Talk about being stressed out!!

I have been working on a couple of posts that are on what I consider to be higher topics, and I wanted to write and rewrite to make them really good. They are still around, and I will publish them - probably. But this real life and almost real time experience is just too good (not really the best word for it) not to share right now.

Yesterday I called the plastic surgeon to see if I really am scheduled for reconstruction. The scheduler said yes my surgery would be on May 14 beginning at 9:30 am, and the only place I could have it was XYZ Center.

I had heard of XYZ Center, but I wasn't sure of where it was or exactly what it was. I begin really feeling great animosity toward G since he didn't want me to go to Outlands Hospital, even though it was the surgeon's choice, because it was so far away. He wouldn't be able to visit me long there because Simone needs care. I told him I know for a fact it will be there for 15 minutes - at the most, and then have to go. I have had 4 previous hospitalizations, and his track record stands for itself!

So I got the 30 pound volume 1 of our yellow pages. XYZ Center wasn't listed there. So I went to the 20 pound North Swampland phone book to look. Not there!! I was really mad at G. Great. I have a surgery date, but where.

So I got my insurance benefits book. It lists the approved sites for all things medical. I got the entire name for the place. It is XYZ Surgery Speciality Hospital.

I went to the web site. Under the heading "day of surgery" it said that I might still be groggy when I was released that afternoon so I needed someone to get post surgical care and drive me home.

Now Dr Plastic Surgeon had already told me I was in for a 3-4 day stay, and I was ready for that. When I had the mastectomy, I wanted it to be out patient. I wanted to go home that same day. I groused all evening, and the next morning I told the nurse I wanted to go home. Dr Regular Surgeon said I could go, but I did have another day I could stay. Nope, I wanna go home. Consequently, I think that was the reason I developed an infection.

So I was ready for the stay this time. Then to read I would be dumped out the day of what will end up being a more major surgery nearly sent me over the edge! G came home and, fighting back tears because I was so mad and scared, I gave him the news. I told him HE should call the doctor's office,

He is a procrastinator. Big time. So as he was sitting in his chair reading a book, the phone rang. It was the doctor's insurance person. I asked her if I would be thrown out the same day. She began to wonder also. As it turns out, I am approved for one day, after which my condition will be assessed. Then more days will be approved as needed.

The rest of the afternoon, I felt as limp as a dish rag. That tension really took its toll on me. But as dear William (Shakesphere that is) said "alls well that ends well," and so it is.

Back to work on the someday posts. Have a good day y'all.

Ch-ch-ch Changes

Big changes taking place here in Swampland suburb. I have decided on a plastic surgeon, and have a tentative surgery date scheduled. I am just waiting for the decision from the insurance company. I really have mixed feelings right now. I am anticipating the good feeling of "being whole" once again and ot having to strap on that hundred pound prosthesis!

On the other hand, the aspect of having the muscle from my shoulder back being brought around to my chest region and the associated fat placed on top does give me pause. I really am worried about recovery. My last session with drain tubes didn't go well, and this time I will have one (I think) in the front for a week and three in the back for unknown time.

I am really worried about my healing - not just for normal reasons - because four weeks after the surgery we have already committed to going to the National Historic Railroad Convention in Cow Town. I've got to be healed enough.

It is no secret that I could not have the transflap or DIEP. A little too much adipose tissue there which may not close properly. I wish those 60 pounds had not found me again during my treatments. But when I think of having stomach muscle shifted up to the chest - well that really doesn't appeal to me. I saw what the scar looks like. I never wanted a tummy tuck anyway because of that transverse cut across the tummy!

Well, all this talk about surgery means that Doodle Bug needs to find another care taker. K thought she had a neighbor who would do it. That fell through. Everything with the exception of the day care fell through. So DB starts day care on the 6th (I think). I will keep her one more week - due to a misunderstanding where K thought I wanted to keep her longer. But that's fine. I will miss her. She is getting to be so cute now.

That first week, I will be helping to transition her. I'm not sure how that is going to work or be of help, but it sounds good. I just hope the workers fall instantly in love with her. I'm really afraid they will find her to be a spoiled brat - which I have contributed to. I know she will cry most of the time at first. We are really working on more independent play around here. I'm just afraid it is a little too little, a little too late.

So that's my life now. Have a great weekend. And as one of our flaky news personalities used to say (before he died): "Good golf, good tennis or whatever you like to do!"

I simply cannot believe how long it has been since I was here. I just seem to be moving in slow motion. My question is who put the world in fast forward in this span of time?

We took a trip to the SSB a couple of weeks ago. It was off our usual schedule because it was, of all things in the German-American culture, a family reunion. This one is always special to me because one of the distant cousins in into genealogy. We usually compare notes. So that makes it a little more exciting.

I made my appointments with two plastic surgeons. The first one was in the Medical Center. He is associated with one of the medical schools. The area is bad enough to get to since it is about 40 miles away, but the time was 8:30 am. With Swampland's traffic, that morphed itself into an hour and a half drive with heavy traffic all the way. He had a heavy accent, and according to my daughter, a lousy bedside manner.

Three days later I was scheduled with another surgeon. He had been with the clinic at the same med school, but had gone into private practice. He has an office in my neck of the woods, but he never comes here. We went to Master Planned Community of the North.

He was good. He was very personable. He explained everything - a lot. He wanted to be sure I understood everything. I told K that was to stop lawsuits. But he's the one I am going with. Now I
just have to schedule the time and place.

Doodle Bug's days with me are now numbered. I wanted to keep her until she was at least a year, but she is going to have to be with someone else. K looked into the day care that Monkey Boy attends. His fee is $175/week. Hers will be $250/week. No wonder people are looking at one of the parents staying home with the children. But I also know you really do get what you pay for. If the staff is paid a reasonable wage so the day care can get the best - it's going to cost.

Doodle Bug is napping, but I don't know for how much longer. I better get to other things I need to do. It may really be time for her to go anyway, you know? Plus I may lose my wifi hookup with my neighbor's internet soon.

They remind me of used car salesmen

For a year I have been tossing the idea of reconstruction surgery about. Right after the mastectomy, I was ready. Just do it - now, please. Since my surgeon was not a plastic surgeon as well, he couldn't do it.

As chemo went on, I was thinking I wasn't sure that I wanted another (probably more) surgery. I would just stay the way I am. During radiation, I was glad there wasn't more tissue there, and at that conclusion, the doctor said I should wait a year anyway.

At that time, that was fine. I was still vacillating. Where I am right now is a totally different place. I find myself mourning my lost breast. I feel as though I have been mutilated. My body image, while never being good, is really in the trash can right now.

In February, I asked my oncologist for some names of plastic surgeons. I had already done some research so I had one in mind. He gave me three names. One, who was also recommended by my surgeon, is not in my PCP book, so he is out.

I went to the websites for these remaining three doctors. I was so upset by them I sat and cried as I read through their sites. I can't explain, but I felt so cheap. I felt these men were so sleezy that I could have been going to the used car salesman who would sell a heap of bolts to some poor person who would have to pay by the day because they were so poor.

Rationally, it makes sense that these men are PLASTIC surgeons, and as that, they are going to do cosmetic surgery as well. They will offer botox and all those kinds of things, but I just felt cheapened by the website.

I called for appointments with two of the three. The third really disgusted me the most, and if he were to suggest the "flap" it would be the old method. I don't want muscle removed. I have enough abdominal fat to fill the nation's women who need reconstruction! The people who manned the phones were just so . .perky. That didn't help my feeling - at all.

I am trying to get my mind straight. I need to accept what they do - other than reconstruction. I guess I was looking for someone who was a little more low key than these sites appear to be. Those appointments begin on the 15th. I'll let you know.

Watch your eyes

It's me again. I haven't run away or fallen off the face of the earth or anything. I just don't know where the time has gone - again.

I guess the glare from the huge yellow stripe that runs down my back has temporarily blinded me. You don't see that stripe. It's right here and it even extends out about 3 feet on each side. I do have it and it means that I am such a coward.

There is no reason for my being a coward on this point, but I am. I am vacillating about keeping Doodle Bug longer. She is getting so strong that she can almost get out of my arms. That is bad. I have tile floors. Baby's head + tile floor = disaster. She is also crawling now, and really trying to walk. My knees are worse than they have ever been. I don't think I can chase her very well.

Then I also have my own selfish reasons. I want my life back. I don't leave the house when she is here. In fact, I don't do anything when she is here. She has such separation anxiety when I am out of her sight. I want my life back. I went from chemo to radiation to baby sitting. This has been my last year.

On the other hand, she is so precious. She can melt my heart with one little look. I can also save her parents a boat load of money. Not that they need me to do that, but it does help them. I can also keep Doodle Bug healthier.

I say I can keep her healthier, she gave me a cough! The cough could be from allergies. Swampland is a teeming petri dish for allergens. I had not gotten any of my OTC meds in a long time. So that could cause the cough, but DB had one too. She probably was infected from her sister or brother.

Anyway, I did sort of let K know that DB's time with me is running short. She is too strong and active for me to keep her much longer. I just have to decide when I don't want to see her everyday anymore. That's the hard part (I write as tears are forming in my eyes).

Well, that certainly explains everything

To put it simply, I'm mentally ill. That came as a BIG surprise to me, perhaps not so much to others, but I was still surprised.

I thought my problem was that I taught school for twenty-nine years (actually longer, but it didn't count), and have been a crafter all my life. I thought this was a normal behavior, as long as it didn't overtake your life.
I am a, gasp, pack rat. Can this be like AA? Could this be the first step? But I don't see this as a real problem with the exceptions of running out of storage space and time to put said kept things away - both which are happening to me.

When you teach, you never know what kinds of things you need. When I was teaching (science for those who don't know), we had a lab that used the packing peanuts. That is an item that is not always easily found - especially when you need them! So I would save them. The only time there was a problem was when the bag would fall out of the cabinet and according to the law, it would open and, well, you know the rest.

I still tend to collect these peanuts. Now because I hear they are really good to put in the bottom of large pots that will hold giant plants. It makes the pots lighter and easier to move. If I only had time to repot my plants.

I have kept scraps of material from projects I have sewn in the past year. I'm not sure what to use them for, but I think I have an idea. I am making cloth coasters. I think they will work well for that.

For a long time, I kept my hero's magazines. I think she would be thrilled and appalled at the same time, but her staff would find a way to organize them perfectly - even if it meant building a new set for her show. I wish that worked around here.

In a perfect world, I would have the exact storage item and space for all my collected treasures. I would have time to put them in the storage item and in the specific place. Even better, I would remember WHERE I stored the item.

Yep, all those people writing about pack rats are right. We ARE mentally ill.

Time travel?

Call me crazy, but I am convinced there is a gremlin running rampant around this country killing people's internet connections. Mine was toasted, one of our newspaper's columnist had his killed, and several bloggers that I read have had problems. People - guard your internet connection!

I think it must be a gremlin from India! My reasoning is simple. Everyone else had been routed to India for tech help. Isn't technology wonderful. Press one button on your telephone and you are transported to the mysterious India is mere seconds.

I thought I was going to be immune to this magical process. The last time I had to call my ISP, it was answered right here in the good old USA. Either that or the person I spoke with had taken one of the jobs in India.

Yesterday when I called, I was transported. Among the multitude of organ failures I am experiencing (ain't old age wonderful) is a loss of hearing. Add a rather scratchy telephone connection and I cannot understand those people over there in IT.

I explained my problem. He told me to type in the letter * like in T%&I()^O. I swear that is what I heard. It could have been a c, b, c or v. I couldn't understand his word either. As the instructions continued and I kept guessing letters and he kept giving me unintelligible answers, I swear I heard laughter in the background. It wasn't funny people.

It especially funny because I was messing around in the REAL programming of my computer. He had me going to "start" and "run" then going from C prompt. Now the average person can do real damage when they get to the C prompt and begin messing with the programming of his computer.

I wondered when he was going to tell me to take the cover off of the computer and disconnect straps - as I have had to do with that "American made in Texas computer."

That didn't happen - thankfully. But when we finally got to the point where I was going to reprogram the computer, the response from my aged (and I guess by now learned) computer was to time us out. He then said he was going to call another department and would I please hold. Sure, it's only our dinner burning in the oven since I had been on the phone for 30 minutes. G loves burnt offerings.

Well, of all things the next person on the line apparently was here in the USA, either that or she had also moved to India. She took the much less invasive approach to solving the problem. I only had to unplug cables from the modem, turn the computer off and reattach those cables. What took the time is rebooting the computer. As I said, she is old and grumpy. She doesn't like to start running either.

To sum it up - there in internet in the office, the router still is off, and I am using the unsecured WiFi from my neighbor. But the tax program is installed and registered so G should be happy. I can still use the laptop, and I didn't have to reprogram either computer - yet.

Have a happy weekend!

Yawn

I convinced myself that the time change wouldn't get to me this year. I don't know who I was kidding, but I am a walking zombie. I am tired to the bone and all the way through it.

Sunday night wasn't a problem because we stayed up late. Getting the brain to go into neutral was not a problem. It was way past any bedtime regardless of the time situation. Monday morning was a little tough because we had to be up at daylight to move our vehicles out of the driveway. Our yard man was coming to clean out the summer jungle that had become a dessicated frost bitten mess.

Monday night I could not go to sleep. I tried and tried. I finally got up and came into the den. I watched a few really stupid shows finally becoming tired enough to fall asleep. I was able to get about 4 1/2 hours. Thinking it wouldn't be so bad because I could hopefully get a cat nap between the time G left for work and before Doodle Bug got here. That wasn't to be because yard man was coming back. The thunderstorms ran them off the day before. Sleep was not to be had.

I was SURE I would fall asleep last night. Nope. So I got up and began clearing the path to the desk top computer. I didn't call Stupidcast because I knew that would sweep sleep completely away - probably for days.

I got Doodle Bug down (and my gravy it's been 1 1/2 hours for a change) to try to nap. Not to be. The phone rang off the wall.

I am hanging my hopes on this weekend. How are you doing with the time change?

How time flies when you are having . . .

Yes, I am still here and alive. I just have been trying to dig out of the avalanche of paper work and computer woes. It seems that the papers around here have been multiplying at an alarming rate! I cannot believe how overwhelming all of that is.

Of course, you have to add Miss Active, Doodle Bug. She has decided that two hour naps are for babies, not big eight month olds. She is way too big for that baby stuff. A mere 30 minutes is quite enough for her to maintain her healthy life. Well, I have news for you kid, it’s about to do this 62-year-old in! You may find yourself in day care here soon.

In addition to no naps, she is about to crawl. Now I have done what I could to prevent that little developmental milestone from happening. I have definitely slowed down in the seven years since the first grandchild. Doodle Bug is best kept at arms’ length at the most. That means she and I reside on the sofa. Not much crawling happens there. Mother Nature will not be denied however, and she is really working hard on becoming mobile. Of course, she has thought she could walk right out of the womb. She is most frustrated that she cannot get up and walk away.

The cable internet connection is still down due to the fact that I would rather be beaten with the model for 24 hours straight rather than call customer service. How a connection can just suddenly stop connecting will always be a mystery to me. I haven’t even been in the same room with all that stuff in a long while. I certainly didn’t do anything to it, but I am going to have to be the one to fix it.

One of the columnists in the Swampland paper was talking about his DSL being down. At least I know I won’t be routed to India for customer service with Stupidcast, but I still will have to go through all the disconnecting and reconnecting of cables and the like. This is something that has to be done soon because G needs the internet to update the tax programs to do our taxes. Being on the telephone for an extended time is not something that mixes with Doodle Bug however!

I went to have my mammogram last week. I guess I will have to call the doctor to get the results since I haven’t heard anything yet. I would love to say no news is good news, but I am worried. The tech took an additional film and then asked if I had on deodorant. Of course, being the reasonable, sane person I am, I immediately began planning my next mastectomy. So I guess I will be reasonable and call the doctor!

It seems that every day I take an armload of paper work into the office and dump it on my desk. That is another reason I have not been in the same room with the modem and router. I would have to face that stuff. I guess if there is a possibility that they may have to send a repairman for the connection I am going to have to shovel a pathway to the equipment. Well, that have to be done for G too. I guess I’ll be in the office soon for a while. I better tie a rope around my waist so that I can be found as I spelunk that cave of unknown things.

The adventure continues

I spent the entire day yesterday reloading applications on this laptop. That is important because now I have to start on the desk top that is on its last legs. I think I may call support in India. I HATE calling support in India, so I bought a computer made in Austin, Texas, USA so I would be able to call customer support right here in the good old states. Imagine, if you will, my dismay when I called support the first time.

But like a fool, when my extended warranty (you KNOW my luck with computers) ended, I added two years. You see, I know something they don't. I was supposed to have the mother board replaced two years ago, but I had the old switcheroo with the techs that had to come out (tee hee!), and number two didn't do it. So, I figure I am due a mother board.

That computer takes about three days to load. When it does, it will NOT go on line. Of course, now I think a huge part of the problem is Dumbcast. I don't think I have a good signal because I am using my neighbor's WiFi to write this (thanks Darlene!)

My first concern is with the computer itself. The display is sideways, so the monitor is on its side! I know when I call customer service, they are going to want me to take the blasted computer apart. I will play my "handicapped" card at that time. I really don't like staring into the interior of a computer. I don't like unplugging elements, and I really don't like and can't crawl around on the floor.

That is an issue I will have to face with my ISP as well. They will want me to disconnect the computer and so on. Not ready for that today!

My luck with computers is still missing, but at least I can sort of get things done on the laptop! It doesn't require physical manipulations like the desk top. But income tax time is coming and G will need the desk top. The adventure continues.

Advances! Humph!

I'm beginning to really believe that I should never touch another computer again - in my entire life.

It all began when I bought a new sewing machine. This thing does everything except cut out the fabrics. It sews; it monograms; it embroideries. It has a screen saver. It can read other files.

Sure. I have not been open with G about this new machine due to its cost. So when I went to the new owners class on Saturday, I just told him that I was going to a sewing class. During the class, we were shown how to change the screen saver.

I was SO excited. I came home that evening and tried to change my screen saver. I had already installed the soft ware on the laptop, so I gathered up the computer and headed upstairs for the machine. I read the instructions for connecting the computer to the machine. NOTHING.

I thought nothing until I noticed that the computer was locked up. Nothing would happen with any command. So, I turned it off. When I restarted it, it wouldn't leave the welcome page. After several trials, I would occasionally get past that page, but not always.

I thought perhaps the driver for the machine was faulty, so I deleted it. Then the computer was really frozen. Nothing would happen. So then I had the brilliant idea of getting the restore disc and
reinstall things on the computer. It made perfect sense to me.

I put in the disc. Then the death message appeared. All files would be erased. Only the factory programs would be loaded, unless I had the files on the computer saved. Ah, my out!

So I proceeded. To make a long story short, regaining all that information has taken me through today, and it is still not done. The computer is working, wonkily. Add the lousy Dumbcast Internet that doesn't work with regularity, and I am barely around!

I really think I need to leave all these new fangled contraptions to the young folks! I guess I need a typewriter, envelops, stamps, and a petal powered sewing machine!

Doctors visits

I don't know. Sometimes I just feel like such a whiner. I think I should be feeling great. Both doctor's appointments went well - six month recall on both, and they think I'm doing fine. But I find myself worrying about where I really do stand in this battle.

I had the blood test to check the marker levels. The CA-29 was 29. Last time (October I think) it was 19. Dr Poison assured me that it was still normal. Normal range is up to 35. I don't care. I still worry. Does it have some other meaning? Dr Poison said that levels fluctuate in our bodies all the time. He still put me on 6 month recall, so I guess all it right. He also wrote the orders for the mammogram and bone density study.

I told him my emotions are a little raw. He doesn't seem to think it is the anti-estrogen pill. But then he wasn't too concerned with the fact that my joint pain can get so bad at times. Of course, what is the recourse? I need to take that little pill.

So things appear to be going well. I keep wondering if the nasty C will come back. I forgot to tell him I have an ache in my back. My crazy mind yells "kidney cancer" to me, and when logic can push its way in I settle down. Guess I'll just skate along for the next six months.

I'm moving forward!

Yesterday afternoon I had my appointments with the radiation oncologist. The waiting room was packed! They had added to the staff. It was all very interesting.

When they took me back, there were no rooms so I had to wait in the women's dressing room waiting area. Boy, that brought back memories. There were two women who went in for treatment and had to return to that waiting area. They were talking, as happens when you get treatments with people for weeks. One was going to be finished today and the other had two weeks to go. But they had to see one of the doctors. That explained the lack of rooms!

I told the doctor about the pain and the tightness. She is really cute! She is Indian, and much of her treatment is Eastern medicine mixed with Western medicine. Her advice for a solution was to use an oil like coconut or olive warmed over some water. She said to gently massage that in for about 10 minutes then shower as normal. I hope it works because it certainly felt good!

The best thing she said was that I was to return in SIX months. What good news. I am getting closed to becoming a survivor!

Strange occurances

When I put Doodle Bug down for her naps, part of the routine is to turn on the fan and the light classical cable music channel. She apparently sleeps well to that music. Normally I don't pay just a whole lot of attention to what piece happens to be playing unless it is really familiar to me or it just grabs me for some other reason.

For the last couple of days, I took notice of the music. Several times (one day it was the morning and afternoon naps) I looked at the screen because the music was very snappy. It was Vivaldi. That was really sort of amazing to me. I didn't think they played Vivaldi very often, but it has been a biggie for the last few days!

We are getting ready to head out to our "spread" this weekend. G commented that every year when we go this third weekend of Februray, the weather is really bad. It is always cold and there is precipitation - usually freezing. That is the forecast for this weekend too! Texas' weather may change in a few seconds, but it seems to be rather regular for this time of year.

I'm going to the radiation oncologist today. I've got a few concerns for her this time, chiefly how tight the skin seems. I also have some pain, but that may be because it seems I am getting some feeling back. THe chest feeling is returning, but the underarm feeling I think is gone forever.

Grandchildred

Yep, I'm being "one of them" today. Give me a break! What else do I do around here? I keep one of the little buggers. That's my life these days.

Lady Bug is seven, and we all know that being seven means losing one's teeth. She lost three over the course of last weekend. She has already lost the two in front on the lower jaw. She then lost the ones on either side of those. Suddenly she lost one of the front teeth. She looked like a jack-o-lantern! It was the funniest looking thing. My plans were to get a picture to post here (you lucky people), but her mother told me this morning that she has now lost the other front tooth.

Doodle Bug isn't feeling just perfect these days, and she is making my life miserable. She is so grumpy. At least she is in the habit of napping. This morning at 9:22 she pulled herself on me, put her head on my shoulder showing me she was ready for her morning nap. She is such a little old lady. She is a complete creature of habit and doesn't like it to be changed. I just wish she would do the afternoon naps again. I have high hopes for today since she did yesterday.

Monkey Boy is doing well in his PPCD class. It is under the Special Education umbrella. He was very speech delayed. His major problem now is potty training. He refuses to use the potty. I don't know why. He was at school, but even that has stopped now. He is 3 1/2. I guess (hope) he will be trained before kindergarten.

I wonder if any other kids in kindergarten have this problem. I don't think any in regular classes. I know in Special Ed. Heck, we had them in junior high. His future will be interesting - to say the least.

OK. I've gotten my fill of talking about grandchildren. Perhaps tomorrow I can find a more stimulating subject.

So - when do you start counting

Survivor. That's what I want to be. A survivor. No, not on some exotic island. I want to be a breast cancer survivor.

I am having all sorts of anniversaries now. December 23 was the anniversary of the suspicious mammogram. December 29 was the compression mammogram. January 16 was the biopsy. I was diagnosed on the 19. I had my lumpecomy February 8, and then the masectomy on the 22.

These are just the first of the anniversaries that will come this year. So since it has been a year, am I a survivor yet or do I have to wait 5 years? Will I really be a survivor then?

I really think that I am in the midst of a chronic disease. I don't think that really once you have cancer you are ever really a survivor. If there is no recurrance physically, there is in your mind.

One of my friends, neighbor in the hill country, and relative had colon cancer a few years ago. I think she is at the point of being considered a survivor. I don't think she believes it however.

I spoke with her a month or so ago. She was going for her check the following week. She commented that even though she is on a yearly recall, that seems like too long a time period. I really think she would be happier to be check at a more frequent interval.

I fully understood what she was saying. I go this week to see my radiation oncologist. At my last visit, when she told me things were well and I would be on a 4 month recall, I was thrilled. I wouldn't be seeing those folks so often. This has been such a long time. The appointment that seemed to be so close at the time has, in reality, been a long haul. Next week I see the regular oncologist, and he will check the blood markers. I really want to see those numbers.

Then my son's best friend's mother has had a major recurrance. She and I are not close by any means so I can't ask her, as if I would even think of doing it, how she cared for herself. The story I have is that she stopped taking her after breast cancer pill (I don't know which one she was on), and then they found the cancer everywhere.

Since she is not actively pursuing chemo or anything like that again, I do have to wonder what she did for herself after her five years. She is doing the holistic thing right now. That includes even drinking water with perioxide in it to change her pH.

So. When do you consider yourself to be a survivor?

Disaster averted

We have weathered a disaster around this old homestead. It was another death. It was an old trusted, reiable friend who was of undetermined age. It was my faithful microwave.

When we bought our first microwave all those years ago, we thought it to be just a passing fancy. It would be good for warming left overs and making nachos, but that would be about the only uses we could imagine. But we forged ahead and bought one anyway, and brought it home.

Then we began to use it. The original uses were there of course, but then we began to experiment. And lo and behold, we discovered that others had been branching out in their uses of the glorious appliance. And those people recorded their experiments and bound them. They made microwave cook books. Oh the horizon expanded.

And so we were hooked. That orignial microwave quit on us several times. We rushed it to the appliance hospital where it was put on life support and would recieve a transplant. It would be returned to us, and we would again put it to work, reheating and cooking.

Then it became apparent that it was suffering more than was allowable. It would have to be put out of it's misery. Plus there were new ones out - with push buttons replacing the dial. Oh, we had to have one of those. So the old work horse was put out to pasture after about 18 years, and in came the new one. It was all shiny white and pristine. What a joy.

As the years wore on, the white one became stained, but it wtill worked like a charm. It served proudly and well. That was until it suddenly began arcing. That was about two years ago. It was out of the blue, and it would stop almost as soon as it began. The arcing would come so infrequently that we just plugged on.

We just didn't know how sick the poor thing was. I was heating a small bag of popcorn when the arcing became so violent. I went to the oven and opened the door. The popcorn was only half popped, but I knew that it wouldn't allow another heating because I didn't want a burned offering. The next day I went to the oven, opened the door and carefully placed my lunch into the cavity. I set the timer for two minutes. The sound was not familiar. It was so different. It was labored. The food was not hot! The microwave was dead.

Suddenly it was shop on line time again. I began my search for a replacement. How could we go on without a microwave? My search was difficult. What I was finding was the 1.1 cubic footers that had a measly 1000 watts. That wouldn't do at all. But I pushed on, and was delighted when I went to the Mega membership huge quanity store had what I wanted. A beautiful new 2.2 cubic foot with 1250 watts. It was a fitting replacement, and the price was right.

So now we have a bright shiny stainless steel microwave sitting in the place of honor in our kitchen. All's right with the world, and I can once again have a hot lunch.

We have once again returned from the little place in Far Out West Texas. The trip was packed full of exciting events. Well, I guess you have to lead my terribly exciting life to classify all this as exciting.

On the way, we stopped in the Alamo city to see my MIL. We told her we would call before we got to the independent living facility where she is now. She didn't answer the phone. That call was made about lunch time, so we thought she must be down eating. We called an hour later. There was no answer. G was a little more than upset. He thought she had forgotten we were coming and went off somewhere. That wasn't the case, she explained that he simply didn't allow the phone to ring enough times.

I spoke to little SIL Saturday. G's fear were well founded. MIL had a doctor's appointment sometime last week. Little SIL was going to take her. She forgot, got on the facility's van and went to the wrong doctor. When MIL related all this to us, she said T was coming back from Capitol City and just visited. She is not as with it as I thought.

Saturday afternoon, neighbor E was helping G tear out the front deck so that it can be replaced. E went home for lunch and our leasee for cattle came by to pay for the lease. That's when they saw the smoke.

That is a serious situation in Texas these days. Things are so dry now, and the spring and summer was full of rain. That means all the long grass has been dried out by the frosts and freezes. The winds are really high this year. Add a spark and you have a grass fire that can consume hundreds and hundreds of acres.

G decided to take the county road to see if he could find the source. He met E at the base of our adjoining hills, and they both went looking. I was there alone and the smoke was getting much worse. It was thick around the house. I really was about to call the fire department - which is 12 miles away in rocky dirt roads. It takes about 30 minutes just to travel that distance. The fire department is all volunteer. You can add all that up!

As it turned out, they found no fire. Thankfully!

On the family feud front, relations between BIL and Little SIL are not going well. She told us that she wants to stop leasing her land to him for cattle. That is one thing. The other is that there is no fence between them. Ah, I see the feud becoming really nasty. I think I'm glad we are not situated in the middle of this - both physically and emotionally. Our land is the furthest north - fenced off to boot.

Hope your weekend was a good one. Tomorrow I get Doodle Bug back. Her mom tells me she hasn't napped this weekend. She will either sleep all day, or I will be really fit to be tied tomorrow afternoon.

Time

Do you ever wonder where time goes? Do you feel there are enough hours in a day?

I just have no idea where the time goes in a day. I get up, and then it's bed time. I look around and wonder just what I have accomplished. I wonder where the time is hiding. It was there a minute ago. I saw it. The day was sitting there, unused.

When I was still teaching, there was a point where I had teenagers at home, was a part time organist at a church, and ran a small craft business that was located in a local flea market. That meant that at night I was making things for said craft business. I also was mom taxi.

I managed to get things done. Lesson plans were done, tests were written, labs (I taught science) were prepared, papers were graded. The house was fairly presentable, and the dust was under control. Dinner was prepared every evening and on the table for a family dinner by 7 pm.

Now I am retired. My daughter and I are still playing around with the craft thing, but there is no store. We make occasional craft shows, but nothing big. We did one last year, but I had my cancer to deal with and she had her pregnancy. I just don't seem to be able to get anything done.

One of the factors I must consider is the simple fact that I am older - considerably. I just don't have the energy that I once had. I used to put this off to the chemo and radiation. I know that was part of it. I expected to immediately bounce back from that. I gave it a month thinking I would be full speed again. It just didn't happen. I would lie on the couch - exhausted - while the world just kept right on going around me.

Keeping an infant surely doesn't help. I am really thankful that she naps. The other two didn't. For the longest time, when she finally went to sleep, I would just become a vegetable. I was completely spent. Since Thanksgiving when she began refusing the bottle, getting her to sleep for her nap has been a battle. She cries and cries, but finally gives in to sleep for more than an hour.

My energy level is better - finally. I think after 6 months, I am about back to where I was. Normal? Not at all. While I was battling those cancer cells, age crept in, bringing something that saps energy. I used to wonder why retired people often took naps. I understand now.

The other side of a nap is that if I take one, then I don't sleep at night! Ah, the wonders of old age.

But I guess I will set off now, looking for bits and pieces of time. I know it has to be here somewhere.

Husbands

Some husbands are incredible thoughtful and insightful while some are as sensitive as cedar posts. Guess which category mine falls in? Yep, he's a post.

Last night we were having dinner with the kids at my daughter's house. We got to talking about taking the troop carrier (the huge F250) to the shop for it's maintenance. When we do that, the plan goes like this. We get up early for a day off (drat), he hops into the troop carrier and I get in my car to follow. We fight the morning traffic to get to the shop, and I go to the restaurant next door to wait until he gets things signed in. Then we have breakfast out.

That is a plan that has been in effect for years. Until today. We really needed to be home by 8:30 so we would be here when Doodle Bug got here. Well, that changed everything. HE would take the troop carrier by himself, eat breakfast, and wait for the service to be done.

Well, even as petty as it may seem, I am ticked! I LOVE having breakfast out. When I take Simone to the vet for a bath, she has to be there early. There is a What-a-burger in the next shopping center. I hit the drive through for their (really pretty lousy) breakfast. I feel that I have had a right taken from me. I don't get breakfast from that restaurant and he does.

It was funny. All the kids knew that he was flying in the face of all I deem right and holy. K kept telling me she would come later. He still didn't get the point. So, here I sit, at home, with breakfast that I made while he is sitting indulging in that wonderful breakfast there.

I guess I'll have to make his life miserable for the rest of the day!