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Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Reality Check

I’ve been to lots and lots of doctor appointments lately getting biopsies and preparing for my surgery. I really like my “girl doctor”, he isn’t rushed and is very personable. He also reads my medical records; like, actually reads them.  The other day was no different. He was sitting there reading my records when he looks up and says “You know your son should have died.” Blank stare from me, so he continued “Your pregnancy with the prolapsed cord. Your son should not have survived that. He’s a walking miracle.”  Sure, I had heard pediatricians say that he was very lucky, and one even remarked that he was one of the fortunate ones. But this is the first time a doctor had looked at me and said my son should have died. I was a little overwhelmed with sorrow, yet extreme thankfulness that he was here with us.
When my water had broken that night when I was pregnant with him I knew something was wrong. I could “feel” it, literally. I knew something had come rushing out of me with all the amniotic fluid. But it wasn’t until we got to the hospital and I told the receptionist at Labor and Delivery that “It feels like something is coming out of me” and they rushed me into a room and discovered the prolapsed cord that I knew what was wrong. I remember one of the nurses straddling my legs with her hand still “inside me”, trying to hold the cord away from Jon’s neck so that the blood supply could continue to deliver precious supplies to his brain. I remember several doctors rushing to my side as they wheeled me through L&D to an operating room, all the while baring everything for the world to see as the other nurse kept her hand up me. We must have been a site. I also remember the look on my husband’s face; panic and fear. I can also remember them telling him he couldn’t come in with us to the delivery room since this would be an emergency C-section. Then I was out. I would awaken in that same room quite a while later, alone and wondering if my baby had survived. I cannot even begin to describe the emotions I felt when I was finally told my son was not just alive, but healthy.
I know that his APGAR score in his medical records reads “4” but the doctor that came to check on him while we still in the hospital had said it was more like a “2 or 3”. The nurses and doctors that came to check on him over the next few days would say things like “It’s amazing he’s here” and “There are no signs of permanent brain damage, wow”.  I always knew we had dodged a bullet.
But here sitting with my doctor I finally knew just how lucky we were.
I was able to keep it together until I got out to my car. Then I lost it. I really lost it. I cried out of happiness that my little man was alive and well today. And I cried for all the babies who didn’t survive a prolapsed cord.

Monday, September 26, 2011

The Old Gray Mare, She Ain’t What She Used to Be

I wasn’t even going to post this second part of the story from here but a couple other people who know the WHOLE story asked “What about what happened next?” so fine, here is what happened after the Schwan’s guy left.
I went in the kitchen and began putting all the treasures away; I have a deep freeze as well as the freezer part of the fridge. My only problem was that I was quickly running out of room. And that’s when it hit me; we have another fridge in the boathouse. I’ll just put what doesn’t fit in the kitchen in THAT fridge. Then I realized there was problem with that, what if it was 10:00 at night and I wanted something from the fridge out in the boathouse? I mean what if I was playing Black Ops; I wouldn’t have time to run out there between levels. Then I had a brilliant idea: MOVE THE FRIDGE INTO THE HOUSE!!!! I know …  brilliant, right?
So I headed out to the boathouse, disconnected the fridge and plotted how to get the monstrosity into the house. My plan of action was to put the fridge on the dolly and roll it into the house. The only problem was the 6 steps I had to conquer to get the fridge onto the back deck. Pffffttt, I can totally do that. So I start rolling it out of the boathouse and as soon as I hit grass the whole fridge toppled over. Crap. I get it reloaded and manage to get it to the deck only that dang thing is heavy. REALLY heavy. I pull, I push, I sweat, I may or may not have cried. The realization soon came that I was going to have to roll the thing around the house, up onto the drive, up onto the front porch, and then through the front door and to the kitchen. So away we went. And it fell…..over and over again. (you would think that sometime during this I would have said “I’ll just wait for Corey to get home”, or “Maybe I should get some straps and secure this thing!”) I finally got it into the kitchen and in the right spot. I got it loaded with the rest of the Schwan’s food and was happy, even if I was a little sweaty.
So Corey comes home and is knocking about  for quite some time before he finally took a long, slow look around the kitchen realizing there’s another fridge in there.  “Hmm, Schwan’s guy came today, huh?”
p.s. The next morning while showering I realized both of my arms were covered in bruises, and I don’t even have a cool story to go with the bruises like back in the day when I was in the Army and had to walk the gauntlet.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

I Don't Like My Chances AT ALL!!!!

So NASA says there is a satellite that is plummeting towards Earth RIGHT THIS MINUTE, yet they have no idea where it will hit. Wait, what? Isn’t that their job? Track crap that is heading our way? SOMEBODY’S BEEN ASLEEP AT THEIR DESK!!!!
They say they aren’t sure if it will hit in Florida or New York …… (wait for it) …. or Iran or India. In fact the “strike zone” covers all of Earth.
They tell you not to pick up any pieces because they may have sharp edges, not because it’s toxic. Sure, gotcha.
They assure us that it will break into pieces, and that falling space debris has never hurt anyone in the past, of course who would ever believe you if it did happen. I mean think about it, you go to the hospital with a big gaping slash down your arm, and the doc asks “What happened?” You answer “Well, I was walking along and BAM a meteor or something fell from the sky and hit me.” Doc: “Mmmm,hmmm. Have you had anything to drink today?”
Yea, that scenario is really going to go smooth.
NASA says your chances of getting hit by space debris are 1 in 3,200.
Let’s look at other statistics:
Chances of getting into a car accident: 1 in 100 (I’m not yet 40 and have been in 6)
Chances of having a breech pregnancy: 3 in 100 (KK was breech)
Chances of pregnancy with a prolapsed cord: 2.4 in 1,000 (Jon had one of the worst cases of prolapsed cord that the hospital where he was born had seen. In fact, his doc looked over his records just a few weeks ago and read his “birth sheet” and said “It’s a miracle he survived.”  p.s. that was a reality check!)
Chances of being a victim of identity theft: 1 in 465 (yep, that’s me!)
Chances of having an adverse reaction to a prescription drug: 1-in-3,000 (not once, but twice!)
Chances of being attacked by a dog: 1 in 131,890. (happened when I was little)

Ok, so I don’t like my odds. I mean, come on NASA 1 in 3,200????? How many people are on Earth? I mean, all of Earth is in the strike zone right????
So, if you can’t figure out where it will hit just tell me one thing…… just give me the one location where it WON’T hit, cuz that’s where ya’ll can find me.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Monday Morning Conversations with the Kids

Monday morning always proves interesting. Someone is always grouchy about the weekend being over, someone is always happy to be headed back to school to visit with friends, but everyone is talkative at the breakfast table. Monday mornings are usually all about what the kids learned in Sunday School the previous day. I love to sit back and listen to them, testing their knowledge, and letting them test mine.
This morning was no different, all three kids were sitting at the table and the conversation went like this:
Jon: Mom, I know God made everything, but I wonder how.
Me: I do, too, Jon.                                  
Jon: Like fog, what was He thinking when He made fog? That’s what I wonder.
Me: That’s a very good question.
Jon: Hey, mom, do you know how God made me and you?
Me: (and yes, I know how God made man, but I always let him tell me) Hmmm….tell me how.
Jon: Dirt! He took some dirt, shaped it, and breathed life into it. DIRT!!!! I’m made from dirt, you’re made from dirt, dad’s made from dirt, Papa and GeGe are made from dirt!
At this Kim pipes up: I’m not made from dirt. I think God made me out of ham!

Saturday, September 17, 2011

There Is No Reasoning Here, I See This Now

First off just let me say that I know that I have an addiction. My addiction comes every two weeks in the form of a big yellow truck that pulls right up to my house. The Schwan’s Guy!!!!  I have been known to plot out my meal plans according to what he has in stock.  I have also been known to spot a Schwan’s truck in a parking lot downtown and realize that I need something, so I whip into the parking lot, pull up alongside this truck and wait for him to return so I can claim my treasure.
My dresser drawers may be in chaos, and I may have 12 junk drawers in the kitchen (shut up), but my deep freeze is dress-right-dress and in perfect order. My Schwan’s guy comes every other Friday, and I always have my order placed online by Tuesday of that week. Tim (my Schwan’s guy) always calls me around 8:30 that Friday morning to tell me he’s on his way from Magee where the factory is.  I am ALWAYS at home and ready.  And I ALWAYS order more when he gets here. I know this, he knows this.
Here’s the scenario every Friday:
Tim: (jumping out of his truck of deliciousness) Hello, Ms. Matthews. I have your order packed up and ready……unless there’s more you need. ( I know he has a smirk on his face, I don’t need to see it!)
Me: Well….(nervous laughter) yea, I have a couple more items.
Tim: I thought so. Ok, let’s have the list. (does he know me or what?)
Me: (Pulling out my piece of paper on which I have jotted down the item numbers of the tasty morsels I am craving) Ok, let’s see here…. (I start calling out the numbers and he starts putting them his machine)
And then this happens, it always happens:
Tim: Ya know, Ms. Matthews, your order right now is at $294 (Maybe not always this number, but always a number that is just on the brink of another monumental amount). Why not add another item to make it $300?
Me: (ALWAYS!!!) Sure!
Why? Why do I always do this? Am I winning something extra by making it $300? No! Do I do this anywhere else? No! Am I ever at WalMart checking out and the cashier says “Your total is $294.” Do I ever say “Wait one minute; let me add a rotisserie chicken to make the total $300!” No!
Am I ever headed to the check out at Winn Dixie and trying to total everything up in my head and think “I am only at $294; I should grab 2 magazines and a pack of gum!” No!!!
Am I ever at Justice shopping for the girls and my sales total $294 so I say “Lemme grab a pack of wacky sox so it totals $300.”  Maybe……but that different, now we’re talking fashion.
So, why do I do this with the Schwan’s guy??? I’m perplexed. So, it is my vow to do TWO things different the next time Tim comes. Wanna hear them? Sure you do:
1.)    Stick with the order I already placed, no adding items.
2.)    Well, #1 takes care of #2, because if I stick with #1, then when he says your total is “Blah  blah” (that’s whatever cash number he’ll say) then I won’t  say “Yes, let’s add more”. So there ya go.

We’ll see how this goes.  Send me good vibes, folks, I WILL need them.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Funny Thoughts With Jon

The following is a short conversation between myself and my 7 year old son this morning.

Jon: Hey mom.
Me: Yea.
Jon: Sometimes, if you blow air out of your nose real hard, ya when you're sitting at your desk doing seat work, or eating lunch at the cafeteria, or just hanging out with you friends...
Me: (interrupting) Are you using a tissue?
Jon: No, just blowing air out kind of hard.
Me: Oh! Ok.....(crickets chirping).....go ahead with you story, sorry I interrupted.
Jon: Well, sometimes when you blow air out your nose real hard a booger with shoot out.
Me: ....(silence, just staring at him).....
Jon: I hate it when that happens.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Checkmate, Calvin!!!!

So the war continues with Calvin. That crazy cat is driving me nuts. He stares longingly out of the window, occasionally yeowling (that’s a yelled meow), he stalks me around the house and continues to glare at me. Every once in a while he’ll take a swipe at me as I walk past him. Oh, and suddenly he is showing all his love and devotion to The Hubs; purring and rubbing on him. Yea, whatever!
So, imagine his surprise when I brought home this little girl:

Squeee! Isn’t she adorable? She is a shelter kitty, only 6 weeks old. I requested to be her foster mommy until she is 8 weeks old and can be adopted (by me!!!!!). I was approved, cuz I’m great like that. Or maybe it had to do with the shelter ladies saying “If you can handle Calvin then you can handle any kitty!” That’s right, they still remember Calvin, and apparently I’m the crazy lady that adopted him. I guess they had a running bet there on how long it would take for me to bring him back and are quite shocked that he is happy and contented and doing great.
Well….he was happy. Now he’s just pissed. I thought he’d really like having a playmate around. Turns out I was wrong. Friday night was horrible, he was mad about the new kitten and basically just wanted to kill it. Saturday he was still hissing and spitting at it. But by Sunday the tides had turned and he seemed to accept that the kitten is staying. She wants nothing more than to play with him and be buddies. She chases him around and catches him off guard and scares the snot out of him. He acts like he is terrified of her.
And then THIS MORNING he actually engaged in some playtime with her. They chased each other around the house playing. The kids were yelling “Calvin is trying to kill her!!!” but I had to point out that he was playing. So it was a happy, happy morning.
Now here’s a pic of Sarabi (yep, that’s her name) sleeping with Jon, it’s where she has slept every night since she came home.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

This Doc Would Suck As a Psychiatrist or a Motivational Speaker, Really.

Sorry I haven’t written on this blog in a few days, my world has been flip-flopped upside down and I have good intentions on writing and then when I sit down to put my thoughts on paper they just don’t come out right. That’s just the way it is…..mmmmkay?
So, I went to the girlie doc because I personally believe that when you have been dealing with a cycle that comes every 20 to 21 days is just crazy, and it hangs around from about 10 days…yep, do the math and that means I’m off of it as much as I’m on it. So I have every reason to be a crazy, evil “meaniac” (that’s my kids’ favorite word right now, it’s “meanie” and “maniac” rolled up into one word. I love it!)
So I’m there for my checkup and because I have a mass in my breast (same one I’ve always had problems with, 3 surgeries – biopsies- and I thought I was doing great) that my regular doc found last week. And, of course this is a new doc for me, so he wants my history so I’m basically giving the highlights. It goes like this:
Doc: How about your mother, any medical issues that are prominent?
Me: Not sure, she passed away when I was a baby – the death certificate read cardiac arrest. She was just 23, and…(yes, he cuts me off)
Doc: What about siblings, do you have a sister with any breast or ovarian cancer?
Me: Um, well, she disappeared about 10 or 11 years ago in Florida, so I have no way of knowing what her health is like.
Doc: Mmmhmmm, I think I saw this movie.
Me: Yea, it’s my life story.
Doc: Any other siblings at all?
Me: No, my mother was nearly 9 months pregnant when she passed and the baby passed as well. So it was just my sister and I.
Doc: You sure this wasn’t a Lifetime movie? Valerie Bertinelli was in it?
Me: If so I’m suing for royalties.
Doc: Jeez, your life is a tragedy.

Thanks, doc. Can I have some Xanax now, you’ve officially depressed me.
*In retrospect, I have to say that this doc is amazing. He really is great, he just has a quirky way about him. But he does make me laugh, which is important when your dealing with a pretty crappy situation.

Friday, September 2, 2011

You Know What, This is War, That's What THIS is, WAR!!!!

It's been getting pretty rough around our house, what with Calvin giving me the stink-eye and trying to kill me every time I walk out of a room. And let's not forget about the toilet paper incident. But last night he did something unforgiveable. A crime so heinous it brings a tear to my eye just remembering that he would do this to his mommy.
I's DMSing (it's a lot like PMSing but instead of the "pre" it's "D" for "during", because, yea - you can figure that out, and it's A WHOLE LOT WORSE!!!!), all I wanted was to lay down in bed with my heating pad and wallow in my own self-pity. So I turned down the covers of the bed, laid out the heating pad on my side and turned it on so it would be nice and warm when I got into bed and then went to brush my teeth.
When I came back THIS is what greeted me:
What the........
And to make matters worse every time I got any where near him he took a swipe at me. Even bribing him with food didn't work.
He's taken this to a whole new level.  I have to send a message loud and clear that in this house "WE DON'T DO BUSINESS WITH TERRORIST!!!"