SHEEP in the DRYER (and other oddities)

We've had a couple rickety, or broken appliances around here lately.

From January to March, the garage door slid up crooked and then, with a grinding screech, got caught catawampus and stopped.  Sometimes we could lower it and start over, and sometimes that worked.

Mostly, we just started using the front door. 

In March, the garage door simply rebelled and quit working altogether.  You can grind wheels through a twisted track for only so long. 

The ice machine in the 'fridge has been grinding too...for months.  We don't use ice as much as we used to, so we ignore it.  We're getting old and tired. 

With hurricane season upon us, we decided to bite the bullet and get the garage door replaced.  We've been in this house twenty years, and the catawampus door is the original garage door.

It's old and tired too.  And probably abused, there at the end.

Yesterday, the new garage door was installed. 

The installer did a wonderful job.  Another line of work I am so glad somebody else enjoys.  I wouldn't last a minute. 

While the garage door guy was here, the dryer stopped working.

My husband, who was off yesterday, said, "That's it.  Stuff is falling apart around here."

He slid all the junk away from the dryer so he could drag the dryer out and discern the problem. 

Within twenty minutes, he came in the kitchen and announced, "The dryer is fixed."

"Really?" I said.  I was dreading the expense of a new dryer.

"Come here," he added.  "I want to show you something."

In the garage, where the dryer is, he pointed to a plastic bag.  "Look at this."

I made a face.  It looked like Lamp Chop, the Shari Lewis hand puppet.  "What is that?"

"Lint," he said.

Sure enough.  LINT.    

With a toothpick in it.

All of this lint was not in the lint trap.  Oddly, the lint trap was clean.  It should be fired.  Clearly, it's not doing its job. 

This is the fluff that had piled up below the lint trap and in all the nooks and crannies in the dryer.  The lint had clogged the gears and rendered the machine inert.  Good grief. 

I guess it would be beneficial to drag out the dryer every fifteen years and hose out the hiding places. 

On a roll, my husband pulled out the ice maker and dumped the ice into the sink.  The cubes came out in a single block.  He took the bin and disappeared into the garage.

Five minutes later, he was back.  "Ice maker is fixed."

What a handy man I have, I thought.  The guy is brilliant. 

"What was wrong with it?" I asked.

He handed me this....

Uhh.....what? 

"How did a spoon get in the ice maker?" he wondered.

I vaguely remembered reading about a remedy for puffy eyes - a cold spoon pressed onto the eyelids.  I may have tried it at some point. 

"Maybe you were chipping at the ice?" he said.

I shook my head.  "I use a butter knife for that." 

Clearly, we're slacking on home maintenance.   It's become more complicated with having to check for sheep in the dryer and utensils in the freezer.

Just this morning, the printer started acting up.

I hate to look.

24 (minus Jack Bauer)

Mom underwent a kyphoplasty today (for a quick video of what that is, click here).

Under twilight anesthesia, she did well and was back home by 11 a.m. with a small ice pack wedged between her back and her glider.  She was having no pain.  (As I've remarked before, a drug-free life is over-rated.)

Mom might be sore tomorrow, but she should be able to stand comfortably and jump into physical therapy.  Well, maybe shuffle into therapy.  What a long time coming that has been.

Thanks again to the millions of health care providers who are skilled with needles and IVs and scalpels and sutures. I am so grateful there are people who are fascinated by that line of crucial, but icky, work.

The early morning hours were made sweeter by the presence of our wonderful daughter-in-law, C.A., who came for an overnight visit yesterday.

She got up with me at 5:30 this morning and helped get Mom to the hospital.  It was so nice to have a second pair of hands to carry bags and open doors for Mom's wheelchair. 

While Mom was having her procedure, C.A. and I read nearly five People magazines.

I learned that the only attendants at Reese Witherspoon's wedding were her young son and daughter (sweet), and that for "well-endowed" entertainers on Dancing with the Stars, dancers have corset-like brassieres sewn into their gowns (seems like a good idea.)

I skipped all the Casey Anthony news.  I live in Florida. 

By the time Mom was done, C.A. and I were fairly caught up on Hollywood.

Once Mom was settled at Southland, C.A. and I returned home and had some bagels and some blackberry cobbler we made at 10 p.m. last night.

It looks half gone here, but we didn't eat that much.  This picture was taken after dinner tonight when more had been consumed by all.  Really.

We thought we might get the cobbler baked earlier in the day, but we got caught up in making greeting cards, which C.A. and I both enjoy.  She brought all her fun supplies, and I felt like I was five again.

So many colorful papers and stickers and stamps to choose from.   Just a sample...

...and a couple finished products...

Thank you, C.A., for sharing all your cool toys!

The nicest surprise of C.A's visit occurred when I arrived home after dinner last night from helping Mom get ready for bed.

Upon entering my kitchen, I saw this....

Be still, my heart.

C.A. and my hubby washing the dishes.

Anybody who cleans up the kitchen gets a gold star in my book.  With blackberry cobbler and ice cream.  And anything else they want.  

I gave them both a smooch.

The only thing C.A. and I didn't get to during her visit was walking for some exercise.

But, we squeezed in a Matthew McConaughey movie.  I can't remember the title, or the other people in it, but you have the important information.

It was a Matthew McConaughey movie.  

It was a restorative, productive, enjoyable, creative, yummy, non-chaotic 24 hours.

And I love everyone who made this production possible.

THE PJ FACTOR

Mom is finally on the mend from an avalanche of health issues that began in February.

Due to a compression fracture in L2 of her back, she will have a kyphoplasty on Thursday morning, hopefully the last of the procedures for a while.  (For a one-minute video of what that is, click here)

It's a fairly minor procedure, and from what we've heard, very successful.  Mom should be feeling better and back on a PT schedule by Monday.  YAY!!

One thing I've helped Mom with since she's been home from rehab is taking showers.  I have been surprised by what a tender, nurturing task this can be.

Mom is a tiny little thing, and under the shower spray, she's as slippery as a peeled, hard-boiled egg, so we have to be careful.  I'm always a little nervous until we shut off the water and she's back in the wheelchair, one thick towel under her backside and one wrapped around her shoulders.

I dry her tootsies while she dries everything else.     

We then slather on the Cetaphil, a luxurious body cream that feels like silk.  Once she's all slippery again, we slide on the PJs.  This is my favorite part.

Mom's PJs are either soft flannel, or jersey.  She has several pairs, blues and pinks and grays.

Sometimes the bottoms match the tops; sometimes they don't.  We use whatever spills out of her overstuffed lingerie drawer.

These flannel moon PJs are soft and well-worn.  Loose enough for Mom to manipulate.  Once she's in her PJs, it feels safe again.  She's warm and dry and encased in cozy fabric.

This moment always takes me back to the time when my youngins were toddlers.  After a warm bath, I'd dress them for bed.  Sometimes they'd wear a zip-up sleeper, sometimes two-piece snap pajamas.  Usually with cartoons or super-heroes on them.  They didn't always match either.

It was a sweet, comforting activity.  The day was over, the day's dirt was down the drain, and damp, wispy hair was sticking up all over.  Fluffy towels and soft clothing were involved.

Whatever had transpired that day, cleaning up and getting into fresh PJs softened and warmed the closing hours.

Mom's had a rough few months, and she loves to sit in the shower and let the hot water soothe her tired bones.  The snugly PJs hold in that cozy warmth and trigger the sleep switch.

A little more Cetaphil first, though.

Her orange key ring around her arm adds to the sleepwear ensemble.  

Once Mom's in her PJs and settled in her glider, I thank God that we've made it safely through another day.

If Dad is ready for bed and settled in his rocker as well, the cozy factor doubles.  With both of them PJ-ed, my heart is at ease when I leave for the night.   

No matter what age we are, PJs seem to bring out the calm and cuddly in all of us.

If presidents and kings wore PJs instead of executive garb, the world might be a better place. 

 

THANK YOU, DAD

I've often heard that earthly fathers are our first impression of what God is like.

If we have a devoted, loving dad, it's easier to accept a benevolent, personal, divine creator.

If our dad is aloof, or abusive, or absent, it's more difficult to believe in a loving heavenly Father.

I imagine this is true.  Not that we can't experience the loving God despite whatever parenting we've had.  The discovery just might take longer.

I have been blessed with a dad who made God appealing.   Watching my father's devotion to his faith and his family instilled in me a sense of  "I want that." 

I wanted the confidence and the joy and the steadfastness that my father exhibited in how he lived.

That, and he loved my mother.

Which is the other huge component that represents God.  Commitment.

I simply had a wonderful example.  Which, over time, I have come to appreciate more and more.

So today, I honor my dad.  I thank him for living with purpose and conviction. (And for all the late-night doughnut runs.)

I pray that my sons will be fathers of faith as well, because it is the only lasting gift you can give your children.

I love you, Dad.

WHAT a RIDE

I've decided God is a fan of roller-coasters.  With all the ups and downs in life (and all the screaming that accompanies the ride), His youngins - us - call on Him quite often. 

When something GREAT happens, we screech "Oh, my GOD!" 

Something tragic?  "Oh my God..." we moan.

Either way, we're reaching out to a greater force in gratitude or pain.   If the road was smooth and straight, we'd probably never talk to Him.

All the lurching forward and back, up and down...God hears from us.

We've had so many lurches the past four months...it felt like an episode of LOST:   Are we in the hospital now, or rehab?  Are we in the doctor's office for the humerus break, or the lung X-ray?  Which doc are we seeing today...the orthopod, or the cardiologist?  Which medicine is for what?  Am I calling Dr. R. about Mom or Dad?  What day is it?  What month is it?  How long have we been on this island?!  

Four months of a roller-coaster ride that started with a badly broken bone.  

Today...we're at the top of the hill, enjoying the view.

Mom got a great report from her orthopedic surgeon today.   Never have we been so happy to see sharp, pokey hardware under flesh.

This is Mom's not-so-humorous humerus.  As you can see, the head of the bone is now securely connected to shaft.  Three months ago, the "ice cream" had slipped off the "cone."  (That was the official diagnosis from the surgeon.) 

It's back in one piece, thanks to some skilled finger work and a device that looks like a mutant praying mantis with extra legs.   

Mom was given the all-clear today to do what she wants with her new bionic arm.  She'll start more aggressive OT this week.  Here she is with the PA who works with orthopod Dr. B. 

He's from Cuba and, and we can't understand half of what he says, but he's warm and kind and was very pleased with Mom's ROM (range of motion.)  He gave us the best news we've heard in four months.

Mom also got the staples removed from her head this morning.  Regarding hardware, it was a very good day.

Tomorrow Mom and Dad will celebrate their 61st wedding anniversary.   We'll bring them to our house for a pot roast dinner and thank God for the roller-coaster ride they've shared all these years.

A local florist brought them a bouquet of roses this week in honor of their anniversary.

I'm sure there's a dip in the ride coming up soon.   We are still awaiting two doctors appointments; one to have Mom's back evaluated; one to have her thyroid checked.

But for today...it's so nice to be at the top of the ride and breathe in the fresh air.

How sweet it is. 

Happy, blessed anniversary to the folks...

A Disheartening Phone Call

I continue to be amazed at how many curve balls can come our way in one week. 

Mom fell six days ago.  When I took her out for her thyroid ultrasound this morning, she moved her leg with a little more ease and told me she thought it was just now doing better.

Fifteen minutes ago, the wonderful Dr. R's nurse called to tell me that Mom has a compression fracture in her back.  I am shocked.

I don't know why the first hospital X-ray didn't show that.  I can't remember now what they took films of; maybe they did not X-ray this part of the back.  Maybe they did, and the radiologist missed it.  

No wonder Mom has had such pain off and on this week. 

Dr. R's nurse is going to call me back ASAP with the name of an orthopod who might do a vertebroplasty, where cement is injected into the spine to support the vertebra.  Oh my, the things we will learn.  

Pins in the humerus, concrete in the back.  Mom will be stronger than the rest of us soon.

 

At the moment, I don't know any more than this.  When Dr. R. gets back with me with a game plan, I'll post an update. 

In the meantime, the folks got a mini-fridge in their room. 

It holds bottled water and yogurt.  Both of which Mom needs to maintain a healthy digestive system. 

And it holds a bowl of Dad's chocolate pie.  Which is probably not good for anyone's digestive system.

p.s. the star cookie at the top of this post has nothing to do with anything.  I just wanted something pretty to open with because it makes me sad that Mom has one more injury to endure. 

Hospital Rerun (episode #2)

Mom and I made a trip to the ER on Thursday night. 

She had another fall, and needed a few staples in her head to seal up the small gash she sustained when she hit the bed frame.   Here's a picture of the staples for the science teacher/almost-sister, the sister-in-law nurse, and any others who care to peek.

 

Mom also received some X-rays to rule out any breaks.  Astonishingly, the X-rays were fine, so they released her.  

Even though there are no broken bones, Mom's right leg is causing her considerable pain when she tries to walk.  The ER doc suspects Mom pulled a ligament or strained some muscles, maybe both.  She is on pain reliever through the weekend (of course it's a weekend), and then we see the wonderful Dr. R. on Monday.

Mom was alone when she fell in the center part of their room at the ALF.  The pull cords are in various places on the walls, so weren't helpful, because she couldn't get up to get to them.   She didn't know she was bleeding until she saw blood on the carpet.

Practical woman that she is, Mom scooted to an end table to grab the Puffs and some reading material.  She finagled herself to sit up against the bed frame and applied pressure to the wound.

Then, she read a bit.  Dad was at a meeting, but not due home for awhile.

Two hours later - holey moley - he arrived to see Mom on the floor, and called me. 

When the medics arrived, Mom told them the only thing that bothered her was her backside, from sitting on the floor so long.   

Me, oh my.  It could have been much worse.  More blood, broken bones, head trauma.  Not enough Puffs.  Nothing to read. 

Mom now wears a necklace with a button to push in case she's ever in trouble again when she's alone.  

We're still working out the bugs on this one.

In the meantime, the Ballpark coordinated a mattress swap with the folks.  Mom needs a shorter mattress, which we have, so we did a little switcheroo.

How great to be only a mile away.

Happy Sunday!

Hope you don't have to move any mattresses, or get staples in your head.