Not So Fun to Fun

So glad I didn't cancel my Vomit Comet ride.  I almost did yesterday, because I felt sorry that I took some poor dizzy sods' appointment and I was feeling so good that I did my PT, washed laundry and even swept the barn.  Funny how I won't even dust in my house, but if the barn is dirty, oy vey!!!  Turns out I'm the poor dizzy sod today.  I woke up after sleeping almost normally and I know I slept on my left side because it was wonderful.  But not puke wonderful.  So off we go to see Jolly Julie at the balance place for more PT and a big whirly hurl.  The Mister went off and had lunch.  I asked him to take me to my 2 PM PT for my shoulder and he said, okay, if you're done by 3 PM. 

So off we go to new PT for shoulder, which turns out to be PT for neck, because shoulder is mildly strained, hurray, but neck is severely whip lashed and no, it wasn't because of burly non-speaking English man trying to wring my neck like a chicken.  I guess when you get kicked in the head, you kinda whiplash.  Duh.  Well, now we know.  So, I'm done by 3 PM, pop a muscle relaxer and happily settle in to my new role as helpless passenger.  Off we go to a new ER facility and I thought maybe we were just practicing because I haven't had the pleasure of making some friends here yet.  No, it turns out that it is the new Swedish/ER place off Union Hill and the Colonel has an appointment with a new doctor.  New doctor to see why he has kidney pains, again, and oh joy, let's schedule some tests to see if we have kidney stones.  This is all good timing, because, of course, his daughter's wedding is Saturday and he has a role in it that we can't find a substitute for at this late date, if you know what I mean.  I'm can't go, doctor's orders, because the travel would definitely do me in. 

We decide we might as well have Sushi and we do and then we come home.  Our Dorkus Doggus is overjoyed to see us, which always baffles me because I always tell him we'll only be gone five minutes and I know for sure he can't tell time.  Sometimes, the highlight of your day is the dog.  Today is one of those days.

Family Wars

Thinking about Memorial Day today and how just about everyone I know has been touched by war.  I've never been to war, thank God, but have witnessed how it impacts those who have.  My husband is a Vietnam Vet, his brother a Korean War Vet, his other brother was in the Army, my step-son was in the Army. 

My Dad was in the Army for World War II and lost part of his hearing in the artillery.  He volunteered to stay on and clean out the hospital wards at Dachau and that's where he contracted tuberculosis, which resulted in a two year stay in Walla Walla upon discharge.  His brother was killed at age 22 in France during that war.

My maternal grandfather fought for the German cavalry (yes, horses) until captured by the British.  He spent two years in a concentration camp and reunited with most of the family in time to immigrate to the US.  My mom unfortunately was captured by Russians as they were attempting to flee and spent four years (age 14-18) in a concentration camp, too.  Looking back, it's a wonder my Dad kept it together for our family while she was in and out of institutions for what we now know is Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.  Mom came by today with Claus, aka, Zarif, and said she was watching a program about how returning soldiers are now being offered help for PSTD.  She's pretty happy about that.

All in all, it seems that the benefits of joining the military (at least during peacetime) are pretty darn good.  The GI bill helped my Dad through college and to buy his first home.  I spent the last couple years of his life chauffeuring him to the VA hospital and they seemed to genuinely care.  My uncle (Mom's bro) joined the Air Force and was able to go to college.  The Colonel had some of the best times of his life as a volunteer right out of high school (Soap Lake).  He was in Georgia and Hawaii, prior to the jungles of 'Nam.  He used his benefits and became the first in his family to graduate from college.

So today is about fallen heroes and our memories.  I'm pretty damn lucky to live the way I live today because of them;  they're definitely worth our thoughts for a day.

Chop This

Every morning, I wake up disappointed.  My nose is stuffed and my face from upper teeth through my left eye feels like a perpetual Novocaine headache.  I slowly sit up and wait to see if it's going to be a spinner day.  A spinner can suddenly hit, sometimes while standing, but usually when I first lie down or get up. Either way, I list to the right, like a drunken sailor, but I'm getting used to it.  At least I haven't been nauseous for two days.

My big outing today was a surprise.  I thought I was going to just sit in the car while the Mister went to Orvis and Office Depot.  Thrilling. Like a little old lady, just waiting.  He brought me to Funky Foot Massage in Bellevue instead for an hour massage.  I was excited;  who doesn't love a good foot massage?   I assumed it would be like a pedicure, which I normally love, but no, you lay in a recliner in  room with about 20 other people, who at least aren't talking.  Soak your feet in a tub, okay, that sounds good.  Then this big non-English speaking brute wants to rub me through my clothes. Okay, I guess so.  But then, he wants to rub my face.  I kept saying, "No, broken" and he kept trying.  I said, "No touch" and hoped I knew more Kung Fu than he did.  He finally gave up and moved to my head and shoulders which was tolerable. When we got to the feet, I thought, "Now we're talking", but no, some more weird crap.  Flick the top of the toes one by one and then karate chop my shins.  WTF???  More back and forth about the face.  Okay, compromise by sitting up and letting him grab my neck like he was going to wring it and then chop on my back.  Tip to other staff:  chewing and snapping gum does not make a pleasant massage experience.  Nor does wailing cats in competition with dying weasel music.

It was a very touching gesture by the Mister, but I'm exhausted.

The Transformation

Some of you know I have a twin sister, Lily, but may not be aware that I have an older brother, Claus.  Claus Von Clifton.  How is that for a good German/British name?  Well, he is an interesting sort.  Seems to be always searching to belong.  The Colonel sold him one of his Harleys years ago and he still has it and has always ridden old Grizz, rain or shine.  An '89 Low Rider, if I recall.  He started hanging out with some fellow riders and was soon an initiate into a questionable gang.  I don't know the full story nor do I want to, but I believe he stopped short of committing a serious crime in order to gain full membership. 

Now, he is pursuing the Muslim religion.  Mind you, we were basically forced to go to church every Sunday and although I had mostly fond memories, it didn't stick.  Evidently, it didn't stick for Claus either, because I received the following email:

My Muslim brethren say I need to pick out a Muslim

name.  I like ~Zarif~.   It means one who is humorous.

One guy said Muhammad, but everybody has that name.

Mom says I'm going to hell but if that's true so is a zillion

other people.  What do they say, "Christians aren't always

right, just forgiven."

Damn it, I was gonna use that name.

Zarif & Grizz

Zar & Unfortunate Woman

Flying High

I know, it's really boring describing all the wondrous medical ailments that are me, all me.  That is why I don't answer every single phone call and every single email inquiry that invariably starts, "How are you?"  You don't want to know.  Really.  I don't want to know and this is my job.  Suffice to say, the minor miracle of averting the god awful spins yesterday was revoked as of this morning.  For some really exciting reading and a full listing of how I feel, click here:

http://www.dizziness-and-balance.com/disorders/bppv/bppv.html

So when my doctor told me to rest, take your drugs, sleep upright, blah, blah, blah, I half heartedly said, yeah, yeah, yeah.  Then I got the brilliant idea for an adventure.  I know, in my nauseous delirium, the best I can do is come up with, "Gee whiz, let's get in a car for a ride that is sure to make me throw up and get really tired out contrary to what I just heard."  You don't understand.  I HAD THE CHANCE TO GO TO PEGASUS.   Cue lights, angels, rainbows and deep voice of God:  PEGASUSSSSSSSSSS.

For you commoners who don't know, this is a top notch facility located in a very private, heavily guarded and exclusive location that is a rehab spa for some of the world's best athletes.  It has therapy pools, treadmills, treadmills in pools, a vibration room, sun lamps, massage therapy, Xray, MRI, Cat Scan machine, acupuncture and some of the best chow you can buy.  ALL FOR HORSES.  Yup, there is a "Mare Prep" room for very special, intimate moments, a Stem Cell Therapy barn and get this, a hyperbaric chamber.  Who knew that horses went deep sea diving? I didn't, but then these are athletes, in training for all kinds of events or recovering from injuries.  My friend, Allison, has had the misfortune of having to place her incredibly beautiful mare, Vidora, there because of severe lacerations on her hind leg when she ran through a fence.  This is Cody's Mom and the woman who saved me five weeks ago today.  Anyway, when one has the chance to see this place, one must go, no questions asked, no wussy whining about it.

http://www.pegasustrainingcenter.com/?gclid=COP-54ykiakCFQZDgwodJmDCqQ

Now I'm in bed, very happy and on drugs.  Life is good.

Gratitude Journal

A semi-serious post, for once.  I'm listening to the love of my life talking with RB, a courageous man with esophageal cancer (for the second time) who we absolutely love and adore.  As well as MP, who we ride with in the Winthrop area and is a true mentor to me in terms of riding and all things horses.  Ain't got shit on what they're going through.  Word.

Anybody see Oprah's last?  I kept thinking of how the gratitude thing is so good.  I've done a couple of similar things for my man that I really recommend.  My man buys what he needs.  Short of a prostitute, I don't have anything to give him. (Sorry, Arnold, not doing it).   Anyhow, I kept a handwritten journal of things, every day, that I loved about him.  You wanna fall in love again?  Do this.  Easy, cheap and so meaningful, especially for a birthday.

So, back to Oprah.  A very good friend, famous in her own way and my friend for 20 years, invited me to go to a resort recommended by Oprah a couple years ago for her birthday. How does she know?  She knows Oprah and has been on her show and knows amazing people like me (okay, that the funny part).  We had a weekend like celebrities and it was way cool.. She is a marvelous, private person that I treasure beyond belief.  I am so proud to have introduced her to her husband and I'll leave it there.  Good on you, girl, and thanks for your love.

Mister and I watched a marvelous documentary tonight on HBO with yet another fabulous woman we met.  I don't know her well, but am so honored to have met her.  "Death in Oregon" featured an incredible staff of people, including Sue Porter (public knowledge), that have honored terminally ill people and their struggle.  She is a person that does this work out of sheer love and goodness and I'd encourage you all to see this film.

That is my mostly serious report for tonight.  The Mister is still speaking with RB and I'm glad.

It's Just a Big-Ass Rollercoaster

I want to get this entry in before my next go around for BPPV today.  The last two days have been miserable with the nausea and having to sleep upright and the drugs associated with it.  I'm not able to write or read without spinning, but I find that I can boss men and animals around just fine.

My friend Lynne came over with lunch yesterday and told me she tried to find something that appeared pre chewed since I'm still on the Soft Meat Senior Diet.  Very thoughtful, that one.  She also coined a term for my vertigo therapy which I will now shamelessly adopt because it is accurate.  The Vomit Comet.  Yup, just buckle up and get ready to hurl.  This time, I am pre-medicating with anti-nausea meds AND a whole pain pill.  I'm hoping to avoid the resulting vicious headache that comes from too much fun.  On the way back from my appointment on Tuesday, I asked the Mister if he had any poop bags (for the dog, not me!!).  He said he didn't and I was panicked because I thought I might spew.  He said, use your purse.  I believe the ringing in my ears distorted my actually hearing this man say, "Puke in your $400 Kate Spade purse."  I grabbed his $2.99 car garbage bag instead.  Dork.

Bless Julie Grove of the Pacific Balance and Rehab clinic, she is leaving her classroom at the UW just to see me today as she has said I'm probably the worst case she's ever seen.  She's not easy to see, and made sure that I got six more appointments, to the detriment of other patients, I'm sorry to say.  Once again, another notch in my quest for fame and fortune.

Saw the wonderful Dr. Bryan McIntosh to get some stitches out this morning.  Always a highlight of my life because he is so caring, warm and very funny.  He told me he had a bout of BPPV during his third year of residency!!  The man totally feels my pain.  Well, except for yanking out gum line stitches and instructing me how to massage my lip really hard, so that it would break up the scar, but I forgive him.  What I like best is that he always asks if I need samples or drugs.  Isn't he dreamy???  I think so.  He also said I needed to check out his Facebook page because there was a funny post from one of his fans regarding my blog:

Bessie Fleming-Ament Reading that was better than a kick in the head :) 

Well, Bessie, if you're happy, I'm happy and my work is done here.

More Suckage

Seems like the old adage of two steps forward, one back is my motto so far.  I went to PT for the vertigo and left, as expected and told, much worse.  Evidently, getting worse before one gets better is yet another cliche to apply.  I had to cancel my shoulder PT, chiropractor visit and start all over once this crap is under control. 

Worst of all, back at Command Central on drugs for nausea and pain.  Let's not forget the most exciting part and that is to sleep upright for two nights.  No bending no tipping, no sudden movements, no driving, no, no, no, blah, blah, blah.  I get it.  That means no cooking or cleaning some more and the Mister is insistent that he will do it all himself. That will be interesting.  I give that declaration one day and he'll be driving off to Mazama for the weekend to get out if it.

Potentially not attending my step daughter's wedding is on the no list because it also includes no sitting in cars or hanging about large groups.  It's not until a week from Saturday, so we have a cautious wait and see approach.

So enough of the whining, she did say I could walk a little tomorrow.  With a cane.  At least I'll be able to beat the shit out of anyone in my way.

Hangin' with the 'Phew

Stu, my nephew, (da Phew) came over with his sister Leah to entertain me. He took pictures on his DSI while Leah rode Cody with Denny.  This is a small sample of what we did:

No more surgery needed!

I'm Not Gay, Either

This just sucks.  In my planned recovery efforts, someone forgot to tell the Chiropractor that all this spinal manuever testing makes my vertigo way worse, not better.  Maybe the news made me woozy, but I said, okay, hold it there, I'll be back tomorrow because I need to go be sick now.  He graciously excused me.  I don't like hearing, well, your xray doesn't show a fracture of your left hip, but it definitely isn't good.  It's not fun to have the drunk spins when no tequila has been pounded.  It's especially not fun to throw up in a bag on the way home.  It's not fun to have your left hip throbbing and burning for no good reason other than hitting the ground really hard a month ago.  Yippy skippy, lets stop all this not fun stuff already.

So I'm back in Command Central (bed) with Lt. Doggus Dorkus at my side.  He needs to learn how not to twitch and kick while dreaming.  Even that makes me nauseous.  As long as I hold my head still and not lie down and the dog is still, I'm doing okay.  I called the Mister to order him around just to keep in practice, and that made me feel better, too.

Okay, on to my real observation.  I saw the Massage Therapist, Burly Bobby, again.  He is really good, but I still feel weird about one of his opening comments to me.  He said, "I'm not gay."  I was taken aback and said, "Oh."   But what exactly did that exchange mean?  Did I need to know that?  But why?  Should I be concerned that he would treat me differently?  Should I be careful to only wear big white underwear (which I don't own).   What, is he going to "accidentally" grope me and that was fair warning?  I've never had an issue with anyone, male or female, giving me a massage.  Especially a medical massage, i.e, neck and shoulder.  Very strange.

The fact that Burly Bobby isn't a PPO for medical massage made up my mind to switch, not the part of him not being gay.  He's good, but not out-of-pocket good.

Shower Cap Chronicles

I asked the Mister why I took these pictures.  He just rolled his eyes.  Poor dog.  This was pre head injury.

New Hobbies

Since I'm pretty much house bound, I decided to look for some ideas for some new hobbies, also to help my brain come back.  I found these all by myself, yes I did!!!!





Flaccid?  Is that another term for Idiot Savant?

This is mostly for the Mister's benefit

Now, Klingon/ German would make more sense to me.

 

Again, for the Mister, mostly





I am so making this for the Mister, shhh, don't tell him!



It's Really Cool, 'Cuz Its a Sports Injury



Rule 3:  Don't lick yourself



This is my first day of my prescribed rehab plan.  Dr. Gilmore took charge, along with some helpful suggestions from the Mister and we not only got great referrals, I got to see a Neurosurgeon within a half hour of my appointment!  The woman has clout and I'm happy to be on her side.  Biggest plus is no more sinus infection and I'm maintaining on regular Advil and an occasional muscle relaxer just for fun.

Rule number one is be patient and rule number two is to follow instructions.  I don't remember any other rules;  head injury, dontcha know.  The official diagnosis from Neuro guy is Post Concussive Disorder along with BPPV, which sounds all so very important, but turns out that yes, indeed, there are screws loose in my head.  Specifically, tiny ear crystals that have been knocked loose and cause my vertigo.  PCD can last a few months, so the part about memory, headaches and fatigue are to be expected.  Once again, diamonds are very helpful, he assured me.  He did an Epley manuever to turn the inner ear clock back and then I had to sleep upright all night last night. I just love having to do that. Not. PT starts next week for my balance and to knock the rocks back in place.  I actually failed the walk the line test and touch your nose.  I put my hands behind my back for the cuffs and he was not all that amused, but the Colonel was, bless his heart.

Massage today from a big burly guy named Bobby, who played the theme from, "Braveheart".  I never did like the whale moaning that some spas promote and I felt like donning some chain mail and lance to breach the tower afterwards.  He gave me great news on my shoulder, backed up by the chiropractor;  no rotator cuff injury, looks like a simple bicep tear from the shoulder.  More PT at a different joint scheduled for that, along with adjustments from the chiropractor.

So, tons of forms to fill out, many more explanations and copays to issue, stitches to remove from inside my upper lip, but the best news of all is that today is my one month anniversary.

I BLEW MY NOSE!!!!!!

And it was good.

Buh-Bye Bombay

He loves a good ball

Poop fascinates him, too.

I shall kees you.

He loves bath time.

When the Colonel liked him.

He is a good boy in a new good home.  A woman named Holly was chomping at the bit to get him, so I let him go for a week trial and her three teenage girls love him.  The feeling is mutual, he is very happy and so am I.   All is well in the world.

Mister in the House

Hoping that my primary doctor will step up and coordinate a game plan for recovery today. So far, I have her, an ENT Specialist, Plastic Surgeon, Maxillofacial Surgeon, Massage Therapist and probably soon a Neurosurgeon and Physical Therapist.  Do you think any of them talk to each other?  Nope, that would be too easy and time consuming, so I need to do it.  Yup, me, with the head injury who barely remembers my name.  The only person I can count on so far has been my pharmacist.  He looked at all the prescriptions and recognized a lethal combination and told me not to take the prescribed drug.  I worship him.  He also looked at my mother's prescriptions last year and patiently told me she was on far too many pills and the wrong kind for her condition.  He single handedly is responsible for the start of her recovery.  I am not worthy.

What do people without an advocate do?  I know how much time and coordinated effort it is for me dealing with my mom, at least a doctor visit a week, regular blood draws and reports from the nurses and caregivers at her Assisted Living place.  Damn, I have turned into high maintenance.

Don't you love him?  I do...

Luckily, the Colonel to the rescue.  He has a PhD from Google, so he knows what he's doing.  Seriously, if you've ever been on a board with him, you know not to mess with the man.  And now that he has that extra dose of wilderness testosterone, it's gonna get interesting......

So Far, So Good

Random observations, things to work on and blackmail pictures for your viewing pleasure.  You're welcome.

Be gracious; complaining doesn't get you anywhere unless you've nicked an artery
Accept help;  the feeling of being needed in a crisis is powerful and healing.
Do something, anything, but don't intrude;  No means no.  When your mouth is open, your ears are closed.
Friendship;  Those that will look at you and really see you, know you and love you in spite of becoming an Idiot Savant.
Humor;  there is no point in being Eeyore and I'm funnier on paper.
Limit negativity; I don't care about your friends' head injury that turned into a coma turned into a goiter.
 Money isn't it;  I know a couple of very unhappy people who have all that money can buy, except true friendship and a happy life.  Thank god I'm not one of them.
Perfection;  who really cares if Gus leaves pawprints on the floor?  This is life, not a photo shoot for Sunset Magazine.  My house is my nest and I love it.
Hyper organize;  I've had to actually create lists and keep track.  More than I ever have.  It forces me to slow down and pay attention to one task at a time and I really like this.

Barn warming party



Sun Mountain hike



Real friends will do anything.  Especially after shots of tequila.




A Good Lesson

My friend and former co-worker, Angela, gave me some perspective way early on in this adventure.  She has Stage IV rectal cancer and I got to visit her as my first official outing post accident.  I knew she'd have a very sterile environment as she is undergoing in-home chemo and doesn't relish the thought of being more sick than she is.  I can surely relate, especially since I got that post surgery infection I didn't need.

She shared lots of great insight about perceptions from other folks who mean well.  One story cracks me up and I think about it as I travel this bizarre journey.  She said she'd go to parties during her early diagnoses and mostly women who didn't know her would approach and very seriously say, "I understand you have cancer."  Taken aback, she'd say, "Yes, yes I do."  They would cautiously and quietly query, "Breast?", to which she'd respond, "No, rectal" and think to herself, enough already, I don't even know you, do you really want to go there????  Of course, the standard response from well-meaning person would be, "Oh, just like Farrah Fawcett", and in the effort to educate and shock, "No, that was anal cancer, I'm up about 3 inches".  She always says that she is trying to make her cancer the sexy one;  I say, good luck with that, Ang.

The point is, we know people care and mean well.  We know they want to help and don't know how or what to say.  That's okay.  I get it.  My head injury isn't all that evident, especially in the way I write, but it's still there.  Let's not dwell on things we can't fix, but look at what we can.

Crap

This just in.  Looks like our scenic drive over Highway 20 to Mazama has been slightly delayed.

In Which Men Are Men

The Mister came home all bright eyed and bushy tailed full of adventure stories from his big "Man vs. Wild" weekend.  Of course, he was mortified to learn of my adventure, but he quickly got over it in his excitement to impart great wisdom.

First and foremost, he froze his butt off.  It was 30 degrees one night and in spite of three layers of long underwear, a many pocketed coat and a rain coat over that, he almost died (according to him).  Very dramatic.  Turns out, he didn't fluff his pine needles enough.  His lounging area contained some pine needles, rocks, twigs and branches, but he didn't fluff them to cover himself enough.  It seems as though the speech about the scorpions nesting in them put him off and he didn't like the feel of ants and stuff all over his face.  I told him this is why I fluff the bedsheets after breaking wind.  It will keep us both warmer;  scientific fact.

I asked him if he was so frickin' cold, why didn't he buddy up to his brother?  It seems that he didn't want to risk the old rule of, "Hole to hole or pole to pole;  men don't sleep pole to hole".  What?  I thought he was dying here, I can't keep up.

He brought home yet more knives.  Evidently, we have narrowly escaped great tragedies by not owning  more knives.  Phew, bring on the terrorists and earthquakes now.

Speaking of survival, we decided we would keep Elmer in the back yard and keep him fat, just in case.  We can always chop a haunch off in case of emergency or even as a thank you barbecue for our friends.  I know, it's a great idea, dontcha think? 

You could be so lucky as to receive an invite.



 

Party!!!!

I saw some friends yesterday and we had such a good time, joking, laughing, needling as only true friends can. It's so great to know people who don't care how you look, what you're wearing or what your status in life might be. Yup, the kind of folks you want on your side when your doctor tells you to go to the ER now, because you might have a brain bleed.

These are my pals who remembered me from 3 weeks ago so I got extra special treatment and went to the front of the line, sorry Mr. Power-Saw-Accident-Man. Yes, indeed, it's good to be me sometimes.

So my friends insisted that I check out the ride in which you are trapped while they look at your brain and giggle helplessly while looking for screws. Very original, ha ha. Then burly nurse Jeremy wheels me back and when I tell him my boobs are hanging out, he just says, "It's not Friday, they can't be.". When I accuse him of just wanting to see my boobs, Sharon politely whispers, "Head injury". Hello, I can hear you!

My buds insist that I stay and have a cocktail. The olives don't fit in the IV line, so they come up with a new drink that is so good; a heaping dose of anti-nausea med, saline rinse, a slurry of muscle relaxer mixed with vertigo tincture, a pinch of Dilantin, followed by a chaser of cranberry juice.

Bottom line, vertigo along with muscle strain(left side compensating) and still, the pesky sinus infection.

I'm home with friend Sharon who graciously gave up her Sunday and today all for the chance to see the drunk guy's ass while dripping blood all over the floor while we were leaving.

Hey, thats what friends are for.

Survival of the Fittest

It all started with a knife that "I bought him for Christmas".  Of course, he told me this after the fact.  Look, look at the knife you bought me for Christmas.  That's nice, I replied. I got a really fancy coat that turned into a pistol....The waffle iron for our first Christmas turned into a diamond tennis bracelet, but that was just a lesson waiting to happen.  Anyway, Christmas knife turned into Christmas coffee table display furniture turned into over 18 knives, I stopped counting.

I remember some guy calling our house about 15 years ago, asking if this was Dennis P. Weston.  When the Colonel affirmed, he asked if he had been in Vietnam, arround the Cu Chi tunnels.  That was a bit of a shock.  This man was from the midwest, had been to Vietnam on a later tour of duty and found the Colonel's knife in a rice paddy with his name inscribed.  Note:  He was never a Colonel;  this is a joke seen on Saturday Night Live that his buddies find very funny, but I find very endearing.  The guy said he had it on his mantle all these years and wondered about it.  Said he'd mail it, but we never saw it.

He is also big on Emergency Prepardness, or E-Prep, as I very seriously refer to it around the house.  Mister, we need E-Prep for the duck boat.  What about the ATV?  Then there is the tack room?  Mister, we need E-Prep.  Mostly now, I talk about Prep H, but I digress, as usual.

So there he is out in the wilds and phones me this morning.  "Ah, there you are, are you ready?"  He is excited, "Yes yes, I am, we are in the parking lot."  (See????? I knew it!)..  "How is the weather?"  Oh, it's going to be really warm today, beautiful day.."  "That's great, did you put your sunscreen on?"  Long pause...."I gotta go, they have sunscreen inside."    Oh, dear, so much for E-Prep.

Is it a dry beaver pond, Colonel?

Chillin' in the biouvac, pleasant dreams

I Sneezed Today

Earthshattering, I know.  But my brain didn't fall out!!  I was all sweaty and scared and it was tickling, but I didn't want to hold it in in case it went backwards and I swallowed my brain, but I didn't.  I looked at my face in profile for the first time today and it really doesn't look that bad.  That's good news, too. 

The big cold sore that I'm blaming on Clark for making me laugh is much better today, too.  I speed dialed Dr. McIntosh on his private cell number and of course, even though he wasn't working, he immediately phoned me back to tell me to get Abreva.  Bless him, I used to think he just did it for the money.

Mom is almost 100% and that is an incredible relief.  Part of the reason I retired, other than to take my promotion to Director of Purchasing for the Westons', was to care for Mom and Dad.  Dad had dementia for so long and when Mom developed health problems, it was tough.  Now she is battling depression as a never ending struggle with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.  She is a Siberian concentration camp survivor and really never processed it, but that's a whole other blog site.  Her emotional and physical health is now a big part of my life and it feels good to know she is doing way better.

My man is gone for the weekend, another whole blog adventure.  Get this-  he and his brother are in the desert outside of Flagstaff Arizona with a guide to practice survival skills.  They had to check a bag to carry a knife.  That's it.  A knife for two days and one night.  Eat, drink, build shelter, etc.  just like "Survivor" with no rewards or immunity idol.  I think they're probably in a Walmart parking lot.  WTF?  That's what I keep saying.  Some back in 'Nam adventure they're reliving, I guess.  So I'm by myself and so happy.  Doggus Dorkus Erectus and I walked to the mailbox and back, took a 2 hour nap and feel much much better now. 

We're gonna watch Ghost Adventures and then we will rehearse the Ultimate Dog Tease video and laugh and laugh.  Well, I will, but carefully.

Sometimes he wears Mister's underwear, too

The view when I wake up.  Look out for those hooves!!!

The Mister Speaks

Too tired to post, copied the original emails for your amusement or sleep aid:

From: Heidi Weston
Sent:  Sunday, May 1, 2011, at 10:49 AM
Subject: RE: It's the star of the show this time

Hello from Heidi Frankenho. Again, sorry if this is your first post and I sincerely apologize if I've neglected to include your Aunt Matilda on this distribution and ask the small favor of forwarding it yourself; I hereby release you from any trademark infringement.

I have calmed down from all the royal wedding excitement, but I am still in shock by the lack of manscaping evident during the ceremony. Did you see that pastor with the big yellow hat? His eyebrows? That dude was sporting a double visor. At least it detracted from his teeth.

I digress, for certainly, you will want to know about me. My facial nerves seem to be healing as I can wiggle my right nostril and feel part of my upper lip. I can't smile because it's stitched to my gum line. My scar is also itching, which is a good sign and I am able to brush lower teeth without pain. It's really hard NOT to blow my nose, dang it. I can shower and wash my hair all by myself, though! I did pose the choice to the Mister of either shaving my legs for me or brushing the horses. Either way, he'd get a good flossing from the fur. He declined, so we're all still haired up for winter.

A couple asides; my surgeon is doing a paper on me, because I guess it isn't all that common to reattach noses somewhat successfully. I always knew I'd get my 15 minutes, but was hoping for stand up comedy, not this way. Denny and I have now got the "good friend in a foxhole" definition down. They take action and don't wait to be asked, yet respect the words, "No thank you", a careful balance to be sure. I am overwhelmed by the support of these friends. Amazing meals which I am so milking, flowers, cards, phone calls, oats, Elmers Glue, whoopee cushions, DVDs, exercising my animals, blanketing and shoveling poop! I have a list I'll never be able to repay. Thank you, keep it coming.

On the more concerning side, are the potential neurological issues due to an unplanned kick to the head. Because I was bucked off of the same daft creature exactly two years ago to the day and suffered a concussion, I definitely have a screw loose. Pause....wait for it, okay, continue. This is why driving, golfing, riding, hugging animals and sex are out of the question for the time being. Any possible more head banging = trouble. I can handle some plastic surgery, but really don't want to wear a walking helmet for the rest of my life. Denny is slightly more adamant about this than me. For better, for worse, blah, blah, blah...

My big adventure today is going to see my Mom for her birthday. She's 82 today and always cheers me up. I got nothing on this woman in the pain department, and perspective is always a good thing.

In closing, this experience has made me so grateful for my Prince Charming, the Mister or as some of you know him, The Colonel. He has gone above and beyond caring for me and not just because it's in the Marriage Handbook. He is a truly caring man. And even though I found out after we were married that he expects occasional Spam sandwiches, I also just found out that he really does know how to separate whites from darks to do laundry. I always suspected as much. Another dose of good medicine has been holding hands and watching TV and talking loudly over the snores of a large dog in bed. We do have a fairytale life, he and I.

Check out my glamour shot with a peak of the bruise. I tease you, I know. Enjoy the sun, y'all!!

That is my report.

Heidi

---

From: Dennis P. Weston
Sent:  Fri, 29 Apr 2011 09:45:21 -0700
Subject: RE: It's the star of the show this time

Wow, she’s really doing well. Swelling is coming down, pain is decreasing, looking really good. Still on hard-core restrictions from physician on physical activities and any exposure to infection. The facial bones are still quite fragile, so no driving, only leaving the house for “essential” things, nothing physical. Supposed to keep the arm in a sling until we can determine if there is joint damage to the shoulder. Big risk is infection for both the incision and intra facial areas so I’ve got her almost in a sterile tent!! That’ll probably remain in effect for another week or so.

Post-surgery/recovery emotional low last night. She’s SOOO tired of hurting and being restricted. Thanks for all the cards, flowers, food (and for all of the very thoughtful Gluten-Free dishes) and offers of help. It’s all been so uplifting to us both.

Denny

Dennis P Weston

---

From: Heidi Weston
Sent: Thursday, April 28, 2011 8:52 AM
Subject: It's the star of the show this time

Hello, my fine fan club. This may be your first posting regarding my adventure, so if you're bored, go ahead and read Denny's posts before you put me in your spam folder. You really only need to know that I'm healing very well. No picture, but if you're on FB, plenty there.

Saw the surgeon who sewed me up yesterday and he took out my stitches and pulled out some crusty boogers. All while wearing a designer suit. See Denny, you could retire and do that job. Healing well, but told me I have a massive hole in my left sinus that he couldn't touch, right orbital break and smashed nose. Did major reconstruction to my nose and upper lip, I will certainly see a scar in about 2-3 months, soft meals and no driving or bending, lifting for another week at least. Oh yeah, no sex and lots of diamonds, too, would reallly speed my recovery. The main thing to worry about is infection. No animals, no dirt, no three second rule on food, so if you're visiting me, please no colds. He expects a year for my sinus cavity to heal completely and doesn't want to go back in. I concur. My face just feels like a lot of pressure, and the only pain I have is in my shoulder, gotta wait ten days for a MRI to determine extent of damage there. I have to say that my guardian angel, Cody's Mom, Allison, saved my eyesight, according to my GP. She said there is a two hour window to fix an orbital nerve injury, that's it. God bless Allison and her little cowgirl, Audrey. She got the medics here and was calm and brave.

Thanks to all of my incredible friends for flowers, movies, over the top food (Gluten Free Eggplant Lasagna to die for!!!! Really!!) and visits. Big thanks to Sharon Vanderslice who took me to my doctor visits, saw my boobs and boogers and helped me tell my mom so she wouldn't freak out. She and my doctors are on first name basis now and I'm pretty sure they're all having dinner soon. She not only did all that, but cooked some awesome meals and created a flow chart for recovery. She could be Care Concierge to the stars.

I'm up for visits, but please call first, sometimes all the adoration is too much and I must rest. Also know that Nurse Mister Ratchett may subject you to cross ties with a hose down, background check and cavity search. He will then offer a fine cigar and single malt and ask if it was good for you. He is, if nothing, polite.

In closing, I must say surveys indicate 9 out of 10 pain pill users rate the Prune Milkshake as highly underrated. Try one, your day will be so much brighter.

That is my report.

Heidi

---

From: Dennis Weston
Sent: Wed 4/27/2011 5:53 PM

Subject: News

There's good news and some not so good news. First the not so good. The swelling is coming down and it looks like Botox and derma fillers may be back in favor sometime out in the future. I thought for sure the fat lips would stay, but "oh no", not my luck. Check out the photo for tonight's measure of swelling and color.

The good news. Sharon V took Heidi to the Dr today to have her shoulder checked out. X-Ray says not broken, so keep the arm in a sling for 10 days and maybe MRI for joint damage if it's still a problem then. Percoset was giving her GI problems so they prescribed Vicodin. Damn, what a waste, have several Percoset left (hee, hee, hee). If I ration out the Vicodin, might have a few of those left, too.

The trip to the Dr wore out the pretty lady so she's resting.

Everyone's been so nice although I have to seriously question Sharon's true feelings. Thinking I might need a little self-medicating myself, she thoughtfully brought a bottle of fine gin for a martini......BOMBAY gin (that's what her horse is named after, BOMBAY). Good grief.....

Dennis P Weston

---

From: Dennis Weston
Sent: Mon 4/25/2011 5:53 PM
Subject: RE: Who needs Botox for fat lips???

Monday has been a pretty good day. Up and around, not quite so feeble or weak. Face improving (??) as you can see. Swelling continues to decrease but the color brightens! Hey, most people pay big bucks for those lips!

She's using most of the Percoset so I'm starting to worry there won't be any left over and thinking of hiding some for myself. (I think she counts them each time she takes one.)

Fabulous good wishes, flowers, cards and food. Thanks so much, as Louie Louie and Karen know, the vibes are critical to healing and we appreciate all of your thoughts. What great friends and relatives we have, we're so thankful.

Dennis P Weston

---

From: Dennis Weston
Sent: Sun 4/24/2011 9:24 AM
Subject: Who needs Botox for fat lips???

A pretty good night overall. Not much sleep until early a.m. As expected, vivid colors and swelling increased as did the pain. Gotta figure out how to wash the blood out of her hair without wetting the face sutures (41 on the outside, don't know how many inside) and nose splint??? I think I'll duct-tape a plastic bag to the front of her face......

The beatings will continue until morale improves.

Dennis P Weston

---

From: Dennis Weston
Sent: Sat 4/23/2011 7:23 PM
Subject: RE: Latest Update

Pretty good day. Heidi has been a real trooper, not surprisingly. Just got through instructing me how to make a milk shake for her (can not the threat of withhold those fantastic drugs change her basic nature???).

She's starting to feel great "soreness". Beautiful colors starting to appear on her face and a lot of swelling continuing. She's quite tired and drained. I think she's starting to think that golf isn't such a bad hobby after all.

Thanks again for all your love and good wishes. I'll bet she's "sore as a boil" tomorrow! I may get the best photo yet in vivid, HD, color.

Dennis P Weston

---

From: Dennis Weston
Sent: Sat 4/23/2011 12:01 PM
Subject: Latest Update

We're home and doing OK. Long night last night, hospitals are noisy places and in spite of common sense to the contrary, they still wake you every hour to encourage you to get some sleep. I think we both nodded off about 4 a.m.

Thanks to God for the good drugs. Even without sleeping they kept her comfortable.

Heidi's eating and drinking, very cautiously and slowly, up and bossing me around in spite of all threats to take away the drugs. Nose splint, face bandage and lots of sutures. I think everything's under control. Trying to find a place in the yard to dig a VERY big hole with which to put shit-fuck horse in once I'm through torturing him.

Note the before and after photos attached which I'm sure will be widely broadcast throughout the internet soon.

Thanks for your emails and calls and well wishes. We're lucky to have such great friends, we love you all dearly.

Happy Easter.

Dennis P Weston

---

From: Dennis Weston
Sent: Fri 4/22/2011 7:50 PM
Subject: Evergreen Hospital

Hi,

Sorry I haven't kept some of you in the earlier loop, but here's the status of Heidi's horse kick in the face this morning around 11 a.m.

Transported via medic one at about noon. Heidi is still in the OR as of 7:45. The Dr expected 2 to 2 1/2 hrs, then 1 1/2 hrs or so in recovery. And then, get this, they think they will send her home tonight! What the fuck? (Update, they kept her overnight.)

Diagnosis: broken nose, broken right cheek bone between the eye and sinus. Left cheek bone and bones under her nose broken, but all except for the actual nose are "smaller" breaks where the broken edges remained close together and that will heal on their own. More damage is possible if he tried to fix them. One long (2-3 inches) Serious VERY deep laceration on upper lip up and alongside the nose. This scar will be a doozie. The laceration on her lip went all the way through to her mouth, other lacerations inside her mouth. The broken nose, laceration inside and outside of her face are being repaired now by the plastic surgeon. More plastic surgery likely required, but must wait a year.

God, I am so glad I came home from Mazama this week early.

That horse is going to be one very dead mother fucker, but I'm going to beat him slowly with a 2x4 first.

I just picked up her prescriptions and it looks like I finally get a Percoset. I believe I need one.

Denny Weston
Fluke Venture Partners

Does This Scar Make My Butt Look Big?

I saw the Plastic Surgeon this morning.  My bud, Millie, took me in after dropping off an incredible looking authentic homemade Italian meal... I am so milking this accident!!  Actually, I've canceled all this Meals on Wheels business to start after Monday and the only reason it hasn't been turned off sooner is because Sharon is making Gluten Free Fried Chicken and she made the mistake of telling the Mister.  So, just who is milking the head injury here, I ask?  Thank you, there is no "u" in the word, "me".  Anyway, I love all the food, but its just the two of us and both refrigerators and freezers are plumb full, okay?  Thank you!!

Just for fun, come with me into Dr. McIntosh's office.  As usual, I get my upfront spot next door to Sur La Table in Kirkland.  I enter and Monica runs out and shows me her really cool Shellac nails.  Love her, she is a walking advertisement for all that is right with surgery.  Millie likes her, but really, is there anyone she doesn't like?  Heart as big as the world and one of the classiest broads I know.

I always have someone come with me to help me remember questions to ask and write down the answers.  I think I remember what I asked and what he answered and would like to share them with you, because Lord knows, if you ever are kicked in the face by a horse, some of these questions you won't ask, believe me and you should:

Can I drive? Yes, but not drunk (he reads my blog, damn, and already knew I drove).
Can I drive while shaving my hoohah?  Probably not, I don't even want to know what that means.
Can I blow my nose?  No.
Can I pick my nose?  On our one month anniversary, you may pick your nose. (A true romantic, I knew it!)
Do you like my hair color?  Yes, I noticed it right away and you are fetching.
Will you prescribe 10 cases of Proseco?  Yes, if your insurance allows. 
When did you get your MD from Google?  Huh?

Millie got to see my stitches along my gumline and look really close at my nosehairs.  This is my gratitude to her for driving, lucky girl.

The nerves are healing quicker than anticipated, the continued facial swelling is normal and the dizziness is due to the sinus infection, which I think is responding well to the new antibiotic. Got a referral to an Oral Maxillofacial Surgeon because now my jaw is a problem (still can't open my mouth, go ahead say it, insert your own damn joke here).  He gave me a prescription for massages, (yeah, baby), except I can't lay on my face, so a side rub is what I'll get.  No happy finish is prescribed.  Wait, did I type that out loud?  Sorry.

I told him this was a full time job and I was ready to take this job and shove it.  He nicely said that I'd be fired soon, which is good, because I need to get back to my real job as Fecal Relocation Manager.

That is my report.

I Can Has Cheezburger?

Enough about me, let's talk some more about me, shall we?  Here are some highlights  from today's adventures in Heidi HOrse Kick World:

1.  I pooped.
2.  I wore my sling like a good girl and it helped.
3.  I took only Aleve for pain and no nausea meds at all!!
4.  Sharon V. took my mom to the vet, I mean, doctor and then brought her to visit me.
5.  I put Mom to work doing laundry and loading the dishwasher and now she will never visit me again;  mission accomplished.
6.  I ate a cheeseburger, courtesy of Suzy and her cutting it into small bites, but not in a blender OR enema.
7.  I hired a guy to come scoop poop and clean the barn daily, alleviating His Highness of any stinky horse business
8.  I got great funny emails and nice cards from my GWGA girls. (Glendale Womens' Golf Assoc)
9.  My goddess neighbor, Lynn,  came over and helped me put ointment on Cody AND THEN took her out to graze on some fresh grass
10.  I DROVE MY CAR ALL BY MYSELF AND GUESS WHERE I WENT ALL BY MYSELF???
              ummm, I went to the Tack Store to buy stuff for my horse.....

Okay, I drove like a hunchbacked 90 year old woman that went 10 miles below the speed limit but I just pretended like I was drunk.  Now, I know you know what that means and I'm willing to bet that every one of you has done it.  It's not right, but we've all done it.  You know, turn off the radio, turn on the A/C, pretend like there is a cop behind you and drive perfect.  That's what I did.

So if you see a blue car with the window decal "Cowgirl Up" and a grinning fool at the wheel, don't honk or you'll scare the shit out of me. 

Off to the doctor tomorrow to gloat about my recovery, no thanks to his fancy-schmancy medical degree.  Today, it's good to be me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This Ain't My First Rodeo

This won't be my last horse related incident.  I'll guarantee you that.  I don't need to explain to my horsey friends, but my other buds might need a bit of help with our perspective. 

Please, these are my opinions, and I respect experienced horsepeople's opinions, too, and try to learn from any and all.  I also am working with some pretty qualified doctors  (many with Google MDs) and I listen to them.  By all accounts, I will ride again.  Maybe not this summer, but you bet your butt hairs, I'll be riding.

My uncle Erhardt bought me my first pony at age five.  Her name was Julie and contrary to popular belief, smaller doesn't make them nicer.  I loved her, though.  Long tangled mane filled with burrs, stubby little legs, evil baring teeth, she was the best.  And then riding her!  Oh the joy!  Cinch up the saddle while dodging fangs, desperately sawing at the reins as she sought to rub me off on fence post after fence post, being dragged under her stubby pumping legs because the saddle slipped and my boot was caught.  Good times.  I was hooked and spent every summer with my uncle on his dairy farm(s) along with Omi, Opa and all of the glorious animals.  Learned to drive a hay truck (and Mercedes) at age 10.  Butchered my first cow at age 12. Yup, shot it and skinned it.  That's how cowgirls roll.

The summer of my 12th year, my uncle hadn't yet killed or maimed me, so he bought me my first Arabian.  (Horsey friends cringe here and rightly so).  I named him Strawberry Sparkle. Evidently, we were going to do Disney Parades from that wise name choice.  He was grey, big wild eyes, red rimmed nose, the perfect choice for a pre-teen girl.    Never rename a horse, it is bad luck.  With said luck, I proceeded to learn the real basics of horsemanship, including walk, trot, buck.  Never made it to canter because buck was what he would do when asked.  Still, he was mine and I loved him.

There was a milker on the farm named Margie.  She was a divorced woman with limited means which looking back made sense because she owned horses.  Seven of them.  I now know she collected them, which, in my humble opinion, is close to animal abuse.  Horses need to work and play to be balanced and safe.  Margie took me to a breeders' farm where I witnessed my first live cover and it scared the holy crap out of me.  Very violent.  Anyway, she and I convinced my uncle to let us convert five acres with a broken down barn into a stable.  I learned to really ride on Destiny's Desire, a Morafic mare and she was something.  She was a former show horse in Western Pleasure and halter, now brood mare, age 20.  That's the Arab you want to ride.

Fast forward to discovering Winthrop and purchasing our property and building  our horse set up near the trail system.  A few horses, good and bad.  The death of a few horses, good and bad.  Purchasing a three year old Paint named Bo with no real training; once again, a horse needs constant play and work.  I also bought Doc, my all time favorite horse.  Two horses, you may ask?  Just like potato chips, trust me.

Bo was ready to go for training and this is what happened when I let him out onto grass after being cooped up in a little stall and paddock for two weeks.  Bye-bye, Bo.....Sold to a sweet woman in Poulsbo.

Note the lovely hoofprint pattern, still indented to this day

I kept Doc, but had to put him down after a few years due to Navicular.  R.I.P., good boy.  Remember Barbaro and all the $$$ spent to keep him alive so he could live cover?  Sidebar here folks:  The Mister said he didn't know what Live Cover means.  It means SEX, Mister.  Registered race horses are required to live cover, no artificial insemination allowed.  (Should I be upset that he doesn't know this????)  Anyway,  I would have spent that on him.  Well, maybe not that much.  The Mister does like his custom made shotguns more than horses, I've discovered.

I miss him so much, but I won't cry because he is happy now.

He learned sign language and we're sharing a laugh..

My handsome Cowboy on Comet

This is why I purchased the beast, Bombay, aka Elmer.  A friend of mine in Winthrop had purchased a Rocky and sent him up to Bob Boyce, an old cowboy who believes in Natural Horsemanship, which is quite rare in someone over 60, I've found.  I went to see Bailey (I know, we name our animals after liquor;  very original)  I spoke with Bob and his  wife and he told me that he would buy a Rocky for his wife in an instant.  This is a diehard Quarter Horse man.  Smart, gentle, loving and gaited!!  I purchased Elmer as a two year old from Kentucky, after a year long search and visits to Kentucky and researching the breed.  He's bucked me off a couple times, yes, I got a concussion once and he stepped on me.  I've had a broken shoulder from a horse I didn't own and even chipped my nails.  Who cares?  That's how cowgirls roll.

Bombay is ready to go to a new home now, but not because I don't love him.  He is not a pet, but a creature deserving of respect and a quality of life, like you and I.  Horses need to work and play to be balanced and safe. Are we all clear on that?  Good. Once again, my humble opinion, not trying to be controversial.

Please don't tell me I won't ride again or shouldn't ride again.  It's akin to saying, "Sorry, you won't breathe again."  And that is just silly.