Too many appointments!

  Even though it is still chilly here in Southeastern CT, spring is slowly leaching over into summer, as the irises begin to bloom, and the trees leaf out more each day. I have lived in my little rundown red house for 26 years, and can measure time by the blooming of neighborhood gardens and the leafing of different trees. For this I am truly grateful, because I am concentrating on getting pleasure out of the little things at the moment. 

 

This month has been stressful, and I now realize that, counting physical and mental therapy, doctors' appointments and medical testing, I have 22 appointments this month. No wonder I spend my time in such a daze. Just getting out the door is a major obstacle, never mind the psychic energy needed to cope! I am a weak sister these days! (But also a VERY strong one, just to keep going)  

Plus I have gone down on the pain patch(I have used a 50 for 15 month, am now on a 25) so my pain level is way up. I want off the patch so I can feel less drugged, and for the upcoming surgeries. And I do not like my pain management doctor at all, but have not had the energy to begin the search for a new one yet.  

Twenty-two appointments may be a record for me, even after last month's hospitalization, especially since I am lugging an oxygen tank along with me full time. I have tried different sizes, and now settle for whichever one is nearest to the door as I struggle out the door.  

I have a date for pre-testing for the gastric bypass surgery: July 11th. That means I will have the surgery before August 11th, because the pre-testing is only good for 30 days. Now all I have to do is not gain ANY weight between now and then or the surgeon will make me lose 50 lbs before he will do it. I certainly understand the premise. If I am committing to change for the rest of my life, a few weeks in a holding pattern is not too much to ask, but it is very hard not to fall into the "just one more time" syndrome about all the food I love to eat.  

Yesterday I had an appointment with a workers' comp doctor, who said (of course) that the pin in my arm does not need to come out. My orthopedist says it might help the pain. I want it out, so my attorney will have to do his stuff. I would be enormously frustrated, except that I want the weight loss surgery done first, because it will make the 2nd surgery safer if I am smaller.  

Today I prep for tomorrow's colonoscopy, a must because of my mother's rectal cancer last year- this year's surgery was due to scar tissue and adhesions from the first two surgeries, but, Goddess bless her, she is hanging in. I so want her to see me lose weight.   

Blessings, Margo      

And Life Goes On

  I want to be philosophical and humorous- surely it is time to write an entry that is light and funny, with just a bit of irony thrown in for good measure. Alas, life is not giving me that at the moment.  

 I am inundated by doctors appointments, tethered to oxygen, and sad because three good people I knew and cared about have died recently. The first was Dennis, the husband of MaryJo, who is Rene's best friend. He died while I was in CO, and Rene went to NJ for the funeral without me, so I came home to an empty house(except for the dogs). Dennis was a good and funny Irishman, and I  miss his e-mails daily.  

The second was Reece, the brother-in-law of a good friend, who died at 38, after a long illness. He did some building for us, and was funny, bright and loving. He left a young widow and step-son. The world is a poorer place for his passing.  

The third, Ginny, was an old friend from PLP-the place in PA my parents have a summer home. She lived there year round for many, many years, and we always fitted in a short visit every time I went there. She was diagnosed with cancer last year and had decided not to fight it. She was only 63 or so, and I remember crying when I got in the car last fall after a brief goodbye-for-the-winter visit, but I thought for sure I'd see her again this spring. 

On a brighter note, Rene and I went to a group informational meeting with the doctor at Yale-New Haven Hospital who will do my gastric bypass. It looks as if I will have the surgery mid-July, after Rene gets back from a WWII 60th Anniversary Tour she is taking in late June (lucky woman!).  

There were about 25 of us at the meeting, with nearly half of us supported by significant other or friend. Those of us who need the surgery range from merely fat to severely morbidly obese, and we fell into two groups: those of us who have over researched the subject and those who really had no clue. I fell into the former group, of course. (I am a researcher at heart.) Luckily, I liked the surgeon, his outlook, his attitude, and, most of all, his surgical statistics, which are very good, as I have nearly 200 pounds to lose.  

<FONTSIZE=4>This is not going to turn into a diet journal, I assure you, but weightloss surgery and the loss of the weight afterwards will no doubt echo through these pages as they reverberate through my life in the coming months. I will ask for support as the time approaches.  (don't know  why this is small while the rest is bigger)

Meanwhile, I have been going out most days, to doctors' appointments, physical therapy, Glenn, my personal trainer, and for walks, all hauling my oxygen tank along with me, trying to lap up the last bit of Spring before Summer arrives.

Blessings, Margo              

Family Crisis, Part II

Family crises should be short and sweet and then over.  

 Luckily, my Mom, who was supposed to die, is now home, puttering around instead of resting, worrying about the dirt in her kitchen grout that nobody can clean as well as she does. She and my father are muttering at each other in the passive aggressive way they have worked out over 56 years of marriage. And my father has reverted to his way of ignoring her, but still obeying her commands, slowly, in his own good time. In other words-all systems normal here...  

 I leave Thursday, rejoicing in my mom's near miss, sad because they grow ever older and feebler, and struggle more and more to overcome even the smaller crises in their lives, while becoming more and more stubborn about changes, about listening to advice from their children, doctors, or friends. (Boy, is that a run on sentence, or what?)  

Luke, Catherine and I became more of ourselves, too, under the pressure of Mom's crisis. Catherine arrived here for a vacation the day my mom finally called 911. She moved in to her librarian informational mode, spending hours at the hospital talking to doctors and nurses, finding nooks and crannies to nap in, roaming from mom's room to my room, trading info back and forth. Some vacation. She also got the list of stuff for mom would need for the rehab center(to which she never went), put mom's name on every piece of clothing, packed 4 suitcases,struggling to do it all perfectly because she has to get an A++ in all she does, especially when it comes to pleasing Dad. And he was angry at her because she packed more than he thought Mom should need. I am sure she was glad to return to MI.  

 Luke, and his wife Mary, stuck by mom's bedside, too, holding her hand and telling her to hang in, stay with us, calling me in CT with updates-come next week, no, come sooner, no, come now, the cardiologist says she won't make it out of the hospital...while I freaked out(quietly) at home, madly changing plane reservations, figuring out when the soonest I could arrive here was. 

 Luke got himself in trouble with them later, just before Mom was due to come home. He decided he should talk the doctors into sending her to the rehab  center after all, because he hoped he could get a better idea ofMom's myriad of medical problems-despite the fact they obviously do not want us to know much. Luke had a shouting match blowout with Dad at the hospital-they are very much alike, stubborn and sure they are always right-and has not been back since. It is okay-Mary has been around and helpful, and Luke leaves for Alaska for a job next week. All will be fine when he returns, I'm sure, and the incident will never be discussed.  

I got here Thursday(mom's emergency surgery was Mon night) in time to see that she was much better, then keeled over myself-helpful thing to do in the middle of someone else's crisis. When I got out of the hospital and returned to my parents' house, I was pretty weak and wobbly, tethered to an oxygen making machine, feeling vulnerable and not much help. I fell into my familial role as go between. I tried to explain to Dad why Luke wanted Mom in rehab-he wouldn't listen to me. I also defended Catherine's packing and got glowered at. He has had a bad week.  

Mom came home, and I tried to help with her meds and doctors' appointments-he cut me off, pointing out acerbically that he had managed last years cancer crisis just fine(a different matter of opinion among his kids, but I was smarter than to bring that up!) He could cook and clean and take care of her...I retreated to the basement family room, and let them settle in to their normal routine.  

Since then I have been helpful to Mom in a lot of quiet ways, and even Dad has backed off enough to let me help a bit with dishes and meals and such. But I will be glad to go home tomorrow, even though I have to pay $200 to have oxygen on the flights! I will miss being here with them, however, because it feels as if I can somehow magically stave off the next inevitable crisis just by being here. Magic thinking, indeed!  

They are hoping to come East to PA by July, so I may get to see them again, somewhere where there is oxygen in the air-unlike Denver, where there is no air in the air! At least not enough for me.   Thank you for your care and concern for both of us-I am sure it helped.  

Blessings, Margo

And Life Goes On...to Colorado Again

Mood: Bemused  

Well! After a flurry of panicked calls back and forth, I arrived in Colorado last Thursday for my mother's deathbed scene to find that she not only survived her middle of the night emergency surgery for necretized bowel, but was looking quite likely to recover! Needless to say, it was quite a relief. And recover she did-coming home today, 9 days after surgery, to the amazement of the doctors. She is a tough old bird, and I love her dearly.  

I, however, have had my own little problem. Last Friday, after looking at rehab centers  all day with my father(which my mom did not need after all) I came back to the house, exhausted and winded. My sister Catherine, in from from Michigan, and father were ready to take off to the hospital for a visit, when I began to feel more than winded-more like breathless, then unable to breath well at all, with chest pain, and I had to admit I was dealing with more than a change in altitude. So, because I practice what I preach, I called 911. 

 Fire engines, paramedics, rescue trucks, for the second time that week(Mom had called on Monday), neighbors agog on the sidewalk, my father fuming because the ambulance was blocking the driveway, and he wanted to leave-he has a bit of a one track mind-and the inevitable ambulance ride to the same hospital in which my mom was residing! The paramedic only had to stick me 3 times to get a line started, but the last time he dug around for 3.5 minutes before he got a vein. I have terrible veins, and I timed him. 

 Much ado about my complex medical history, a temp of 102, a battery of preliminary testing, and I was admitted, to the same floor as my  mother! I sent her an apology for not visiting, via Catherine. Two days of testing came back fine, and antibiotics cleared up the infection- very mild cellulitis on my right leg-and I staggered home to my parents Tuesday, terribly bruised from all the blooddraws, now tethered to an oxygen machine, which I must use while I'm here.But alive and well and still plugging onward.  Lots of help I have turned out to be!  

 It is actually much better than last year, when she was so very ill, and I was unable to travel at all because of my arm surgery and the problems which followed. I will be some help now she's home-I am great at  calming people down during and after crises-and can do a bit around the house. Not much, however, because I still get winded when I exert too much. I'll write more soon, I hope.  

Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers.  

Many Blessings, Margo

Emerging into Spring

As a few of you may have noticed, I have been slowly emerging from my winter hibernation, reading and occasionally commenting in the few journals I can keep up with. I think I got overwhelmed last winter, reading and commenting on dozens of journals-all of which I enjoyed a lot. Unfortunately, that led to too many hours a day at the computer, physical pain and burn out. I will try to take care of myself better in the future, though I am sorry I can no longer keep up with all the journals I enjoyed before.

 I am actually doing a bit better than the last time I wrote here, and I truly appreciate all the comments left by J-land friends. It was wonderful to feel connected and supported by so many even though I was not writing in my journal. It made me feel blessed through some bleak times, and I am grateful.  

I spent the winter doing physical therapy, going to the gym, seeing not one but two therapists (one for me, one for couples therapy), fixing up my bedroom-new bed, new paint, new quilt made by Peggy, new bookcase-all thanks to Peg and Pam and Kevin. I have finally learned I cannot do a massive clean up by myself, and have asked for help. It is a new and hard won learning.

I am still waiting for the surgery on to take the pin out of my arm and fix my carpal tunnel, which will help with my pain (I hope). Workers Comp is fighting me every step of the way, and I continue to fight back, with the help of my lawyer. I have also decided that in order to to live, I have to have a gastric bypass, so have started the paperwork and preliminary appointments. As most know, it is a long and trying experience just getting to the doctor for the first time, and surgery will be months away.  

Sad news: my mother is not doing well. She had emergency surgery last night; they took out 5 feet of blocked intestine, a bit of it cancerous. They are also worried about her heart. My brother lives in Denver, and my sister luckily happens to be visiting there this week. I'll fly out on Sunday, for another two week visit.  They were supposed to come east to their summer home in PA next month, but that's up in the air now. I am so thankful I took the time to visit her in the fall. And that I am not working so I can go now.( Actually I'd rather be able to work and take the time from work!)  

Spring is slow in New England, but the daffys will soon be blooming and neighbors are emerging from hibernation, as well. The baby who disappeared into the house next door in the fall has emerged a toddler!  We have a new baby-Jack-down the street, who will be out soon in his baby carriage with his proud Dad and Mom. Other neighborhood kids have lost teeth and grown taller and are out and about again. Soon the Friday Night Cocktail Hour On the Wall (around the corner from us, in front of someone's house) will begin, and we will catch up on all the neighborhood doings. 

 I'll try to write a bit more often now.  

 Many blessings, Margo              

Re-emerging

Dear Friends,   I did not mean to go away for two weeks and disappear for two months. Nor have I fallen into such a depression that I am unable to get out of bed to crawl to my computer. I have merely sunk into some weird sort of separation/isolation mode which seems to coincide with the increasing of the amount of Neurontin I take daily for peripheral neuropathy.  

 It feels as if I can no longer think clearly enough to put cogent sentences together - this entry is a real strain- and I spend a lot of time sleeping. In fact I can barely keep my head up a lot of the time. Watching TV seems much more soothing than interacting with the world.  

And yet I am forcing myself to keep up with what I feel I have to do. I am going to physical therapy twice a week, to the gym twice a week, and to regular therapy twice a week, once for couple's work with Rene, and once to my own therapist. And once a week I do something with my friend Peggy. This schedule leaves me so exhausted I cannot think straight most of the rest of the time.  

 I am forging ahead medically, however. I have seen the orthopedist who heads the group my old doctor left. I like Dr. M.,unlike his unlamented, now departed partner Dr. K. who did the original surgery on my arm. Dr. M. has recommended I have the rod taken out of my arm because it is impinging on the shoulder, causing inflammation, pain, and perhaps problems with the rotator cuff. He'll also do carpal tunnel surgery on my hand while he has me under anesthesia. 

 Although I am less than thrilled at the idea of more surgery and then still more physical therapy, I thought and meditated about it, spoke to my physical therapists and body worker, Pete, and cried with Rene about the necessity, then finally agreed. Needless to say, Workers' Comp turned me down. Now it is in my attorney's hands and will need to go to a hearing, once more leaving me raging in medical limbo along with increasing shoulder pain.  

Reading all this I am struck by two things. I want to apologize for this long litany of problems, and no wonder I am in full time exhaustion mode- a lot is going on! 

I also want to say that my time with my mother was well worth the energy and anxiety and struggle of the trip. I finally wrote her a long letter, telling her that I wanted her to let go of the guilt she has been carrying around, that she, like me, had done the best she could with what she was given, and I am glad she is my mother. She read the letter in her bedroom, then came out crying, to hug me and say what a gift I had given her. It made up for a lot of the pain of being there to see how unhappy she is with her life, and how she chooses to see the dark side of life, and how much I am like her, but struggling to make different choices.  

I want to thank all of you who have commented and e-mailed and worried about me, and apologize for not responding. Despite my silence, I have missed J-land, and hope to gather enough energy to re-join the community slowly. Isolating myself from those who sustain me is a very old pattern, and I am trying-once again-to find my way back.  

Blessings to all, Margo            

From my Parents' House

 I am settled in, now, at my parents townhouse, in Highlands Ranch, CO, looking out the window at a small patch of the mountain range, missing J-Land. I find it difficult to be on the computer for very long here because my parents flutter in the background, muttering about interrupting phone service. They are both quite deaf, my mother more than my father, and don't realize how much I hear their complaints.  

The visit is going well. They have their routine worked out-who gets up first, who reads which newspaper first, who cooks, who cleans up, who has custody of the family room at what times, when each retreats to his or her bedroom to nap or read. I work to fit in around their schedule, spending time with each, although more with Mom than Dad. I know for their ages-82 and 79-they do quite well, and have a certain fondness for each other. They have been married 56 years, and are used to functioning together.  

It's not a particularly happy marriage, though. On their 50th Anniversary, after forbidding us to throw a party, my mother said, "Fifty years of cooking!" and my father said, "I am beginning to get the rules down now." These days she nags him to do stuff, then mutters angrily under her breath while he ignores her. I am not sure how much of this he actually hears, and how much he stonewalls. My particular struggle is not to rush in to play go-between, a childhood role in which I no longer wish participate. I'm doing quite well, too. Thank Goddess for therapy!   

I have hung out with my mother quiet a bit, encouraging her to talk about her childhood, and mine, about family history, and have worked hard at giving positive affirmations when she says anything about her feelings or experiences, and harder at trying to ignore the stream of negative comments and complaints which pour out of her. I have realized how lonely she is, and feel very sad about it. Still, we do manage to laugh about things-old family stories and situations, stuff going on today. I feel blessed that we have always shared a sense of humor.  

I am going to write her a letter, telling her what I want her to know-the good stuff I have recieved from her, how grateful I am, because I know now I would cry too much to get it out aloud. I get choked up just thinking about it. Too much emotion not allowed in the years of my youth, it comes leaking out around the edges now, and I am glad to feel it now, even if it makes both of them uncomfortable. But I want her to hear me, not feel upset because I am crying.  

 Colorado is beautiful, as always, and the mountains are so amazing to an Easterner like me. I am here for another week, and am enjoying the quiet beauty of the antiques I grew up with-at home(which was outside Philadelphia) and those from my grandmother's house. My mother has a decorator's ability to arrange her furniture,  paintings, and  odds and ends in a beautiful casual elegance that I could never aspire to. I enjoy it, but could not keep any place so neat!  

Thanks for listening to me, and please know I miss my J-Land friends almost as much as I miss Rene, and Roxy, my dog! I hope all are well, or at least hanging in, during this complicated, blessed holiday season.  

Blessings, Margo