All Aboard!

Time to tell about another Adsit Adventure!! But first...a little background information for you.

Friday was a special day for us...very special indeed, as we celebrated our 39th anniversary. And, by default, the beginning of our 40th year as a married couple. We had promised in our wedding vows, standing together at the altar of Jackson's Christ Lutheran Church (using a phrase insisted upon by the Lutheran pastor who co-officiated) "for as long as we both shall live together," which sounded both silly and rather like hedging our bets...but guess what? Here we are...still "living together"...and more importantly, still having adventures together. 

About this year's anniversary adventure...it all started on a rainy day last month. Nothing unusual about an April shower, right? Well, as it happened, I had planned to work in the garden that day (again, nothing unusual), but the weather wasn't cooperating...and I got bored. So I decided to amuse myself by planning a trip. 

I think I've told you before...and often...that I love train travel. Always have, probably always will. No, the recent wreck hasn't deterred the little pitter-patter my heart does when I hear a train whistle. And I have always wanted to go cross-country on a train...well, on several lines as it turns out.

And that's what I was amusing myself with that rainy April day. I was on the Amtrak website, cobbling together a trip from East Coast and back. I was enthusiastically sharing my findings with Mr. T...when I realized that he had a look of sheer panic on his face. 

"Wouldn't you like to travel cross-country on Amtrak?" says I.

"Well, maybe we could start with a shorter journey," says he.

"And where would you like to go on this "shorter journey?" I said, starting to see the humor in the discussion.

After thinking about it for a bit, Mr. T says: "Raleigh."

And so, there we were, on our two-hour train ride to Raleigh. Actually, my trip was two hours, since I left from High Point, using a ticket that I'd rescheduled from an earlier planned-but-untaken ride. 

Mr. T dropped me off at the HPNC depot, then headed 20 minutes away to the Greensboro station where he would board. This would work out better in the end, with me getting off in Greensboro on the return trip, since we needed our car to be in GSO, in order to get to our next adventure: the Greensboro Grasshoppers baseball game.

We enjoyed our relatively uncrowded ride and arrived in the State Capital without incident. The day was absolutely beautiful, and we enjoyed our walk of a few blocks to the downtown Marriott. Here we would take advantage of their lobby Starbucks and WiFi connection to allow Mr. T to participate in his conference call (yeah, so much for "taking the WHOLE day off). Then, business managed, we headed to Bükü...my favorite downtown Raleigh restaurant that I was eager to introduce to T.

When we shared that it was our 39th anniversary with our waiter, he brought us glasses of champagne to celebrate! How lovely!! Since neither of us was required to drive a vehicle until much later, we enjoyed every drop. 

I had the yummy Greek Salad with a grilled salmon steak, and Mr. T ordered the burger that he pronounced as both good and "huge!" And then we shared a dessert they call Trilogy: three cremé brûlée cups...one vanilla, one chocolate mint, and one ginger...with fresh fruit. Delicious!

To walk all these calories off, we headed toward the Capitol building and the state museums, starting with NC History and ending up in the Natural Science's cafe called The Daily Planet. If we'd had three days, we probably couldn't get it all done. Here's a shot in front of the Capitol (admittedly, not the most impressive state Capitol in the country), of the three Presidents born in North Carolina...but from Tennessee...

Our ride home didn't go as smoothly, with our train running nearly an hour late. No matter, we arrived at the ballpark in time to see the Hoppers score first...and last...in the game with the Blue Claws (gotta love Minor League team names!). In between, we also were treated to a mention on the Jumbotron and by the announcer: "Happy 39th Anniversary to Thomas and Patricia!" Woohoo! I wasn't quick enough to snap the moment, but it's a nice memory all the same.

And now, loyal readers, you probably know what comes next. "Wonder where we'll be this time next year?" Guess what...I have an answer! Seattle. Yes, we already have our reservations on an Alaskan cruise for our 40th...on the Ruby Princess, for the ruby anniversary! We should be returning to port on the 29th, and we will probably return to one of our fave University of Washington-area restaurants, Ivar's, to toast this special occasion...with a fave wine that is a local there (Chateau Ste. Michelle Riesling).

Wonder if we tell the waiter, s/he will also bring us champagne?

Ye Merrie Month of May

Goodness, time is flying! Hyper speed. And since I haven't figured out how to work in the garden and blog-post at the same time, I've had to defer one for the other. Garden wins this time of the year, hands down. And since I am one "hand-down," so to speak (back to the orthopedic doctor in mid-month following a flare-up of the DeQuervain's tendinitis...another cortisone shot...back in the splint...take it easy...yadda yadda yadda), I sometimes have to choose. Gardening or blogging.

[Yes, we have a separate blog for posts about the garden, which you can find here (http:gardenwithgiants.blogspot.com). I'm no more diligent about posting there at this time of the year, either. Sigh.]

This is the week to remember. As of tomorrow, we will have lived here for six years. Count 'em, s-i-x! Not yet a record, but give us six more months and it will pass our previous "length of stay" in our Cordova house (6 years, 5 months).

Of course, it may be a race at this point, since a move in conjunction with retirement is on our horizon. Still no date for either, but we discuss our options often. No matter...what is for certain, we need to do a little prep work between now and then...whenever "then" might be. In making our lists and checking them twice, we have three BIG to-do's that have been looming large:

1) Decluttering, in general; getting rid of a ton or so of paper (records, receipts, etc.) that we have just boxed up and moved instead of destroying 

2) The Garage

3) The Deck

While gardening and yard word leave little time for other to-do's this time of the year, I am pleased to report that I successfully combined something from the above list with a necessary garden chore. It was time to weed, feed, and mulch the corn. And, once again, we found a use for several pounds of documents that we can't just toss in the trash (sensitive and/or personal information that identity thieves would love). Maybe you will remember that last year, we mulched the corn with a mountain of my parents' old documents (some dating back to the '70's!) that we first thoroughly soaked in the galvanized tub before using to suppress weeds in the paths...worked great! This year, I shredded a large part of the contents of the box dedicated to 2005...which will keep weeds at bay and make a nice dent in Item 1. Check out the corn in the Block Garden...where it looks like it has snowed!

Item 2 is still on hold until the cooler Fall months, but we can now check off Item 3...the Deck. I'm happy to report that our old, sad, badly worn but structurally sound deck is now a thing of beauty. We applied a couple of Rustoleum products called Restore 10X and Restore Solid Stain in a lovely, bright clean taupe called Driftwood. Just check the pictures:

From worn (above) to WOW! (below):

Whew! That was a huge project! Time for some rest and relaxation. We certainly are looking forward to turning in our paint brushes for some fun on Friday, when we celebrate our 39th anniversary. And celebrate it, we shall! We are taking the train to Raleigh for a fun day, then returning to enjoy the Grasshoppers game. More on that in my next post.

We've already "exchanged" our gifts: two new roses. I know, I know...seems an odd choice for folks who may soon be leaving their Rose Garden behind, but we couldn't resist. You see, the gift suggestion for 39th anniversaries is lace. LACE. Really? That just wouldn't do, so we just skipped ahead to the suggestion for next year: ruby. Much better! And we chose two ruby-red roses: a Don Juan and a Mister Lincoln. 

To pick out new inhabitants of our Rose Garden, we took a little adventure to Roses Unlimited in Laurens, SC, to check out their Open House. Once a year, visitors are allowed to go through the greenhouses where the newly-propagated roses are...a little like looking behind the Wizard's curtain in Oz. And then we checked out an eatery in Spartanburg. All-in-all, a fun Saturday.

So, May has been a merry month. A merry month, indeed. Wonder what June has in store for us? Hmmmm....

Lost and Found

Hello again! Bet you thought I'd dropped off the edge of the earth, right? No, I've just been lost in the "It's suddenly Spring!" area of my life...with too many projects and not enough time. Stop me if you've heard this before...heck, stop me if you've SAID this before! I'm currently at the car dealership while Lillie Pearl PT Cruiser is being treated for an "idling problem." Yeah, she's having trouble idling, too.

When last I posted, we were saddened by our loss of Duchess. Still are in some ways. But I found a rose called Duchesse de Brabant which we have planted in a container in the Way Back in memory of our beautiful Basset girl, and we have begun the "remember when..." portion of the grieving process. While Duchess was not an enthusiastic fan of the Way Back...probably because she was challenged by all that walking...she did seem to enjoy coming into the Rose Garden when we took our coffee to the patio, which provided a perfect nap spot before returning to the house.

Duchess in the Way Back Rose Garden
2013

 

If you follow me on Facebook or Twitter (links over there in the right column), you probably have figured out that I've been chasing my "lost youth" by attending my 40th college reunion at Mississippi University for Women's Homecoming in Columbus..."The Long Blue Line Comes Home."

Callaway Hall, my Frosh Dorm
Mississippi University for Women
Columbus, MS

While I actually celebrated my own graduation year last year (from the University of Southern Mississippi), I started college at the W (it was known as Mississippi State College for Women then) with this group of girls (well, my 60+-year old self has license to refer to my 18-year old self as a "girl," right?), most of whom graduated 40 years ago this May. Since there is no football team at the W (!), we celebrate Homecoming in the Spring...one of the most beautiful, albeit unpredictable, times of the year.

Registration in Welty Hall
It's snowing cherry blossoms!

Rosette Girls Are Back for their 40th!
Margaret Stevens, Patricia Lunn, Debra Simpkins,
Karen Daley, and Donna Luke

Lost youth, did I say? Found it! We had a ball! An absolutely fabulous time together. We laughed, reminisced (remember when...? what was that girl's name...? who was it that climbed out the 4th floor window...?), laughed, took part in lots of planned activities including a double-decker bus tour of Columbus (pictured below...did I mention it was in the mid-40's?!?), laughed, took thousands of pictures, laughed, sang Rosette Social Club songs, laughed, ate at some of our old haunts, and laughed some more.

When we lined up by class years to march into the auditorium for Convocation, we were thrilled to see the Classes of '45 and '55 at the head of the line. And after everyone else had filed into the Magnolia Chain song, we all gave a standing ovation as the Golden Girls (Class of '65, there to celebrate their 50th!) took their places. Even more impressive (for me at least) was the presentation of the Distinguished Medal of Honor to my former Sociology department head, who is still active at age 99. I think Dr. Robert may have found the Fountain of Youth!

Convocation Selfie
Looking back...

Looking forward...Class of 1975
Marching into Auditorium for
Convocation

One of the highlights of the weekend had to be our Rosette Social Club's reunion on Saturday. We poured over the pictures, lined up the pledge books and the paddles, sang the songs, and shared the memories. And...we succeeded in making yet another shared memory.

Check out the photo roundup of The Long Blue Line Homecoming in the April 8, 2015, edition of the Columbus Dispatch paper
here. You may have to copy and paste the address:
https://s3.amazonaws.com/dispatch_web_files/The+Commercial+Dispatch+eEdition+4-8-15.pdf

I snapped a screen capture of the page...which isn't the best quality admittedly:

After you have been euphoric for several days, it's difficult to find your way back to the land of even keel...without a loss kin to a letdown, that is. But I didn't really experience too much of a drop, since we got such great news in a few days after I returned home. Mr. T had his 8-week checkup with the Electrophysiologist who performed his recent cardiac ablation, who made us want to dance a jig when he read the latest ECG and said: "now, this is what a normal ECG looks like." I found I had been holding my breath all this time, and truly appreciated feeling free enough to take a deep, cleansing one after that. Ahhhhhhhhh.

We celebrated Volunteer Week at the Guilford County Extension with a gathering of Master Gardeners for the 27th annual Awards Breakfast. Such a great group of folks! Since I seem to have mysteriously found a few extra pounds while I was holed up in the house this past winter, nursing that splinted left wrist, I'm opting to limit my intake of tasty treats...and thus missed a few calories in those lovely sweet rolls. But I didn't want to miss this event just because I'm being carb-conscious! And we were proud to remind the County Commissioner (left, below) of how much all the work we do as volunteers would translate into dollars when our Horticulture Agent made the presentation of the Big Check in the amount of $450,136.52. Woo hoo! That same day, I got to volunteer at a Speakers Bureau presentation on Culinary Herbs at the High Point Library...and then come home to polish off an article for the next State newsletter.

And, somewhere in the past month we seem to have lost Winter and found Spring. No arguments from me! Of course, this means more time in the gardens but that's what makes life here at Casa 3917 so wonderful. Exhausting...but wonderful. I got a new post up on our garden blog, Gardening with the Giants; click here to go there and read about all the goings-on out in the Way Back.

We know our time at this address is growing shorter with each passing month, and that this is probably the next-to-the-last time we'll plant tomatoes and other warm-season crops here, so this will be an extra-special year. We will also be focused on dividing day lilies and irises to have plenty to take with us when we do move, and I'm encouraged by my propagation efforts so far with forsythia and some of the roses. Hey, maybe I will be able to "take it with me!"

All in all, we hope these preparations ensure that this won't be a chapter of Paradise Lost...but instead a scene from Paradise Found!

The Long Goodbye

Once we became a multi-dog household, I began to count noses. It began with one-two: first for Barnie and Bea, later followed by Beau and Belle, then Boots and Tippy, and finally Duchess and Gus. When Elmo joined Duchess and Gus, I had to learn to count all the way up to three. One-two-three-four began when first grand-dog Charley adopted Missy M; we dropped back to one-two-three for a bit in 2007 until Ella Rae came along to cheer M up. When Dixie arrived in their house and would come for a visit, we hit the high water mark: one-two-three-four-five.

So, since the grand-dogs are here for Spring break, I got up this morning as I usually do, counting snouts: one-two-three-four...and then I remembered I had to stop. For Belle Bea Boots, Duchess of Dacula, crossed over the Rainbow Bridge yesterday, following a lengthy roller-coaster battle with cancer.

She had an amazingly long run for a Basset, whose lifespan is typically quoted at 10-12 years, living to a ripe, old age of  14 1/4 years. Even more amazing when you pause to consider that she has been on the downhill slope for nearly 5 years.

To begin her story, let's return to the Holiday Season of 2000, when we were still grieving over the death of Boots, who lost her battle with kidney disease at Thanksgiving. Missy M returned to her final semester of her Senior year at Mississippi University for Women in January, and I remember being doubly-sad that week.

Until...

We got a phone call from our sweet daughter, telling us she had seen an ad for a litter of Basset puppies on the school's list serv. Did we want her to go look at them? Now, we all know there is no such thing as just "go look at them" when we are talking about puppies...you better be prepared to come home with one, hadn't you? Mr. T's only instruction was "get a boy dog, please." I think he was weary of being the only member of our little family with a Y chromosome.

Anyway, M took a friend to see the litter, and they fell for the tiniest one of the bunch...who was also the only female. She brought her home to Dacula that weekend, and somewhere on the long trip from Mississippi to Georgia the runt of the litter gained a regal name: Duchess. When I sent in her AKC papers, I named her to honor the memory of those ones who had gone on: Belle Bea Boots, Duchess of Dacula.

Because Duchess was with us for so many years, we have mountains of memories. Like of how she teethed on a brick on the fireplace hearth. And how she used to get so excited when she heard her first boyfriend, Willie, as he barked when he went by on his daily walks behind our house in Dacula. How she bonded with Mr. T, who shared his home office with her for the first 8 months in residence.

How she loved walking to the mailbox to meet up with Flash, her Florida boyfriend...and how she stood at the back of the pool cage to bark at the cows in the Kissimmee pasture-land behind our house. How she said "I don't think so! when introduced to the Chip (or was it Dale) character at Disney's Animal Kingdom.

How she could always manage to put the brakes on full-stop and walk right out of her collar...and run faster than you could imagine anything on such short legs could go. And how she always thought she was a lap dog...even when she topped out at 60+ pounds.

Going for a walk with Duchess brought to mind how it must be when the Queen of England takes a ride in the countryside. If she could have managed that little wrist-wave, I'm sure she would have used it. Whenever she spotted another person, Duchess was certain s/he was coming just to see her...and she would wiggle-walk toward the on-coming subject and present her belly for a rub. OK, so maybe the Queen doesn't do that last part.

Duchess was pretty much a by-the-book Basset: "A calm pet that enjoys and needs human companionship. Relative to its size, it's the heaviest boned dog of any breed. Its deep, rolling bark can be amusing. This is a serene and well-behaved dog, but if it's spoiled it can become stubborn."

Did they say "human companionship? Yes, Duchess loved "her people." Other dogs? Not so much. She tolerated Gus, who we adopted thinking they would make great playmates. Not really. Most of the time, Duchess looked at him like she was just about to say "when are you coming to your senses and taking him back?"

When Elmo arrived, she was mostly indifferent...allowing the boyz to be boyz together. As the canine population of her world changed over the last few years, she simply adopted the attitude: "hey, I was here first. Deal with it."

Did they say stubborn if spoiled?  You better believe it...on both counts! She marched to her own drummer...and she typically expected all the rest of us to do likewise. Breakfast was to be served within 15 minutes of her sashaying into the kitchen. Dinner was to be at 6:00 on the dot. Oh, and there were expectations that whenever she...or anyone, for that matter...went outside and came back in there would be treats...plural. And there had better be water in each and every water bowl around.

There were some "bad" breed traits she had also: frequent ear infections, skin allergies, and skin tumors known as lipomas, which are normally benign fatty-tissue tumors. She endured several surgeries to remove multiple "lumps and bumps" over the years earning her the nickname "Duche$$."

Then in 2010, she was diagnosed with an infiltrative lipoma (one between her front legs that had grown into the surrounding muscle tissue) and another liposarcoma (the malignant form of skin tumor). Both of these were inoperable, meaning it was just a matter of time. [Read more about lipomas in dogs here, where they even have a picture of a dog with a lipoma on its chest, just like Duchess had: http://www.vetsurgerycentral.com/oncology_lipoma.html ]

As in life, Duchess set her own schedule for death. She knocked on the door on more than one occasion, prompting us into anticipatory action (regular readers might recall that is how we adopted Abbie, back in 2013). When she could no longer manage to get her back legs to follow her front legs up onto the sofa or bed or into her favorite chair (AKA: Mr. T's morning room chair), she simply began to tell us what to do when. We called this assistance The Butt Lift. Woof! became the Basset equivalent of "I said NOW!"

But, for the past week or so, things were steadily going downhill for the old girl. She stopped eating for a couple of days, followed by a few days of half-rations, only to return to not eating. Yesterday, we knew the time had arrived when neither of us could get her to take her pain meds, even though she was in obvious pain. So, we did the hardest job a pet parent must do: made the decision to make that long, sad trip to the Animal Emergency Hospital.

So, goodbye Missy D...Big Girl...the D-girl. We will miss you mightily. You gave us plenty of time to prepare for your departure, but we will still feel a hollow place in our hearts created by your absence.

And when I count noses tonight for dinner, I'll still say "five" in your memory.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I put together an album with photos highlighting Duchess' life, which hopefully you can access here:
https://plus.google.com/photos/105465929538269305215/albums/6126948139919282065/6126948146015821762?pid=6126948146015821762&oid=105465929538269305215 

The Time Has Truly Come

The Walrus and The Carpenter

by Lewis Carroll

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

(from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)

Well, here we are. We have arrived at March, 2015. And it occurs to me that the time has come to begin posting about a subject we have been discussing in earnest at Casa 3917 lately. While it is certainly not a new subject, it has moved forward with a bullet, based on the events of the past 4 weeks. I speak, of course, of retirement.

But first...a pause for some snow pictures from the past week. We made it into the 60's today, so our snow days are numbered. And I wouldn't want to forget before moving on.

Ah yes. Moving on. You know, one of my alma maters, the University of Memphis, has a motto: Dreamers, Thinkers, Doers. Well, the time has come to move on to the realm of the Doers.

As the new year began, we were dreaming and thinking in terms of the Retirement Big Picture (did we have a plan in place for some unnamed date in the misty future, were we saving enough, what are our healthcare choices, etc?). Mr. T's recent heart-health scare revealed a glaring gap in The Plan, mainly that we are living in the wrong place...about 5 hours northeast, to be exact. We can have a plan, a budget, comprehensive healthcare coverage...but if we are too far away from Missy M (AKA: our support system), then everything else is at risk.

So, even though we still aren't ready to commit to an exact date, we do know we are talking about next year. And we do know we are talking about a downsizing move, likely to Gwinnett County, Georgia (where Missy M is...and where we lived 1997-2002), which will take several months to prepare for. I will be posting about the process and about our experiences. Since there are still thousands of things to consider and hundreds of decisions to make, I will welcome the opportunity to voice our successes and roadblocks alike.

Sure, we have made 13 "permanent" moves, with a few more into/out of temporary quarters, in the past 39 years, so we know what a pain moving can be. A. Giant. Pain. But we haven't moved ourselves since making a cross-county move in 1999...from Duluth to Dacula, GA...and that nearly did both of us in. One of the issues with that move was that we hadn't done a ruthless purge prior to making it, thinking "oh, it's just across the county." Wrong...on so many levels!

And because we have made mostly corporate moves, we have gotten complacent about all the stuff we have wagged all over the country: if we weren't paying to pack and ship it, we didn't really care whether there were 100 or 1000 boxes.

That changes today. The time has come to take the first tangible steps toward our goal: decluttering. And, how timely indeed! I saw this post that Cousin H liked on Facebook...perfect! Click here to see the decluttering hints I will be following as we prepare to make our move.

While I still have a couple more weeks of wearing this splint on my left wrist/hand, I can commit to "a bag a day." Whether I pack up a bag of clothes or knickknacks for Goodwill, or throw away a bag of old magazines, I am setting a goal of removing a bag of STUFF from our surroundings each day. That should get me going in the right direction...without having to do any heavy lifting.

Yes, the time has truly come to begin preparing for our next big Adsit Adventure. Join us, won't you?

And Then...And Then...Along Came the Rest of the Story

Well hello there. Good to see you again. I'm back, and using the neatest technology for typing: talk-to-text. So why am I using talk-to-text, you ask? Ah well, that's part of the rest of the story. Let's get started…

When last I wrote, Mr. T was headed for a cardiac ablation to correct an arrhythmia. (Please see the previous two posts to catch up with this part of the story.) The short version is it all went extremely well. The longer version? Of course, that's where the rest of the story begins!

We got to Wake Forest Baptist Hospital in Winston-Salem on Monday (2/16) before the 7 o'clock scheduled appointment time and followed the (excellent) directions we had found on the website. Those directions got us to the correct parking deck that serviced the Electrophysiology Lab. Unfortunately, we actually needed to be in Admissions...several floors below and one building over. It's like we were trying to collect (or rather SPEND!) our $200 without passing "Go." STOP! Retrace steps. Start over. Dear Readers, if any of you have ever been to WFBH (or any large, metropolitan University teaching hospital), you will know that "retracing your steps" is much easier said than done. Sigh.

How did this happen? You may remember from my last post, that the cardiac ablation procedure was planned late Friday (2/13) afternoon over the phone, in consultation with the electrophysiologist after he had read Mr. T's ultrasound. As it turned out, Dr. W is the head of the EP department. In other words, he makes the decisions, and he can make a procedure happen in three days rather than in three weeks. What he does not do, is enter information into the WFBH admissions system. And, even if the top doc has decreed you will have a procedure ASAP, you do NOT do anything until the (electronic) paperwork is in order. And it was definitely NOT in order.

Still, I must say, everyone we met at WFBH...everyone...did everything to make Mr. T's stay there the best it could be. The Admissions rep pulled in just the right person to finagle the system into admitting him. And more than one person called the EP Suite to keep them apprised of his progress. He got the ticket for admittance when they strapped the bracelet on his wrist (note the QR codes...more about those in an upcoming post).

When we got back to the place we had started, they wasted no time in getting him prepped for the procedure...but neither did they try to save time by neglecting to tell BOTH of us what to expect when. Then, as they wheeled Mr. T away, one of the nurses said to me "do you know where the Adult Surgery Family Waiting Center is?" When I said I didn't, she smiled and said, "well, let me take you there!" And she did! Two floors down and one building over. [I soon learned that was a theme: if you even appeared to be lost, a hospital employee (doctor, nurse, tech...didn't matter) would come to your rescue, and typically ask if you wanted him or her to take you there.]

I settled in for my long winter's wait, since Dr. B (who was the EP in charge of the procedure) had said he would call me in about 2-3 hours to let me know how things were going. Missy M had agreed to stay behind at home and make sure the pups were fed (it's all about the dogz, right?); then she'd come along to wait with me. I had started a raglan sweater (knit, knit, knit...round and round on circular needles) that seemed perfect for passing the time in the waiting room. Only two problems:

1) We were in the direct path of a winter storm, supposed to dump snow and ice on us starting at 4:00...almost the exact time Mr. T was to be discharged (if all went well with the 4-hour enforced flat-on-his-back recovery spent in the day hospital room); and

2) My left wrist was hurting worse than ever. But, I had an appointment with a WFB orthopedic doc that very afternoon, and Mr. T's doc had encouraged me to keep the appointment. Plus, his nurse told me not to even think about driving across the campus...there was a shuttle bus that would deliver me door-to-door! Well, alrighty then...knit on!

Meanwhile....up in the EP Suite...

Mr. T said he remembers the first part of the morning, when they put at least 16 electrode patches to determine whether he was in flutter (he was) and to begin what they called a TEE. Here's a bit about that:

"In a small number of patients, an ultrasound of the heart is needed to make sure that there is no blood clot present. This is called a transesophageal echocardiogram (TEE)...and involves a probe that goes down your throat to look at your heart. You will be given sedation during this test..."

Well, sort of. He remembers the lidocaine that was used to numb his throat. Then the foul-tasting benzocaine. And he had the impression that he had pulled into pit row in a NASCAR race: there were people all around him, with each one doing some portion of the procedure...all working in harmony. He thought he might hear the whirring of the air-jack at any moment! And then...and then...well, lights out.

Meanwhile, back in the Surgery Waiting Center...

I knitted. And I texted. And I watched the constant weather updates. And I waited. And before I knew it, Dr. B called me to say the procedure was over, and Mr. T was doing well. Hooray and hallelujah! He said his nurse would call me soon and tell me the room number in the Day Hospital, which was where Mr. T had to go for 4-6 hours of observation "flat on his back, no movements." (Right. I was wondering what they were going to use to tie him down.) Within 15 minutes, Nurse Mary called with the number...and detailed directions...but when I asked an employee for confirmation of the correct bank of elevators (I had changed Towers, so I wasn't sure whether I could use the first ones I came upon), she said "let me take you there." Then when I got to the nurses' station on 11, I asked if Mr. T had arrived in his room. "No, but you are welcome to wait in there. Let me take you to it." (Can you tell I'm going to give them the highest score on their follow up survey?)

Missy M arrived to the room just after Mr. T did. And she stayed with him while I caught the shuttle to the orthopedic surgeon's office. I got there way too early, but they took me right away: the weather was changing, and they wanted to make sure everyone was seen before the snow arrived. The doc came in, asked me lots of questions, and examined my left hand/wrist/thumb. He was just like everyone else we have met in this system: open, kind, and easy to talk with. (Not at all like the orthopedic surgeon I had for my back in Florida...but don't get me started...:-)

Turns out I have a tendon-and-nerve combo problem called deQuervain's Tenosynovitis. Dr. W says it's fairly common, but I've never known anyone with it, have you? Here's some more info for you: 

>>>"Definition

By Mayo Clinic Staff

De Quervain's tenosynovitis (dih-kwer-VAINS ten-oh-sine-oh-VIE-tis) is a painful condition affecting the tendons on the thumb side of your wrist. If you have de Quervain's tenosynovitis, it will probably hurt every time you turn your wrist, grasp anything or make a fist. Chronic overuse of your wrist is commonly associated with de Quervain's tenosynovitis. 

When you grip, grasp, clench, pinch or wring anything in your hand, you use two major tendons in your wrist and lower thumb. These tendons normally glide unhampered through the small tunnel that connects them to the base of the thumb. If you repeat a particular motion day after day, it may irritate the sheath around the two tendons, causing thickening that restricts the movement of the tendons."<<<

What causes it? Repetitive motion, like with tennis or golf (don't play), lifting a baby (don't have one...anymore), gardening (uh oh), crocheting (double uh oh), and knitting (triple uh oh). What can you do about it? For starters, NSAIDS are prescribed...but I already take Celebrex for arthritis, so obviously I'm beyond Step 1. Next up, stop doing any/all of the above, which is accomplished by splinting 24/7...for 4-6 weeks (only removing the brace for showering and hand-washing) to limit use and to keep the wrist and thumb in proper alignment. In other words, NO KNITTING. Triple sigh. And lastly, a cortisone shot...in the wrist. If you know me at all, you KNOW how terrified of needles I am. So, when you hear I was practically begging him to give me that shot, you will KNOW where I was on the pain continuum that day. And if the above doesn't work? The last stop is surgery. And the website that Dr. W sent me to showed a video of that surgery, which is probably the best incentive I have at keeping the brace in place. Ahem.

So here's the fashion statement I'm making for the next few weeks. "Lovely" isn't the word...and in doesn't fit inside of a sweatshirt sleeve very well. Still...I want to do everything I can to avoid surgery. [Yes, I admit it. I am a big baby. And no, I wasn't knitting with that ball of yarn. I was wondering if it would make a good squeeze toy. I may have to keep my thumb still, but I need to provide some therapeutic movement for arthritic fingers...which were used to knitting.]

Meanwhile, back on the 11th floor...

Mr. T's observation period was ticking away, with just a small hitch. At the 4-hour mark, the nurse who changed the bandage decided he needed to stay a couple more hours. Of course, that timing coincided perfectly with the arrival of the winter storm we'd been hearing about all day. You knew that was coming didn't you?

No worries. We made it home just fine, following the salt trucks and snow ploughs all the way. Missy M took good care of us until she headed back down I-85. And Mr. T was a good patient, following his doctors' orders for a quiet recovery. 

So far, so good. His heart rate is consistently registering below 100, his blood pressure is staying in the normal limits, and there is no indication of the arrhythmia. I say again...hooray and hallelujah!

And me? Well, I may have to give up knitting for a few weeks; I may have to forego using a keyboard and stick to talk-to-text and single-digit typing on an iPad; and I may have to figure out how to make-do in the garden with just my right hand (using a hand trowel, yes; using a cultivator or hoe, no). But I can tell you I am doing better already.

And that is...as promised...the rest of this story.

Weekend Interlude

interlude

[in-ter-lood] 

noun

an intervening episode, period, space, etc.

First things first...Happy Valentine's Day! This is a special day for many folks, and we are no exception. Ah, memories...

Then there is this picture that seemed apropos:

[Couldnt resist. Chalk it up to my wacky sense of humor.]

Ok, on to the real reason you are probably here: an update on Mr. T. And that's why I titled this post "Weekend Interlude," as in an intervening couple of days before the action resumes in our adventure...big time. But first, allow me to digress...quite a lot...

Yesterday was beyond wacky. Wacky cubed, you might say. We started the day right after coffee (breakfast was a protein bar on the run), dashing off to the cardiologist's office on the west side of Winston-Salem. Mr. T was scheduled for a cardiac ultrasound (as mentioned in my last post). His heart rate has responded well over the past week to the higher dosage of meds, although he became aware of his blood pressure monitor lighting up the little red light for "irregular heartbeat." Still, things seemed to be more positive than the week before. 

After the test (which was a new and interesting experience for him), we decided to move our Valentine's meal out forward a day and try out a new spot for lunch (I mean, really...how many people actually celebrate Friday the 13th, I ask you?). Although the last thing Mr. T needs right now is to be exposed to all and sundry germs, you just can't help wanting to have a special time out together. I was wearing a red sweater (see picture) I knitted several years ago for Valentine's Day in the pattern called Minimalist Cardigan, plus a heart-shaped pin, so that counts, right?

We headed to downtown Winston and were the first folks in the door of The Old Fourth Street Filling Station (click here to go there: http://theoldfourthstreetfillingstation.com). We started with the hot, creamy Spinach Dip and pita chip appetizer and then polished off the day's special lunch offering, hot and crispy fish & chips. Excellent on both counts! By the time we left, we probably could have auctioned off our table to the gathering crowd.

Next up, a trip to the AT&T store in HPNC. Beat me, beat me with a stick. So why subject myself to this torture? My iPhone took a dunk in a cup of Diet Pepsi about a month ago and has not been the same since...imagine that. It finally refused to take a charge this past week, breathing its final gasp on Wednesday. The AT&T tech confirmed the demise, but guessed it might be a problem with the charger port...possibly including a bad battery. Repair the "old" one (which is only 14 months old) or buy a new one? That is only one of the many questions that consumed the next three hours of our lives.

[As you read the following, please remember that I am certainly capable of making choices between Choice A and Choice B. I help clients do this all of the time! I can even factor in Choice C, but I usually find adding a third consideration just muddies the waters without giving any greater returns. I'm all about narrowing it down to the manageable Magic Two. If options begin to balloon beyond three, I start getting downright twitchy...to use one word for it. So, to recap: having two options is ideal. Three can be dealt with. Four or more makes me crazy. ]

Wouldn't you know it, the phone was two months beyond warranty (which may or may not have covered a soda-swim). So, the AT&T tech hands us a card for a local (thank the good Lord) repair facility. Mr. T calls them and is told it could cost $75-125 to repair...and while the estimate visit was free, they were backed up and it may take 3 hours to be able to give us an estimate. Ok, Choice A to consider: take the dead phone to CPR (Cell Phone Repair...how clever...:-).

Next on the agenda was the discussion about a new phone. I am reasonably happy with both my iPhone and with AT&T, so I thought this part would be easy, since I was not entertaining other makes or other carriers. I was, however, thinking that if I had to buy a new iPhone, that I might go ahead and get a 6 like Mr. T has or a ginormous 6-plus like Missy M uses (upgrading from my current much-loved, pretty, petite, bright yellow...albeit dead 5c). 

Back in the analog days when I worked for Vanguard Cellular (which was eventually acquired by AT&T), you picked out a phone, you picked a rate plan, you paid for the phone and one month's bill in advance...and they activated it, hey presto! You've got cell! That was so 1996.

Now? Good grief. It seems they are all about financing the phone...which I did not want. And if I bought the phone outright (to get the best pricing), I had to sign up for a two-year contract (which my previous carrier Northstate, who was bought by AT&T, never required, so I'm grandfathered in), which I'd rather not do. And even if I agreed to the 2-year contract (which the Tech admitted was going away "soon"), I would be paying MORE per month...for the same minutes and data plan. So, Choice B was buy a newer model of iPhone from my current carrier and pay more per month...for nothing.

Putting some distance between ourselves and this daymare, we headed across town to CPR...to leave the dead phone for an estimate. Lo and behold, in the same shopping center was a Verizon store...and Missy M had just directed me (on a call on Mr. T's phone) to bite the bullet and get some competitors' (namely T-Mobile and Verizon) information. Enter Choice C. 

Blah, blah, blah...numbers basically the same, except an offer for a monthly "bounty" for leaving my current carrier. Nice guy, but still...I'm sinking fast. Heading to T-Mobile (back across town), I hit my wall. I asked Mr. T to head home, realizing I simply couldn't manage Choice D.

At home, we switched gears, moving back to the realm of arrhythmia. Mr. T's ultrasound had been read and he had a call from the Electrophysiologist (EP). They talked, discussed what would happen next, and before he had hung up the call for long, there was a message from the electronic patient record application used by Wake Forest Baptist Health that he had a cardiac  ablation scheduled for Zero Dark Thirty on Monday. Wow! 

What's a cardiac ablation, you ask? Here you go...from the National Insttute of Health: "Cardiac ablation is a procedure that is used to scar small areas in your heart that may be causing your heart rhythm problem. This can prevent the abnormal electrical signals or rhythms from moving through the heart."

Read more on the subject here: (http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/007368.htm) Cardiac Ablation Procedure

Then there was a call from the nurse who talked about what to expect (a 4-6 hour procedure, done in the hospital-based EP surgery suite) and told Mr. T about the blood thinner med he had to begin...now. 

Before we could dash out of the door to pick up the meds at the pharmacy, he received a call to say "his" iPhone was ready to pick up. Say what? Yep, they'd determined the problem was a faulty charger port ("good deal of rust in there") and had repaired it (for much less than quoted).

Well. Choice A it is then! That settled that...for now.

So we are enjoying the intervening space in the wackiness...also known as our Weekend Interlude. Missy M and the Grand dogs arrive tomorrow, and Monday morning will be here before we know it. And then?

We shall see. We shall see. Regardless, we shall be together. 

Stay tuned!