Thursday, November 28, 2013

A Truly Happy Thanksgiving

Goes without saying...but I'll say it anyway: we have had a rough month here at Casa 3917. We've been slogging along, playing the game with the cards we were dealt...as shoddy as they were. But now it appears we're playing with a brand new deck...and we've been dealt a full house. Hooray!



Meet Winston...our newest member of the Drool Gang! He's an 11-month old Australian Shepherd mix puppy we adopted yesterday from the Forsyth County Animal Control shelter in Winston-Salem. He is an alum of Animal Control, having initially been adopted in February...about the same time we adopted Abbie. Although they were both classified as Australian Shepherd mixes and born about the same time (right around New Year's), we have determined from the records that they aren't from the same litter. But, like all the adoptees from Forsyth, they both were micro-chipped before they were made available for adoption.

So, when Winston was found roaming the streets of Winston in October, even without a collar Animal Control knew who he was...and where he lived...and what his owner's contact number was. So they called...and they called...and they called. No response. And no one came to get Winston. The little Aussie had boomeranged back to the slammer, just 8 months after he'd left.

Why? For the life of me, I cannot come up with a good answer for you. And, trying to figure it out without any of the facts just makes me sad...and gives me a headache. He's a beautiful, frisky puppy, who is friendly to everyone he meets. I don't think he was abused because he doesn't show any marks or classic signs like fear, but I suspect he was neglected. Oh, not in the basics like food and water, although he does appear to be a bit underweight. He has been on a heart worm preventative, because his blood test was negative (thank goodness). To put it simply: he was love-starved. 

Here at home, we had lots of love that had been reserved for Elmo. And, we could see that Abbie needed another outlet for all of her energy...there are only so many hours we can walk her.  Duche$$, a diva and at almost-13, cannot be bothered to play or even interact with a puppy. Plus, I had a telephone conversation with Ab's trainer, who asked if we might consider adding another dog to our family.

Then, I saw a post on FC Animal Control's page with Winston's story. And whoosh! My heart took over my head. Adopt a new puppy at Thanksgiving, when Mr. T is still recovering from surgery?Are you kidding?! It is a terrible time to introduce a new family member! 

But I couldn't stop thinking about him...or visiting his picture on the FC webpage to see if Winston was still available. And Mr. T commented that, while his recovery might limit him, at least he would be home (rather than traveling for work)...a good thing when introducing a new puppy. So, we faxed in an updated application and waited for a call.

It wasn't what I'd hoped for. It was a voicemail message that said we were the second application for Winston, and that the other family had come to meet him. They were from out of town and had gone home to fax back the rabies vaccination on their other pet (required for an adoption to proceed). Did we want to come meet Winston anyway?

No! That was a for-sure heartbreak. I wanted him to have a good home, preferably with us...but a good home somewhere nonetheless. But I just couldn't go meet 'n greet unless we stood a chance of bringing him home. We'd wait and see.

Fortunately, for whatever reason, we got the Call early Wednesday morning. He was still available! Did we want to come meet him? You better believe it! Loaded Abbie up in the PTC and headed west to Winston...in the snow (!)...so we could meet Winston.

We met. We signed the papers. And because he was already neutered (previous owner got that right!), he could come home with us. He and Abbie took to each other almost from the start (thank goodness!), and we took a detour to our vet to get him checked out...and get him bathed (whew! He needed that!). Next stop: PetSmart for a new bed, a new collar and harness, and a a few (dozen) treats 'n toys. We were all happy but exhausted when we pulled into our driveway.

And then, we introduced him to Ella Rae and Dixie when we finally got home. OK, that part didn't go as smoothly as we'd hoped. But, it will work out in a couple of days. I have faith.

Winston is, in a word, a sweetheart. Although they are the same age, Winston looks and acts much more like a puppy than Abbie...but they both have that Australian Shepherd herding-nipping thing down pat. He looks like a shepherd, where Abbie looks more like a terrier. He weighs about 20 pounds less than Abbie, but is just a bit taller than she. His muscle structure is much less defined than hers, but he appears to be about the same size because he has a "coat," where she has very little fur, other than her neck ruff. His fur is soft (now that he's been bathed), and he loves for you to rub his ears...one of which flops forward more than the other. 

He has discovered the Toy Basket...and has already played with almost every single toy on site. Here's a picture I snapped of him with one of Abbie's bone-like toys called a Jack...which caused a bit of consternation when Miss Ab's discovered him. 



Abbie has taught him about the doggie doors, although he's still not too sure about going out of them...coming back in doesn't seem to trouble him. He seems to enjoy mealtimes as much as the other Droolers, although he wasn't too sure about liver treats at first. And, he is thrilled about having such a big play space as the Way Back offers.

I wish I could post a video of the Gang (minus Duche$$, alas) frolicking in the Way Back this morning. They were joy in motion! Running, jumping, chasing, racing. Mr. T says the gardens will never be the same, but I guess that's the price we will pay for witnessing pure happiness.

And that's the best word I can think of to describe Winston: happy. He is a happy little fellow, and he has made our Thanksgiving a happy celebration. We are smiling, once again.




Friday, November 22, 2013

Make That a Double

Coffee. I need coffee...lots of it. Keep it coming. Grind some of those 100% Columbian beans, baby...extra strength. Biggest mug we have, please. Make it a double. It's been a long night. 

Let me catch you up with the story.

Missy M and the grand dogs made the 8-hour journey over the river and through the toll booths, arriving late Wednesday evening. Since Mr. T and I are housebound this Holiday Season, we are hosting both family celebrations here...so she and the mutt-mutts are traveling the Turnpike twice.

Both of her dogs did fine on the long trip, although Dixie simply will not sleep in the car. She's not disruptive (like Gussie could be at times); she sits quietly and watches...watches, the whole way. Ella Rae is more active, shall we say? Jump in the front seat, take a nap. Back to the back seat, look out the window. Back to the front, try to help drive...and so on. But, since ER does nap occasionally, she was ready to roam when they pulled into the driveway.

After a frantic meet & greet with Abbie (Duche$$ cannot be bothered for such mundane matters), they ALL chowed down on some nibbles of kibbles...as we pet parents scarfed some supper. Then, off to our assigned beds...Thursday was going to be a big day.

Wait a minute! Haven't I got the wrong week? Thanksgiving is next Thursday, you say? Yes, but Missy M has miles to go before she can take those vacation days. She had a business trip to take to Dallas and made arrangements to fly out of and back into Piedmont Triad International in Greensboro.
 
PTI sounds impressive...and sports some mighty fine, long runways thanks to FedEx...but names can be deceptive. Service to/from is limited, forcing a choice of small aircraft (that I call Pretend Planes) or a long layover in (where else?) Atlanta. M decided on an American direct flight to Dallas, meaning she choose a Pretend Plane. Oh, I know, that's my personal problem with the noise (causing a loss of hearing for a couple of hours after the flight) and the lack of space (there's just something wrong when they ask you to gate-check your carryons 'cause there's not enough room in the cabin for both people and their packings)...she's happy to deal with those issues in exchange for a direct flight.
 
About that direct flight business...right.
 
As Snoopy would say, "It was a dark and stormy night." Oh, no...not here. There was a beautiful, purple-pink-and-orange sunset, splashed over NC Highway 68. No, the storms lay in two flanks between her Departure and her Arrival gates: one stretched along the Mississippi River, centered over Memphis; the second, more powerful system headed directly for...drumroll, please...Dallas. I began to chew my cuticles almost the moment I returned home from PTI and pulled up both the WFMY Weather ap and Flight Tracker on my iPad. [An aside: PTI may be a disappointment in flight choices, but they are top-drawer on their website, offering a direct link to Flight Tracker...an excellent tool for nervous parents plotting the course of their flying offspring. Click here to go there:  https://www.flyfrompti.com/airline-service/flight-trackers/]

We watched her flight head south in order to avoid the Memphis air space...good plan! But then along about 9:20, after crossing the Mississippi into Arkansas, the little black Flight Tracker airplane following the little white route-line turned and headed north. What?!

Thankfully, at almost the same instant we received the following text:

"Hello from the beautiful state of... Louisiana"

Her 'direct flight' had just made an unscheduled stop in Shreveport. "Better on the ground than in the air," were the first words out of Mr. T's mouth. No truer words...

Here's what the Weather ap shots showed (below). Not exactly comforting, eh?
 

Future forecast
Screen capture -
Dallas area, 9:35














She was on the ground for a little over an hour, and then we got a text she was back on the (refueled) plane. I knew I wouldn't be going to sleep until she was tucked up, safe and sound in her hotel room. But, I had to try to settle her pups who had shifted into searching mode: where is she? Where is she? Can't find her. Where is she?  So I took them to the front bedroom...and they seemed to accept that I was to be their bed-bud for the night. I turned on ESPN to mask the noises of a resting house...first we saw basketball, then football, and finally water polo (I kid you not!). Here are a couple of shots of sleeping dogs lying...


Dixie, settled for the night
(See her heart...on her head?)


 
ER, first nap of the night














With much tension, I watched the little FT plane make its way on my iPad from Shreveport Regional to DFW...first to the south, then turning north into the gap between the two waves on the Weather ap. 

With great relief, I read the first text when she landed. With even greater relief, I read the last text when she assured me she was safe and sound, all locked in her room. 2:45 a.m., our time. Turn off the TV, turn out the lights! Let's get some sleep.

Not to be. Abbie couldn't understand why I wasn't sleeping with Mr. T where I was supposed to be, so she divided her time between bedrooms...with long stop-overs on the den sofa. Up, down, up, down...repeat...

And no time to nap, as Mr. T has PT today. Of course, I might catch a few zzzzz's before I head to PTI to pick-up our traveller who is scheduled to return tonight, but I kinda doubt it: she texted that Dallas is expecting ICE later.

Yeah. Better make that a double. More coffee? Naw...it must be 5:00 somewhere, right?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

UPDATE: 9:45 p.m.

Missy M's plane is in the air and on the way. I'll be starting back on caffeine soon since a delayed departure from Dallas (weather...what else?) means a late arrival in Greensboro (now projected to be 11:43 EST). Here's the screen capture of Flight Tracker, showing the little black plane leaving DFW and beginning to follow the little white route-line, weaving its way through the weather, to GSO:


Double-double espresso, anyone?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

UPDATE: 11:43 p.m.

Travel girl is home again, safe and sound. Let the Thanksgiving begin!

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

A Time for Healing

Glad that week is behind us. Thankfully, the healing has begun.

Recovery from Mr. T's shoulder surgery is going well. He feels much better as he heads into the second week, although the localized pain around the surgery site is pretty intense at times. Most thankful for his pain pills, now that he no longer has the benefit of the On-Q pain block thingee. For some reason, he has the most pain from a spot on his back/shoulder blade that doesn't appear to have been involved in the operation. No stitches, no redness, no lump, bump, or bruise. Odd. Well, maybe we can learn more about it at his upcoming follow-up visit on Friday. We shall see.

"The kiss of sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,
One is nearer God’s heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth."
          -- Dorothy Frances Gurney

Those lines from Gurney's poem are on a metal plaque that Momma purchased for her garden in Smithville...then I had in every garden since 1990...until Missy M "inherited" it during the move from MO to NC. At our house, as you are no doubt aware, the garden is a source of much solace and healing. And, with our current situation, we are relying on what we know to help make us better. Since Mr. T's usual vigorous participation in yardening activities is limited (ever tried hoeing with one hand, your non-dominant hand at that...the dominant arm being trapped in a sling?), our weekend Fall clean-up was briefer than usual. Still, he probably did WAY more than he was supposed to...any surprises there? Paid for it the next morning, of course...but he's back out there today, playing with Abbie. (Post is up on our garden blog, Gardening with the Giants. Click here to go there.)


John F. Kennedy - 11/2013
Of course, flowers always make boo-boo's heal faster, don't you agree? Here (left) is a picture of one of the most beautiful blooms that we've had this year from the John F. Kennedy rosebush. It went into Mr. T's "Get Well" bouquet.

















'Gethsemane Moonlight’ mums
Actually, we have two JFK bushes in the back yard, along with a couple of Sheer Bliss roses and one Miss All American Beauty, and they are ALL putting on buds like crazy...most of which will be nipped when this latest 'artic front' blows through tonight ("they" are saying possible snow mixed with the rain!) . Everything else is pretty much spent, with the exception of the perfect-for-Fall persimmon-colored Pat Austin roses in the Rose Garden and the Chrysanthemum X ‘Gethsemane Moonlight’...clumps of which are now scattered throughout the property, thanks to my unexpected success with turning late Spring prunings (when you clip off the early growth in order to encourage lush flowering later on) into rooted cuttings. Here's a shot of the clumps growing at the mailbox (right).

So, that's how the physical healing is progressing. The emotional healing from the loss of our dear Elmo is happening...albeit at a slower pace. We have moved beyond hourly showers to just a few daily sprinkles. And we are more aggressive in moving into the phase of "remember when Elmo..."  The grief is still there, still close to the surface...but telling his story makes it much easier to contend with.

Until...

From our walk...
The day I took that picture of the mums at the mailbox (above) was a lovely Fall day: bright, crisp, with a bit of a cool breeze. The sky was the most brilliant blue...it took absolutely my breath away. Had to take a picture of it! (left)

I had taken Abbie for her walk (those are going very well, I might add) and stopped at the mailbox for the picture and the mail. There was the usual pile of circulars, ads, etc.; a bill or two; a "get well" card for Mr. T from Cousin H & S (cute card...thanks!); and a large, padded envelope. I tossed the first bunch in the green toter as I passed it in the driveway...garbage in, recycle out. When I got inside, something else caught my attention, so I dropped the surviving mail on the counter and headed off to take care of the something else. An hour or so later, when I came back into the kitchen to start supper, I noticed the mail and started opening the envelopes.

The padded one was heavier than I'd originally thought. I zipped the strip along the short edge and pulled a beautiful card from the interior. It was from the Emergency Animal Clinic in Greensboro, signed by the whole staff, sending their sympathy on Elmo's loss. The tears started flowing.

Then, from the depths of the envelope, I pulled a smooth, cream-colored disc...with his paw print captured in clay, baked into an ornament. Literally, took my breath away. I had to sit down...and then I had to jump up and find the box of tissues. The flood gates were open. I'm tearing up just writing about the experience. Showing the thoughtful gift to Mr. T, I had a partner in crying. We continued until we were both exhausted. Start supper? Forget about it. PBJs were about all I could manage.

The next morning, I knew I needed to let someone at the Clinic know how much we appreciated this beautiful gesture, but I couldn't bring myself to make the call. I just didn't think I could make it through a whole conversation without becoming weepy and incoherent.

Until...

I woke up this morning, much earlier than I'd intended since I'd stayed up last night watching Monday Night Football (not sure why...since I could care less about either Miami or Tampa Bay). And, something told me that I could make that call...now. Since the Emergency part of the Clinic closes at 8:00 a.m., I hustled into the kitchen and found the number. I spoke with the sweetest-sounding young lady...who took the time to listen and be gentle and kind in her responses...as she was aware that the emotion was still raw for me.

Breath in...breath out.

So, there you have it. Evidence that healing is indeed happening here at Casa 3917. And that's a good thing.


Sunday, November 3, 2013

And Then There Were Two





"His name is Elmo, he's 3 years old, he's red and white, he's extremely shy, and he needs to be an only dog. No other pets in the household," said the GABR foster mom. That information...and that last bit of advice...was about as close to wisdom as we were likely to get in making our second adoption from Guardian Angel Basset Rescue. For even though we knew exactly when Elmo was born – February 25, 2002 (not usually the case with rescues), we would learn precious little else about his first three years of life. But then, all animal adoptions are a crap-shoot, aren't they? So we rolled the dice, had a meet & greet in our driveway in O'Fallon, and signed the papers on Saturday, September 17, 2005.

When I say "we," I mean Missy M. She had moved to her Memphis-area apartment from an on-campus room, and she was missing her two Basset buddies, Duchess and Gus. Gussie-man was our first GABR rescue two years earlier, Elmo would be the second. A beautiful, shy Basset who needed to be an only dog? Perfect. Absolutely perfect, right? When in doubt, follow the wisdom and advice of the expert, right? Welllll...

Not exactly. Elmo hated being by himself while M was at work and/or in classes. Left to his own devices, he could absolutely destroy a bed. Oh, and he let everyone know his displeasure by baying and barking...long and loud. He could aahroo with the best of 'em! And a yappy, unhappy Basset is the last thing an apartment dweller can have.

Sure, M tried all the other bits of advice about an unhappy dog: long walks (twice a day), soothing background music, leaving the TV on, etc. Nope, nothing worked. It became quite evident that Elmo needed...contrary to the 'expert advice'...not to be an only, but to be part of a happy pack. 

"Bring him home. He'll fit right in here." And he did! Thus, Duchess, Gus, and Elmo became the Drool Gang. Truly, you could not have wished for a better pair of BFFs than G and E.

Mo-mo, Little Mo Man, Little Boy (since Gus was sometimes called Big Man/Boy). As with all of our pets, he went by several pet names. One of my favorites was Sweet Baby...because that's what he was. Sweetness itself. Elmo was so passive...to the point of being scared of most people outside of our immediate family...that he was easy to love, especially since he was so huggable. He was my Sweet Baby Boy, and he loved to occupy The Lap. And pretty much any bed or bed-like surface. He was a real snoozer!




The Gang was briefly broken apart when we moved from MO to NC, since the Houndz spent the transition months in KY with Missy M and her 'new' puppy, Ella Rae. The two E's, Elmo and Ella, shown together below, bonded over their energetic playtime...called Smack Down. And it seemed cruel to break up the pair at the time.



But then, heartbreak struck. Elmo was diagnosed with primary glaucoma...a particularly painful disease that afflicts certain breeds more than others, with Bassets being high on that list. It always ends in blindness as it would for E. And experts said 'a blind dog needs more round-the-clock supervision'...more than Missy M could provide while working full time. 

"Bring him home. He'll be fine here." And so, Duchess, Gus, and Elmo (shown L to R below on our NC deck) became the Drool Gang, once again. Of course, the joke was on all of us because Elmo took to his total blindness within days...sure, it required us humans a little longer, but he was a gentle teacher. Couldn't even tell he was blind from a distance, could you?




The past year brought two major adjustments in the Drool Gang: (1) Gus crossed the Rainbow Bridge and left us last July, and (2) Abbie enlisted in February. The Grand Plan was to make sure Elmo wasn't left as an only dog when/if 13 year old Duche$$ made her crossing (which we thought she was going to do in January). Boy, did we get that scenario wrong.

For the past couple of months or so, Elmo has been "not himself," showing signs of distress that ranged from not eating to lethargy to upset stomach to weakness...but always returning to his food bowl after a day or so and acting normal again. During his periods of distress, he would go under the deck (which ranges from mere inches to only about 2' off the ground) where he was inaccessible and only occasionally visible (if he chose to repose under the steps). At first, Abbie the Aussie Sheep Dog (on her Momma's side) would stay outside watching over him...literally straddling his head, if she could stand up where he was. I spent several nights, getting up every hour or so to look for him, trying to make sure he was OK.

Because Elmo feared car rides, changes in his routine, and most other people...and because any change in setting can traumatize a blind dog...I talked myself into not taking him to the vet right away. When he would emerge from under the deck, he would seem fine again...who wants to upset the applecart by subjecting him to more trauma?

Until last night. 

He emerged from the deck, but barely made it into the screened porch before collapsing. I got him calm and quiet for the rest of the evening, but he had labored breathing and seemed to be in a stupor. He began moaning in pain about 4:00 this morning, was drooling excessively...and I could tell he was feverish.

Although our hearts were breaking, we realized it was time. Even though we are both limited in what we can lift... Mr. T only has the use of his left arm following surgery on the right shoulder...and Elmo weighed nearly 50 pounds, we managed to devise a carry-sling out of a blanket...and somehow got him into my car. The drive to the Animal Emergency Clinic was the second-most saddest drive I've made...topped only by the lonely drive back home without my Mo-Mo.

The vet said "most likely bloat," another nemesis of Bassets and other barrel-chested canines...with "probable secondary septic peritonitis." Surgery to fix the problem is difficult even without an infection; costly; requires a lengthy recovery period; and isn't likely permanent...it can happen again, especially in senior dogs. I chose not to make Little Mo Man spend his last hour being poked and prodded, tested and tubed. It's the most difficult decision a pet parent has to make, but I chose to let him go in peace. Goodbye, Sweet Baby Boy...we shall miss you.

Tonight, Elmo and Gus can chase squirrels together again. Woo-woo!


Saturday, November 2, 2013

Drive-thru Surgery and DIY Recovery

Calm and peace reign over our tiny corner of the Universe. After the sound and fury of yesterday's weather, the day has dawned clear, bright, and fresh. The view out of the Morning Room window is a joy to behold...Autumn in all her rain-refreshed, multi-hued glory...with a cloudless Carolina Blue sky as the backdrop.


How could one not be completely centered and just enjoy that vista and savor one's English Breakfast tea? Probably because one is stressing over one's looming duty to perform. Let's hit rewind to get the full story.

Yesterday began with an abrupt start before the red digits on the bedside clock read 4:15...about 30 minutes after I'd finally fallen asleep. Mr. T was scheduled for surgery on his right shoulder "first thing" at 7:30, and he had to check in at High Point Surgery Center at 6:15. Fortunately we live in a 20-minute town...where you can drive to anything you want to in 20 minutes or less. If we'd still lived in Atlanta, that alarm would have been set for 3:15...or earlier.

While he showered, I prepped the dogs' breakfast bowls (they, of course, were still sleeping...so we let them lie). I then rough-chopped some carrots, a couple of stalks of celery, a few cloves of garlic, and a small onion...and tossed them into the bottom of the crockpot. I added a 3-lb. whole chicken, which I slathered with butter; seasoned inside and out with garlic salt, paprika, and pepper; and stuffed with a bundle of fresh herbs (parsley, sage, rosemary, and chives...didn't have any thyme...this time) and a small eggplant. An eggplant, you say? Yes...I had harvested one last one after the first frost killed the plant, and it was too small for much else, other than serving as a moisturizer for the bird. I didn't want to use an apple, like I sometimes do for a turkey, since I didn't want an apple-flavored stock as a result. You see, I had big plans for this chicken and her broth and her veggie friends: they were going to be the base for a big pot of Chicken Noodle Soup...all I would have to do at the end of this hectic day would be debone the meat, add some boiling water, and toss in some wide egg noodles. Perfect "get well" food!

Back to the morning. Turned the crockpot on HIGH while I fixed myself a cup of coffee in a thermal mug and packed a to-go breakfast of mozzarella cheese sticks, a blueberry muffin (made with homegrown blueberries last Sunday and frozen for just such an occasion), and my very first tangerine of the season. Since Mr. T was NPO after midnight in preparation for his surgery, I didn't want to tempt him with too many breakfast-y smells...and I would need sustenance for my time ahead in the waiting room. Then, before I took my turn getting ready, I wrote myself a note to turn the crockpot down to LOW...and to take my knitting bag and iPad. I was so sleepy that I didn't trust my memory to kick in before we left.

We arrived at the Surgey Center just as the car clock read 6:15. So far, so good. Mr. T checked in, and they gave me a pager like the ones you get when waiting for a table at a restaurant. Said it would buzz and light up when I could come back to sit with him...which it did about 10 minutes later. He was already all gowned up and had his IV taped to the back of his hand. Since he'd had no prescription pain medication  for nearly 8 hours...and no OTC meds for the past 3 days...he was hurting pretty badly, and more than ready to get this over and done with.

Soon, we were visited by one of the anesthesiologists, who went down his checklist of questions with Mr. T, telling him that the surgery could last 1-3 hours, depending on what Dr. L found "when he got in there." After surgery, Mr. T would go to recovery for about an hour, to allow him to revive from most of the anesthetics. After he felt well enough to travel, Mr. T would be allowed to go home. So, that would be the Drive-Thru Surgery portion of this post.

Wrapping up, Dr. M. launched into a description of the "on cue" C-Block pain med dispenser that Mr. T would "wear" home. Properly named On-Q, this system works continuously over the first three days (the most painful following this type of surgery), dispensing medicine via a catheter inserted in the neck during surgery. Follow this link to learn more about it: http://extranet.acsysweb.com/vSiteManager/StamfordHospital/Public/Upload/Going%20Home%20with%20a%20Peripheral%20Cathater.pdf

And then, Dr. M. turns to me and says...with the straightest of faces..."and you will remove the catheter in three days." Stunned. Only word to describe how I felt...and I'm sure how I appeared. 

Remove a catheter, are you crazy? Do I look like a nurse? No, I do not...nor do I play one on TV...and I sure didn't sleep at a Holiday Inn Express last night. He goes on to say they will send me home with instructions (turns out they were pretty sparse, hence the reason I Googled it and found that thorough brochure above): "you just wear some gloves (I guess I should be glad I happen to have a box of surgical gloves at home), close this clamp here, and pull out the catheter which will be there (pointing at a spot on Mr. T's neck)." And that, dear readers, would be the DIY Recovery portion of this post.

We recalled when Momma had torn rotator cuff surgery back in 2001, she was in Gwinnett hospital in Lawrenceville, GA, for 4 days. Granted, she had 20 years of age on Mr. T, but still. Of course, technology has advanced and allowed health care to make advances we couldn't imagine 12 years ago. And, for sure it is better to be home rather than in a hospital...you can catch some nasty stuff in a hospital, especially when your system is weak and vulnerable following surgery. But still...

Oh well. This too shall pass...if I don't hurt Mr. T further or pass out while carrying out my nurse assignment. He's trying to figure out how we can bill Blue Cross/Blue Shield for my medical services. Gloves and all. Oh, don't forget the bandaid I have to apply to the site.

Me? I'm taking one day at a time. Today has been pretty rough for Mr. T, as he cannot get comfortable, and he is extremely agitated about it. We've tried everything, from pain meds to ice packs (3 different kinds) to deep breathing and relaxation techniques. His surgery was more extensive than anticipated, lasting nearly 3 hours. Dr. L repaired a torn biceps tendon in addition to the torn rotator cuff, and he cleaned out a mass of inflamed tissue...which seemed to concern him the most. "Puzzles me," were his exact words when he talked to me while Mr. T was in recovery. He said he had sent a sample to pathology. We shall see on that.

I'll guess I'll just have to pull a Scarlet about the looming private duty nurse duty. I won't think about that today. There's always tomorrow...


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