Archive | October, 2015

Welcome to Your Mass Shooting of the Day

9 Oct

So – we had a shooting last week in Oregon, and today we had one in Arizona and another in Texas.

And Ben Carson, after claiming armed teachers could have stopped the Umpqua gunman, now claims that more guns in Germany would have prevented the Holocaust. I have great respect for Dr Carson as a physician, but as a historian or a presidential candidate, he’s a hopeless case.

In the time period leading up to Krystal Nacht, the legal age for purchasing guns was lowered from 21 to 18, and they were easily available to both Jew and Aryan. The idea was that Jews were vastly outnumbered by gentiles, so if they were set upon and tried to defend themselves, they could then be shot “in self-defence” by the Aryans.

Pathetic. Just pathetic.

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Watch and Pray

2 Oct

We seem to have dodged the worst of things as far as Joaquin goes, but we are still very concerned about the high winds. We’ve had rain off and on for the past week, and with the ground so saturated, we are very worried that a strong wind from the east could bring some of the trees from the other side of the steam onto the house.

I have our meds in my purse, the wedding pictures and sterling in the van, and The Squire has dragged a suitcase out of the attic. I’m not sure where we’re going to go, of course. Local son-in-law is adamant that he will not have Blazer in the house, and the vet is booked solid. We are certainly not going to leave the animals behind to drown, or worse, so we shall just have to see how things go.

This morning I went outside while The Squire was at PT and collected all the bird feeders and hanging baskets. We have a large plastic swan, tackier than a lawn flamingo, we float in the pond to keep the herons from eating the fish. (Swans are lovely, but one of God’s most vile tempered creations. A classic case of beauty being only skin deep.) The rain had flooded poor Gertie, and I was trying to fish her out of the water with the rake. I thought I had her close enough to the side of the pond to be able to reach her, but didn’t. I lost my balance and nearly fell into the water, which would not have gone over at all well, to put it mildly. At any rate, she is now on the front porch, along with all the other stuff. The Squire cleared the patio, and got the “floatables” up off the ground – trash cans, recycle bins, etc. His cell phone is charged, batteries in the flash lights, oil in all of the lamps,  sails furled, and hatches battened down. We’re as ready as we’re going to get.

We went up this afternoon and did the wash, and I got my hair cut. It needed to be cut before the surgery, and now it was getting tangled in my surgical collar, and just a nuisance.  I got a pixie cut, which will keep things under control for a while.

I am feeling much, much better, in ways I didn’t expect. When the surgeon called Monday night, he told The Squire that in addition to the bad disc in my neck, there was also a bone spur pressing on the spinal cord, and they had taken care of that, while they were at it. I am no longer snoring, and I haven’t had any of the lower back pain or other problems that have plagued me for years. I don’t think I have the restless leg syndrome that I’ve had for over thirty years, but I have been taking a sedative for that for so long that the one night I tried going without it, I couldn’t sleep. I need to get professional advice about backing down on that medication.  A lot of times it goes away for a few days after I’ve had a general anaesthetic, so we’ll just keep on keeping on until I can get up to see the doctor.

So for now, it is just a matter of keeping an eye on the winds. Watch and pray.

 

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I Think I’m Going to Live

1 Oct

I wouldn’t have given you much for my chances twenty-four hours ago, but at the moment I not only think I’m going to live, but I may actually enjoy it.

This morning, I dragged my aching body into the shower and washed my hair. I can’t bend too far in any direction, so getting the shampoo out of my hair was tricky, and I couldn’t call The Squire, but I managed. Worse things have happened.

Yesterday, my throat was so sore from being intubated, and stuff being pushed out of the way so the surgeon could work, that if I hadn’t known better I’d have sworn I had strep. I can talk again today, but my voice is soft and squeaky, and I am trying not to speak more than necessary. The Squire says I am not snoring any more, but I do float to the surface fairly often making noises as if I am having bad dreams, which I don’t remember.  Possibly some residual memories of having the oxygen mask over my face when they put me under for the surgery. Other than the surgeon, every member of my “team” was female, and once I explained my problem with having stuff over my face, they all understood instantly, which is something male doctors don’t seem to grasp. I had to do some wiggling around to get my head where it needed to be, and I made some crack about “going to the GYN”.  One of the women chuckled and said they wanted me to skooch up this time, not down.

Both of my wrists are sore, bruised, and weak, as they had a neurologist running a continuous EMG while the surgeon was working, to avoid the danger of getting too close to my spinal cord.  I also have some sore places on my lower legs, but they are not uncomfortable or painful. They did make walking a bit tricky Monday evening and yesterday morning, but my hands being weak is obviously much more of a nuisance.  I can’t even lift the milk jug.

We had a time getting sleeping arrangements sorted out. We have a queen-sized bed, but it is upstairs, and The Squire was worried about me falling on the steps, so he insisted we use the sleeper in the living room, which is a standard double bed. It’s amazing how much difference that little bit of extra width makes! About halfway through the night I went upstairs, so we could both get some sleep (I was up about every two hours), but bless him, The Squire insisted upon following me up there. Apparently, not being able to hear me breathe worries him.  I think when we finally get the guestroom fixed up, we’ll look into a queen-sized bed for there, too.

I had written a few days ago that we couldn’t start the repairs to the TV/guest room until it rained hard enough to see if the work done outside was going to hold. Well, we had a real log lifter of a storm last night, and no leaks, so The Squire will call the construction company tomorrow to see when they can get started. And another fine mess that will be, Ollie.

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