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.

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!

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...

Busy Week Recap

Whew! I needed a weekend, how about you? Thinking back over the events of the past week, I can see why I might be feeling just a tad on the tired side. Here's the recap:

1. Working in the garden to prepare for our area's First Frost took several hours...in some pretty challenging windy conditions, always an energy zapper. Read more about those activities on our Garden Blog...click here to go there.

2. Putting on my Extension Master Gardener Volunteer hat...well, actually a name badge and a T-shirt...to prep and present a program on Winter Interest Gardening to a local garden club took a few hours, too. I have been out of the Speakers Bureau harness for a few months, so this was a treat, especially since I got to team up with an EMGV and HP friend. And, the icing on the cake was a review and recap lunch and equipment hand-off with SB chair and good friend (EMGV & otherwise!), JA.

3. Making a mad dash to Winston-Salem to attend a "lunch-and-learn" garden workshop at Old Salem (one of my all-time fave places) on Monarch Butterfly Migration only took 90 minutes out of the first part of the week...but was well-worth the effort. We have both developed an interest in gardening for butterflies in general, and in Monarchs, specifically. Being on the migration path means we should see them in abundance, but this year there was a frightening decline in our sightings in the Way Back. Did I share this (rather poor quality) photo of our first sighting, which did not occur until mid-August?

I discovered that our late sighting date matched our instructor's experience this year. She also shared many interesting facts with us, along with some alarming statistics. For example: you may know that all Monarchs migrate to winter in Mexico, but did you realize that ALL use only 2.94 acres of land? Unimaginable.

4. Arranging my daily schedule to incorporate the daily training walk with Abbie accounts for just a few hours...but has made the biggest impact in my life. While she is still over-flowing with energy, she is obviously calmer after her walks...and calmer is better! Plus, my back feels so much better when I commit to a daily walk.

5. Doing some Fall cleaning and fix-up activities takes minimal time, fitting in here-and-there...but what a satisfying feeling of accomplishment at the end of the day! Lots more on this list...but fortunately, I will have time in the weeks ahead.

Speaking of the weeks ahead...

After a false start, Mr. T has his shoulder surgery date: November 1st. The scheduler had originally told him Nov. 15, but the doctor decided at his Tuesday appointment to move it forward...thank goodness. T has had the necessary blood work done and goes Monday morning for the mandatory pre-surgery visit to the Surgery Center. Then he will head north for his final out-of-town trip for a while. He'll use Thursday to wrap up monthly reports and general clean-out-the-inbox activities...and be home to help me manage the pups on Halloween, which is always a challenge.

The current medical leave plan is to use personal days, followed by vacation days, followed by short-term disability. How long? Not sure...won't know until we know the extent of the surgery and repairs required...which won't be known until the surgeon "gets the 'scope in there."

Just another way of saying "wait and see." Oh goody. 

Let's Try This Again

I know I've said it before: I'm nothing if not persistent. Ner (the family's affectionate nickname for Nelle Rhea Stewart, my step great-grandmother) drilled it into my head:

If at first you don't succeed

 try, try again.

So, I knew we had to give Abbie's puppy training another try. I realized this as I was standing at the kitchen sink, washing the blood off my arms in preparation for spraying my newest wounds with Bactine. I also knew I'd rather be beaten with a stick. Sigh.

What? That sweet little (almost 50-pound) puppy? 

Vicious?? Say it ain't so!

Back in late July, we signed Abbie up for Puppy Training at our local PetSmart. I met with the trainer and explained how skittish she was around other people...how we couldn't even take her for a walk around the neighborhood because she tried to (a) lunge at people who just wanted to "meet & greet" or (b) run away if another dog was anywhere in the picture. And although Abbie is as smart as a whip, she is so possessive of everything (toys, food, us, the Bassets...it's all HERS...and she will use her teeth to protect what is HERS!)...and doesn't seem to be bothered by any form of correction...other than a spritz of water from a spray bottle. He was understanding and assured me that was "no problem." All dogs can be trained. Right.

Our first class night was like a bad dream. Abbie and I got there early and got a spot in the back of the class "ring," far away from the entrance. Abbie barked at every new classmate's entry and every movement toward her "spot," and then growled almost constantly for a solid hour. One of the other pet-parents (and I use the term lightly) thought he knew best, and continually encouraged his chocolate lab puppy, Jack (a really cute, high-energy 4-month old) to "touch noses with Abbie. Just let them get to know each other!" The trainer was fantastic and did his best to keep control of the situation, but I've never been so glad to escape a building in my life.

Here is the picture I sent to Mr. T when he texted me "So, how did class go tonight?"

To be fair, we did accomplish two things in that first class. The trainer helped me identify our goal for Puppy Training: "help Abbie develop socialization skills." Works for me! And, since part of the training depends on "marking good behaviors," we got Abbie started on responding to a clicker...which she took to like a duck to water. 

Now, the way you provide positive reinforcement is to give a command (like "Sit!"), and then click the clicker {click, click}, followed by a verbal reward ("Good girl!") and a treat. Sounds pretty straight forward, right?

Only...I discovered I'm not nearly as coordinated as needed to (1) hold Abbie's leash (so she didn't try to make a mad dash outta the class into the store), (2) give the command, (3) click the clicker, and (4) fish a treat out of the little Baggie hidden in my pants pocket...all at nearly the same time! Dropped the leash, dropped the clicker, and dropped the treats. Sheesh! 

Then, when practicing at home (a must, according to our trainer), I discovered that "they" are wrong: you can, in fact, "teach an old dog new tricks!" Both Duche$$ and Elmo realized early on that every time that little clicker sounded {click, click}, the new puppy got a liver treat. They wanted in on this action! Don't get me wrong...they didn't want to do the actual commands...they wanted to cut to the chase! So, whenever we attempted to practice commands with Abbie {click, click}, we had a lineup for the rewards. 

Somehow or other, I made myself go back the next week for the second class. Fortunately, it went much better. Abbie, if not exactly sociable, seemed to realize where she was and accepted the situation. She even showed off her new skills of "Down!"  and "Shake!" (she already knew "Sit!" before we started class, as our vet had told us to teach her that when she was a baby puppy). Although she would not allow the trainer to come close enough to give her a treat [growl, growl], she toned down the Cujo act considerably. Plus...and this was the kicker...Jack the Lab and his family were absent. Hooray!!!

And then came Week Three...and Loose Leash Walking. If Week One was a bad dream, this class session was a nightmare. Night. Mare. We arrived to find out that we were not to be in the classroom (where Abbie felt comfortable...and where I had a chair to help take some of the strain off my aching back); no, we were to practice leash-walking in the aisles of the store. While there were shoppers present, attempting to be nice by trying to pet the ever-anxious Abbie. OMG. Throw in the return of Jack and his family (did I mention that in addition to his attention-challenged and attention-seeking Papa, there was an oblivious Mama, a chatty Granny, and a hyperactive10-year old daughter?)...and you can see why this is the picture I sent Mr. T when we got home:

We were getting nowhere fast with improvement in leash-walking in the crowded and confusing atmosphere of the store. When I tried to practice with Abbie walking on the leash (forget "loose leash" for the moment!) at home, I struggled to maintain control of a pulling, twisting, yanking ball of energy. Things seemed to go from bad to worse.

And, as I'm the only pet parent in this household with two good shoulders and two good knees (albeit less than one good back), all the leash-walking practice fell to me. So, I made an executive decision: quitting time!

Unfortunately, it has become apparent that our holy terrier needs more focused exercise than just daily romps in the quarter-acre Way Back Garden. She almost always gets so worked up, running through the gardens, following the scents of rabbits and squirrels that she ATTACKS to work off that energy. If we attempt to practice Fetch! and Drop it! commands, she turns it into tug-of-war. And whether it's one of the Bassets or me or Mr. T (weekends only) who gets the brunt of her bites, it can get out of hand...fast. 

I usually have the protection of garden gloves and a long-sleeved shirt...but, not so yesterday morning. I was vulnerable, she was over-wrought and accurate, and I came inside bloody and shaking. Something had to change.

So, standing at the sink, putting the antiseptic on my arms, I thought: "WWTS?" If I called our trainer to ask for his assistance (as he encouraged us to do), what would he say? I imagine he would ask me if we ever mastered loose leash walking...which is the key that opens the door to letting a dog know who is really in charge.

No. We have not.

So, yesterday afternoon, I hitched up Abbie's harness, tightened the tension on her leash, and off we went. Trying again. Thankfully, our restart went well, especially since we only saw one person along the way...and no other dogs. And this morning's walk was equally uneventful.

Perfect? Nah. But success is just one try away.

A Shoe Drops

Happy Fall, Y'all!

Waiting...waiting...waiting. For another shoe to fall...this Fall. One of my least favorite activities, as we all know...happening in one of my most favorite seasons. Makes it hard to enjoy all the beauty of this special time of the year (like that sunflower, right). Alas, as this is the Year of Suspended Animation at Casa 3917, that seems to be all we have been doing. Until now.

One of the other shoes dropped on Monday, so to speak. Looks like we have some forward motion. But, first, the back story...

Mr. T. spent last work-week on his MD-DC-VA "run," ending up at the Norfolk dealership on Thursday afternoon for their annual Fish Fry...a public event that attracts the World and his maiden aunt in that area. After having to endure some less-than-perfect weather conditions and stand up for about 4 hours straight (made a little more palatable by having all the beer one could drink with all the seafood one could consume), he called his orthopedic surgeon on the drive home on Friday to get an appointment on Monday to have the accumulated fluid drained from his left knee. Friday afternoons are also the time for his "regular" physical therapy appointments, which haven't exactly been pleasant experiences either.

When Monday morning rolled around, the conversation with his doctor apparently moved from the procedure with Mr. T's knee (more painful, each time this is done) to next steps with his (right) shoulder (same doctor; both problems). Truth be told, there is ONLY one step left: surgery. And, it will be scheduled before the end of the month. Waiting (once again...) to hear back from the surgery center about the day and time.

So, what are we looking at here? Not sure exactly. What we do know is the surgery will be both arthroscopic and outpatient. What is still up-in-the-air is the extent of the repair needed...which will tell us the amount of time needed for recovery and rehabilitation. Won't know that until the actual surgery happens. Dr. says to count on 3-4 months of that type of  R & R...and from all indications, the PT is pretty ummmm..., strenuous.

And, the plan now is, when Mr. T. has attained a "successful" recovery and rehabilitation of his right shoulder, he'll be scheduled for Total Knee Replacement (TKR) of his left knee. Another 3-4 months of recovery and rehabilitation...and pretty ummmm..., strenuous physical therapy.

An eagle-eyed reader probably caught the phrase "one of the other shoes" in the opening paragraphs. Yes, to follow the analogy through, we appear to have more than the usual two feet in the fire. But, I'll play this hand close to the vest, for once, and save the rest of story for another post. Enough clichéd phrases for you? Thought so. Moving on...

So, where does that leave me? Looks like I'll need to dust off my trusty caregiver's uniform. "In sickness and in health," and all that. Although, since we wrote our own marriage vows, I don't think we actually said those exact words 37 years ago...still, we said something to that effect. The meaning was implied if not stated: you take care of me, I'll take care of you. Period.
And, while I'm not the best nurse around, I intend to cling tight to my philosophy...instilled in me from an early age by my Daddy...that I can do anything I put my mind to.

And, if I falter in that belief, there's always: Keep Calm...and Garden On!

Warming Up

Interesting title, you say? Could I be referring to the weather...or, to the Braves relief pitcher getting ready to come in for the last 4 outs? Or, possibly something else entirely?

The weather is warming up after a lovely week of daytime temps in the 70's/nighttime temps in the 50's. Thoroughly enjoyed the cooler weather while it lasted. And know it will return, sooner rather than later. But for the moment, we are stuck with the 80's...and a much more active central AC system. And having to live with a garden trying to make the transition from Warm Season to Cool Season. (Click here to check out the latest post on our garden blog, Gardening With The Giants.).

Oh, it was a joy to watch the sheer efficiency with which Kimbrell (the Braves primo closer) dispatched the Dodger hitters in the 9th tonight. Last night's NLDS Game 1 was a heart-breaker, with the Braves losing at home 6-1. Tonight the score was in our favor at 4-3. Believe me when I say, I was exhausted when the game was over.

No, the "warming up" I am referring to is how I would describe the bit of decorating I did today. Once the calendar rolled over to October, I began to feel the need to visit the orange boxes in the attic...the ones that hold the decorations for Halloween and Thanksgiving. 

We are somewhat restricted in what we can comfortably bring downstairs (and then carry back up at the end of the "season")...remembering Mr. T's shoulder and knee problems and my own back issues. Plus we are mindful that, by the end of this month, Mr. T may be either scheduling surgery for his shoulder or recovering from the same...meaning it will be mois who will be packing up and returning boxes to the attic. So, some discretion needed to be the better part of the 2013 Fall decorating plan.

And that's how I happened to cut the number of boxes in half and go straight to Thanksgiving with almost no notice of October 31st. The stuffed turkey centerpiece...pilgrim salt & pepper shakers, chair covers, and mantle nutcrackers...autumn-colored silk leaves...and a welcome-mat that says "Give Thanks." Yep. We are ready for Turkey Day!

And yet...

How can we not hang the decades-old ghost windsocks on the porch lights? How can we not have at least one lighted jack-o-lantern in the front window? How can we not have some colorful "mumkins" (pumpkin-decorated pots that hold potted mums) on the front steps? Surely a few Halloween decorations can come down the stairs without too much strain.

And that's how we got "just a few Spooky things" added to the mix. A little warm-up decorating for the Holidays ahead on the calendar. Happy Fall, y'all!

Speaking of a warm-up...

October 1st is the day I start seriously considering the gifts I plan to craft for Christmas. Only 10 more weeks to turn skeins of yarn into scarves, mittens, cowls, and maybe a sweater or a vest. Tick, tick, tick! But before I get too wrapped up in the to-be projects, let me share a couple of Finished Objects that were delivered just this week.

First up, the Star Afghan I crocheted for Missy M's birthday. Even though I'm primarily a knitter, I try to challenge myself with at least one crochet project each year. This was the one for 2013. I used a Bernat pattern called Mosaic and a yarn called Sheep-ish in 6 colors to match a wingback chair in her living room. See what you think.

And then there was this fun knitted dish towel for AW's birthday basket. Made it with a Lion Brand pattern and a Lily Sugar n' Cream cotton yarn. Added a pumpkin button for the season. Here's a couple of pictures for you.

As I said, I'm just getting warmed up!