was the same as using the “N” word for an African-American. All my life the Redskins were a football team. I don’t believe I actually connected the name to ‘real’ Native Americans until someone complained about it.

Here’s another one that kinda frosts me … African-American. Native American, I get. They were here first, I think, and Columbus thought he’d landed in India. So, those he me when he got off the boat really aren’t Indians. If he had known where he was, he would have called them New Worldians. But African-Americans, to me, is an odd naming convention. If we are going to begin adding our nationality to what we are as Americans, I must be a European American. That’s because I only know what half my heritage is. There could possibly be some African in there somewhere that would make me, say, an Afro-Euro American. Then there’s gotta be Canadian-American, South American-American, Russian-American, Australian-American, Japanese-American, Chinese-American, and oh ya, Indian-American. Love that last one.

Actually, using the African-American naming convention, all of us have only one of seven choices for picking our nationality, based on where we were born.

  • Africans
  • Antarcticans
  • Asians
  • Australians
  • Europeans
  • North Americans
  • South Americans

If you find it necessary to qualify your continent, based on heritage, then I guess I’m a European-North American. But, most forms ask us about Nationality, not Heritage.

I’m getting used the name changes, slowly, and honestly do not have a problem with most of the hoopla surrounding it. It just seems, to me, that too much effort is being devoted to making it all a big deal. I’ve, personally, got more important things to worry about. If you’re offended, I’m sorry, and you have permission to call me absolutely anything you want. If you do that, don’t expect a reaction from me if your intent is to offend me, it’s a wasted effort. I’m a honky, whitey, haole, whatever. It’s not going to affect me or how I act. Honest. I’ll still do dumb things and might even reinforce whatever pet name with which you wish to anoint me.

Wow! I have no idea where that soap box came from?

OK – I understand why people, all of them, have a tribal need, if you will, to identify with their heritage. That’s fine. I think I’ll start putting down Oregonian-North American on forms that ask for race. One of my brothers is Nebraskan-North American, and another is Wyomingan-North American. I’m the only one in my family who married a woman of the same race as me. Diane is also an Oregonian-North American.

This is just getting stupid and I cannot find a safe way to extract myself from this topic other than to just quit. I regret going down that rabbit hole, and mean no offense to rabbits by using that term.

And, I apologize to all the pigs, cows, chickens, and turkeys of the world because at some point in my life I will consume some of you and/or your offspring. I really don’t think you care about it, but there it is.

I must quit.

Hunting Season

Posted on by

The local deer found out it’s hunting season so they’ve taken up residence in our back yard. Our dogs, who bark at pretty much everything that acts like it’s going to move, went to the back yard and didn’t even know the deer were there.

DSC_8140

 

This is the doe and her fawns that grew up two lots west of us. They usually visit, but don’t hang out, so this is proof that they know hunters are out and about.

Duloxetine and Xfinity

Posted on by

Life is interesting at this time – more so for Diane than me, because I just kind of float around wondering if I’m really going to fall down, of if it’s an illusion manifested to keep me on my little toes. Regardless of how I feel, we both agree that being on the roof today isn’t a good idea. Actually, being vertical isn’t a good idea.

So, I get to sit around all day and only have to make occasional trips to the bathroom, when I remember it’s necessary.

The reason for my current state is the result of running out of Cymbalta 4-5 days ago. This happened while wrangling with my civilian medical provider, who initiated my current refillable script last year before selling her medical practice to another doctor. Then, when I needed the refill, the new doctor’s staff reported that I was no longer a patient at their practice. So, I had to make an appointment to get back on their roles. To their credit, they submitted the refill the day I made the appointment, not the day it was scheduled, which was about 4 days later, but the refill has yet to arrive.

Consequently, the effects on my tiny brain are pretty profound. Here’s what I found on the internet about it …

Cymbalta withdrawal

  • Withdrawal side effects of Cymbalta include aggression, anxiety, balance problems, blurred vision, zapping sensations in the head, constipation, crying spells, depersonalization, diarrhea, dizziness, fatigue, flatulence, flu-like symptoms, hostility, mood swings, indigestion, migraines, lethargy or drowsiness, paranoia, sleep disturbances, cramps, ringing in ears, worsened depression, severe restlessness, nausea, headaches, unpleasant sensations such as tingling or burning, vomiting, irritability or nightmares.

Having shared all that, I also share that I do not take this med for depression. I take it for nerve pain and it helps. Oddly, however, since being without it for a number of days, the overriding sensation is vertigo.

Diane thinks I have all those symptoms whether or not I’m taking my meds.

I have permission to wither away this Saturday, indulging in my required NCAA football ‘fix’, and playing with my Xfinity X1 remote. Did you know that this astounding remote unit will allow you to watch whatever channel you wish while displaying all of the scores, and current statues of a game, for any sport? All you need to do it press the round, red “C” button. How convenient is that? In this house it’s mine alone because it would, literally, drive Diane over the edge.

In my current state it’s just … fun.

Ya know?

More Painting, American Legion, Trojans and Beavers

Posted on by

The painting is done, I think, but there’s still paint left over so I may have to do more. We’ll see. Oh wait, there’s still the underside of the upper and lower porches. And, maybe even the underside of the covered area where we store all the yard tools. I suppose it’s got a name, as porches go, but it’s just “the porch outside the kitchen door” to me. Maybe it’s the “kitchen porch”. I don’t know, doesn’t matter. It’s also a covered place where all the neighborhood cats come to get a free snack pretty much every day.

So, I guess the painting really isn’t done, is it? That’s rhetorical so you don’t have to answer, unless you really want to. I tend to answer rhetorical questions all the time.

Although the painting really isn’t done, as I initially reported, I did get a lot of it done, some of it from the top of some perilously tall ladders, and from the roof. Diane was concerned much of the time because I had to dig holes to make the ladder level on the less than level portion that goes around to the daylight basement. Or, cement blocks and rocks to level things out on the back stairs. The only casualty I had was when the ladder attachment I have creates a wider, more stable area at the top of the ladder, fell off and made an exciting amount of noise that caused Diane to rush onto the porch to see if I was prone or vertical. It missed me, by a hair, but I felt the wind.

This house has a large expanse of eaves that caused me great concern because it’s all overhead work. But, it’s roller work, not a brush. Incidentally, in case I didn’t mention it previously, all the other painting I’ve done was with a 2.5 inch brush, and a 3 inch roller. The bulk of it was done yesterday and it absolutely killed my poor little right arm. I know, that’s whining, but it’s true. Though it hurt, I continued anyway because I’m on a deadline. I don’t know what it is, but I’m on one.

After painting all day, I was allowed to sit for about 20 minutes before I had to go to the St. Helens Moose Lodge for a monthly American Legion meeting. I figured it was probably a good idea that I went to the meeting because I’m the Sgt. At Arms.

I know what you’re thinking … why would any reputable organization vote me into a position like that, right?  Well, no one wanted to do it so I volunteered. Now you’re thinking, “why would you volunteer for anything? Have you learned nothing over all these years?”

Apparently not, but this exalted position comes with a really nifty pin for my hat, denoting my position as a club officer. Don’t forget, too, that I’m our church council president. I volunteered for that one, too. Guess I’ll never learn, will I? My only comment regarding all of this is that both jobs need to be done and someone needs to do them. So, I do them. It gives me a false sense of power. Some day, if I keep volunteering, I’m going to get one of those jobs that comes with a hammer.

Now, about having an American Legion meeting at the Moose Club? We do it because they let us. The AM used to have its own building but they got rid of it for some reason, a long time before I joined the club. Seems like, maybe, the building was condemned. I’m not positive about that, but my friend, Doug, knows the answer. He told me tonight that he wastes a lot of time reading my entries here so maybe he’ll help me out. Maybe not.

I’m currently watching a recording of the USC Trojans vs. Oregon St. Beavers in a Pac-12 battle. Although I’m from Oregon, and logic says I should cheer for the Beavers, another line of logic says it makes far more sense to me to cheer for a team named after an animal that cuts down trees with its teeth rather than for a team named after a popular condom, that comes in a stunning array of festive colors, I’m told.

I jest, of course.

In truth, however, I just don’t like USC. It’s nothing personal. It’s just that I’m from Oregon. I’m also a Duck fan. And, I used to work at the Trojan Nuclear Power Plant, the same place Homer Simpson worked, so what do I know. I understand that Homer is just pretend, but everything that happens in Homer’s fake life is Oregon-based, including his place of employment. Sadly, the Trojan plant has been dismantled, and the cooling tower was destroyed, but it lives on in Homer’s life.

I’m done here … goodnight

Happy Halloween from Halloween Town

Posted on by

We live on a dead-end street in “Old People” territory so we don’t get your normal, run of the mill trick or treaters. Whoever stops by our house has to want to be here for other reasons besides candy. For that reason, we just had an influx of 4 children all of whom are related to us in some manner. Three were grand children, and one was a cousin of the largest grand child. All of them are girls. Daniel was the only one of the manly persuasion who showed up.

Cedric told his Mom she look like a tennis shoe. What do you think? I think she’s just cute.

DSC_8121 DSC_8109

 

Today was another busy day of painting for both of us. We’re still not completely done, but we’re getting there. It didn’t rain today like we thought it would so we had a reprieve. Tomorrow it’s supposed to start raining sometime late afternoon. I’ll believe it when I see it and will continue working on these outdoor projects until the paint starts running off the side of the house. Then I’ll take a picture for you.

Another interesting moment was when Diane decided to vacuum the weeds around the rhodies I hacked down. As you can see, they are sprouting and will be all bushed out in no time at all. You can also see the progress Diane made with the shop vac ..

DSC_8100

She wasn’t vacuuming weeds. I was kidding. She was vacuuming up paint chips and dirt. We were at this until it got dark at 7 pm. Tomorrow Diane isn’t going to be able to walk because her knees are toast, and I have terminal pain in my right shoulder. But, we’re on a roll and will keep it going.

Had a Taco Bell supper tonight. Diane buzzed down to the drive-thru in her nightie to get it.

That’s it.

 

Scraping, Painting, and Mowing

Posted on by

Today was another beauty. Cold, but pretty. I spent all of it painting the pointy end of the house, and the trim around the garage doors. Oh, and one window frame.

Doesn’t seem like much, does it?

Before painting, I did some more scraping on places that needed it. Oh, and I went to the Lions Club paper boxes to straighten them up. Today is Fred’s day, but I didn’t get it done yesterday, my day, so I had to do it  early this morning before Fred got there and found out. Consequently, when Fred did get there, he didn’t have anything to do, which is really the point. He’s much older than me.

Maybe that’s why I didn’t get much painting done. I did other stuff, first. Tomorrow that’s going to be different. I’m starting out with painting, and it’s going to get done. All of it. And, I have to get it done by 4 pm because someone told me that it’s probably going to rain tomorrow. That, and after 4 pm it starts getting colder and paint doesn’t work so well. It’s pretty stiff when it gets down around freezing.

There was something really important I wanted to share with everyone, but I can’t remember what it was.

One interesting thing today was when Diane sucked up all the leaves in our front yard. She used the lawn mower, something she doesn’t use very often. So, it was no surprise when I heard the distinctive sound of twirling lawn mower blades hit a rock. Shortly thereafter Diane called to tell me she ran over a rock and needed help. I went over and found a very large rock under the edge of the mower deck. The most interesting thing about that was the mower had drug this rock about 10 feet away from where it normally resides.

I stopped the mower deck and killed the engine so we could extract the rock. I had to lift the mower so Diane could pull it out. Then she went back to finishing up with a new awareness about how wide the mower deck is. She only had a couple of swipes to make to finish up. I watched her take off, beating on the button that engages the mower deck, trying to get it to start. When she turned around and could see me I pantomimed that she should pull the button, not push it. It was very entertaining.

But, you know what? She did a great job and cleaning up the front lawn was a huge help for me and I appreciate it.  I know her so well that I’m absolutely positive that she’s going to be upset that I shared that with you. It’s a nice change because normally I’m sharing semi-entertaining things I do, or do to myself. So, perhaps she will give me a little latitude with this indiscretion.

Here’re some of the leaves she cleaned up, minus the kidlets. They are Baylee, Jerrie, and Gilligan.

IMG_0034

Here’s what it looked like when she was done. DSC_8087 DSC_8094

Now I’m going to quit.

Ladders, and Soccer

Posted on by

Today I lived dangerously and climbed a ladder over and over. I didn’t fall off even one time. It was amazing. I actually climbed three different ladders. One was a six-foot step-ladder and the other two are 24 foot extension ladders. They are really only 12 feet tall until they are extended. You probably already knew that.

The reason for the ladders was to repair parts of the eaves, on the house, and to scrape of a bunch of blistered paint that needed to be scraped off the windows and wood parts. Then I’m going to climb those ladders, again, carrying paint which I will be applied very carefully to all the wooden parts I can reach. All we have to do is pick the colors.

Right now the colors are red, white, and some sort of cruddy brown. It’s going to be a marathon and it’s going to be done no later than Friday.

Sounds good, but we’ll see how that goes.

The afternoon was spent driving to Rex Putnam High School in Milwaukie for Lydia’s last soccer game. Her team lost 3-1, but it was still a good game. The girls played very hard against a rough team who apparently had the referees in their pockets. Lydia got knocked down by a girl about twice her size and she fell on the ball. The other girl kicked Lydia in the leg while, supposedly, kicking at the ball.

Spilt milk, I know. It’s done, and bruises heal … but wait until next year.

It’s 9:05 pm now, and we vowed to call it a night at 9, so I better get going before I get in more trouble. Got more scraping to do in the morning, then painting in the afternoon.

More ladder time.

News at 11.

Oh! And Jerry & Nelda made it home this afternoon. They left our house Saturday morning and drove 400 miles before finding their way back. I think Jerry made a few more left turns than right ones. But, they’re safe, for now.