Still grounded

 Tomorrow morning (at the buttcrack of dawn, might I add) is my MRI. For those of you scratching your heads, my bad. "Let me sum up," as Inigo Montoya says. I need to back up a bit.

*beep beep beep beep*

Last Monday I had the EEG and was to have the neurology appointment directly afterwards. However, the neurologist had a family emergency so my appointment got punted to Tuesday afternoon.

After he listened to my story of why I was there, as if he didn't already know, he told me that the EEG looked normal. Yay! I have a brain! Shush, Hinrew. Then he said something a little discomfiting; "however, small things can hide in an EEG so I want you to have an MRI. If things look fine from there, I'll check on you in four months. My gut feeling is that we do not need to put you on anti seizure medicine as that would be life long and has serious side effects."

Um, yikes?

My husband, the engineer, growled afterwards, "if the MRI is the definitive test, why did they order an EEG instead of an MRI?" Good question. Nurse Lisa told me over the phone, and I could hear the groan and the roll of her eyes as she explained, that insurance companies most likely won't cover an MRI unless an EEG is done first, even though it's dumb because if they just did the MRI they'd have the results they were looking for instead of now paying for two tests. Which is pretty much what my mother had texted me as well.

So, tomorrow morning I am signed up for an MRI with and without contrast. I know I've had one of these before, but it's kind of a blur. The tech asked over the phone if I was claustrophobic so I'm going with they're sticking me in some kind of tube. Good news is I'm allowed to eat and drink normally beforehand, no fasting, yay. Undecided news is the "with contrast" part... I can't remember if I only have to drink that or if that's through an IV or both. Less yay. Not gonna get fussed about it, though. Not worth it.

I also will need to ask if the results get read by the neurologist and if his office will let me know what it said or if I need to call them, or what. I was told not to drive until the results of the EEG were in, and I was a good girl and didn't, though I've discovered as a 44-year-old woman what it feels like to be grounded. Not a fan! Very inconvenient, even during a pandemic when events and activity levels are much decreased. Grr. Then he ordered the MRI and said to not drive for another week, maybe two to three weeks, something about six months at which point my non existent eyebrows shot right off of my head. I hope he was kidding, cuz man, that ain't happening. I am going with a week as that's what he said first. So there. 

Tuesday I also saw my oncologist who went over all my numbers and pronounced everything perfect. So good, in fact, that she doesn't need to see me for six months, so I won't have to head down there at all this winter, wahoo! She also felt I was good to drive and that the troublesome fainting episode was simply a reaction to the blood draw.  She went so far as to make a note in my chart that I will be reclining for future blood draws. Nurse Lisa approves, as per her "for the love of all that is holy... would you please make sure they lay you down for blood draws!!!" Favorite doctor ever. Teehee.

So as you roll over and hit the alarm for the day or as you roll over and go back to sleep tomorrow around 6:45, send a prayer or a good thought that the MRI finds nothing more than a small sign etched onto my brain reading, "STOP JABBING MY HOST!" Thanks a bunch! Have a great week!

This is what an EEG looks like

I've been musing about a game we played at camp called, "I Have Never." You're supposed to tell the truth. Everyone is in a circle with an It in the center. It declares, "I have never _____" and they fill in the blank with something they've never done. Whoever else that applies to also leaves their spot in the circle and everyone scurries to find an open spot/chair/whatever and whoever is left becomes the new It. 

I used to say, "I have never been to Disney." It was true. I didn't go until I was married with three kids when my sweet hubby's whole family went together. 

Now I can no longer say, "I've never had an EEG."

I am smiling under the mask (made by the wonderful Annmarie) as my kind, chatty tech Christy prepped me. It involves me doing... absolutely nothing other than coming in with clean hair, haha! My kind of test! No fasting, no needles, WOOHOO!

She told me exactly what to expect before she even started fastening things to me. First off, she measured my head and figured out where she'd need to put the electrodes. She used a waxy crayon-like marker to denote where all the connections would be made. Then she swabbed me with a cold cleanser of some sort and started attaching the sticky parts with a paste. She said they used to use, back in the day, something similar to rubber cement which was awful to get cleaned off and made it look like you had dandruff for three days post-test. I'm always glad for advances in the medical field, haha!

So here's me all stickered up with my wires attached. The two on my chest are electrodes for my heart measurements. Dada mused that it looked like a nightmare to untangle and she laughed and commented that, "yes, it can be a spaghetti nightmare if you're not careful when you're cleaning them!"

For this particular EEG, which happens in the sleep lab, for the first several minutes all I had to do was open and close my eyes a few times and then keep them closed. What a great test for a mom to have to take! Christy even told me that if I fell asleep that it would be perfectly fine. She had me relax completely for several minutes in the quiet dark, I suppose to establish a baseline. While I was relaxing, I rambled around camp in my mind. I started up the hill at the pool where I realized how many pine needles there were on the ground as I waited for everyone to collect their towels and make it out of the pool house to join their group. Then we roamed, some campers sprinting, some lallygagging down to the camp store, and from there my memories took me into the kitchen where I relived some fun times washing pots and pans with Mot, one of the only times I really got to spend with him before he got married, and with Dan Dan the Marine Man as he sang alternate lyrics to the "Chicken Dance" which had me crying with laughter, and with Renee as she exclaimed, "the Hobart ate my scrubbie!" 

I could have reminisced all day, but that part of the test finished. 

Next, she used a strobe light that strobed at different speeds for a few minutes with breaks in between. My eyes were to stay closed, thankfully. Even in the movies, like "The Incredibles", this kind of lighting is not my favorite, but is doable. 

The final part of the test is hyperventilating. For three minutes, I was to breathe very deeply. That's a little harder than just sitting there, but I kept thinking, "I've been exercising; I can do this!" She told me, "you're doing great. One more minute!" At that point I knew I could finish, though I did feel fizzy, not dizzy. 

The last part is peeling and unwinding everything back off and then, bless her heart, she gently scrubbed off all the paste with nice, warm water. We giggled about how getting your hair washed is always the best part of a hair cut, and then she really laughed when I told her I appreciated that she didn't just use Mom Spit to clean me up, though I guaranteed it would work! She said she was pretty sure that would violate a whole lot of protocol, but also agreed that it would be effective.

Then she towel dried my hair in a rubby-rubby style that reminded me of how Grandmama used to do it when I was small enough to have that done! I felt like a fluffy baby chick when she was finished with me, haha! She walked us back out and wished us well and that was that! 

Overall, nothing to it. I'd go back. ;) 

 

Tissues at the ready AKA The Last Camp Post

I confess, this is the post I've procrastinated on. Not because I didn't want to write it, per say, but because I wanted to do justice to a place that means so incredibly much to me for almost 30 years and for so many other amazing friends I'd probably not have been privileged to have in my tribe otherwise. I thought, maybe, if a little time passed that I'd be able to do it without tears. That doesn't appear to be the case, so here goes. 

Camp has been broken into three separate parcels and sold. The last Saturday in August was the final day for anyone to come and visit it as camp and to select what they wanted from whatever was left behind. A lot of items had already been given to other camps or programs, and that's good, because useful things should be used and not just left behind. It was still a challenge to be there knowing it would be for the last time. It's been such a touchstone in my life, a great place to reconnect with people I love, and a phenomenal place to connect with our creator. I still can't wrap my head and heart around not being back there, ever.

I can't understate how much I value the friendships I've made there throughout the years. Many of the people in our wedding, including the pastor, are folks we met at camp. The bonds that you form while working with others who are also sunburned, mosquito bitten, tired, hungry, cold, and wet are real. I've never been in the service, but I can easily see how those other people can become like brothers simply because of what I've lived at camp. Many hands does make light work. Laughter makes memories. When people love each other and work together to show other people that love, it shows. I definitely would not be who I am today without the time I've spent at camp, as a camper and a staff member and a volunteer.

One more thing: out of respect to so many of those who didn't want to mar their wonderful camp memories with seeing its decline on this final day, I've tried to carefully choose photos that show beauty and God's faithfulness throughout. I did indeed take others, but these are the ones worth sharing. I regret very much not taking more pictures of the people.

Westminster Highlands was a Christian camp in the hills of western Pennsylvania. I'd been there a few times for retreats with my high school youth group as our church was part of one of the Presbyteries which supported the camp. It's a few minutes off of I-80 near Emlenton, which means it's not far at all from the Allegheny River, below. The Little Scrubgrass Creek runs through camp and joins the Allegheny. Some of our more adventurous weeks were built around time on the river, like Rocks, Rivers, and Ropes, where campers would canoe, rock climb, and participate on the ropes courses and their myriad of trust building games and activities. One of my favorite parts about camp was being in one of the Adirondack cabins, listening to thunderstorms roll down the river valley, crashing and flashing and dumping water all through the woods and making mud.

This is the sign welcoming you to camp. I'd love to know how many campers bounced with excitement in their seats as their vehicle turned off the paved road and proceeded under the sign. That would be a fabulous fun fact!

This is the pond where campers were taught to swamp and re-right their canoes before river trips, where cheerful yellow funbugs were ridden, and where we washed off the very worst of the mud from mud hikes before hitting the showers. I never failed to choose a funbug that would behave perfectly on my way away from shore but then would become completely demented and paddle in circles once I was in the middle of the pond. Some of you are smiling and musing, "user error." I maintain possession. 

Off to the left of the photo, out of sight here, was a fire pit with log benches where many a Vespers service was held, singing along to guitars, sharing life experiences, learning that the stories in the Bible involved real people just like us and that as God used them, He can use us. Many s'mores were also roasted and consumed...

Okay, this one specifically is for Dave Kinman. He once informed us something along the lines of he'd never ask us as our boss to do something that wasn't in the Bible. We received instructions at one point to "pull weeds in front of the store. ~Hezekiah 22:12" 

Some of you are thinking, "hmm. There is a Hezekiah in the Bible. He was a king, but I don't recall him having his own book." You'd be right. Except that nugget formed a lot of "instructions" given over the years in my life, in my husband's life, now in our kids' lives. Hezekiah has become our "you should do it because I said so" without saying it that way. Is there something that needs done and someone who needs to do it? Give them a verse from Hezekiah. It's much more fun than saying, "because I said so," which tends to sound like your mother and her mother before her and her mother before her, should any of us been sassy enough to talk back and question an instruction in the first place. Throw some "thou shalts" in there too to make it more fun. I believe that was the original: thou shalt pull weeds in front of the store.

Well, nobody has weeded for awhile. But it's a good lesson in first impressions. Registration happened in a myriad of different locations and processes over the years, and the store was often, if not always, open during registration. A tidy storefront reassured parents that, since we took care of our grounds, we could be trusted to look after their children for a week. Metal trash cans with tight-fitting lids kept out critters and limited their ability to strew wrappers and litter everywhere. Plus, if you had a buddy during weed pulling, you ended up working faster and learning more about each other, leading to closer friendships. Large group games such as camper bowling (yes, we used to bowl for campers with an Earth ball back in the day), Sharks and Minnows, Heaven and Tragedy and many others were played in front of the store, and it served as a stage during skit night. It also sold snacks, drinks, camp merchandise, and the all important ice cream treats from Steese's: mint bars and orange buddies come to mind, along with their cult followings.

One of my very favorite parts of camp are the trees. I'll try to suppress my inner Lorax and not go on and on, but the trees. Every season is beautiful at camp. Winter retreats with freezy trees and tons of snow everywhere, high summer with the cicadas singing and everything growing in countless different shades of green, the beauty of moss on rocks deposited by glaciers contrasting with colorful fall leaves, the vibrance of shining leaves after a soaking rain.

Many of you will instantly recognize this trailhead despite it being a bit overgrown. If you cross that bridge and follow the red trail, you come to one of many huge rock formations around camp, which is called Chapel Rock. Wooden benches forming an amphitheater of sorts face an enormous rock face, and a beautiful wooden cross had been erected there as well. Here again Vespers services were held, even in the dark of night during our Owl Patrol weeks where the campers get to experience camp activities at night like night hikes, night swims, cooking over a fire in the dark, star gazing, flashlight tag, and so forth. It's the perfect place to reflect on the unchanging nature of God, how he is our Rock, and how he is the same yesterday, today, and forever. 

Sadly, that parcel of camp had already been sold and we were asked to not hike out to say goodbye, hence the lack of pictures. It was hard to be somewhere I knew so well and not be allowed to tramp every trail to all of my favorite spots. I can't be the only one feeling depressed about that aspect, but I can envision Chapel Rock, with its benches perhaps needing some love, the trees crowding in a bit, but the Rock being solid and cool to the touch and unmoving. It's a good anchor. *Insert cloudburst of tears here*

This man, this blessing, (scroll down for picture then come back up, I'll wait) to me is proof that there is no circumstance that God can't and won't use for the good despite the enemy's best efforts to attack us. I'll try to condense, but I'll have to back up.

I've had a BFF since we were both six. Her name is Lisa and she's one of the most wonderful creations God ever made. Of course I'm biased! Anyway, I dragged her along to the sister camp of Westminster Highlands, Camp Lambec, when we were not quite junior high students. It's where I'd fallen in love with camp initially, thanks to my friend Anne who took me when we were old enough in third grade. I never looked back. The dream for Lisa and I was to keep growing up, going to camp every year, and then work there together.

Life being what it is made things a little tougher. We were inseparable, until we weren't. We had a huge fight our senior year. We weren't speaking at prom. We weren't speaking at graduation. Interviews for working at camp were scheduled and I cried in front of my future boss, knowing that if we both worked at Lambec that there'd be no body of Christ while we were harboring so much resentment.

She asked me if I wanted to work at Westminster Highlands. I'd only been there for retreats at that point, and one wild week in the summer of 1993 as a counselor in training for Owl Patrol. During that week, I met Kelly, who would end up being my brother in law. I'd had a good time, a great time, actually, but the dream had been to work at Lambec. It was a tough decision made a little less tough by my options: stay at home and work at Wendy's (which is not bad, I loved that as well, but it certainly wasn't the dream, you see) or go to the Highlands. 

I picked the Highlands. I have never regretted it. 

I've posted previously about how Kelly was on staff again that summer, waaaay back in 1994, haha, and how one of our staff guys was getting married that summer.  We would need to find another guy to take his spot after he went off to live with his new bride. Kelly called back home, week after week, cajoling his next younger brother, Scott, to come work at camp. "I'm not wasting my summer at camp," was the refrain he heard for multiple weeks, and is a line often tossed about to tease him with now. 

Eventually, God used Kelly to break Scott down to where he resigned, "fine, I'll come for one week. But that's it!"

He stayed the rest of the summer. 

Then he returned in 95, 96, and 97. 

We started officially dating in 1997, got engaged that October, and got married first thing in 1999. 

During those years, God softened other hearts and used both camps to play a part, which I chuckle about now. Of course he used camp- nothing better to get our attention. A new week was created called Double Exposure. It was to show off, if you will, the best aspects of both camps. Campers would start at one on Sunday, take a bus ride to the other Wednesday where they'd finish the week and get picked up along with all their stuff on Saturday. The Highlands was very rustic and woodsy. Lambec is right on Lake Erie with a beach, a pond, beautiful indoor and outdoor Chapels, and (if I were writing a tourism brochure) quaint cabins. (They're grey now, and have been for years, a fact I'm still salty about as they were dark green where I started going in third grade and I maintain that there are days when the Lake is gray and the sky is gray and if the cabins are gray you're not going to be able to find them, haha. Oh well. I am not in charge of the world.)

Lisa did work at Lambec, also from 94-97. I went with the Double Exposure campers and got to have some tentative conversations with her at Lambec that week. We wrote letters to each other from our separate colleges. 

Eventually our relationship was restored to where Lisa was in our wedding and is a wonderful, vital part of my life. I would not be the person I am without her influence on my life. She is one of the best listeners I know, something I need to work on.

So, as Inigo Montoya says, "let me sum up." Had Lisa and I not fought and had ended up both working the dream at Lambec, it's safe to say I would not have met Scott at least until 95 when the staffs from both camps got together for some training. That was only a few days, so likely meeting would have been all that happened.  God used what until that point had been the most heart wrenching experience of my life to introduce me to the man who would stand by my side through many moves through four states, three kids, a breast cancer diagnosis and treatment, and all the details of our "real life" these past 21 years. 

And our staff guy who got married, "Mot" because there were three Toms on staff that summer, raised a family with his beautiful bride who became a resource for me during my breast cancer journey before she succumbed to another round herself. God, like Gibbs on NCIS ("y'don't waste good"), doesn't waste anything!

I love you, babe. I'm so thankful for you. And I'm glad we could come to "the end of all things (camp)" together.

Robin A, one of the Adirondacks in the Knox side of camp, was the perfect spot for the youngest campers as it was closest to the bathhouse and the dining hall. Each Adirondack was one of a pair, A and B, haha, and they were named for birds: Robin, Lark, Wren, Blue Jay, Eagle, Cardinal. Some weeks of camp packed them all out. That's a lot of kids! 

When I started there, that front wall with the screen and the door wasn't there; we had heavy, green, tarp-like curtains that we dragged across at night. It also meant that the campers really needed to heed the rules about no food in the cabin, because there wasn't much between their snacks and a determined raccoon. 

I've mentioned the glacier rocks that are prevalent throughout camp. This one is for Leslie, Wren Rock. I always think of her when I think about Wren Rock, though I don't have a concrete reason why. There must have been something she said about it, because I hear it in her voice. Either way, I wish I'd spent more time on it, enjoying the sunlight on the moss and the sun streaming through the trees around it. Such a peaceful spot.

Again with the trees and the leaves on the path. Sorry. I'm a Wood Elf at heart.

See the little yellow tree peeking from down the way?

Having spent an awful lot of time telling campers to stay on the path, I felt a little guilty bajaing around, but I kept hearing a line from "Into the Woods" in my head. A nervous Red Riding Hood frets, "Mother told me to never stray from the path," to which the baker flatly states, "the path has strayed from you."

I was glad that I'd dodged around these flowers instead of brushing against them because of the pollen I figured was in them. I was immensely glad I'd given them a wider berth when I looked closer and saw the ginormous spider who was chilling underneath them! That would have taught me to stray from the path! I can just hear my Gramps laughing at me.

We stopped along the road to the archery hill and I saw a small rustle by my booted feet. I figured spider or small scurrying thing, but was delighted to find a salamander, just out and about doing his thing!

The ferns. Again, sorry, Wood Elf moment. The woods by where we live now don't have ferns, and thus the woods smell completely different than the woods at camp. I miss the ferns so much Scott bought me two for the front porch this year. I love the ferns at camp. Yes, I know they hog the sunlight and won't let other things grow, but man, they are so pretty and woodsy and lush and green. Mmmm. Love them. 

Okay, anybody know where this is? *humming theme song to "Jeopardy"* Time's up. I am looking downhill from the left of the Calvin bathhouse, which means that somewhere down there, where the path has unquestionably strayed from us, is Spruce. Spruce was one of the hogans on the Calvin side that served as cabins in my early years at camp. Picture a green tent with metal ribs like a carport and stick a wooden pallet-ish base underneath it. Shove some canvas bunk beds in there and now you're all set. You will spend roughly an eighth of your time in a hogan attempting to fish dropped objects back out of the slats in the floor. Another eighth of your time will be opening and shutting the end flaps, praying for a breeze to rush through so you don't bake to death during FOB (Feet on bunk, flat on back, nap time, you get the idea). The hogans were named after trees: Laurel, Spruce, Oak, Elm, Hemlock. There may still be ribs and/or pallets around for them, but I didn't trip over any on this visit. At any rate, Spruce was the most remote, and I never got to stay there myself, though I have great memories of one of the staff guys bellowing, "SPRUUUUUUUUUUCE" as they scampered down the path to get there.

"All God's children got a place in the choir. Some sing low, some sing higher, some sing out loud on a telephone wire. Some just clap their hands, or paws, or anything they've got, now!" 

I have no idea what this heart's story is. Did it drop off of a long ago craft? Did it jump out of someone's Bible? Was it intended to show appreciation to the kitchen staff? I found it outside the dining hall and it made me think of Dumbledore telling Harry how help will always come to those who ask for it. In this case, even though so many of us have cracks in our heart because we can never go back to ramble the trails we love so much, I know that He's got us and he will provide different places for us to teach others about how much he loves us. If he's not doing it through the Highlands anymore, He's just doing it somewhere else. 

 

The other side of the Westminster Highlands sign is no less important. It reads, "to know Christ and to make Him known." That was our purpose in working there just as it's our purpose in life. If we truly know him in our hearts, there's no way his love won't spill out of us and get all over others. Let's get messy!

Yes, this one shows a little of the decay the buildings are experiencing in the Pennsylvania woods. I liked how right next to the decline we have growth. Beauty with the mess. Just like real life.

Part of all of ours hearts will always be here, whether we can be here physically or not. It makes me so sad that our kids can't experience God here the way that we did, but I know that it doesn't mean they won't at all; it will look different for them and that's okay. I'm thankful that I took a chance on something I was unsure about as the friendships and experiences I've had here will last my whole life and I am richer for spending my time in the woods with the bugs and the mud and other people's children. People who camp get it, even if this wasn't their camp. We are a special tribe unto ourselves and I'm thankful for those who have enriched my tribe over the years. Even those who are gone, Skink and Dawn, are not forgotten and played parts in who I am today. 

So do your homework, find a reputable camp with its own amazing staff, and let your children experience what they can't get in the same way at home. Don't let them miss out on what can be such a pivotal time in their lives. I can't even tell you how many life skills I learned from camp that serve me well even today. 

My last job at camp was kitchen staff, and I loved picking verses to write on the chalkboard on the back porch of the dining hall. I changed it one last time before we left. 

Not a sympathy pitch, I swear!

 I had the most Monday-est Monday I can ever recall having yesterday. What was to be a normal, run of the mill checkup with my oncologist turned into a day of much more excitement that I had anticipated.

The short version is that everything is fine. My blood counts were all "perfect." Nothing to see here, folks, move along.

The unabridged version is a bit more graphic involving bodily fluids and sharp, pointy objects. You may choose to stop reading here and rest assured that I'm fine. (*cough* Hinrew, ahem.)

Still curious? As they say on the Knight Bus in Harry Potter, "it's gonna be a bumpy ride!"

I drove myself to my doctor's office and sat down to have my blood drawn. I knew this was coming; they do this first so they can run the numbers so that the doc will have them to go over with you before you leave. I'd already drank at least 32 ounces of water and a mug and a half of tea before I arrived for my 10:30 appointment. I'd also had a lot of water the night before as I'd ridden my bike for about 15 minutes and drank a good bit of water before bed. 

Well, the nurse tried to stick me the first time and said my vein blew. It happens. I know this. (When I was delivering Damon they tried at least 4 and maybe 5 different places to get an IV going. It may have been more. I lost count as I was a little distracted by contractions.)  She apologized and tried again. She got it that time and got the blood she needed. However, sometime during that draw, I told her I was getting a little sparkly and was going to put my head back against the wall. I did that and apparently passed right out anyway. I remember dreaming vividly and then woke up with one of the guys who works there propping my feet up against his legs and my nurse was holding my hand. I may have even wet myself at this point. Either way, I passed out again and this time I for sure peed my pants AND vomited AND the nurse told me when I woke up that I had also seized. This has never happened to me before. I somehow managed to not swallow or vomit my gum, which was a lifesaver afterwards. Yech. They said I was out 15-20 seconds and that I was alert as soon as I came to. I do remember dreaming again the second time, as well. 

I begin, naturally, with apologizing. The nurses are so darling. They brought me fresh pants and helped me change and kept their eagles' eyes on me while I waited for poor Dada to come collect me and my things and take me to the hospital for further evaluation, leaving one car behind. I cannot state enough how much I despise making more work for people, and the fact that they had to mop and change and all that drives me crazy, even though my nurse said her second pair of pants for the day was much more comfy than her first. I know it's an occupational hazard and that it won't be the first or last time they have to experience it, but goodness, I still hate that they had to go through it. Guess everyone needs a little excitement on a Monday, right? Ugh. Insert many, many eye rolls here.

So off to the hospital I go with my knight in shining armor. We get all checked in, I pee in a cup, I tell my story and he fills in details and then they want to get more blood and an IV in for fluids. The sweet nurse examines my arm for a few minutes and decides to attempt a stick in the back of my left hand. That vein blew. Rather than stick me again, she asks around for who on duty knows how to do an ultrasound IV, which was new to me. Lo and behold a guy who spent 8 years in the Marines comes in with his cart and listens to my story and confidently informs me that he'll find a "big, honkin' vein" and go from there. I tell him that they're not cooperating well today and he says we'll make it behave. So he scrolls his ultrasound around and decides on the inner side of my left bicep. I thought it would hurt more, so I asked, "is it in already?" and he sounded a little less confident when he answered, "not quite yet." It did hurt a little more but he did get it in and then he taped the bejeezus out of it so it wouldn't go anywhere. During the sticking and for a few minutes afterward, my heart rate plummeted to 39. Dada said I was in the red there for awhile. My sweet nurse came back in and said, "I figured by the numbers he was trying to stick you. Poor thing, you really don't like getting poked, do you?" She tilted my bed so that my head was lower than my feet for awhile. They're all so good at this game. 

They got their blood and a bag of fluids going. It's been awhile since chemo, so I'd forgotten how cold you can get when room temperature or chilled bags of fluid are entering you. I was shivering and sweet Dada asked for a blanket for me. I had an EKG where they stick 10 stickers all over you and the plugs go to the stickers and then, in a blink of an eye, it's over and she's unplugging me and unstickerizing me as I tell her that Damon likes to slyly sneak stickers from bananas onto my back as he hugs me.

They also wanted a chest Xray and a head CT so a radiology tech wheeled me through the maze of halls as we chatted about does she get her 10,000 recommended steps and she says most days, but it depends on the day. I sadly informed her that I probably wouldn't be getting mine that day.

Everything looked good there, so back to my ER room and they did one of those blood pressure tests where you're laying down, then sitting, then standing, and all those numbers corresponded within where they should be. 

The doctor came in and listened to my story, especially my concern that while I've passed out because of needles before, I'd never peed or vomited or seized. He reassured me that any of those things can happen when someone is unconscious, including defectating, which I'm thanking my lucky stars was something I can leave out of the mix, and he says that it might not have been a seizure, per say. He wanted me to schedule an EEG just to make sure epilepsy can be ruled out. Great. Another first for me. And a follow up appointment with a neurologist. Yay, yet another first! He said that all the tests looked good and showed no areas of concern and suggested that maybe it was just low volume of my blood and he told me to hydrate. That part still doesn't make sense to me as I specifically drank extra ahead of time knowing I'd be getting stuck. Oh well.

This afternoon is my follow up appointment with my family doctor who was kept in the loop and next Monday I meet with the neurologist. 

So, the point of all that is to tell you two things: one, I am fine, and two, if you ever feel like you're having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day like Alexander, ask yourself if you've peed yourself and vomited and played pincushion all in the same morning. I'm thinking of changing all my social media account user names to Not I, Cacti! #NotICacti has a nice ring to it.

I'm fortunate that my mental health is at a place where I could come home, have a good cry in the shower as I peeled off all the bandaids from the sticks, and realize that yes, while it certainly ranked up there as the most craptastic day I've had in a very long time, it was just a day and they'll look better going forward. I had my man by my side, excellent and caring medical professionals all day long, the kids here at home were already in their groove of online learning so (at least theoretically) they didn't need me every minute, and all results were positive. Overall, blessed beyond measure. So I had to wash a load of clothes- that happens just about every day anyway. 

The biggest inconvenience, and it is just that, is that I'm not supposed to drive until after the EEG just so they're sure I'm not epileptic. That makes things a little more difficult but also isn't earth shattering or long lasting. Another inconvenience will be that I have three extra appointments versus the one I'd have had yesterday if everything had gone as expected. I should have remembered- it's 2020; why would anything go as expected? I'm winking, you just can't see me.

The perk of seeing my doc today is that I can hopefully also get my flu shot, haha! Win! Always a silver lining. 

A Grave Tactical Error

 School has begun, more about that later, so we are more appreciative of our time off and weekends these days. The kids are pretty much glued to their respective computers for school work as everyone is remote learning right now. So last weekend we naturally watched some movies. Feel free to insert an eye roll here. 

Our unanimous agreement is that the Never-ending Story II doesn't hold a candle to the original. I found it hilarious that the same actor who is the voice of Falkor and the Narrator and the Rockbiter in the original is the same guy who voices Skeletor from He-Man. There's your trivia for today. You're welcome.

However, that wasn't our biggest mistake of the weekend. Upon scrolling through Netflix, we discovered that Monty Python (and I've already lost some of you to the one-liners floating through your minds) and the Holy Grail is A) on Netflix, haha, and B) rated PG. 

My disclaimer is that I had previously only ever watched it once, and it was on a college choir tour bus so I couldn't hear it well. That's my defense, your Honor. I'd never felt the need to watch it as all the high school boys I knew had been quoting it for forever; I didn't feel as though I'd missed any of it.

Well. There's something to be said for actually watching it, paying attention, AND having the subtitles on. Oh my.

Some of you, my brother for instance, jumped straight to that dialogue which I shall skip as my parents read this and I don't think they've ever seen or desire to see the movie. Thankfully, Thing 2 wrinkled his nose and it went over Thing 1's head completely. He found the girls desiring to be spanked hilarious. Insert some more eye rolls.

Unsurprisingly, Thing 2's favorite line was... I'll let you guess. Something to do with gas and someone's general direction.

Thing 3 almost busted a gut where the illustrator/narrator/whatever had a heart attack and immediately died, falling off his chair backwards. At several points he declared the movie "dumb" yet stuck around and proclaimed it "the best movie ever." Oh dear. Bear in mind we watched most of the Marvel movies this summer...

Don't mind us. We're just over here bird watching, musing about swallows and not dying of flesh wounds...

Not puzzling

Aunt Lainie gave us this puzzle last year as we packed up to head home from the beach. It's 1000 pieces, our first large jigsaw attempt, perfect for quarantine and summer vacation. I opened the box and the plastic packaging inside the box.

It is missing 106 pieces.

Not 16. One hundred six.

Now, we have no way of knowing if it was missing some or all of them before we opened it, but I can tell you that I caught Bosley Underfoot walking on the table like it was a catwalk and he's had colorful poop lately, so my guess is that not all the pieces grew legs themselves. Pretty sure they had help.

I had a good time with this challenge despite those who shall remain nameless who didn't want to help as we didn't even have all the edge pieces, ahem. PaPa even got some in. Big thanks to Liam who channels his patience and unerringly discovered what went where. Or should.

I think we should wait until Fall break to attempt the next one.

 

Guillermo

 The other day I was doing yoga in what we call the sitting room which is adjacent to our bathroom when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something small skitter across the floor. I debated about getting up to investigate and decided to continue and check later. 

I didn't find anything.

Last night, I flipped on the bathroom light and lo and behold there was a house centipede just chillin' on the wall next to the toilet paper holder. You know the kind- they look like someone's eyebrow. Lots of delicate legs. And antenna-ish things. Wonderful hunters/predators yet extremely high on the Heebie Jeebie Scale. Not sure he/she realizes he/she is poaching on the territory of the many, many spiders we already have in there. Today I counted five in the bathtub alone; there's no shower in there, and it's a fancy tub so it doesn't get used as often as it should. Every time we DO use it we evict spiders, plural.

He/she took off and hid under the baseboard heater. I am reallllllly hoping it finds a better home before it's cool enough to turn that heater on; pretty sure toasted centipede is not going to be a desirable Yankee Candle scent. 

In the meantime, I shall name him Guillermo, because writing that name looks like it has lots of legs... 

On looking around

I don't know why, but I see smiley faces everywhere. I try to show the kids, as the boys especially get a kick out of them. I confess, the Cheerios were left that way on purpose by Damon for me. Enjoy your day! =D

"Who are the people in your neighborhood?"

Now that song, from "Sesame Street," is in my head. Great. This isn't really a people post, but I thought I'd share some shots I've gotten lately. 

One of our many bunnies:

Inchworm:

Honey, our Great Pyrenees, who is a lover and a swishybutt and a huge scaredy chicken when it comes to loud noises.

The Bos, the little brother, the pain in the butt, the good-thing-you're-cute-and-I'm-a-sucker-for-dotty-eyebrows, the Stealer of Sandwiches and Pancakes and Anything Else Tasty You Leave Unattended on the Table. 

A killer moth! Just kidding. He's just regular sized, but Dada liked the illusion of how he looked very large on the deck.

The Phoebe nest in the shed. It's empty now, but we'd startled the poor mama any time we needed to get Stuff out of the shed. Not sure why she builds there every year!

After the rain

We got some actual rain yesterday, which Honey wasn't happy about as she despises thunder and heavy downpours, but everybody in the garden was happy about it! Even the Damonater ran around outside barefoot and in his pajamas to experience the puddles and the drips from the trees and the rain itself. No pictures of that, sorry; I was too busy laughing at him to get my phone. You'll just have to use your imagination.

These morning glories always make me think of Grandma Barb as I'd lent her some to keep an eye on and they ended up taking over most of her front landscaping. She loved purple. They make me smile every time I see them.

I replanted peas as they are not hot weather fans. I put some new ones under the usual trellis but these guys think they're in a  race and have taken off running!

We are getting tons of cherry tomatoes, which is the majority of the tomatoes I like anyway (heehee) and while we have humungous "real" tomatoes, they're not blushing yet. Our Brandywines, Cherokee Purples, and Allegheny Sunsets are stubbornly green. I really hope they don't all decide to ripen at the exact same time!

I sent a picture of this to Muggin with the caption "es-ca-pay!" He's completely a free-range tomato plant; I didn't plant him, and I sure don't know where he thinks he's going!

Cheerful, Thumbelina zinnias who decided to all bloom en masse. They took forever to open this year!

There's a basil in there for comparison and you can see that some of those tomato plants are taller than me!

Fun outdoor surprises

I am getting such a kick out of the surprises I’m finding outdoors. I’d had an eye out for the baby praying mantises but hadn’t seen any; now I’m wondering if it’s because in my head they were still colorless and now they are apparently green! Always amazing how much I forget from year to year, haha!

Today I was picking berries and started from the opposite side of the patch and I bet that’s why I saw an exciting surprise:

I’m so excited! I hope I didn’t scare the mama away from the nest. What a fun place to raise babies!

*Initially I thought these were hummingbird eggs because they seemed sooooo tiny. Apparently the only ones who nest around here are Ruby-Throated Hummingbirds. 

However, as I've startled the mama more than once and gotten a good look and listen, I'm leaning towards wrens; she doesn't hover, she flits to the closest fence rail and lands.*

My alien bio-scouts

Haha, I love borage! I love how it really owns its space, how it has zillions of buds, how interesting the blossoms are, the blue violet petals, the huge, hairy green leaves. What a cool plant!