Just Grandma Stuff

Inspirational song: Time in a Bottle (Jim Croce)

I think I channeled all of my grandmothers today, all three of the ones I knew personally. I spent my morning assembling a kitchen stool very similar to the one we had at my mother's mother's house. It was one of those classic vinyl chairs with a pull-out set of stairs. In the Oklahoma house, the one we had was yellow, but I chose turquoise to match the theme of my own house for here. I can't wait to have Valerie and/or baby number two sitting on this thing, helping me in the kitchen, as I sat on the yellow one in my own childhood. I can't tell you how much that grandmother appreciated my "help" when I was that age, because those parts of the memories didn't survive. Maybe she enjoyed it, maybe she didn't. Regardless, I am all on board for a grandkid sidekick in the kitchen. I'm going to have to keep my counters a whole lot more clear of deadly weapons, though. Put away the knives and glass stuff that can fall and break. It'll be for my own good too.

Both of my grandmothers and my great-grandmother knew their way around kitchens. If these three women were not enough inspiration to teach me how to express love through food, then it wouldn't be possible to learn. I made chicken fried steak for dinner, a thoroughly Okie dish that is only improved by my need for a substitute flour (chickpea is the best!), and hours later I'm still feeling like I have traveled in time to simpler days. While I was shopping for ingredients earlier today, I was also planning on inviting the kids over for a pot roast dinner this weekend, with a peach pie for dessert. I know Valerie isn't very interested in eating meat, which I won't worry about, but I expect that kid will be all over a pie. I know I'll be a pushover and give her dessert even if she makes little effort towards her main meal. In my head, I could hear my dad telling stories of my Granny giving the same treatment to my brother when he was a toddler. (He eats two peas, and she decides, "He did pretty good. Give him some chocolate cake.")

I took my new car over to transfer my car wash membership to it, and get a new RFID sticker for it. I was drying it off in the vacuum bay, and as I wiped down the hood, I could feel the silver 1972 Pontiac LeMans that my maternal grandma had as surely as if I were touching it. That was the first car I ever drove. (At age 10? 11? It was just around the open area at our cabin.) This car is a million times fancier than the Pontiac, but it's every bit as much of a grandma car to me. Oddly, I am okay with that.

(Those who know can correct me if I have the year of the car wrong. I looked through Google images until they looked right.)

The New Family Truckster

Inspirational song: Love's Great Adventure (Ultravox)

What a big morning! We ran just a little late getting down to Golden (almost entirely due to the Mr setting down his black car key on a black surface, under a dark overhang...), but we pulled up and parked next to a silver Tucson with just a sprinkling of snow on the windshield. It was my pretty new baby. We took care of the initial paperwork, giving them our driver's licenses and insurance info and whatnot. Then we went out for a once-over of the car. The salesman was going through infotainment stuff with me, when I kind of remembered what time it was, and that the Mr was probably inside getting fidgety and short-tempered, since I had promised him we would be in and out quickly, so that he could go home and prepare for class. I interrupted the discussion of car features and said hey, I gotta go pay for this thing so that guy in there can leave and teach class.

There were no real surprises, other than the entire interior of the car. I thought it had been listed as a gray interior, which would have been nearly white. It wasn't until after we had paid and I went back out with my salesman that I looked around and noticed it was the black interior. At this point, I don't even care. It's fine. I have the car I wanted and no one is taking it back. Every time I heard people (in person or on TV) complain about gas prices, my stomach clenched and I got agitated, wanting my car that I can run off my solar panels to hurry up and arrive. The longer I waited, the more I built up an irrational fear that someone would yank it out from my clutches, even though I had money down on it. 

We signed our names several times and wrote checks. I got my key fobs, and paired my phone to the car. I let the salesman go in to his next appointment while I sat there and called SiriusXM to transfer my account. And as I drove off the lot, I started thinking: You know, the car was backed into a parking place. I never checked to see whether they got around to attaching the temp tag before I was turned loose. Was I driving a tagless car? Should I pull over and look? I stressed over it until I hit South Boulder Road, and i couldn't stand it anymore. I stopped and looked. It was there. I was fine. I laughed at myself and went on.

I stopped at the park once I got to town, to show my grandbaby the new car. She was unimpressed. Then I went to pick up my friend who was my concierge, and she and I went to 5 Guys for a snack. She really likes the color combo I got, even though I'm mostly ignoring that aspect. And then I came home and tried to back the car into the driveway without hitting Mr S-P's car. And I tried again. And again. It took four total course corrections, and that is with a 360 degree camera view. This will take some practice, driving a car much bigger than my little Focus.

I wasn't able to get it plugged in. Where the outlet is in the garage to where I parked was about a foot too far away for the charging cord. I don't have the nerve to use an extension cord. We just have to replace an older outlet right next to the door, and I will be able to use that sweet solar power. And between the light snow in Golden and its first highway drive, car got dusty. I need to transfer my unlimited car was membership to this vehicle tomorrow, and then I'll get more extensive photos. It will probably be sunnier then too.

The Wait

Inspirational song: Anticipation (Carly Simon)

My timing is atrocious today. It is going to be nigh impossible to fall asleep tonight, but it didn't occur to me that I could take a sleep aid until just now, after 10 pm. I've missed my window of opportunity. No matter what I tried to take, whether it be a benadryl, a gummy, or anything else I might have lying around, I would be groggy and hung over in the morning. Might even sleep through my alarm. So everything is a no-go. I certainly wouldn't want a benadryl hangover when I'm signing papers and driving home my fancy new car.

We didn't get our out-the-door price until this afternoon. The Mr is pretty cranky about how much this thing costs. It's sucking up most of the profit from selling our house in New Mexico. So the deal we made is I'm only borrowing his portion from the sale. I will be paying him back. I have to beat the bushes for real estate clients for real now. I'm mostly healed from the last two surgeries, and there's no time like the present to get serious about refilling my coffers. Think happy career thoughts for me. I need it in a big way.

Another way my timing is off--I didn't even start making dinner for myself until about 9:15, and didn't start eating for at least half an hour. So I suppose in that time that I can't fall asleep, it will be better for me anyway. I need to sit up and digest my big salad. Poor Saoirse watched me eat the entire time, drooling on the footrest of my chair. All she got out of the exercise was to taste the remnants of thousand island dressing. You do you, dog.

Jack

Inspirational song: Shameless (v. Garth Brooks)

The call has come! My car has arrived at the dealership! Our schedules are too tight to get it tomorrow, so we have an appointment to pick it up first thing Wednesday. I'm excited and nervous and all kinds of fluttery feelings. I will have a lot more to say about it Wednesday night, once I've introduced myself to the new family truckster.

I overdid it so much yesterday that I stayed in one spot today, bouncing between whining about a headache and sleeping outright. I didn't do jack today, and I have no shame about that. Tomorrow morning will be a little more active, washing the garment I have to wear 24/7 until the surgeon releases me from it, and trying to get a hairbrush through the giant rat's nest on the back of my head from being forced to sleep on my back for weeks. It's a Rotary day, and for once, I'm letting myself be driven there, rather than being the chauffeur. It's hard for a control freak to let go and go along for the ride, in a very literal sense, but I shall do it anyway.

I wish I had had the ability (specifically the lack of head pain) to play with the baby this afternoon. She got to have the first fire of the season with her parents, and was even allowed to throw a few twigs in with close supervision. If we make it all the way to building the flagstone patio I was promised two years ago, I think a permanent fire pit should go in as well. Buying these steel ones that only last a few years is getting on my nerves.

We Are All Captains Now

Inspirational song: Barracuda (Heart)

Valerie took her first trip to an aquarium today. We didn't know whether she was going to like it, but we went ahead and bought the year pass for a family of four (the "captain's" package). It was a good gamble. That kid loved it. She was a little overwhelmed a couple times, but she hung in there like a trooper. Luckily when she really wore out, we were through it all and ready to head to the restaurant. She perked right up with food and ice cubes to crunch on.

I don't want to waste my space on narrative. I took dozens of photos, and I'll post some of the best ones. We are all looking forward to taking her back again in a month or two.

 

Zoomer

Inspirational song: What'd I Miss (Hamilton)

Does anyone else of my generation sing a little zooma-zooma-zooma-zoom when stuck in online meetings these last few years? Just me?

I was logged into a zoom webinar all day, from before 8 this morning until something like 3 this afternoon. Thank goodness they chose the webinar format. I didn't have to be on camera or say a single word. I didn't even break to take a shower until after my breakaway meeting, just before noon. There were something like 250 attendees. Only a handful of people had speaking privileges, and I certainly didn't want them. In fact, compared to assemblies past, it was so pleasantly restrained. Granted, I also didn't have the responsibility to moderate the chat or Q&A section. I can't imagine what that was like. With everything I have going on right now, I wisely declined to volunteer to be a delegate at the state assembly this time around. They can go on without me.

Our visit with the baby was extra long this afternoon. She was a whole handful, as can be expected. That personality is coming along nicely. After being reminded that crayons belong only on paper several times, she started repeating, "paperrrr" back at me in the cutest voice possible. And her sweet tooth came out when a mini Hershey bar was in front of her. I know she said chocolate, but I'm pretty sure what came out started with a T. She'll get there eventually.

 

Little Blue Bullet

Inspirational song: She's Gone (Hall & Oates)

For the first time in many, many years, I do not currently have a car to my name. I'm feeling just a little adrift. This was our best day to finish shining up the blue Focus and take it down to the Ford dealer to see whether they would match the offer we had from Carmax. I hoped they would. I didn't want to drive to Loveland today. By the time we got the car sparkling clean, I was so tired. You can't imagine how nice it was to have someone else do the negotiating for me, who is willing to say all the right "come on, you and I both know..." kinds of things. Once it was all said and done, the Carmax offer was matched, and if we had wanted to play hardball, we might have gotten a little bit more. But honestly, by that point it was worth missing out on two or three hundred just to have it done.

In one final jab of misogyny, they made the check out to the Mr, not me. It was supposed to go in my checking account for the purchase of the next car when it gets here. His name is not on my local bank account. We have a credit union account in both our names, but no local branch. How nice of the guy to assume, even after sitting next to us for so long, hearing me call it "my car." 

I hope the new one makes it here next week. Our schedule is pretty tight, so we won't be able to get it before Wednesday at the earliest, even if it were to come in tomorrow. I just need assurances that it will be here at all. Until then, I'll stay home a lot. 

It occurs to me that I failed to take a final picture of it. So let me go find one from the penultimate car wash, several days ago.

Farewell, little blue bullet. I sure had fun driving you for 9 years. Go find that kid going off to college who I just know needs you now.

Bright

Inspirational song: Here Comes the Sun (v. Sandy Farina)

Right on time in the front range, spring has sprung. The trees haven't blossomed yet, but everyone I know has itchy eyes and an abundance of snot. I haven't stopped sneezing all day. Generally I'm hearing people say they are glad it is spring, now that it is warm and sunny. Same folks will probably be extra cranky when snow returns next week.

Valerie and I drove down to pick up grandpa from the airport. We added a mirror over her car seat so she and I could interact better on the drive. Between that and the large quantity of toys we took, she had a much better time in the car than I expected. Plus, she was asleep by the time we approached Broomfield. What a champ. Me, I had to stay awake the whole time (obviously), and I cursed the sun the whole way. I should have worn sunscreen, and maybe a hat and gloves. It was unrelenting. By the time Mr S-P and I got home, he was exhausted from his trip, and I was dead from the sun. We both napped until time for game night.

Thank goodness our friends are flexible and forgiving. I had asked to have our game next door, so that tired me didn't have to clean house. Then, when son-in-law and Val arrived here, I realized just how little I wanted to stand up out of the chair I napped in. I changed the venue to here at the last minute, and the gang was okay with it, messy house and all. Plus, it meant more stuff to distract Valerie with, so the evening went well. We concluded an epic battle in the game, and have shut this one down so the game master can get some rest from planning, while he's working tons of overtime.

Tomorrow is going to be my first attempt at selling the blue car to a local dealer. We shall see whether we strike a deal. Wish us luck.

Cats

Inspirational song: Heaven On Their Minds (Jesus Christ Superstar)

Right in the middle of me cleaning my kitchen, I got a message from my daughter. Could I come sit on that baby for just a few minutes while mommy and daddy go to the main recycling center to rid themselves of a mountain of cardboard, too much for curbside pickup? Naturally, I said yes, if they could give me time to catch my breath first. Even with me resting long enough to watch a YouTube video or two, I still made it over there before they were even dressed. Heck. I had to wait for each of them to shower. 

The added wait just meant Valerie and I had some extra bonding time. Our main focus was watching musicals from my past and her present. I cannot believe how much that kid loves Cats, and I don't mean the freaky CGI movie from a few years back. I mean London or Broadway stage, with the spandex, fake fur, and heavy facepaint. The moment I put on her favorite, Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat, she settled against the couch and watched it unblinking. The end-video suggestion for the next to view was a highlight reel of the closing night in London's West End, so I clicked on it. Val didn't recognize it, and this child literally dropped to her knees, put her face to the floor, and cried gently, because the Cats video she liked wasn't playing. It was much more soul-rending for me than if she had flipped back and screamed in a regular tantrum. I kept saying hey! Hey! Look! This is Cats too! She eventually sat up and watched, when it got past a slow introduction, and there was a little Jellicle Cat action going.

Eventually the Cats ran out, and when I saw a thumbnail for Tim Minchin in Jesus Christ Superstar, I absolutely had to watch it. Val wasn't sure, but she didn't fight me on it, especially when I started singing along. I tried to tell her this was my favorite when I was a little girl, when I was six. Then I did the math. I was three times as old as she is right now. I stopped trying to make comparisons, and instead focused on her showing me the new tea party set she got. We "poured" and "drank" tea until mommy and daddy got home.

Jealousy

Inspirational song: Jesse's Girl (Rick Springfield)

Was I really ready to be out in polite society today? Hard to say. I felt pretty awkward in conversation, after spending weeks focused on nothing but how crummy I felt. It was particularly apparent when the topic of Ukraine came up, and it was my turn to be asked how I viewed it. I sputtered incoherently half a minute and finally said it is a good thing I'm not in charge of diplomacy in this horrid mess. I am feeling too hot-headed, and I have emotions telling me to go in and join the fight to kick the invaders out. My first day back with my friends and I was practically snarling like a wolf, saying it already is World War III, let's freaking go! Maybe I should stay quiet another few days, and have a nice cup of mint tea, until I can refrain from grabbing a torch in one hand and a pitchfork in the other.

I went straight from Rotary to the surgeon's office. I got the final suture out from the "t junction." The anchor-shaped scar is healing nicely, and the nurse was fine with me not taking the entire course of antibiotics after it tore up my stomach. I have been given permission to expand my arm movements, and to perform very light massage on all of the altered areas. However, I am still not allowed to sleep on my side. Of everything good and bad in this whole process, that last bit is affecting me most. I need to sleep in a tight fetal position. I really need it. I miss it so much.

I got messages from the road as the Mr drove the moving truck for his friend from the Pakistan deployment. Having never lived in the northeast, I never realized just how close Washington DC is to Michigan. He made the drive from early morning to early dinnertime. He was half unpacked by the time I checked back in with him this evening. I've seen the real estate listing of this big old farm house, and was already intrigued. Now he has sent me shots from inside the place, with descriptions of the layout. I'm beyond jealous. I love old houses, and would have loved a place like this. I'm still standing by my decision to make where I am my forever house, but every once in a while, I do itch to move into a farm house somewhere, for Smith Park III.

I didn't acquire permission to post the photos he sent, and I'm not personally acquainted with this friend, so I can't ask directly to share photos from inside their new house that they haven't even moved into yet. So I took a selfie of me and Alfred (an "ussie" according to Ted Lasso, right?) That will have to do.

Roll On

Inspirational song: Valley Girl (Frank Zappa)

Oh-Em-Gee, doggies and kitties hate it when daddy goes out of town. Mommy's sleep cycle is different, and she refuses to open up the food cans at 7 am. When the Mr is gone, neighbor T has to come over and get Murray in and out of wheels, so the feeding schedule is really determined by what time he gets over to help, but the rest of the animals like to send me all the blame. And just how abused are these poor kitties and puppies? By 10 past 8, Murray was wheels up and I was scooping food into bowls. Oh, the agony. 

I surprised myself by skipping coffee, to avoid further straining my stomach, and having a short glass of chocolate milk instead, and promptly falling asleep in my chair. I just can't face real food, and when I work up the nerve to try, it just makes me feel so icky. I decided it is a lot like going through chemo. My taste buds are completely off, and my interest in anything is affected by that. All food irritates the esophagus/stomach junction, and then sits in my stomach undigested like a concrete sludge. But between healing from surgery and hating all food, at least I'm down like 8 pounds. So I guess I'll shut up and appreciate it. (Spoiler: I will not shut up.)

I probably would have done absolutely nothing today if I hadn't gotten an offer I couldn't resist. The baby needed bigger shoes, so we went to where they are plentiful and cheap. Boy, were they plentiful, too. A big shipment must have come in. I haven't seen the shoe section so well stocked in months. She has two new pairs of sneakers from mommy and one pair of black slides from Grandma. We also went through the food section, getting lots of bland gluten-free breads and cereals for me, and fruit juices we can share. She kept crying as we walked toward produce, when I turned before we got there. I'm not sure, but I think she had locked eyes on blueberries, but I had veered away to get other things. I did get the berries. I know what my girl wants.

My buddy contacted me today with updates on my car deal. It's getting so close! It looks like we might sell my current car elsewhere, instead of trading it to the Hyundai dealer. It looks like I can get roughly $1400 more in trade by going to Carmax. If they follow through on the estimate, then heck yeah, I'll let them have it. Meanwhile, my new one is sitting at a train yard in Montana, waiting to head this way. I'm not sure, but it might be at most a week and a half. Maybe less. Let's hope for less.

Off My Feed

Inspirational song: Hole in My Life (The Police)

I just had a Tums for the first time since chemotherapy three years ago. I'm pretty sure the bottle was the one my daughter left here that year, telling me, here, keep my car supply. My stomach refuses to give up this funk over those antibiotics. This is every bit as bad as when I learned I couldn't take naproxen, for the exact same reaction. I've barely eaten anything over the last week. 

Although I admit, while it's uncomfortable and leaves me light-headed, I kind of want to see whether this forced reduction in calories takes off any of my pandemic chonk. Most of my clothes got pretty tight over the last year. It would be nice to have a little space to move in them. I am a long ways from having the noticeable weight loss my mom has had. I saw it for the first time when she was here last year, but it was really something when she sent me a picture showing how spring is coming to her property. Maybe I ought to dig out those skinny clothes I was hanging on to for luck, and send them to her instead. I hadn't seen a pair of jeggings hang that loose since... well, since yesterday when I tried to put a pair of 24 month jeggings on Valerie after a bath. (All I could hear in my head was Jeff Foxworthy's voice saying, "Like a frog in Sans-a-belt pants.") 

I thought I was going to be okay to eat tonight. I threw in a frozen pizza (the GF ones from Costco are my go-to), and thought surely if I go somewhat plain on toppings, it will be fine. I needed something easy before driving Mr S-P to the airport (he's actually flying out to help a friend move--get you a friend like him!) All the way to DIA and back, my stomach told me in no uncertain terms that I made a grievous error. I wish eating was simpler for me. I could use a couple bland meals of things like Cream of Wheat, but no. I'd rather not eat at all than go through that hell. I know I'm probably most of the way through this gauntlet of dyspepsia, but those last few hits are gonna be hard.

Yet Again

Inspirational song: My Own Worst Enemy (Lit)

I really hate feeling like I have to do this yet again, but I just don't want to write. Yesterday I stopped taking the antibiotics that fried my esophagus, right where it meets the stomach, and it is taking a while for them to clear my system and for the angry part if my stomach to heal. Even drinking water irritates that spot, and I'm cranky about it. I'm going to flounce off to bed in a huff and hope I feel better tomorrow.

To tide you over until I'm feeling creative again, here is one shot from today's visit with The Cutest Kid in Colorado. More of these later.

Respectable

Inspirational song: One Step Beyond (Madness)

Prying myself away from a rather exciting basketball game to do my daily writing feels like a virtue somehow. I haven't watched a whole lot of games so far, but I picked the right one to catch tonight. In the only bracket I filled out, I had Wisconsin going all the way to the Final Four, but this first round game against Coalgate has been a nail-biter thus far. There's less than four minutes of game time left. I'm hoping they pull this one out. When last I checked, I had 19 games correctly picked. I'm feeling good about that. I'll look in a minute to see how many late games I got right.

We didn't end up being needed for babysitting today, due to a scheduling change. We decided to volunteer to have some play time all the same. I was ready to get some super light exercise, while pushing a shopping cart, so we took baby for brunch and a walk around Lowe's for grass seed. I hope she had as much fun as we did. She seemed to. She stole bunches of scrambled eggs and potatoes ("ta-tooooes") off my plate, while we waited for the server to bring a spare plate for her. She was modestly interested in my GF pancakes. The thing she really wanted was to crunch on ice from my water.

We got grass seed within the first two minutes of being at Lowe's, but we took half an hour to wander and play a little. There was no one else in the lighting/fan section, so she had plenty of run-around-with-grandpa time. She found a low display of toy cars as we were leaving, and she figured out their self-propel mechanism well enough to roll it all the way back to the garden center. Naturally we bought the toy car. We heard that she conked out for her nap within ten minutes of us dropping her off. I call that success.

Just In Case

Inspirational song: Breathe (Faith Hill)

I got a card in the mail from my dear friend who sat with me in the recovery room last week, and reminded me to keep breathing on the way home when I'd talk too much and run out of air. It was a sweet card, and on the outside it just said, "Breathe." Yes, ma'am. I'm trying.

Talked to the rheumatologist today about my ongoing struggle to keep my oxygen saturation up, and she gave me figures and said if it gets (this bad), please consider the ER or urgent care. Apparently the fear is for blood clots. She felt me up pretty thoroughly and said she saw no obvious signs of one, but don't fool around if it doesn't improve. I have been sucking in air as deeply as I am able, and monitoring my numbers. They have been looking much better.

The surgeon didn't originally prescribe antibiotics, but after my stitches came out and they saw how much the velcro and elastic had abraded my skin, they called in some, "just in case." I'm a bit challenging on that score, what with my bazillion allergies, so the nurse picked one that seemed safe. Unfortunately, in the day and a half since I've been using it, the heartburn it causes has gone from irritating to unbearable. I think I need to call them tomorrow and say I'm not interested in pouring battery acid into the center of my chest anymore, and ask for options. I'm not taking this one again.

I stayed up for a while last night, watching the latest livestream births on Tiny Kittens, my favorite cat rescue organization in British Columbia. I checked in this evening, just to see how they were faring (they being 5 newborns-- 2 calicos, 1 torbie, 1 tuxie, and 1 panther). The sound of kitten squeaks got me in trouble quickly. I guess I'll have to find headphones so I don't offend Alfred with the sound of baby kittens who will never invade his space, but who should not disturb his peace of mind in any case.

Catch My Breath

Inspirational song: Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap (AC/DC)

You would think somewhere in the week plus since the surgery, I would get my normal breathing patterns back. But no. It was so bad after a quick trip to the car wash and vacuum, my favorite pharmacy tech looked sad and said I sounded so awful she wished she could breathe for me. I checked readings all day. At good times, oxygen saturation was between 90 and 92. Not sure I should admit in front of my parents how low it got when I was really winded. I see my rheumatologist in the morning, and we can talk about it then.

I took a bunch of pictures of the car while I was at the car wash. (I did it there because it's nobody's business seeing my house in the background.) My concierge will use them to beat up the Hyundai dealer on how much they will give me for trade. I am so glad I have her to do the dirty work for me. She is ruthless, and I give in too easily. I'm very glad now that I kept that car in such good shape. Yes, there are a few tiny dings, but no accidents, no tears in the leather, etc. I'll probably get downgraded for the tires not being brand new, but whatever. Less than 80,500 miles as of today, for a 2013 car.

It was game night, and we played next door. We had a birthday to celebrate, St Patrick's day food to eat, and Ukraine to toast with our whiskey. We played two rounds of Donner Dinner Party, and I left there happily tired and grateful to the ends of the earth that these people are my close friends. I mostly took pictures of Valerie, because her mommy was at work, missing her like crazy. I understand that completely. I miss her when she's not here too. Come to think of it, I miss my own girls when they're not here, so it seems totally relatable.

Snug

Inspirational song: Black Coffee in Bed (Squeeze)

Imagine what nurses go through. There I was, lying face-up in an armless dentist-style chair, while the nurse was picking out staples and stitches from my skin. She was working on ones in the crease under my breast, almost to my ribs, and struggling to attain the proper approach to it. She said it was a lot easier than when she has to pick stitches out from someone's butt cheeks, right next to more personal spaces, and I laughed and said out loud that it just never occurred to me how incredibly intimate her job must be. She said she had been a post-partum nurse, so she had really seen it all. I think I'll stick to real estate, thanks. No aspirations to change careers into surgical nursing.

All my stitches and staples are out, and the drain has been dumped in the toxic waste bin. She threw out the Ace bandages too. I'm now in a compression garment that is basically a 3/4 sleeve crop top. It functions like a bra, hooks and all down the front. I get to wear this for weeks. It puts pressure right where I needed it on the upper half of my arms, and I'm feeling much less bee-sting pain. 

So far I'm not showing any signs of lymphoedema in that right arm, which is very encouraging. That is the main reason I spent extra big bucks to have work done on the arms, and I feel like I made the right choice now. However, when the physical therapist does lymphatic drainage massage, ever so gently gliding her hands to move along the toxins built up in the arms, I always feel awful. That night I'm sore and I feel like I have a fever and maybe the flu. So imagine how I feel today, finally having proper compression to squeeze up the enormously swollen goo in the middle of those bruised arms. My body doesn't know how to process it all. I feel like crap.

I stayed home from Rotary to rest and be compressed. If I could have found the energy to go out, I could have met my little superstar at the park by her house. Apparently some kid left behind a football, so she had a good time playing with it. Her mommy knew what it would mean to me for her to practice her Heisman and QB poses, so she did. Ah, my heart.