Squirreling!

My husband has a short attention span . . . . we refer to it as 'squirreling'. Remember in the movie "Up" where the dog is talking until a squirrel runs by and then he is so distracted he can't go back to what he was doing? That is Joseph. It is most obvious when we are driving somewhere. The man is "squirreled" by all of the following:

• cute little kids
• jogging women
• free stuff on the sidewalk
• estate sale signs
• ANY VW, but especially buses and Things
• people wearing unusual clothing
• women with long gray hair (loves it)
• unusual bikes, especially the reclining ones
• motorcycles (he sighs)
• any car older than 1979

And I am sure there are more on the list. When Joseph sees any of these things, anything I was saying is lost. I could have been in the middle of "I am obsessed with ferrets and want to fill the house with as many as we can find" and if he sees anything on the list, I've lost him. He's looking and thinking and commenting. I usually mutter "squirrel" and then wait to see if he will return to our conversation.  Nine times out of ten, he won't. I will either have to pick back up where I left off or let it go. (It largely depends on the importance, and my mood!)

Do I find this annoying? Hell yes, I do. I roll my eyes, I sigh. I mutter. But you know what? You know what else this man does every day? 

• Helps me get dressed because it hurts me.
• Ties my shoes. 
• Holds open every door. 
• Takes out the wheelchair and puts it back in. 
• Walks v e r y slowly since that is all I can do. 
• Brushes and dries my hair. 
• Kisses me and hugs me and tells me I am beautiful when I couldn't feel less so. 
• Washes, dries and HANGS up all of my clothes so I can focus on work. 
• Stands over with me a massager and uses it on my back for as long as I want just to get some pain relief. 
• Tells me how wonderful I am multiple times a day. 
• Responds to my "Thank you for loving me" with "Thank you for making it so easy."
• Doesn't have a massive temper tantrum over the piles and piles and piles of paper in the living room. 
• Puts out my mail and gets it for me every day because just walking to the mailbox is sometimes more than I can do. 
• Makes me laugh when I am down and needing someone to lift me up. 
• Makes amazing meals three times a day.

So. . . . I am thinking that, all in all, I can put up with a BUNCH of squirrels in exchange for everything else I get. Now, I just need to see how he feels about a house full of ferrets. 

And Here I Am . . Again

Why in the world can I not be as sleepy at midnight as I am in the middle of the afternoon? I battle sleepiness all afternoon, and then, when I crawl into bed, I am wide awake. I suspect that is mostly because I am more aware of pain then. It is so hard to get comfortable and I toss and turn and finally, I say screw it and up I get. So it's one a.m. and I am downstairs hoping to get sleepy.

Joseph and I are on day five of a "diet" and it's going better than ever in my life. I am actually LOVING the food I am eating and getting total satisfaction from it, which is just weird. Usually I struggle, remain hungry, and don't like most of the recipes. I don't know what is different this time around, but I sure am grateful. It makes sticking to it SO much easier. Now if the pain would just go AWAY.

Life is pretty good otherwise. Work is good, the kids are doing well in their faraway adventures, Joseph is happy. I am trying hard to be patient and wait for that doctor's appointment but wow, it isn't easy. The days just don't go quickly enough, plus I am scared that I will walk out without answers, since that is what happened with doctors 1 and 2. I feel like I will have to be a bitch to get them to LISTEN to me, and I am willing to do that if required. I just want him to take my hand, recommend what I can do to make this pain STOP, and then do it, or at least schedule to do it. The relief would be incredible.

So, back to bed in a few. A warm, welcoming husband is sleeping away there, barely aware I even left the bed. I hope curling up around him will make the rest of the world--and my body--just fade away.

Life in Limbo Land

As the days count down to my doctor's appointment, my ability to be patient (never my strong suit in the first place) is wearing thinner and thinner. Sure, I am ready to get a plan of action. Sure, I need to know how I am going to deal with this ongoing pain. But most of all . . . .I don't know what to do about work.

In my career, offers for new jobs come in on a weekly basis. I work for more than 40 companies so it is rare for a full week to go by that someone doesn't contact me and say, Hey we are starting a new project and would love for you to be part of it. It starts here and goes until there. Believe me, I've had weeks where I get three or more offers like this. It is what has made a freelancing career work for the past 15 years, and usually I love it. I love changing projects and editors and focuses and processes.

But . . right now I honestly don't know what to say. I don't want to say sure, I will do this for you, and then find out oops, I'm having surgery in the middle of it and can't follow through. I also don't want to just say no, because that drops my name on the invisible list editors have on who to call for work. Selfishly, I also don't want to commit to something right now that I can already tell is going to be very stressful for me. I have enough stress 24/7 coping with pain and keeping up with the deadlines I already have in place---I don't need more!

So I find myself stuck in limbo land. If the doctor does recommend surgery, I will be unable to work for a minimum of two weeks, and as many as a four. I am working really hard right now to get every project I have done before that could possibly happen. But I just don't know what to do with these new offers.

Grrrr. I have never been a good waiter . . . and Wednesday seems like a world away right now. I just hope I walk out with SOME answer and not more of the bullshit I got from the last guy. At least if I could have a date, I could know at which point to stop accepting new work and put people on hold.

I never was good at limbo.

Long Night

It was a good day today. I went out to eat with Joseph. I talked, via one method or another, with all three of my traveling children. I counted the days and realized Nicole will be home in less than 90. I got some work done and I cuddled on the couch with Joseph.

And yet, it is 2:30 in the morning and I am still up because I hurt too much in bed to fall asleep. I get on the edge and then move a leg and get a cramp or it just hurts enough to wake me up. And I start all over again. The bedroom is airy and fresh with open windows. My music plays softly on the pillow speakers. The blankets and pillow are familiar and comfortable. A man I absolutely adore spoons me from behind and his presence relaxes, comforts, and soothes me.

Yet, it is still not enough to allow me to let go and sleep.

I am so, so, so tired of this pain. Of fearing rolling over because I will awake either with pain or a cramp. Of never, ever, ever going to sleep and sleeping through until morning. In a few minutes, I will take a bigger pain pill and give it some time to kick in before tiptoeing back upstairs to slide into bed and try again.

How ironic it feels to be this tired of something and yet sleep eludes me. Counting the hours til March 18 and I get some answers. Thanks for putting up with the complaining in the meantime.

Letting Go

I admit it. I wasn't prepared for this. I always knew my kids would pick up and fly, but I always was looking at them in this picture. Their excitement, their adventures, their growth and experience. I didn't take time to turn around and look at me.

And now I realize, with tomorrow afternoon bringing my son's departure, that when they leave . . . they leave. And I'm still here. And now  . . I"m alone. I have a wonderful husband who I have so much fun with and adore. I have friends I enjoy meeting for coffee or lunch. But for the past 30 years, I have poured my life into these kids. I changed diapers, nursed endlessly, slept with--and walked with when not sleeping, held, soothed, encouraged, fed, read to, dressed, and watched over these children. They were my life. And now . . . . they don't need me to do any of that. They are flying away, and while I couldn't be happier for them, I have to admit I am struggling. I miss them. I really, really, really miss them.

I want to hold on and ask them please not to leave, but really, how can any mom have the right to do that? Stay home with me instead of explore the world. Come on! I know better. But just because I would never do it doesn't mean I don't want to do it.

Life is about change and adaptation. Not all of it is easy. For me, this phase is not easy. I am not one of those moms who is eager for her kids to get out and move on. I enjoy their company endlessly and when they leave, it is not just my sons and daughters leaving, but some of the closest friends I've ever had.

I will adjust. I will accept. But I wish someone had told me to prepare myself for these days. I wish someone had reminded me that when these wonderful people spread their wings, I would still be back in the nest, noticing how empty it is.

An Adult in Gresham

If I thought THOSE were baby steps, I would have been appalled to know what came next.
I got in to see the other guy the next day. I was SO pleased. Until he walked in the door. He spent 40 minutes with us telling us NOTHING. Yes, you do have these problems. If you wait one to three years, they may clear up on their own. Yes, you could have surgery if you can't take the pain any longer. "You're a grown up, so you will have to make the decision."

I know that. But GUIDANCE would have been nice. As would compassion, a sense of humor, some warmth. None were present.

He did not give me a solid answer to anything, other than quote statistics at me about risk factors. I was so frustrated that by the end of the visit, in which I had spent in a wheelchair except for the exam, I said, "Doctor . . if you wanted to give me an exam but you couldn't stand in place long enough to do it because of pain . . . if you had to take pain pills in between patients just so you could keep doing your job--would YOU have the surgery?"

There are many answers he could have given me. What he said was, "It's your decision. I can't tell you what to do."

Nor could he recommend or advise. I said should I do physical therapy? No, it will make you worse, he said. Should I have steroid shots? No, they are temporary. SO WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?

Oh yeah, I'm an adult, so I guess I have to figure that out on my own.

I will admit, I spent the entire day crying. I haven't cried that much and that hard in . . . years. And then I got up and made some phone calls, and I arranged to get a second opinion. Good news? Unlike the first doc, this guy is raved about by his staff and has high marks online. His front desk employee told me that he is one of the kindest men she knows. Bad news? The first appointment I could get was April 6. More than a month away. That was a tough one. I am on the cancellation list and I spend each day hoping someone won't be able to make it, and they will call.

In the meantime, I hurt 24/7. I have three to 10 cramps in my legs a day. I am worn out. But that's okay, because I'm an adult, right? Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesh.

Baby Steps

Okay.
So . . . saw the neurosurgeon today and while he was a pretty nice old guy, he spent more time talking about himself than talking to me. He took my history, but quit listening when I was about three quarters done. He showed me the MRI films and they were . . somewhat helpful. He only talked about one spot though, and there were several others that have been shown to be a problem. I had a sheet of questions to ask him and waited for the right moment.

He said he wanted to do an exam and put me in the exam room. He came in. He raised each leg, flexed each foot and then had me resist when he tried to push my toes. Exam done. What?!

Then he said he was retired and had sold the business to another doctor. He said he would have to see me and talk about surgical options. (He made it clear that the condition was past PT or shots being helpful. That was, at least, one step.) He then left and J and I waited for the other doctor to come in. Nope. The other doctor wasn't in the building. I was supposed to make another appointment to come back in. Sigh.

So I went to the desk and they offered me 3/16. HELL NO. Three more weeks of living in limbo? I think not. I pushed and got an appointment at the other office in 10 days. I also had them put me on the cancellation list.

So . . . progress? Baby steps? I am a terrible terrible waiter, so this is hard. But I will hang on until 3/5. Than I will go in with my list and hope to get answers and make HUGE steps instead of these baby ones. I'm too old to settle for baby steps.