And the Birthday Looms

I still haven't come up with any kind of resolutions for the rest of 2026. Whenever I think of my July 1 birthday I find myself reminded of the July 22 surgery that started what has been politely called (not by me; I'd likely be more impolite) a year from hell. I've said all along that the ureter--now kidney--damage bothered me immensely more than the nerve damage. The nerve damage has required physical therapy, something I've done for multiple other injuries or surgeries. I'm used to it. I know how to make it work--do what my therapist tells me to do and not do what they tell me not to do. I have control. I had anything but control over the ureter-kidney deal. Well, I did have control over the decision to try for an autotransplant that turned out not to be feasible. I can't fault the surgeons there; if the kidney wasn't fit to be put back in, I'm glad they didn't try. 

So, I now work at keeping the one kidney I have left as healthy as possible. The nephrologist I saw told me that a big part of that is simply keeping myself as healthy as possible. That, along with no longer using NSAIDs, drinking at least two liters of liquid daily, and keeping my daily sodium intake under 2,000 mg (that's less than is in one teaspoon table salt). While I had no definite plans to take up kendo again, the thought had crossed my mind from time to time. While I could certainly still do sword forms, partner work and definitely sparring would be very bad ideas. I'm not sure how much fun that would be, though it's definitely something I'll keeping mind.

This weekend, I look forward to getting into a swimming pool for the first time in over a year. Spouse and I will be in Newport News for his pre-hip-replacement lab work, and I persuaded him that what could have been a one-day trip should involve an overnight at a hotel with a pool. Even if it's full of screaming children, I plan to get in, possibly swim, at least float, and, at the suggestion of my wonderful physical therapist, just walk a bit. The little things I look forward to now.

And now, noting that they can indeed be little things, I'll get back to thinking about those resolutions. 

Where Has the Time Gone?

My last post was almost a year ago, noting the birthday I share with Canada and offering an update on the something resembling a resolution I'd made six months earlier. Since then? Well, it's been a hell of a year. I have lost count of the number of times people have told me how well they think I've handled that year, but now, as an actual one-year mark approaches, I find it harder to find the humor that's helped me laugh instead of cry, though I admit to having cried more in the last eleven months than in any previous eleven months, babyhood excepted. 

I went in for spinal surgery last July expecting to be in the hospital, maybe, around five nights. I left five weeks later ... with COVID even. I have a vague memory of the night of the surgery being told that due to a problem with a robotic camera, surgery had taken seven hours rather than the expected three-and-a-half. I have vague memories of total delirium including one of watching my world split apart and wondering if that was what a psychotic break was like. (It's not.) When I actually became aware of life around me, I was in a hospital bed with a tube coming out of my back, a bag of urine at my side, and unable to move my left leg. The spinal fusion  itself had worked--what walking I can do now is without the pain I used to have with every step--but in the process, three spinal nerves were damaged, and my left ureter was severed. Fast forward almost 11 months, and I can walk on my own very unsteadily though I typically use a walker or rollator, or occasionally trekking poles. I also just started wearing an AFO (ankle-foot orthosis) on  my left leg. That progress is thanks to 81 (yes, 81 so far) appointments with a stellar physical therapist. I also now only have one kidney and will this coming week find out just what the ramifications of that may be. No, this has not been a good year.

So why write something now? Because I'm supposedly handling this so well even if I'm not, and talking to a keyboard is easier than talking to most people. And I do typically write something for my birthday and have been thinking just what I might say then and whether to offer any resolution(s) to make up for the one(s) I did not make when the calendar year began almost six months ago. 

The year has not been totally a loss, though. One year ago tomorrow, our first grandchild was born. We have reveled in watching him grow not to mention watching his parents deal with the many challenges he presents. To date he has opened child-proof medicine bottles, cabinet locks, supposedly-secured toy boxes, and refrigerators. He learned to pull off outlet covers but was stopped before sticking something in. He knows how to prop a cabinet door open with something while working to empty it of its contents to create a cave. He also loves books and dogs, two things dear to my own heart. This year would have been a lot harder without him. (We agree with his parents that there will be no social media photos of him.) 

I'll continue to ponder any resolutions I might be willing to make and possibly even post again before the upcoming birthday. For what it's worth, I'll be joining my husband and older brother in the 70s. 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CANADA! (and Jean)

Here's my coming year according to the horoscope in The Washington Post:

You're sensitive and intuitive. You have empathy for others. You are also fair-minded and just. This year you reap the benefits of your hard work. Expect power and leadership, along with a promotion, kudos or an award. Seize business opportunities and act on them. 

I'd like to think at least some of that might be true. I'm retired, so I doubt a promotion is in the picture. As for business opportunities, I'd only act on one that could be considered a slam dunk. I don't have the energy right now for anything else. 

As happens every year, my birthday compels me to ponder whatever resolutions I made six months ago as the new year dawned. The sole resolution for 2025 was to try to follow the wisdom in a quote a dear friend sent me; she told me it came from a blog or source noted as Sweatpants and Coffee. That wisdom?

When life is hectic and you are overwhelmed, and your brain is like a squirrel darting across a busy street, remember that all you ever have to do at any given moment is the next thing. You can manage that. Also, you should drink some water.

This seemed like a good resolution at the time because of how overwhelmed I felt. Honestly, I don't think I succeeded at all in putting its advice to good use. I tried, and on a good day I might have succeeded. I'll keep at it for another six months and see where I am then. Right now, today, I do not feel overwhelmed and am checking off the things I'd like to accomplish today. One at a time. If I don't finish the list, there's always tomorrow. 

When I turned 49 and faced the 50th year of my life, I noted that a business would make a big deal of a 50th year. My younger son suggested I write down 50 things to do in my 50th year. I did, and I got through many of them, though not all in the year in question. I very, very briefly thought about doing something similar in this, my 70th year, but decided that pursuing the resolution above was enough. It is, however, tempting to think of seven, and I might still do that before the day is done.

Finally, Happy Canada Day! I like being in such good company when it comes to birthdays. To celebrate, I am wearing my "CANADA looking good by comparison since 1867" t-shirt. Spouse and I still consider running away to the Great White North to escape where this country appears to be headed. I don't really like running away, though, so for now we'll see where things go, just as I will continue to see where things will go in my coming year.

The Universe Is Kind of a Dick ...

 

... or so says the sock that went back on my left foot after I took this photo. It's been a rough year so far and an even rougher week. Spouse had a double bypass on January 2 and has learned that he is looking at a future hip replacement and repair of a torn rotator cuff. My back pain just keeps on keeping on, but more on that later.

This week we said good-bye to a family member for the past seven years, our rescue dog Lassa. She was at the local SPCA as a stray, but it's more likely that she was dumped by someone I hope I never meet. The SPCA estimated her age as six, so we knew she was getting on in years. She'd been having breathing

issues and tiring easily for a while, and the breathing issues Wednesday were particularly bad. Older Son and I took her to an emergency vet appointment. They sedated and intubated her to get an x-ray. We knew that she had a growth on her spleen, and it appeared that it had grown significantly and was likely to be pressing on both her lungs and stomach. In addition, some tubes in her throat had stiffened, making it hard for her to breathe even if there had been no pressure on her lungs. Spouse joined us, and we made the decision to let her go. We gathered around her and wished her well as the vet administered to final drug. I was so glad that she had already been sedated. I don't think I could have looked into her eyes as the sedative was administered. Instead, she appeared just to be sleeping. Needless to say, I was bawling.

I have taken her death particularly hard. During the last few months, as medical issues have added up, she's been my go-to friend. Petting her and looking into her brown eyes helped me relax. Our other dogs were pretty much family dogs. They treated all of us pretty much the same. Lassa, though, preferred me. She liked Older Son, who would run with her, but he pointed out that her yips of greeting were louder for me than for him or anyone else. Especially during the pandemic, I was always at home with her. I still go up to bed each night expecting to see her on the bed. She would put herself to bed an hour or so before Spouse and I would come up. So many other times I turn, expecting her to be there, and she isn't. I commented about her death in regard to one of Gene Weingarten's Substack posts, and another person replied with what I think is how I view Lassa even though we only had her for a bit more than half of her life: "I loved you for your whole life and I'll miss you for the rest of mine."

This morning I had a pulmonary function test in consideration of whether I will merit a referral to the long COVID clinic. On those results alone, I probably would not be referred; I expect I came through as very normal. I'll see the formal results in a day or two. Wednesday holds the big appointment and may determine the course of our summer. My back pain has been growing worse. Over-the-counter drugs don't seem to be doing very much any more. Last week I had a second episode of urinary incontinence and suffered a fall pretty much caused by my back. When I emailed the doctor who has been coordinating my back care about those, he told me to send a copy to the spine surgeon I've seen and was supposed to see again in June, and, should there be a third episode of incontinence to go to the Emergency Room. I did as the doctor ordered and send the surgeon a message. I was worked into Wednesday's schedule with a note that the Pain Management procedure scheduled for Thursday may or may not take place. The admonition to go to the ER should incontinence strike was repeated. 

The pain in my back has worsened to the point at which I wonder if heading off to Europe for 18 days is a good idea. What if the pesky third bout of incontinence strikes somewhere in between Amsterdam and Budapest, while we are stopping in different towns throughout the 15-day cruise? About that ER visit? The surgeon previously described my back as "unstable." Does the stronger pain mean that it's unstabled itself into a worse position? We do have trip insurance, so if he tells me that medically, I should not go, we're covered cost-wise. Spouse says he doesn't really care when we go, though the original idea was for it to happen soon after his retirement as a celebration. I can't help but think we postpone the trip for my back surgery, then again for Spouse's shoulder surgery, followed one time more by his hip replacement. The universe might turn out to be a big kind of dick. 

And so, we wait. News at 11:00. 

Marching On

So it's been two months since I last posted. I knew it had been a while, but didn't think it had been that long. I've had better two-month periods, but I guess I've also had worse. One thing I've found that usually helps me put things in perspective is my collection of meaningful (to me, at least) posts from the Thoughts of Dog calendar I get every year for Christmas. I guarantee that these are more profound and meaningful than anything I could come up with today.

the small neighbor human came over today. with an early gift for me. it was a little box. and inside was a little pebble. they said the picked it up. the first time they ever went on a walk with me. i'm not sure if i've mentioned this before. but i would do anything for the small neighbor human.

gooooob morning. I have a feeling today will be a good day. and if it's not. well that's alright too. because there's always tomorrow. and there's always peanut butter.

there is a pattern. amongst humans. to think too much about yesterday. or tomorrow. and not enough about today. today is happening now. it would be foolish to miss it.

sometimes. when i can't fall asleep. i'll pull my stuffed fren sebastian closer. and think about all the wondrous landscapes. i've yet to zoom across.

my stuffed fren sebastian. wanted me to remind you. you are doing great. and you have to trust him. he knows everything. 

 I encourage you. to find the positive in a situation. as well as i can find. a lone beam of sunlight. passing through the household.

the human is jealous of me. they believe i am simple. with simple thoughts. and little to worry about. but if they would take a deep breath. and let the sunlight hit them. without critique. or question. they too would find. little to worry about. 

The last one in the list was the page for yesterday and today. Timing is everything, I guess. When even my watch (a Garmin Forerunner) is telling me I'm stressing too much, I probably am. Re-reading these was a good thing.

As for stress, tomorrow's medical appointment is with the Pain Management clinic. The spinal epidural steroid injection I had six or seven weeks ago worked great. Until it didn't, which was about three weeks after. I reveled in walking without pain. It. Felt. Great. I guess I'll hear tomorrow what other options, if any, I might have. On Friday, I have my every-six-months appointment in Dermatology. On my fall appointment, they found a basal cell carcinoma on the top of my head, resulting in a shaved spot about two inches by three inches. With the hair there having grown about an inch long, I'm heading back to my stylist next week to get at least the rest of my mop trimmed. I really hope they don't come across another on my head this time. Fingers crossed.

 

 

 

Are We There Yet?

In my last post of 2024, I expressed hope that 2025 would, on the whole, be better than 2024 had been. So far, so good at least on the personal level. Spouse had a double cardiac bypass on January 2, and his recovery is proceeding as it should. He is more of a Type A person than he would like to admit, so I occasionally have to remind him that there are things he should not do yet or that it's okay to want to take a nap. The literature he was given about the bypass says that the need for napping or extra rest may last for six to eight weeks. I tell Spouse that he's livin' the dream, napping with impunity.  

My medical travails continue. I will spare you the photo of the top of my head nine days out from removal of a basal cell carcinoma. It looks a lot better now than it did last weekend. In fact, I'm out in public right now without a head or incision covering for the first time. It's not really that noticeable unless someone is taller than I am or standing behind me while I'm sitting.The past week belonged to the dentist, while the coming week belongs to the orthopedic surgeon. I still struggle with the idea of surgery, but am willing to hear what it might entail. 

I'm sitting in the lobby of one of the local libraries. One of Spouse's retired colleagues died recently, and the memorial service is this afternoon. Since Spouse won't be cleared to drive for at least two more weeks, I'm his designated driver. The physicist who passed was 83. One of my friends who will turn 89 in March just transferred from a hospital to a rehab center. She texted the usual "growing old is not for sissies" when she let friends know that she was in the hospital. When do you decide you are old or growing in that direction? While aging was part of the cause of Spouse's cardiac difficulties, it's not really behind any of my medical maladies. I feel the passage of time when for example, I think of something in the past and realize how many years ago it happened.  Do I need a medical condition that resulted from my age to make me feel as if I were growing old? I am certainly in worse physical shape and more fatigued than I was even ten years ago, much of that can be attributed to the long COVID.

I end now before my fingers start typing something about our current political situation here in the US. It's not good, and it will take years, or even decades, to recover if in fact we ever do. And on that cheery note, 2025 probably will be worse than 2024 after all.

Here's Hoping...

...that 2025 can be better all around than 2024 was. I feel as if I survived 2024 rather than lived it. The last month has been particularly hard. I lose it almost daily, resorting to angry tears and feelings of being totally incompetent and/or useless. That's gotta change starting tomorrow (that's what she said). Yes, I already had a short cry today, over one not-so-big thing that happened as I tried to make sourdough bread for the first time. Younger son has a way of gifting me things that push me a bit out of my comfort zone. That can be a good thing; other times, not. One year, he gifted me a marijuana plant, a gift followed soon thereafter by seeds and fertilizers to start my own plants. This year, he gave me a sourdough starter. The bread made from it is on a second rise atop the range. The Dutch oven in which it will be baked is preheating with the oven. If it all comes together or totally falls apart before I finish this post, I'll provide an update.

I have been pondering New Year's resolutions. I make them yearly and sometimes manage to fulfill them. This year, I gave myself a small spiral notebook with the title "New Year's resolutions and other short-lived ideas." As with other notebooks and journals, how long it stays functional is a big unknown. So far, I have entered my resolution for 2025 on the first page. It is guidance a very good friend sent me from a blog or source noted as Sweatpants And Coffee. She knew I needed it. I printed the graphic and taped it on the first page of that notebook. I don't want to risk copyright infringement by inserting the graphic as I received it, but I'll share the text here.

When life is hectic and you are overwhelmed, and your brain is like a squirrel darting across a busy street, remember that all you ever have to do at any given moment is the next thing. You can manage that. Also, you should drink some water.

This seems like a good resolution given how overwhelmed I have felt lately. It also highlights something I have wanted to work on for a long time: focus on the thing I am doing and not let worrying about other things distract me. The fact that I have wanted to work on this for some time should speak to how hard it is for me, given Type A personality and, most likely, ADHD. I'm hoping that just trying to get through life one thing at a time will help relieve some of the anxiety I'm trying not to feel right now.

Spouse's bypass surgery remains scheduled for the day after tomorrow. I may very well be more nervous about this than he is. He asked why that might be so, to which I answered that if something goes wrong such as he dies, well, he's dead, while I would have to keep on muddling through the rest of my life without the person with whom I've shared 40 years. The "in sickness and in health" part of the marriage vows? Yeah, this is it. He's also been relying on me to remember surgery details he needs to take care of--special mouthwash, what medications to stop when, special soap--giving me just one more area in which I can feel incompetent and/or useless. 

Here's the whole-wheat sourdough bread. I won't taste it until it cools, but it does look like bread.