All right, I think I'm better...

I seem to be able to sit up and not have everything around me move on it's own today. Progress. I think drinking two bottles of water helped today. I can go for days on end and drink nothing but diet pepsi and coffee. I'm told this is bad.

So I see the surgeon tomorrow and I'll get to see "THE PICTURES" of the inside of my shoulder. They'll proudly point at what they took out and pat themselves on the back because I'm going to feel so much better now. Only I don't yet. I still have "RESTRICTIONS" too, which get me out of alot of housework so they are almost as good a perk as the drugs. Whenever there is something I have to do like ironing my white coats, I point sadly at my shoulder and Joe does the ironing. Ahhhh. Restrictions! I also can't lift heavy pots (so I say they are all heavy), do the laundry or pretty much any of the other things I don't like to do (insert sad face here....) Restrictions, ya know. The first few days of having "restrictions" was the best because my arm was still in a sling and everybody brought me things and felt sorry for me. I was done with the sling last Friday....so, now I have to get my own stuff. Unless I say it's too heavy...which of course it all is. My official restrictions are a three pound weight limit which narrows down what I can pick up to Diet Pepsi, my iTouch and the telephone. God, if I didn't feel so crappy all the time, this would be heaven!

I got nuthin.

I returned to work today after being off for a week and I had no idea how hard it would be. Since this is my THIRD surgery (I'm not bitter) I thought for some reason that I would bounce right back and be ready to return in seven days. Big surgery on a bad shoulder. Seven days. Sounded good at the time..which was before surgery...while I was feeling ten foot tall and bulletproof.

I discovered that soon after getting to work this morning that I could hardly hold my head up let alone take a breath at the same time and blink. I think the anesthesia hit my brain a little bit hard this time. I don't seem to be firing on all cylinders. I have to think a little bit too long about things like...oh, say...picking up a pen or answering a telephone. Add a couple doses of narcotic pain medication to that and I become the worlds largest paperweight. I could never get hooked on narcotics. Constipation and confusion...how is that fun? "Dude...remember that time we took all that Norco and then couldn't poop and couldn't figure out how to use the TV controller? Man, dude...that was intense."

I'm regretting going back so early. (Insert chorus of "I TOLD YOU SO" here from my friends). Just prop me up at my desk and stick the pen in my hand...I'll try to take it from there.

Meet Frosty's Friends #3

Lucky you. So far you've met Fourteen (the carrot) and DB (Disemboweled Bunny). Today Frosty would like to introduce you to...(drumroll)....

Weird-Happy-Meal-Squirrel!! Who is now limbless. Oh the carnage. Actually, I think this is the perfect use for Happy Meal toys which otherwise end up as toy box rubble. Very early in her stay here at Chez Lewis, Frosty chose Weird-Happy-Meal-Squirrel!! as her very own. I think she found the googly eyes very similar to hers. She didn't bother any of the other 345,062 Happy Meal toys that are in our house. No matter how many times I tried to give them to her. Did I say that? No Emma! I would never PURPOSEFULLY give the Shredder, I mean the DOG your Happy Meal toys! (Damn...almost busted).

Backyard.

Temple Bells

Meet Frosty's Friends #2

This is Disemboweled Bunny. Supposed to be a cute pink bunny puppy toy but we thought that the "tug rope" looked alarmingly like intestines. Frosty likes to shake DB (Disemboweled Bunny) REALLY, REALLY hard. I'm not sure why that's fun, but if you add growling and flipping around like she's having a seizure, it's fun for us. Disemboweled Bunny is also known as "No Body Bunny". Stay tuned for more of Frosty's Friends. I've got a lot of time on my hands this week.

So I called my cousin...

Me: Hey! A couple of ducks laid an egg in the rocks outside and then just LEFT it!!!!

Kathleen: Bastards.

Um....we have ducks.

Two ducks have decided that our yard is now their yard. We don't live near water. The closest thing is a drainage area just north of our yard which is currently dry. The ducks have been hanging out and sleeping in the yard, and were on the patio yesterday just waddling around and quacking to themselves. I took the dogs out this morning and there was this egg. Just sitting there. No nest. Just.....sitting there....no ducks around anywhere. It's all alone sitting there in the rocks. Do eggs just fall out of ducks? I mean the mother duck must of put some effort into this egg, but no nest?? Ducks are dumb.

Day four of captivity

All right, I've had it. I've been sitting around since the surgery and I'm officially climbing the walls. I ate POP TARTS for breakfast!! I never eat pop tarts! I've got to get back to work before before I start eyeing up the Lucky Charms. The dogs were really disappointed by the whole Pop Tart incident. When Emma eats them, she won't eat the "crust" so she is constantly flipping bits of "pastry" to the poms. Well I ate those babies CRUST AND ALL. Very disappointed dogs.

I'm watching too much day time television too...which is like Pop Tarts for your brain. I can find almost nothing of redeeming value on daytime TV. Occasionally, I can find something nerdy on Discovery, but it doesn't get much better than maybe....mmm...chocolate chip granola bars for the brain.

You know I dream of days like this when I'm at work. No responsibility of cleaning or cooking. I thought that maybe I'd teach Frosty some tricks, but there is some sort of Pomeranian Sleep Law that says that no one must disturb said Pomeranians unless there is food or possibly something to bark at. So Frosty is passed out in the big puffy chair with just her tail showing from under a pillow. I predict no big obedience breakthroughs today.

I guess I could take a nap, but I've always been one of those people that feels that they are going to miss something really important if I take a nap. I don't know what that really important thing would be. I caught sight of myself in mirror a little bit ago (shudder). It's pretty horrifying. Very high on the "hag-o-meter". Almost off the chart. I think that will be a project for the afternoon. I can get all cleaned up and get dinner going and be all perky for when my hubby gets home from work. Isn't that the way that women did it in the 60's? Have a nice meal ready, take off his shoes, give him the newspaper, keep the kids quiet?

Right...I'll be lying on the sofa with a pomeranian on me, watching Hollywood Insider and eating Ho-Ho's.

Sweet moments.

When I arrived home from the hospital after surgery on Monday. I was completely miserable. I was not digging the side effects of anesthesia. Emma came and sat next to me and read me "The Very Hungry Caterpillar". She said "I'll read you a few pages, Mommy...my favorites ones and I know you'll feel better."

Sweet girl.

While watching coverage of the Pope's visit

Greg: Why did the Pope come to the United States for his birthday?

Me: I don't know. I would have gone to Chuck E. Cheese...I guess it's sort of the same.

Stick me with a fork, I'm DONE.

Had shoulder surgery number three yesterday. I think on the shoulder surgery rating scale, this one was the worst so far (that rating scale begins with "not so bad" to "well that sucked" to "worst so far"). It was essentially the same procedure I'd had in the SECOND surgery of this shoulder epic, but now with more inflammation and assorted scarring and adhesions! Bonus!

It's over now and I've spent the last 24 hours sampling the drug buffet that comes with surgery. Start with a nice Versed, add a little morphine and finish off with an aged Fentanyl with a little Norco for an apertif. I have been whacked out the whole time. I've also learned that Norco makes me itch all over. So I've added a little Benadryl to the mix just for fun. This is one of my lucid moments, so I thought I'd take advantage of it before the next brick wall of drugs fell onto my brain. If I wasn't such a sissy about pain, I'd take less, but DAMN...some dude CUT into my shoulder! Not only does it hurt, but it's the principle of the thing! I deserve some drugs for that!

I've been hanging out in the recliner with books, blankies, pillows, ice bags, diet pepsi and raging case of bedhead. I've got dark circles under my eyes that would make Estee Lauder run for her life. I dabbed some Oil of Olay eye stuff on them earlier...it's some new stuff that's supposed to brighten dark circles with just a "dab". I think I needed dabs the size of ice cream scoops.

Joe has been home trying to work in the kitchen from his computer while he indulges my every whim. Put the foot of the chair up...no down...I'm hot...I'm hungry...did you see that 30 legged pink and purple bug on the wall? (just a few hallucinations). Poor guy. He just keeps saying "I love you." I don't know if he's telling me, or trying to convince himself as I holler from the living room...HEY I'VE GOT THE MUNCHIES!!!

Spring time in Door County

Sun dappled forget-me-nots - Sevastopol, WI

Update on Stunt Boy (aka Greg)

Lots of people are asking how Greg is doing, so I thought I'd do a small update...which always ends up being a long update and what the hell, I might has well just say I'm gonna write a book. Greg is doing really well. He's gone back to school and the girls' of course are all over him. A friend of ours told him to look at each of them sadly and say "And while I was flying through the air towards certain death...all I could think about was you". That's it....ride this pony as long as you can.

Anyway...his wounds have healed quite quickly. We're constantly smearing him with some sort of cream or another and wrapping him in gauze. Daily the amount of smearing has decrease as has the mummified areas. A good sign.

The ATV he was riding was owned by a friend's father. I'm told that after the accident...it was a perfect square...if you have seen a four wheeler before...they usually have a little more shape than that. The friend and his father have been working on it to restore it to it's former shape and function even though my father has promised to beat it flat with a sledge hammer if they get it anywhere close to running again. Several of Greg's friends used to keep their ATV's at Greg's dad's house and my older son Eric (the one killing Greg in the picture below) has encouraged them strongly ("get them the hell out of here!") to take their stuff home. He also brought a shiny new helmet to the hospital and put it on Greg's bed and said "You're an idiot! Wear one of these!" Greg giggled being under the influence of strong narcotics. Eric shook his head and then asked if I thought his grandfather would be mad if he bought a motorcycle. (Yes he was serious)

I've not gone to the accident site. I'm told there are 20 feet of skid marks before apparently Greg and ATV became airborne.

So, we're all hopelessly grateful to God and whatever angel was assigned to Greg last Saturday. The two boys that were with Greg when it happened and saw the whole thing remain a little freaked out. The story going around school started out with Greg tumbling around with a four wheeler to Greg, tumbling on a four wheeler, while on fire, being chased by lions while he juggled knives and fought off gang members like a Ninja while escaping from the cops and singing America the Beautiful. Because he lived through this event...Greg has become almost holy at school. Guys think he's superman....girls think he's the wounded hero.

I'm still going to kick his ass once he is better.

Okay just one more....

Waiting for spring...

And by the way....

Those of you keeping score will be glad to know that I now have a valid license plate sticker, driver's license and social security card....but my insurance expires next week. Damn.

Brothers.

The first time Greg's life was in danger.

The Healing Power of Chocolate Pie

Check out the hair-do.

I swear I'm not doing this again...after this last time.

I'm having shoulder surgery again on Monday. Some of you know that I've already done this a couple of times and then spent over a year in physical therapy. There seems to be some sort of "thing" in there catching when I move my shoulder certain ways and it definitely makes life less pleasant. So...under the care of a world class orthopedic surgeon at Rush Medical Center in Chicago, we're going to do this one more time.

Last time is when I started doing this blog...and it may make some interesting reading because I was PRETTY WHACKED OUT on the "purple sticky punch" which I know really means marijuana but I think it's a funny Pauly Shore phrase, so I'm using it to describe Norco and Toradol...which makes me giggly and delerious intermittently...sort of like pot without the munchies. So now that I've written the longest run on sentence in the world, I'll move on.

Joe is taking me up to Rush Oak Park, which didn't impress me a lot last time. Of course it takes alot to impress me because I'm the neurosurgery queen of all things and of course no one can do anything right as far as I'm concerned. I waited a long time before surgery last time and no one came and said "I'm sorry" so I was all pissy about it. I also had to sit around in a gown and bad slippers with no-slip bottoms and that made me generally pissed off too.

Last time the anesthesia people (never piss off the anesthesia people...THEY ARE YOUR FRIEND), did something called an interscalene block. Long story short, they gave me the equivalent of a marguerita in my IV line and then poked me in the neck with a needle until they were able to hit a group of nerves and deaden the entire right arm. Not fun...but worth the drugs, I personally think. Versed makes you not care at all. I could have been being dragged away by a lion to be eaten in it's cave and I would have sleepily said "nice kitty!! hheeheheeh". When you wake up...you have NO ARM. Can't feel it at all. Later it wakes up and the feeling is something between grabbing an electrical line and being eaten by fireants.

The good drugs have worn off by then. Can't wait.

Why was this a good idea again?

Frosty is insufferable. I recently cleaned out a coat closet to reorganize my craft supplies (addicted to craft supplies...there must be a twelve step program for this). Of course all the coats had to find a new home, so I did what I always do with things that have no home...I dumped them in a pile on the bed. They have since made their way to a pile on the floor at the foot of the bed. I guess this all is my fault....

Frosty...with her killer instinct that won't be domesticated....found that one of the coats had REAL FUR (some unfortunate raccoon no doubt) and has, at sometime when we're not paying attention (read as...all the time), completely destroyed said piece of fur. When I say destroy, I want to make sure you understand...there is raccoon fur from one end of this house to another. It looks like a raccoon exploded. It's everywhere; bathroom, hallway, garage, bedrooms, kitchen...I can't even sufficiently describe our bedroom to you. It's the center of the carnage though.

I went to work the other day and hanging from the back of my very professional doctor white coat...a big chunk of dead raccoon. Nothing says professional like that.

Look Mommy! Pretty Rocks!

Emma-isms

Emma and I were frantically trying to get out of the house last night to meet Greg at up at my parent's house. Well....I was frantic....she was walking around in her Sponge Bob Crocs and generally making me more frantic. I finally got her into the garage...I hadn't eaten all day so I had grabbed a piece of cold smoked sausage left over from the night before and was snarfing it down while I buckled her into the car. She said " Mommy...don't you wish sometimes that you could be the little kid and I could drive YOU around?" (AWWWWWWWWWWW)

Greg is home from the hospital.

Greg came home last night. We decided to have him stay at my Mom and Dad's so that they can keep an eye on him while his father and I are work. (That was my idea...aren't I smart?) So his dad delivered him straight from the hospital to their home last night. They have a small mother in law's residence attached to their home and my Dad had it all decked out for Greg. Dad is so excited. He loves taking care of people and everyone is darn grateful that Greg is alive. I've been told over and over again that this accident could have easily killed him. I can't go there. Too scary to think about.

So I went up to my parent's last night and got him all tucked in. Showered, dressings changed, TV clicker in hand, cell phone charging. Emma was not as freaked out as I thought she'd be when she saw all of his wounds. Most of them are covered with gauze wrap, so he looks a little mummy-like. She checked him out from top to bottom and was fascinated with his crutches. Then she drew a picture of a bowl of soup for him.....she said soup makes it all better.

Heard in our kitchen recently:

Joe: Why is there a picture of our garbage on the computer?

Chris: (blink blink) Um...I don't know?

Okay...one small lecture...

SEE!!! YOUR SISTER WEARS HER HELMET!!!!

ok. I'm done. Love you Greg.

If I hadn't been so damn scared I'd have been pissed off.

Saturday, my 15 year old rolled like a tumbleweed on a four wheeler. Those "fun" death machines that kids seem to be enthralled with. No helmet, no pads, no gloves, no kidding. Our rule is helmets. Being 10 foot tall and bullet proof, Greg didn't seem to think that rule applied to him on Saturday. He is simply alive because it's a miracle. He is covered with road rash and looks like he's been dragged behind a car and feels like it for that matter. He's had a ton of morphine, Vicodin and Norco over the last two days. I've been running on adrenaline, sugar and Diet Pepsi most of the time. I've had way too little sleep. I'd love to kick his ass if I wasn't so grateful that he still has one. There will be no lectures though...no long diatribes...no threats and no punishments. He's had a enough pain that no words will be needed. I've always heard that things will be repeated until the lesson is learned. Not in this case. I think he got it.

Olympic Trash Stacking

My husband and I have this thing going at our house. He refuses to take out the trash and I refuse to take it out for him. So I've become extremely talented at precariously balancing trash on the top of the trash can in the kitchen. When it gets really tall, I refer to it as "Mount Trashmore" and point out that I think I can see his face sculpted in the trash. We've come to think of it as sort of a competition at this point. He waits to see how long it will be before he has to take it out and I see just how high I can stack it before there's a trashvalanche ( I can't believe that word isn't in the spellchecker. Huh.). I also like to booby trap the whole deal by adding coffee grounds to an empty Happy Meal container or cover the top of the inside layer with old spaghetti so that he can't push it down with his hand (heh heh heh). I can stack it higher than he can stand it and the fear of the booby traps (or maybe it's just my constant BITCHING) always seems to win the contest.

Check out that Happy Meal container....how did I miss a Jolly Roger Eye Patch! I could have used that this week!

Meet Frosty's friends...

This will be a series of Frosty's (remember her? The gangly n'ere do well doofus pomeranian aka goat/wood chipper?) friends. She has many "friends" scattered all over the house and they all have names.

Meet Fourteen. He's a carrot. (get it? Fourteen carrot? Oh come ON, that's FUNNY!) He used to have two green leaves on top and a FACE but Frosty has beaten the living daylights out of this guy and now he's got a hole where his leaf used to be and a missing face. He has a squeaker inside and sometimes Frosty will hold him in her mouth and will bang poor Fourteen on the floor to make him squeak. Over and over again...and usually in the middle of LOST during the most important part where they are going to reveal what the HELL is really happening on that show and all I hear is SQUEAK-----SQUEAKSQUEAK----SQUEAK! Until one of us yells "gimme that damn carrot you freak!!" and by then...we've missed the whole thing. We hate Fourteen.

Solution?

Meet my best friends for the last few days. I've become a connoisseur of fine eye care products. Today I stayed home from work. Why? Because A. I can't see and driving has become more than an adventure, and 2. Because I've come down with a cold on top of everything else. Have I somehow pissed of Karma? Because I'm getting an awful lot of attention from Karma...and it's time to KNOCK IT OFF.

Anyway. Back to me (it's all about me). I'm dead asleep in bed this morning with a boogery nose and a there's-a-horse-on-my-head type of headache. Phone rings (never fails). It's the optometrist office...do you think you could come down to have your eye checked? I blather something almost unintelligible about staying home and a head cold and then say I'll be down later.

I drove to the office with no glasses on or contacts in. Which means I sort of aimed the car in the direction of their office and hoped for the best. My eye is healing...the right eye is getting better too. So now, no contacts until Monday and then a recheck in about a week and we'll start all over again. Maybe I'll just get some glasses.

Neyetmare

I've struggled with finding good contact prescriptions for the last several years. I blamed it on childbirth, weight loss, weight gain, barometric pressure, alien spacecraft...you know all those things that make you lose your sight. Turns out I have something called Pellucid Marginal Degeneration which is actually quite rare...and actually quite a pain in the ass. Long story short, I have goofy shaped eyes that no contact will fit on correctly thus I have distortion, blurring, and double vision...which are also the after effects of a bad bottle or come to think of it, even a good bottle of Chardonnay.

I finally went to a new eye doctor who had the answer to the problem! A new hybrid lens! HOORAY (confetti confetti confetti). I received the new lenses yesterday. Everyone at the eye doctor's office was quite excited because this was a (trumpet salute) NEW PRODUCT! So it was with some celebrity status (at least in the eye doctor's office...I'm big in Japan too) I left the office.

TWO HOURS LATER: Hey...the left contact feels a little funny...and not in a haha way. So I tried to take it out. Not working. Getting panicky...keep trying...will NOT budge.

FOUR HOURS LATER: Um...HELLO...it still won't come out! Now I'm stringing together swear words that don't usually go together. I'm also doing a little dance because my EYE HURTS. I'm home by now and my eye looks like I've been punched. My right eye is doing quite well thank you very much! I'm down right scared by now and finally I get the sucker...and I mean that in the truest sense of the word...off of my eye. PAIN!! Screaming yellow PAIN!!! I'm clutching my eye and hopping around the house trying not to scare my four year old who is looking at my quizzically by now. "Mama? Are you okay?" HOP HOP HOP "MMMYEP...UMMM...MMMM....I'MMMMMMGOOD". My husband arrives home and I'm still staggering around, now with a cold cloth on my eye which is now watering in constant streams down my face. "HRRTTTEYEYYEYEYEYEYE!" I mumble as a lurch past him towards the phone to call the eye doctor's office. They pick up...THANK GOD...and they say to come right down. Some IDIOT in my brain says...'well my daughter has a hair appointment' and the part of the brain that feels eye pain yells "PRIORITIZE YOU MORON!!". Joe drives me down the eye doctor's office while Emma asks 435,763 questions about eye doctors in the back seat.

The eye doctor informs me that I've lost a layer of epithelial tissue from my cornea (read as "ripped a big chunk out of your eyeball"...that sounds more impressive too). I get numbing drops (make you lose control of your eyelids too!), artificial tears (despite my eye watering like crazy) and a contact lens band aid which consists of a soft lens to go over the big scrapie on my eye. The new hybrid lens had apparently SUCKED itself onto my eye and was not interested at all in coming off...so it took a piece of me with it for a souvenir. He prescribed some pain drops and sent me off to the pharmacy. The pharmacist said..."Holy cow..what happened to YOU?"

Today I went to work and got the pity vote from my coworkers. I had the right lens in and the damn thing did the same thing to right eye! I'm now totally unable to see. My glasses prescription is wrong, I've got abrasions on both eyes. I didn't take out the lens today by myself, I let the doctor do it when I went back to see him this afternoon. He said it's the DAMNDEST thing he's ever seen. Yeah....me too.

I love being special. Now I can't see while I'm driving which makes driving with an expired sticker all that much more of an adventure.

Pure Joy.

Sometimes I post things just because they make me happy.

Illegal again

Well...what was it...4 days? I'm driving illegally again. My license sticker expired yesterday. In Illinois, we used to be able to buy a license sticker at a bank or credit union. Well, because it was apparently too convenient, you can't do that anymore. I can either get a sticker on-line (which I asked my husband to do on SUNDAY....today is TUESDAY...oh don't look at me that way...everyone knows that husbands take out the garbage and are in charge of everything in the garage...which includes the cars...which means he had to get the license stickers...follow my logic?) OR I can go to the (insert ominous chord of music here).....DMV....yes...the DMV...where I spent the better part of my day off LAST FRIDAY. I could have gotten the sticker that day! I even had the form with me. This morning my husband was ripping the bedroom apart looking for the renewal form....I slunk (slinked?) into the kitchen where I keep the leather binder I carry with my calendar in it and guiltily pulled out the form. "You could have gotten this on FRIDAY" he says "you had it WITH you!". I just looked at him, thought for a minute and said "I got nuthin."