My big fat gourmet potato soup dinner

SO, I was trying to be nice to my poor hurting sweetie tonight and make him some homemade soup, which seems to be all he can eat these days. We found a really good recipe for homemade baked potato soup (with bacon and caramelized onions and cream and stuff). I spent about two hours peeling, chopping and boiling potatoes, onions, garlic etc. Fried up the bacon nice and crispy, lovingly seasoned the soup. It tasted and smelled WONDERFUL. I had just finished some homemade blueberry muffins and set the table when I called everyone to dinner. I heard them all on their way in, so I grabbed the pot of soup and went to set it on a trivet on the table.


At just that moment, Buddy, the little elderly mop-dog, decided that he was going to make his way out of where he'd been sleeping, unseen, under the table. There was a frantic dance, much scrabbling of claws on laminate, and then this:



When my daughter came into the room, I was standing over it with legs aspraddle. Thick, fragrant potato soup was splattered all the way up to my knees. My mouth was hanging open. So was hers. We looked at each other. "Oh, Mommy..." she said, giving me a half-hug, but being careful not to get too close. While we surveyed the disaster, the weiner dog slipped in. One weiner cleanup crew, on the job. Our eyes met again, and we started laughing.


We laughed so hard I thought I might wet myself. I had to go out to tell B that dinner might take a few more minutes, while the girl ran to Burger King for backup. I tried to tell him what had happened, but every time I did I fell victim to the giggle fit.


Judge for yourself. It was howlingly funny. There are some days you just gotta laugh.

Still under the storm clouds

B is home sick today. After days and days of pain from the tooth, he woke up yesterday hurting more than ever. We tried to go to work, but I ended up making him an emergency appointment for the afternoon. After two hours in the chair, they'd drained the abscess and put in a temporary root canal patch, and he's supposed to come back in two weeks. In the meantime, they changed the antibiotic that wasn't working to something different.

I spent an hour in line at the pharmacy, fighting with them. They initially tried to give him something he was allergic to, and then they were too busy to put us through to the front of the line after they realized their mistake. Needless to say, as they were also filling the pain meds for us, I was not happy.

The girl was incredibly sweet last night. She made B some homemade gourmet-style asparagus and brie cream soup. It was wonderful. I think the kids were worried about him.

He got on the Vicodin and we thought it might be better, but he was up and down all night long, as soon as the anaesthetic wore off, in agony. I left him this morning, against my will, with two more Vicodin just beginning to take effect. I hope he can get some sleep.

And I have to be here at work, wondering how he is. This is going to drive me crazy today.

New painting... so excited!

WE are almost done with our furniture refinishing project out in the garage, and B says I can bring the china hutch out soon! The little sewing machine cabinet looks so beautiful and shiny with its first coat of varnish. Tonight will be the second coat, and then I'll take some pictures. Wish I'd taken the 'before' shots.

I am currently working on a new painting, and although it's very different from the last few, it's coming out wonderfully. I can't remember being so excited to run home and get started on a painting. I didn't want to put my brushes down last night to go to bed...

Fall is a time for renewed creativity and productivity for me, but I am just exploding with it this year. Is it the soft warmth of B's approval and encouragement that has me blossoming at such a late stage in my game?

I don't know, but I'm loving it!

Calendula

October 13: Ten Months

A beautiful thought

THIS quote was left on the comment board in response to the article I posted a link to yesterday about spouses who die close together. It moved me. I couldn't have said it more eloquently myself.

That many old lovers follow their longtime partners out of this life is neither surprising nor strange. True love is misconceived and trivialized by the entertainment industry, but it is real: a genuine union of souls, or identities if you will, that grows stronger over time until much of each person is knit up with the other person's essence. ... I am fortunate in having a partner who is deeply a part of me. When someday our bodies become more of a burden than a vehicle, I hope to exit quietly and gracefully with her through the doorway of the unknown, hand in hand and eye to eye as the light fades. — Michael Massey, Dallas

One more

The Spoon Theory

http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/navigation/BYDLS-TheSpoonTheory.pdf

The article's about lupus, but this is the best description I've ever found for how it feels to live with a chronic disease.

____________________________________________________

B spends so many of his spoons on me. I am still, always profoundly thankful.

Three links

TODAY I logged on to find some really neat things in E-land. I had to share them with you.

• An article on MSNBC titled "When it's time for Grandma to stop driving".(http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/27051758/)

This article tackles the sensitive subject of when and how to confiscate the keys from someone who may have become a hazard to themselves or others. For those of us living with our beloved Parkies, there will be some dip into reality at some point in the game, whether they recognise it and cede the driving duties to their loved ones, or whether it has to become the game of 'how to hide the keys from Grandma'. There's a little video attached to the article which promises to be useful, although I was not able to view it from my computer here. One more thing to contend with...

• Another article from MSNBS titled "Never to part: Devoted couples share life; death" (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26980587/)

If this article doesn't make you cry, you don't have a heart. I've spoken before in earlier posts about B and I, and this love we share. I do truly believe that God sent us to each other... that we were each the rope for each other that stopped us from circling the cosmic drain. Many times as we spend quiet time, snuggling, hugging, lying silent in the dark waiting for sleep, we are amused to find that our breathing has synced, like a soft stereophonic melody... metronomic. Comforting. But perhaps there is a biological reason for it. This is excerpted from the article (but by no means the most poignant passage. Do go read it for yourself)

"The more spiritually minded believe that the bond between some couples may be so strong that when one soul departs, the other chooses to follow....

...But there may be other forces at play as well. Research shows that in some cases, one person’s heartbeat can affect, even regulate, another’s, possibly acting as a type of life support.

In one such study, Rollin McCraty, research director at the Institute of HeartMath in Boulder Creek, Calif., looked at what happened to six longtime couples' hearts while they slept. Heart-rate monitors revealed that during the night, as the couple slept beside each other, their heart rhythms fell into sync, rising and falling at the same time. When the printouts of their EKGs were placed on top of each other, they looked virtually the same. "

Statistics say that I will be a younger widow, when the time comes. But like Virginia, in the article, crying "Where is Aurlo?" I would be unmoored without my love. Death is a horrible, unthinkable topic filled with a terrible beauty. There is no way I can get my mind around a life without B. There is no romanticism to this story. This is no Romeo and Juliet teenage drama, fraught with sturm und drang. Death is a wonderful gift.. a natural process. A passing over to a place of wonder, of no pain or disability. If you have faith, then you look forward to it - the going home. Is it a small wonder that I can't imagine the thought of wandering here aimlessly after B is gone, trying futilely to darn the gaping hole in my heart that the loss of him would leave, crying "Where is B"? Or instead, lie still like an autumn leaf in the corner, waiting for the wind that would blow me to his side?

• The third neat thing was that I logged onto the blog to find that B's 'other-coast counterpart' had left a really cool comment for me! (http://shaakysworld.blogspot.com/ )

He's the husband of my blog friend Mary (http://lifewithshaky.blogspot.com/), and they both keep informative and insightful blogs about this life with YOPD. I do my best to both blog and email, but life keeps getting in the way somehow. Still, each time I have the pleasure of reading one of their posts I find that they seem to touch on subjects that are both tough and pertinent, with an amazing sense of sensitivity and accuracy. It seems like they, as a couple, are going through this journey in roughly parallel places to where B and I are, with a few minor differences. I can't tell you how relieving it is to be able to hear from someone who is in the same place as you... someone who understands that this life is both the greatest gift we've ever been given, and one of the most challenging things we'll ever tackle. My hat is off to them: parents of young children, activists, devout foster parents, and YOPD strugglers. When I visit my blog to vent and cry and shout with joy and generally try to make sense of it all, these are the people who understand. :-)

___________________________________________________________

In other news, I asked the Walk-in clinic last night if they issued frequent flyer miles. I had to take the boy in last night for what looked like strep throat (but is being called just a virus, pending the culture). This makes three out of four in our family that has been in to the walk-in clinic over the last week. Three family members... three different diagnoses. One has to wonder what weird and wonderful thing *I'll* be stricken with. Whatever it is, it'll have to hit in the next two days to make it four-for-four. LOL (If I don't get sick, do you think I should buy a lottery ticket??)

I started seeing a massage therapist yesterday evening for my poor crooked neck. I had an old on the job injury from about 2000 (ruptured disc) that has been hurting for about the last six months. I finally got to the point where it's been making me crabby due to all the pain, and the chiropractor isn't cutting it, so I tried the masseuse. She found the spots, all right. There was a lump the size of a walnut in my muscle that she worked on for about half an hour. I still hurt today, just from the work. Three days a week for an hour a day, for a month. We'll see if it works. She did order me to go home and soak in the bathtub for 20 minutes. HA! We laughed about that on the phone today when she called to see how I'd done. She said "Yeah, you're a mother. I figured you wouldn't make that one!" :-D I told her I'd try to do better this week.

Ouch

POOR B is at home today, out sick. He's been down much of the weekend, having some pretty severe jaw pain. We went to the walk in clinic on Sunday (I was sure they were going to issue me their frequent-flier card) and got some antibiotics and codeine for pain. It was still pretty hairy last night. We didn't get a lot of sleep.

I bullied him into going to the dentist this morning. He hasn't seen anyone for a great deal of time. It turns out that he does indeed have an abscess, and worse, there are about four teeth in the same boat. My poor baby...

Thank God we got on it, though. How long has he walked around with this infection circulating around his body? How much of his feeling 'punky' is the PD, and how much is this recurrent, chronic infectuous state? I guess we'll find out.

Until then, he's sleeping. Praise heaven.

A look into the sun

IT'S FUNNY sometimes how life seems to throw you for a loop just when you think things are rolling right along.

Earlier this spring, I bought B and I season passes to the community concert association. We had long been talking about not getting out of the house enough, and thought that it might be a nice diversion. Last night was the first concert of the season. We took care of the household things, got the kids settled with their dinner for their evening home alone, and left early to go out to dinner. We had talked about how we were going to go to the concert all day, and had even made plans to meet some coworkers there. I had my outfit all picked out and laid out on the bed at home, waiting.

Halfway through dinner, B looked at me and said "Are you really vested in going to that concert?" I looked up from my club sandwich, and noticed that he'd really hit the wall.

"Not really." I said. "I was just going as a way to spend more time with you. It doesn't really matter to me where we go, as long as we get to be together." He was relieved, and so was I, in a way. The scheduled performers weren't really either of our cups of tea.

When we got home, the kids were surprised to see us. The girl was on the couch, doing her homework, as she has been every night, to my eternal surprise. She's really been taking her AP classes seriously (advanced placement). This is the first time I've seen straight A's out of either of the kids since fifth grade (more on that later). She looked a little bit flushed.

Earlier that morning she had come to me with a comment that had tweaked my momdar. She said that over the last month, she'd had her 'little visitor' for most all of the month. That didn't sound right to me, so I did a bunch of calling around yesterday. She's in between doctors, and I was ultimately only able to schedule her for an appointment at the end of the month. (Even then, it was with OB/GYN, not the family doctor. We are short doctors at our clinic in a big way, and it's hard to get a slot.) I was in the kitchen writing down the appointment time on the big bulletin board when she came in. "I talked to OB/GYN and got you in." I told her. "They want you to go ahead and keep on your medication, but it will be a few weeks before we can get in to see the doctor."

She started to cry, putting her face in her hands.

My heart hit the floor. "What's up, honey?" I asked her, my hands on her shoulders.

"I don't know." she sobbed. "I just feel so...sick." She folded into my arms, and I felt how hot she was.

I did some gentle prying to determine what she meant by 'sick', and how long, etc, and finally was able to discern that her back had begun to hurt yesterday morning, pretty badly. She had been complaining of feeling sick and tired the day before as well. "High up on your back?" I asked.

A kidney.

"We need to go to walk-in." I told her, and she cried harder. She's needle-phobic, and the last time she had a kidney infection she'd had to have an IV. It was a testimony to how sick she felt that she let me lead her out of the house, sobbing all the way. Rather than go through the room where her brother and friend were, we opted to go through the garage so she wouldn't be embarrassed.

B took one look at her and melted. "I have to take her in. It's her kidney." I told him.

"Oh, honey," he said, gathering her up in an embrace. She cried on his shoulder for a moment, and I watched the tenderness in his hands as he touched her cheek and brushed her hair out of her tears. "You go in and let them take care of you. It will make it all better, soon. Do you want me to come with you too?"

She sniffed and shook her head, and off we went.

An hour later (and no pokes - we turned down the in-office jump start antibiotic shot with the promise that she'd double up on the meds as soon as she got home) we arrived back home, very relieved. I was sorry to have to inform her that she'd probably have many more of these UTIs, being a woman and possessed of a hereditary tendency, but she's learning how to listen to her body so that it doesn't go that far. She got on her antibiotics, ate some dinner, and finished up her homework.

After we went to bed, B and I chatted idly for a while and I talked about what the doctor had said. "Thank heavens we didn't decide to go to the concert." I said. "We would have ended up coming home at 11 rather than 7." Which means, of course, that we would have had an emergency room visit rather than a walk in clinic visit, which would have meant most of the night in a waiting room. The ER never seems to be less than a 4 hour proposition.

He was silent a long time, and finally he said "Thank you for setting me up."

I knew exactly what he meant. I laid there in the darkness and reran the nights events, and that one thing kept looming, jumping out at me. The picture of B, holding my daughter, taking her in and comforting her as naturally as breathing, as if she were his own child sprung forth from his loins. Sure, I had led her out there on purpose. She needed me that night, but more than that, she needed both of us. She needed a mother's comfort, and a father's strong shoulder - that reassurance that everything is going to be all right.

I tried in my stumbling way to explain that to him, to thank him, to tell him how much it had moved me. And all of a sudden, I was overwhelmed, with joy, with gratitude, with the love and the rightness and the disbelief of it all. And a bittersweet touch of sadness, iced with relief. Sadness in the memory that I'd been the same kind of child, wishing and hoping for a daddy but dashed too many times to keep the hope alive for something good. Relief that finally, after all this time of trying to break that cycle, there was a glimmer of hope.. of healing. Something that I could give her so that she didn't have to waste nearly forty years finding someone who would love her unconditionally, profoundly, with no limits.

He rolled over to pull me close, into that sacred and safe place in the crook of his shoulder, and I laughed. "Don't mind me, love." I said. "I seem to be leaking a bit."

I've shed more happy tears in the last year than I have in all my life, and hardly any of the painful ones. Sometimes it's like the kids' A grades - I feel as if I don't want to even breathe, for fear that it will slip away. This life is so incredible. So flawed. So beautiful. So challenging. So blessed. It is all that, all together, at different times more so one than the other. But mostly this life, this love, this wonderful journey is like looking into the sun... so bright that you can't gaze directly at it, but instead bask warmly in its radiant, lifegiving heat.

If life came with a remote there are times that I would live for days on 'pause'.

Yesterday was one of those days.

Diagnosis - unknown?

PAGING Dr. House....

So, after my previous long and rambling post about the EEG, here's what happened.

I went in for my EEG. Thank heaven I escaped the migraine. I did cheat a little - I think I slept 4.5 hours rather than the four I was supposed to. Anyway... I did not drink any coffee, which for me I think is perfectly rational justification for a Purple Heart. B did have some trouble keeping me awake on the trip over there. (I still think it was cruel and unusual to turn the air conditioner on!)

For those who haven't had the pleasure, I got to sit in a little chair while the tech parted my hair and drew little "X"es on my scalp. Then she took a swab and scrubbed each little place with some sort of abrasive cream. "This will feel like wet sandpaper" she said, "because it scrubs off a little bit of your skin so the electrodes have a better grip." It was slightly uncomfortable, but not overwhelmingly so.

Then I got to move over to the machine, where she dabbed the spots with something cold and attached all the little electrodes to the spots she'd marked. After she'd put on the first three or four, I began to become aware that they burned a little bit. "That's the salty solution that we put on the electrodes." She said. I got the concept - the salinity increases the conductivity of the skin for the electrical impulses to be read, but still - darnit, that smarted! When she was done, I felt as if someone had been dripping hot candlewax on my head. She wrapped my whole head in gauze like a trauma patient, and we were off.

I got to lie back down in a reclining chair, and we did some open-your-eyes, close-your-eyes exercises while the machine took its read. The whole test was pretty easy, but the first five minutes was the hardest part. I was to hyperventilate at a prescribed rate for five whole minutes. By two minutes I was near to passing out. Felt like my hair was standing on end and my whole face tingled, particularly around my lips. But I made it to the next part, which consisted of my falling asleep. The end of the test was about five minutes of watching bright flashing lights strobing at different frequencies, to see if they could provoke a seizure.

I'm pleased to report that I did not have a seizure. I left the testing room with an hour to spare before the consultation appointment, so I went to find B. He was out in the waiting room, like the angel he is, waiting patiently. He sat me back down in one of the chairs and produced a Starbuck's iced macchiatto. "Here, sweetie." He said, stroking my sticky hair. "You sit down and get some of this into you." Awwwwww.......

As an aside to the story, can I simply say that I would die for this man? What did I ever do to deserve such an incredible blessing?

He went back into the room for the consultation with me too, since he'd been there for the last episode and could remember more than I could. The neuro wasn't the one he and the girl had been seeing. This guy was really good. He took the time to take a detailed, very thought out history, listened to everything we had to say, and wasn't condescending in the least. I never got the feeling that he had somewhere more important to be. He showed us the EEG, which looked remarkably normal (thank God).

His best hypothesis, given my history, is that this is what's called a complex migraine. I've suffered from migraines all my life, as has my daughter. These times, however, there was no pain. There is something called an ACEPHALGIC migraine, which means you get all the aura without the classic pain. This was not news to me; I've done a lot of research trying to figure out what was wrong with me. What WAS news to me was the rest of the story. The aura pattern with these couple of episodes was very different from my normal aura, with the exception of the narrowing of the field of vision (looks like you're seeing everything from the end of a long tunnel). The aura pattern in these episodes fits the profile of a BASILAR migraine, which is a lovely beast in and of itself. Basilar migraines can be acephalgic as well.

Check it out:

A basilar migraine is also an unusual migraine type but it too can be associated
with dramatic and frightening symptoms. Some of the dramatic symptoms which are
associated with basilar migraine include complete or partial loss of vision,
ringing in the ears, dizziness or spinning sensation and loss of balance.
Blackouts and confusion can also occur. Children or adolescents may be wrongly
accused of being intoxicated because they may stagger or appear confused during
a basilar migraine episode.

And here's what it looks like. Bolded are all the things B witnessed that day at the restaurant, when I had the last episode:

Aura consisting of at least two of the following fully reversible symptoms,
but no motor weakness:

Tongue numbness
Tingling of lips and around mouth
Speech difficulties/slurring (dysarthria)
Vertigo (sense of spinning), dizziness, lightheadedness
Tinnitus (ringing in the ears)
Hypacusia (impaired hearing)
Diplopia (double vision)
Visual symptoms simultaneously in both temporal and
nasal fields of both eyes
Ataxia (incoordination and unsteadiness); clumsiness
Decreased level of consciousness; fainting
Pale skin
Sleepiness
Simultaneously bilateral paresthesias (abnormal or unpleasant sensation often described as numbness or as a prickly, stinging, or burning feeling)
May progress to migraine symptoms: headache (usually behind one eye), aversion
to light (photophobia) , nausea/vomiting

You can see where it would look uncomfortably like a seizure, or even a stroke, if you didn't know it was a migraine. And how would you know it was a migraine, without the pain?

The solution is the downfall. I have to wait and see. If I have another, I'm supposed to take a migraine drug to interrupt it. If it works, it's definitely a complex migraine with basilar features. If it doesn't, I'm to go to the ER, because there are several bad things that have similar symptoms. If I have more of them, then they want to put me on antiseizure medication. And we all hope it never happens while I'm driving.

So there it is. Hopefully an answer, and a workable solution. At least there's the relief that I've had the test now and it isn't something terrible like epilepsy. There's a comfort in having a clean bill of brain health.

And now I'm one up on B - he's never had an EEG. LOL.

My beautiful, beloved, incredible man. Thank heavens he's here... and that I don't have to make him worry anymore.

Red lipstick and a pair of killer heels

EVER had one of those days where you wake up in the morning and you just *know* that it's going to be one of those days? The kind that's going to keep you on your toes, at the top of your game, rolling with the big dogs? I just had that intuition this morning. So, instead of the normal jeans-and-layered-work-blouses that I normally throw on, I did it up right. Pencil skirt, nice blouse, and a pair of killer high heels.

____________________________________________________

I ran across them innocently sometime last week. I was blindsided. I wasn't out looking for love. I mean, I have fifteen pairs of shoes. I'm a committed lady.

There I was, schlepping around in my beloved and comfy pair of skater shoes, just walking by. I had to take the girls around town to find them some shoes to go with their Homecoming dresses, so we'd stopped at Payless Shoe Source. Oh, I should have resisted the temptation to step into that den of iniquity!

And there, on an endcap, they were. Three inches high and full of glory, thrusting their pointy toes out proudly.. boldly. The little hussies. It wasn't enough that they had those pretty peep toes, oh no. They had to flaunt their little skinny Mary Jane straps too. Right there in plain daylight.

I was lambasted. Hooked. Seduced. I tell you, it wasn't my fault.

I thought to myself "I'm just here to buy shoes for the girls." But they kept calling to me. I found myself running a hand over them, caressing them.

"I don't need any more shoes." Picked them up, felt their featherweight in my hands, saw how the glossy black patent heels flickered in the flourescent light.

"I'll just try them on...."

O, famous last words. Slipping into those heels was like coming home. My tennies looked up at me from the floor, tongues agape, scandalized. And there I was, just like that. Like a fish on the line, I handed over my little pink debit card in a rosy glow, eager to take those sweet little shoes home and make them mine.

Thank God I have an understanding husband.

BOGO is the tool of the devil.

In all fairness, I passed by several more pairs that called my name, but I did have the willpower to walk on by.

Could you resist?

And thank heaven Target was out of THIS pair that I saw online.

But, you know, this morning, I just felt the need to wrangle my pretties out of the closet and dress to the nines. Some days I wear my 'mom' hat. Other days I wear my 'construction inspector' hat. Today, I needed to wear my 'confident successful career woman' hat. Or make that, SHOES.

And it paid off. This morning after I answered three emails and a phone call, halfway into my first cup of coffee, I was called up to the front desk to talk down a disgruntled contractor. 6' something, built like a buffalo, he was trying to intimidate, but darnit, the shoes were speaking to me.

'Don't back down' they whispered.

I'm pleased to say he left without what he came for, which was the thought that he could come in and browbeat me into agreeing to something we both knew was against the rules, just so he could say later that I told him he could do it. Ah, NO. The killer high heels kept my back like steel, and I listened as the red lipstick said "Bring me in a design that works, and I'll approve it, but you won't be working until you have my approval." Thank him for his time, pivot on that heel, and stride away. Snap.

Wowza.

I never understood the shoe fetish before, but I seem to have fallen in its sway. There's a reason they say 'clothes make the (wo)man'. There's a sense of power in dressing nicely. An authority. The clothes come before you, making an impression that says 'I don't have to lie down for you'. I have always struggled with assertiveness, but when I put on a natty blazer, pressed slacks, and a pair of heels, I become another woman. And I like her, a lot.

A couple of nights ago my son tried on the outfit that he will be wearing to the dance. He looked at himself in the mirror up and down. Finally he said "Wow. These clothes really make me feel good. I look like somebody." I looke at him too, and underneath the floppy black emo hairstyle and the acne, I saw a thirty year old man, confident, stylish, assertive. Lean jawed and authoritative, he looked like a man to be reckoned with, a man who commanded respect.

I told him to remember that feeling, and hold on to it whenever he felt like taking the low road. In that moment, he had seen what his future could be, and he liked it. I liked it too.

I understand how he feels.

Any other insomniacs out there?

OH HOLY CATS.

Tomorrow is the neuro appointment for me, complete with EEG. The nurse called today with a whole huge laundry list of things I need to do to prep for it. Check it out.

• Don't get more than 4 hours of sleep. They need you sleep-deprived.
• Take your meds, but log them all.
• NO CAFFEINE. No coffee, no tea, no energy drinks, no meds containing caffeine.
• Wash and dried hair. No styling products whatsoever.
• No sugar. Eat one meal exactly 1 1/2 hours before the test.

I think this looks like the recipe for a migraine. All they missed were bright lights, strong smells, and Period Week.

I did get special dispensation to skip the meal, which is going to kill me even worse, but it beats eating something and getting into some big machine only to have tummy trouble.

So here I sit, tired of surfing the web and having played every game I know on MSN Games. I'm not into painting tonight, and I'm too tired to formulate a thought, so I can't work on my manuscript. I'm down to blogging (and that should tell you what kind of grand and intelligent ideas I'm committed to putting out into the ether for posterity), and listening to music. In an effort to keep myself awake, I put on my most energetic music. Bless your handsome little hearts, Gabe Saporta and Cobra Starship. I'm feeling pretty punchy. I've been air-drumming since track number 3. It's track number 11 now and we're moving on to Katy Perry soon. Hmmmm. That song has a pretty kicking little drum line too. I may be on to something...

B's been in bed since 8. He's not feeling well today. I noticed this morning he had the sniffles; tonight his sinuses are hurting and he has a sore throat. I hope he feels well enough to go tomorrow. If not, I can drive myself. It wouldn't be the first time I've done it. It's only an hour and 15 minutes away.

My poor baby... how I wish I could go in there and curl up next to him, but I have an hour and a half to go. The morning alarm's set for 5:30. I CAN DO THIS. Heck, I can remember pulling all-nighters as a young'un. Am I getting THAT old? At 39, have I drifted into decrepitude, or is it just that over the last year my body's adjusted its sleep rhythm to B's?

In other news, the cat is up here giving me a kiss while trying to sit on the laptop. Maybe that's all I need: some sandpaper kitty nose-kissies.

Lordy. I had something interesting to post earlier, and it's totally slipped me. I feel like a science experiment.

Sure looking forward to Saturday morning.

The womanly arts

FALL'S here, boys and girls! Bringing back to school, which means.... Homecoming Ball!

The girl's fit to be tied. Her best friend (recipient of pink castle cake of the previous post) didn't have a date, so my daughter talked her little brother (um... shall I say YOUNGER brother. As he points out, at 6'1", he's got 9" on her) into taking her. It was all fun and games when she was cooking up ways for my son to ask her friend to the dance, but now that it's a done deal... shall we say she's having second thoughts? :-)

Maybe it was the night that her friend came over while she wasn't home.... to ask her brother for help with her homework. And stayed for three hours. LOL

I think it's hilarious. My son, as worldly as he'd like to think he is at the precious age of 14 1/2, is still oblivious about some things regarding the fairer sex. After they'd hammered at the homework for two hours and she was still saying things like "Umm... I still don't understand. Can you show me again?" he was getting irritated. He said "I'm not going to do your homework FOR you..."

Later in the kitchen as we were rustling around for an evening snack, I said "Did you *really* think she was here for homework help??" He just looked at me, and I watched the lightbulb slowly glow. Left a little bit o' blush as it did, too. ;-)

And his sister says "Ugh, GROSS!!" But she's driving them in to meet me after work today to go pick out a shirt, some slacks and a tie. What fun! My baby is growing up....
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We had good news yesterday at the doctor's appointments. The girl saw the neuro, who she'd been seeing about migraines. She's been having a lot of trouble with tachycardia, and I think it's from the desipramine that she's been taking for her headaches. The neuro was going to blow me off, but then I showed him the log we'd been keeping... she's been waking up in the morning with a 140 heart rate! Definitely not normal. So he had to acknowledge that maybe it was the drug, and we'll be slowly discontinuing it to see what happens.

The boy went for his yearly checkup at the dermatologist. He is a 'mole kid' and has a lot of them all over his body. We'd been monitoring them for melanoma, but the good news is there hasn't been significant change in a year and a half, so we don't have to go back unless there's a change. Yay!

B saw his neuro yesterday too. Coincidentally, it's the same guy my daughter sees. He's mostly let B run his own treatment plan for the Parkinson's without a whole lot of interference. B goes back every six months to get an evaluation and a new batch of scrips, but other than that, it's pretty low maintenance. He did get some good news. The neuro feels like he's had very little progression in the 10 years since his diagnosis. He's been on meds for 8 of those, and the dosage hasn't increased significantly. Plus, the doc said that the fact that he has very few episodes of dyskinesia is encouraging. B gets very quiet when we talk about those. I think that's what he fears the worst. But it will be okay. We will get through those too.
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The girl and I picked up some fabric while we were out of town. She is very into rockabilly style, so we picked up some very cool fabric and some retro patterns. We're going to make a couple of dresses this fall. This is the dress she found online, and wants me to copy:


It's very simple, actually. I think it'll be fun. I bought some polka dot fabric for her, and some print for me, and I think now's the time for her to learn the womanly art of sewing!

Speaking of womanly arts, with a rockabilly skirt and a cute pair of high heels, a woman could rule the world. ;-)

Hmmmmmmmm......

Almost forgot...

THIS is my new painting, freshly finished. Needs a mat and frame yet, but here's the basic product.

For my B, forever.

I love you, honey.

Back for the attack!

WELL, it's been a pretty nice weekend. We came off the summer weather into some nice crispy fall weather beginning Saturday morning. It was overcast and breezy; just the kind of cool that makes me want to tuck blissfully into the weekend. We slept in deliciously late, then got started on our day. I would like to say it was uneventful, but of course you know *that* wouldn't be the case! What fun would it be if things were quiet? LOL

Here's a piece of advice for all you boys and girls at home. If you, like many other households with balance-challenged occupants, use one of those plastic bath mats in your tub (the kind with the octopus-sticky discs on the bottomside), take note!



Looks innocent, doesn't it?

• Valuable Lesson of the Day #1: IF the bath mat migrates to a part of the tub necessitating its removal and replacement, MAKE SURE YOU PUSH DOWN HARD on the little sticky discs when you put it back, thus ensuring that it is COMPLETELY STUCK DOWN.


• Valuable Lesson of the Day #2: Always let the balance-challenged person go LAST. You, my non-Parky friend, are the Guy in the Red Shirt. The canary in ye olde coal mine. The trailblazer. You test the water to make sure it's just the right temperature. You offer an arm over the slippery dippery sides of the tub (which, if you have kids in the house, can feature coatings of all sorts of fun things left by the last occupant: Mr. Bubble, soap chips, bath oil, conditioner residue, or even Plastic Tub Toys!). You make the world safe for democracy... or maybe just your beloved partner.
  
• Valuable Lesson of the Day #3: When sallying forth into the Great White Basin, remember this: Unsecured plastic bath mats can also double as boogie boards under the right set of circumstances. Surf's up!


• Valuable Lesson of the Day #4: If, in the course of daily events, you break one of your toes, there's nothing they can do about it but buddy-tape it to the other ones. Stopyerwhinin.

LOLOL I would show you a picture of it, but it's pretty ugly looking. My only consolation is that I went first; it could have been B, and then I would have been devastated. I'm actually finding it really amusing, once the pain was tolerable. Who else but me could break a toe in the bathtub??

So, since I can't get my tennies on anymore, since my foot's still pretty swollen up front, my new goal of taking a 3 mile bike ride with the neighbor lady has had to be postponed. Oh well... Time to stay at home and do other things.

Things like....



Take a nap.






Some people should be prohibited from operating a camera while OTHER people sleep. Talk about your undignified positions! Although it IS pretty cute....

Well, Monsty is cute anyway.
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In other news, it was our 'borrowed girl's birthday last week (she is actually my daughter's best friend, who is over at the house every day and night).

The daughter made her a really cool cake. It was all her idea, and she did most of the work herself. She called on me to do the lining on the windows and doors, since we didn't have a proper deco bag and tip, and had to use a baggie.
I think it came out spectacular. So did everyone at the party. Woo hoo!
Too cool.

Last but not least, I have a funny.

When you've been together a while, you know pretty much all there is to know about your mate. I'm not talking about where they went to school, or how many sibs they have, or even who their first kiss was. I'm talking about the little details, the intimate ones. What size are his jeans? Does he favor pocket Tee shirts or no pockets? Coke or Pepsi? Tighty whities or boxer briefs? Beatles or the Stones? Cuddle or sprawl?

But in the beginning, those were all things you had to learn. Some things you learned by asking, other things just by osmosis.

I thought I had it made. I was doing so well. When his socks got tatty, I went out and replaced them; like magic they appeared in his drawer. I always remember to pick up his favorite kind of mixed nuts when I'm at the supermarket. I keep an eye on the level of the mouthwash in the bathroom so that he never runs out. I consider myself an attentive sort of mate. After all, it's what he would do for me. Right?

So, when the toothpaste ran low this week I put it on my grocery list. At the store, I was delighted to find that they were having a two for one sale! How fortuitous! This way I could make sure he didn't run out for quite some time! B would be so pleased.

When I got home and put groceries away, I half expected him to mention it. After all, the old tube still had a couple uses in it, so the new ones were standing in readiness at the counterside, erect soldiers of cinnamony flouride goodness. I assumed that he was pleased with my 'good-wife resourcefulness'.

We were walking through another grocery store this weekend, looking for a couple of items that I'd not picked up. I asked him his opinion on which one of two different brands of some item we were looking at, and he said he didn't care. I said "Surely you must have SOME preference. You know... I really do value your input."

"Weeeeeeellllll...." he said rather carefully, "there is the matter of the toothpaste."

I looked at him like he was speaking Swahili. "I just bought toothpaste."

"I know," he said, rather sheepishly. "I actually really HATE cinnamon toothpaste."

I stood there a moment, till I realized that passersby must think I was out to catch flies in my mouth. "You...you HATE cinnamon toothpaste?? But... you've been using it all this time! Why didn't you say something?!?"

He just looked at me and I looked back at him, and we burst out laughing. I was seized by the giggle fit monster, right there in the aisles of Safeway. The hold your sides, laugh until you cry, pants wetting, snorking sort of giggle fit. Grand mal. It was just SO FUNNY.

"You... you... you've been using it for NINE MONTHS!" I shrieked. "We must have gone through FIVE tubes! I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"Well, you kept buying it!" he laughed.

"Because YOU KEPT USING IT!"

We had to leave the store.

And... I'm still giggling.

Mars and Venus. In the toothpaste aisle.

I'm happy to report that B has his own tube of minty fresh Colgate now. Thank God we weren't playing "The Newlywed Game". ;-)

Signing out, folks. I'm off to find out if my side of the bed's still warm. See you on the flip side.

Aster

September 13: Nine Months

Relief in sight

AKA "Light at the end of the tunnel".

The good news: my inspection job should be over soon. The main crew is going back home tomorrow, and the sub-crew is coming later in the week. We should have a few days of blessed peace in between. *sigh* This means at least a half hour of extra sleep in the mornings. Maybe I will be able to find the coffeemaker tomorrow morning with my eyes OPEN. lol

The not so good news: the sub-crew may work all weekend. Not looking forward to breaking that news to B. Thank heavens they only have about four days worth of work and then the whole job will be done.

We went to lunch today with another couple from here at work. It was pretty nice. And B seems to be feeling better today. Thank you, God.

Nothing planned tonight except meeting the crew supervisor to clean up the paperwork for the end of the job. Hopefully it will go quick.

It's September, it's sunny and cool, and it's beautiful outside. Fall is the time for new beginnings. May it be blessed for us. :-D

Sex, lies and gross dyskinesias

ALRIGHT, the first one is a tease. Not that we hadn't *planned* it. We'd actually planned to stop at Victoria's Secret while we were out of town by ourselves for a change, picking up the Krispy Kremes for our daughter's fundraiser, but the trip ended up being too quick to waste the time.

It was a terrible weekend, and on the way home it got worse. His cell phone rang and it was his ex. First of the month, should have expected it. I knew she'd be calling wanting money sometime soon. He put her off by telling her he'd call her back later. We tried not to let it ruin our day, but it was pretty much impossible.

When we got home, it was a runaround to deliver the donuts, the daughter was still in a tizzy about ordering her new cell phone, and there was a crisis in between involving my ex and some information we needed to provide for him. I made dinner while he went out to call her back to see what she'd wanted, figuring we'd get it out of the way early. Dinner came and went, but no B. Finally, when he came in, I could see that it had been a doozy. He came in and ate while I kept him company. We sat in silence while I waited for him to open up.

No matter the motive for her phone call, it had the desired result. B crashed hard. Last night was incredibly difficult. The crushing fatigue. The depression. The shuffle. Emotions that were all over the board. Insomnia when he did try to go to bed, his body wracked with pain. And when I came to bed and we tried to snuggle, the tremor, this time not little fine jitters, but big shuddering muscle jerks all up and down his legs, causing him great distress. He paced around the house for hours, up and down, back and forth. We got less than four hours of sleep last night, to cap off the four the night before. At one point we stood in the silence of the garage and I held him, head drooped on my shoulder in defeat, stroking his hair as I felt the back and forth movement of his lower body, as if he were swaying to music only he could hear. He took another Sinemet, and finally he was able to sleep.

This morning I'm discouraged. I'm sure most of it is from lack of sleep. But I'm angry too. For all the progress we've made, for all the good time we've spent, the last month between my work schedule and all of our household crises has put a distance between us that is incredibly painful. I know a lot of it is the disease. We're still weathering these storms in each other's harbor, clinging together for dear life. But it has to stop. I can't bear the way it's tearing him apart. Last night he was so depressed he talked about giving up his job, just retiring right now. And he was getting so much satisfaction out of it...

I want to know how to change things for him, and I feel so helpless. He spoke his greatest fear last night when he got up distraught over the dyskinesia. I heard the weight with which it dropped from his lips. "These are signs of things to come."

Not necessarily. Not sooner. Hopefully later. God only knows.

Please, God. Hold my husband's heart in your hands and soothe his soul. Let us have some peace. This is my prayer for a Tuesday morning.

Perspective

WELL, I was going to come in here tonight to spill some of the pent up frustration of the last week's events, but the universe must be looking out for me. Instead of venting, I had the pleasure of chatting with a long-term and very dear friend whom I hadn't talked to in quite awhile. We had a few minutes of catching up, and he had me in giggles within the first five minutes. That's exactly what I needed today; a dose of perspective. What a blessing! It was good to find out he and his family are doing okay.

B's in bed early again tonight. It's been a rough week, and the fatigue has really gotten to him all week long. Seems like it's been non-stop crises every day. I'm hoping it ends soon. He was withstanding it for the first few days, but this time it's tipped him over and he's very depressed. I'm wondering how much of the long sleeping/frequent napping is fatigue, and how much is depression. Going to ask him about upping his antidepressant dosage.

He talked about going back to see his counselor for the first time since we've been together. Part of me knows that's a great idea, especially given the circumstances of the divorce. And part of me feels like I've failed him somehow. He was doing so good when we were first together. He said he felt great. And now that we've all settled into our busy, normal, bustling, two-teenager-household lives, the stress is killing him. I wish it could be different, but it won't. And he's handling them so well. He claims it's just the disease.

God, I hope that's true.

I'm a little depressed myself tonight. I'm lonely and I miss my husband. I'm off to bed.

What, me worry??

WELL, in a stunning trade up of events, it seems that I'm now going to be the one seeing the neuro. I've had some unexplained fainting events in the last year or so, and after doing some rule-out (did the blood sugar monitoring thing, saw the cardiologist for a stress test, did a thyroid test) they've decided to send me to a neuro for a possible seizure workup. Niiiiiiiiiiiiice. While the fainting episodes are disturbing, possibly more disturbing is the concept of something being wrong with my brain. Maybe even something requiring me to take meds for the rest of my life. Or even disrupting the things I need to do.

It also occurs to me that this is an incredibly hypocritical way to feel, given the fact that I tell B all the time that his PD won't affect us as a couple. I guess what I really meant to say is that it was okay if he was sick, because one of us was healthy, and that meant we could compensate.

What happens if I'm sick too?

In the context of my own health, there is always this undercurrent of thought. "I need to make sure this neck problem doesn't get worse... someday I may have to lift him." "I have to make sure my memory stays sharp... so someone can remind him to take his meds on time." "I can't get sick... B has PD." Upon further thought, maybe this is less an altruistic thought than a selfish one. Am I really saying "I have to be perfect for both of us"?

The odd part of all of it is that for some reason, my being weak really makes B rise to the occasion. Being able to worry about me takes the focus off his own problems... it makes him feel strong. What I wish I could tell him is that he was strong all along. That's how he's made it so far with so many obstacles. I'm not the kind of person who likes to be fussed over, but it seems to please him. And I'm grateful that he's there.

Because truth be told, although I know that there's probably some stupid reason for all of this, it frightens me.
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And for your funny of the day:

I've gained a few more pounds in the last several months than I'd like, so the daughter and her friend and I have been walking in the evenings with the dogs. It's somewhat disconcerting that the dachschund with her little three-inch legs fares better on a three mile hike than I do! lol

But I've also been adding yoga to the workout, thanks to a little freebie dvd from McDonalds. A couple of nights ago, I was doing the 'moderate' exercises for balance, and found that either I'm the most uncoordinated person on the face of the planet, or that these standing-on-one-leg maneuvers are more difficult than they look. Last night we were all standing around in the garage chatting, and I made a funny comment about how loud it must have been from the other room during my yoga workout, what with me falling over every couple of minutes. He laughed, so I challenged him to do the poses. And in the twinkling of a starry blue eye, he'd pulled one foot up onto the other thigh, lifted his arms to the ceiling, and stood there perfectly poised in the crane position, grinning at me.

"So, what's your problem again?" he asked.

Sheesh. Go figure. The parkie's got better balance than I do. ;-)

For now I'm simply claiming that us *ahem* shapely girls have built-in, top-heavy overbalancing issues that prevent us from standing on one leg like a great blue heron. I'll leave the advanced poses to the little flat boy-girls and my smarty-pants Requip-poppin, Baryshnikov-emulating, overly talented, cheesily-grinning DH. God bless 'im.