... I wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled."*
This is a year I've seen so much change in aging, our aging, and it isn't pleasant. As Bettie Davis said, "Growing old isn't for sissies." If I've said that before, it bears repeating.
Since the end of August:
Paul had a cyst in his protate drained. It was benign. But it was painful. This all began with inability to pee and he had a catheter (actually 2 catheters - it had to be put back in the same night of the day it was taken out) for I don't know - 6 days; his urologist saw the CT scan (previously scheduled for a follow-up visit anyway) and told him to come immediately to his office. NPO, which I didn't know until we got there; but Dr. Milam did the procedure to drain the cyst that afternoon. We spent the night that night. As soon as he was over that pretty much, his left foot began to hurt. He was treated for neuropathy (because of prior back surgery that has left that leg/foot tingly), then gout, but that was ruled out. From Monday to Thursday of the same week he was treated for neuropathy, gout, then had a CT scan of that leg and an echocardiogram at our hospital and when the results of his leg scan were read, he was sent immediately to Tupelo hospital for a stent - blockage in his leg. During this time, at the end of August, my cardio doctor told me I could leave off flecainide because I seemed to have more stamina (said I) and felt better, so one less med I had to take after the ablation. Then all Paul's illness tumbles in and I'm stressed out. Heart goes wild. Back on flec. Better, but not good enough to stay at the hospital with him - he sent me home. I rested as well as I could. It was quiet and pretty nice during the day - but nights were not good. The second night after I came back home (I stayed with him one night) I had one of the worst panic attacks I've ever had. I'm not sure it was afib, though my heart certainly raced. I called my sister-in-law Sandra and she came and stayed with me. I took anxiety med. I had a meltdown. Finally we went to the ER. I had to stay till after 1:00 because of enzyme tests (heart). She stayed with me, David stayed with me. (David took Paul to the hospital when we went, by the way, because I had had a terrible night the night before Paul's tests. Their other brother Tommy brought me home the day I came back after the one night. David went back for Paul when he was released. Is this sounding stressful enough yet??) So back to my panic attack - Sandra was prepared to spend the night with me. I'd already taken the Whole Pill, per ER doctor's instructionss (.5 xanax) and was getting a bit buzzed, and Sandra's phone rang. This was about 2 a.m. Her mother was calling and needed her. Bless Sandra's heart - she had a pretty rowdy night, too. Good as gold. After she left, I was out like a light and slept till 8:30 the next morning. (Also previously I don't even know when - our family doctor said, yes, take the med; you've had a lot going on. Lunesta isn't going to help with the stress. Sleep maybe, but not the stress. Don't hesitate to ask for help. Take it if you need it. I learned a new word this week from a book about the Roosevelts - neurosthenia. Teddy's mother had it. Today it's called PTSD, fatigue syndrome, and fibromyalgia. We have stressed ourselves OUT.)
Paul's coumadin level has been adjusted once since he got hom (he was on IV for the 6 days inpatient). His foot looks better - oh, anyone reading this - take note of foot (or arm) pain, splotchiness (he had red splotches all over the bottom of his left foot). Oh, he never did have the stent. The concurring opinion of the cardio docs was that it could cause more damage. You can lose a limb if the plaque or blood "showers" down the arteries. Our family doctor told him here in no uncertain terms: Stop. Smoking. Now. Today. Or lose your foot, or leg. So Paul has stopped smoking. He has those hot feelings like years ago when he stopped. He never found the cause of them and when he started smoking again just to see if it relieved the hot flashes, it did! But what do you do - I would endure hotness and hopefully not lose a limb. He's doing better. He has not smoked since October 10.
Then Oscar got sick. He couldn't pee. When I took him to the vet, and xrayed (under sedation) his little bladder was full of kidney stones and one was lodged in his penis. What misery! Today he had surgery for removal of the stones. (Did you know a dog's penis has a bone in it? I did keep a straight face when the vet told me this.) Dr. Brad is a wonderful veterinarian and his staff are all excellent - as one FB friend said - they all give 110%. He's never not busy when I take any of our animals to him. Everyone loves him. His mother and aunt I've known before I met him - they have the Pray Pottery in Iuka. Tomorrow I'll ask Dr. Brad about the UT dog food, commercial dog treats. Stupid me - I just read on the package of Pupperoni treats that they have garlic powder and onion extract in them. Maybe that's not the same as onion, but it's too close for me. You don't give onions to dogs (like they'd eat them anyway, but what do I know what some dogs may like?)
In other news:
Amy adopted a little dog - Dexter. They'll be here tomorrow evening sometime. That should be very interesting.
My sister is in Paris and other lovely European places (Venice, Jersey of the Guernsey Islands). Back in states the 24th; here November 1. Has already gotten a promotion at the Pentagon.
All we hear on the news is horrible and I try not to listen to it. The days I was here alone, I never watched it. I loved not knowing all the horror of world and national news and downright irresponsibility of our leaders and congress. But you know, there is nothing new in politics - I've watched most of "The Roosevelts" on PBS (taped) and same thing with WWI. Same thing with WWII. Same old politics. I've often criticized the media, but without the responsible reporters (not the pundits and blow hards who just like to hear their own voices, and get a "sense" of things), what would we know. What do we not know anyway. As someone has said more than once: "I've read the end of the Book, and I know how it ends."
My little quilt is at the quilters. I have other projects lined up. I've cleaned out 50% of one whole closet and have sewing storage in it. My new machine and most of my sewing supplies are in the corner bedroom - I have taken this end of the house as My Place. I have a stack ready for Goodwill or Charlotte's carport sale. I got my hair cut. I've taken garbage (ours and Aunt Ginny's) to the roadside 2 months straight. Paul did it Tuesday...and pulled the garbage cart back up the hill. I've changed our bed every night for a couple of weeks (because of his hormonal something with the prostate, which may be relieved with some OTC med we don't know about yet, but will ask next week. I've called my s-i-l's housecleaner Donna M and she and her helper are coming next Wednesday and every other week. The hardest thing for me to do is vacuum and mop, anything that requires bending over or getting below bed height. I dreaded getting that started; giving up as it were, but I had Tina when I worked full-time. It's just different circumstances. I need the help.
Tomorrow I can go get Oscar and get to see my daughter and her baby doggy Dexter (who is a Shih Tzu mix - yes, this will be interesting. I hope O and D get along. I don't want any more drama...
(*T. S. Eliot - The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock)