This is the obligatory "get out and vote" post for the day.
Just. Go. Do. It. Now.
This is important. Our country is a grand experiment, a gift to the people. The funny thing about experiments, in my recent homeschooling experience, is that they need to be monitored or else they have a tendency to blow up in your face. The interesting thing about gifts is they need to be acknowledged to mean anything.
It doesn't matter how inconvenient it is, how sick you are, how many times you were up with the baby last night, or if it means cutting lunch short. It doesn't matter if it means getting take out for dinner or eating an hour later than usual. It doesn't matter that your favorite show will be pre-empted this evening. If you can't be bothered to vote, you lose your voice by your own choosing. Stuff happens, but you can move mountains to get to the polls.
Please. Use your voice today. Make your choice known. Be the vibrant American you were born to be today.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
A Little Post Op Blogging
Only a little. I've now got a fun case of vertigo going and typing is not the wonderful experience it usually is. Plus there seem to be two of every letter and it gets downright confusing.
Let's just say that morphine and vicodin are not my "happy drugs." No, no they are not. Most decidedly. My routine outpatient procedure went well... I think the right half of my thyroid was the size of a golf ball. It's funny but even with the pain from healing, I can tell a big difference in swallowing. It's an odd thing to realize that your healing, post op swollen neck is less swollen than before surgery in the first place. Weird.
Back to the drugs. Did you know that morphine lowers your blood pressure? Yeah. It does. I now have a history of "low pressure with anesthesia and morphine" issues to report in the case of future procedures. It's a darned good thing the savvy folks in recovery decided I wasn't ready to go home Wednesday night. It would have been ugly. The next morning started with a little more morphine because there was no way I could swallow the horse pills the nurse showed up with. Um... morphine is not my bag. I got through the morning with my eyes mostly shut. I can't say the vicodin was much better when I finally got to graduate to that. More loopiness, nausea and double vision. All I could think was, "you mean there are people who do this on purpose??? Yuck!" I was a happy camper when my beloved ibuprofen did a decidedly better job than the vicodin on Friday.
When I finally got up the nerve to look at my incision, it was really odd. I kind of feel like the dude in ... um... oh, crud. I lost more brain cells. What is that movie? I can see the movie in my head and the title just won't show up on screen. Augh. Christopher Lambert... Sean Connery... big mean dude with safety pins holding his head on... immortal beings... there can be only one. Come ON. Work with me, people. AH! The Highlander!!! That's it! Whew. (Have I mentioned that the happy drugs have not made me happy? They do appear to have made me stupid.) So... what was I saying... ah... oh, right. Neck incision. Safety pins. ::shudder:: Actually, the site looks to be about 4 inches long and has stitches and surgical tape all over. I joked with the kids that I should be Nearly Headless Nick for Halloween. I petered out, though, and ended up watching Children of Dune while Our Fearless Leader took the troops trick or treating.
That's it. I'm done. I'm cooked for now and need more rest. I'll save my adventures in post op housecleaning for another day.
Let's just say that morphine and vicodin are not my "happy drugs." No, no they are not. Most decidedly. My routine outpatient procedure went well... I think the right half of my thyroid was the size of a golf ball. It's funny but even with the pain from healing, I can tell a big difference in swallowing. It's an odd thing to realize that your healing, post op swollen neck is less swollen than before surgery in the first place. Weird.
Back to the drugs. Did you know that morphine lowers your blood pressure? Yeah. It does. I now have a history of "low pressure with anesthesia and morphine" issues to report in the case of future procedures. It's a darned good thing the savvy folks in recovery decided I wasn't ready to go home Wednesday night. It would have been ugly. The next morning started with a little more morphine because there was no way I could swallow the horse pills the nurse showed up with. Um... morphine is not my bag. I got through the morning with my eyes mostly shut. I can't say the vicodin was much better when I finally got to graduate to that. More loopiness, nausea and double vision. All I could think was, "you mean there are people who do this on purpose??? Yuck!" I was a happy camper when my beloved ibuprofen did a decidedly better job than the vicodin on Friday.
When I finally got up the nerve to look at my incision, it was really odd. I kind of feel like the dude in ... um... oh, crud. I lost more brain cells. What is that movie? I can see the movie in my head and the title just won't show up on screen. Augh. Christopher Lambert... Sean Connery... big mean dude with safety pins holding his head on... immortal beings... there can be only one. Come ON. Work with me, people. AH! The Highlander!!! That's it! Whew. (Have I mentioned that the happy drugs have not made me happy? They do appear to have made me stupid.) So... what was I saying... ah... oh, right. Neck incision. Safety pins. ::shudder:: Actually, the site looks to be about 4 inches long and has stitches and surgical tape all over. I joked with the kids that I should be Nearly Headless Nick for Halloween. I petered out, though, and ended up watching Children of Dune while Our Fearless Leader took the troops trick or treating.
That's it. I'm done. I'm cooked for now and need more rest. I'll save my adventures in post op housecleaning for another day.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Surgery, Panic and You: A Cautionary Tale
Scheduling surgery is a piece of cake, right? Unless you're me. I have to think of all kinds of things. Stupid things.
It makes perfect sense that I have been up at night for the better part of a week trying to figure out what to do with Things 1, 2, 3 & 4... I mean... they're my children. I'm supposed to know where they are, what they're doing and whom they're doing what with. And in my absence or medically induced coma, I'm still responsible for that.
And speaking of being responsible, who will drive me to this little procedure? Mom? Our Fearless Leader? Certainly not me, myself and I. Well... I could drive there, but they won't let me go home without a chaperone. Given my panicked and half-crazed mood of late, maybe I would actually be a better drive while still anesthetized? I guess we'll never know.
Things we'll never know, or need to think about... yeah. Um. Ladies? Have you ever had to schedule a surgery for anything other than a c-section? That's the only surgery I can think of that you wouldn't have to schedule around.... You know... the crazy aunt who seems to find you at nearly the same time 12 times a year? Yeah. That one. Do you know how hard it is to schedule around her schedule? Fun times. Fun times.
And what about once I get home (assuming I get to come home on the same day - and what if I don't?)... what will be for dinner? Who's gonna cook it? I'm fairly certain that if I can't drive, I shouldn't operate small appliances. (You have read my pancake story, have you not?) For the sake of all that's holy, I should not set foot in the kitchen within 24 hours of The Procedure - combustibles and consumables don't mix well with a drugged up housewife with a drain and stitches in her neck. Ewww.
I also made the mistake of googling The Procedure (specifically a thyroid lobectomy) - all I can say is no one should google anything before donating themselves to medical science. It is possible to know too much. I wonder if they have drugs to make me forget? Will my insurance cover them? Before or after the deductible?
What about the bills? Are they paid up? Have I done payroll yet? Is payroll the same week as The Procedure? Nevermind the fact that The Procedure is an outpatient surgery lasting 1.5 hours and I'll likely be home the same day... this stuff can wait! Or can it? Will I need to hire myself out as an Outpatient of the Evening to meet my deductible? What about my blog? What about my fora? What about picking up the mail? What if I die? (Did I mention this is routine outpatient surgery?) What if my vocal chords are damaged? (My kids might go for this one. In fact, they might pool their allowances together and pay the surgeon a little something under the table... Hm. I wonder if I've paid allowances recently?)
So many questions, so little sleep.
It makes perfect sense that I have been up at night for the better part of a week trying to figure out what to do with Things 1, 2, 3 & 4... I mean... they're my children. I'm supposed to know where they are, what they're doing and whom they're doing what with. And in my absence or medically induced coma, I'm still responsible for that.
And speaking of being responsible, who will drive me to this little procedure? Mom? Our Fearless Leader? Certainly not me, myself and I. Well... I could drive there, but they won't let me go home without a chaperone. Given my panicked and half-crazed mood of late, maybe I would actually be a better drive while still anesthetized? I guess we'll never know.
Things we'll never know, or need to think about... yeah. Um. Ladies? Have you ever had to schedule a surgery for anything other than a c-section? That's the only surgery I can think of that you wouldn't have to schedule around.... You know... the crazy aunt who seems to find you at nearly the same time 12 times a year? Yeah. That one. Do you know how hard it is to schedule around her schedule? Fun times. Fun times.
And what about once I get home (assuming I get to come home on the same day - and what if I don't?)... what will be for dinner? Who's gonna cook it? I'm fairly certain that if I can't drive, I shouldn't operate small appliances. (You have read my pancake story, have you not?) For the sake of all that's holy, I should not set foot in the kitchen within 24 hours of The Procedure - combustibles and consumables don't mix well with a drugged up housewife with a drain and stitches in her neck. Ewww.
I also made the mistake of googling The Procedure (specifically a thyroid lobectomy) - all I can say is no one should google anything before donating themselves to medical science. It is possible to know too much. I wonder if they have drugs to make me forget? Will my insurance cover them? Before or after the deductible?
What about the bills? Are they paid up? Have I done payroll yet? Is payroll the same week as The Procedure? Nevermind the fact that The Procedure is an outpatient surgery lasting 1.5 hours and I'll likely be home the same day... this stuff can wait! Or can it? Will I need to hire myself out as an Outpatient of the Evening to meet my deductible? What about my blog? What about my fora? What about picking up the mail? What if I die? (Did I mention this is routine outpatient surgery?) What if my vocal chords are damaged? (My kids might go for this one. In fact, they might pool their allowances together and pay the surgeon a little something under the table... Hm. I wonder if I've paid allowances recently?)
So many questions, so little sleep.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
A New Look for A New Day
Yeah. That's it. It's a new day, so I've put on some new colors. Actually I screwed up my source code and didn't save it. (Have I ever mentioned that I know just enough about HTML to be extremely dangerous?) Eh. It was time for a change. And like hair and dye, we can always try something new if this doesn't work out. Right?
Which reminds me of a recent bet with the 8yo. He was certain Our Fearless Leader was going to yell at him for something he'd done. Despite my assurances to the contrary, he wandered through his day certain of a verbal lashing. I promised him that if Our Fearless Leader did actually yell at him, I would dye my hair pink. I don't know that he believed me... but I really would have done it.
My hair is still a lovely, unnatural shade of brownish-red (or whatever color fancied the Gifted Hairdresser some weeks ago). Come to think of it, the Gifted Hairdresser would have been shocked (possibly even grieved and appalled) had I dyed my hair pink. Maybe I would have given her the honor of doing it? We'll never know.
Which reminds me of a recent bet with the 8yo. He was certain Our Fearless Leader was going to yell at him for something he'd done. Despite my assurances to the contrary, he wandered through his day certain of a verbal lashing. I promised him that if Our Fearless Leader did actually yell at him, I would dye my hair pink. I don't know that he believed me... but I really would have done it.
My hair is still a lovely, unnatural shade of brownish-red (or whatever color fancied the Gifted Hairdresser some weeks ago). Come to think of it, the Gifted Hairdresser would have been shocked (possibly even grieved and appalled) had I dyed my hair pink. Maybe I would have given her the honor of doing it? We'll never know.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Why People Don't Vote
It has nothing to do with the candidates and how well-suited they are or how much experience they lack. It has nothing to do with proximity to polls or access to early voting ballots. It has nothing to do with arranging the day just perfectly so a ballot can be cast without dragging all the children to the polls for a community civics lesson.
It's all about the phone calls.
It's only going to get worse. There are still about 88 hours left until the polls close on Tuesday. At the rate of 3 "Vote for MEEEEEEeeeeeeee" pre-recorded phone calls an hour, one should expect another 264 pleas for votes. Have you cleared your voicemail lately? Are YOU ready for the onslaught? And really... does the pre-recorded message sneakily calling you from seven states away really persuade you to do anything other than rip the phone from the wall and chuck it in the recycle bin? (Can you throw a phone away in a recycle bin? Or does it have corrosive evil components that must be hand delivered to your town's annual Caustic Substance Collection? [And does anyone REALLY know how the Caustic Substances are disposed of when the Go-Green crowd has gone home for the day? Are the contents itemized? Or are they just chucked in the big dumpster behind City Hall? {I should call someone about this. But it's 2:30a.m. and I'll be busy doing something tomorrow... I wonder if I can record my question and...}])
It's all about the phone calls.
It's only going to get worse. There are still about 88 hours left until the polls close on Tuesday. At the rate of 3 "Vote for MEEEEEEeeeeeeee" pre-recorded phone calls an hour, one should expect another 264 pleas for votes. Have you cleared your voicemail lately? Are YOU ready for the onslaught? And really... does the pre-recorded message sneakily calling you from seven states away really persuade you to do anything other than rip the phone from the wall and chuck it in the recycle bin? (Can you throw a phone away in a recycle bin? Or does it have corrosive evil components that must be hand delivered to your town's annual Caustic Substance Collection? [And does anyone REALLY know how the Caustic Substances are disposed of when the Go-Green crowd has gone home for the day? Are the contents itemized? Or are they just chucked in the big dumpster behind City Hall? {I should call someone about this. But it's 2:30a.m. and I'll be busy doing something tomorrow... I wonder if I can record my question and...}])
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Schedules and Sanity
Schedules are required for maintaining a semblance of sanity. At least in OUR household they are. I just finished our tentative daily schedule for the coming school year. It always takes a month to work out the kinks, but it should serve quite well for the time being. Preschool is about to start up for the year, religion and sacrament prep classes, too. Oh, and let's not forget Scouts. And when will the baby nap?
All I can say is that I love Excel and I love that I can color code my charts. It makes the nerd in me giddy.
All I can say is that I love Excel and I love that I can color code my charts. It makes the nerd in me giddy.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Diaper Covers and Little Girls
Miss M is kiddo #4 - we've been around the block a few times with dirty diapers and have come to understand that diaper covers are non-negotiable with babies. Especially babies who like the sound of velcro in the morning. These days, diaper covers are tough to find. A brilliant friend of mine suggested using underwear a size or two larger than a baby would wear and it's worked great.
However...
Kid #4 has had the privilege of watching WB potty train. And what do we all do for newly trained kids? Buy them special undies, of course! WB now sports super cool Spiderman boxer briefs.
Guess who LOVES Spiderman?
Miss M has been carrying on for DAYS about "Man." She loves Man. She watches Man cartoons. She envies her brother's super cool undies. And today... today she tried to dress her Baby in Man undies, as well as herself. The giggling "no" I gave her was met with a shrieking fit.
Spiderman! My arch enemy? Could it be?
However...
Kid #4 has had the privilege of watching WB potty train. And what do we all do for newly trained kids? Buy them special undies, of course! WB now sports super cool Spiderman boxer briefs.
Guess who LOVES Spiderman?
Miss M has been carrying on for DAYS about "Man." She loves Man. She watches Man cartoons. She envies her brother's super cool undies. And today... today she tried to dress her Baby in Man undies, as well as herself. The giggling "no" I gave her was met with a shrieking fit.
Spiderman! My arch enemy? Could it be?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)