I knew when I had no word at 10 today, that Kaye made it through the night without getting worse. The doc told Pete to call him at 10, so I waited a bit, then called. Doctor says he saw the lab report and is sending a two week oral antibiotic to the Rite-Aid. Umm, wait just minute, the same one who said it was next to impossible to treat this infection if it occurs again?
Please note that Kaye was on an IV antibiotic for 4 weeks, when the bacteria mutated and rendered her comatose, then it took days in the hospital to find one she'd respond to, then five weeks on that. So Pete asked how this Klebsillia was different from that Klebsillia and the doc said he hadn't really looked at her past record and this is what he was sending.
I have no earthly idea if good medicine is being practiced here, for if Pete is being placated, but if Kaye ends up the the horrible shape she did before, then what? Oh yeah, I will be horrified for her, and broken hearted, mad and none of that will be able to pull her out of the clutches of these endless infections.
Are you as confused as me, or do I just have screw loose (be kind) and this makes perfect sense to everyone else?
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Kaye Report
Last night most all the siblings and my mom met for some Christmas cheer. Sister Sue ZQ bought Christmas Crackers with wee horns, a directing baton and song sheet, and we attempted to make merry tooting carols. Umm, we really need to practice, but we laughed a lot.
I will confess to having a lot of jumbled feelings where Kaye is concerned these past ten months. I don't feel I had the need to know that a person could suffer what she has suffered. Had no idea you could even live through what she has lived through. I'll admit, I've wondered more than once, "For what?" But then Pete bucked authority, took her home, did what they said he couldn't and we've watched as slowly she's improved. I mean just four months ago she couldn't eat, talk, feed herself at all, or care to eat, for that matter. Now, we're celebrating Christmas and she had Pete call me last week and she asked me to pick up Mom and bring her to the party and I understood it. She enjoyed her dinner last night and rumor has it, she's walking with help and the walker a bit more each time at therapy. I've adapted to the "This is how Kaye is now" groove, and my topsy turvey world seemed more topsy than turvey for a moment. It was a good moment-it's gone.
Tonight was Kaye night and I headed to town about 4:30, but she was already in bed and Pete was in an absolute tizz. He asked for a urine test last week and the results came back today-Klebsillia Pneumonia, again. The urologist office called to say they'd called in Bactrim and he returned the call to say that it doesn't work for her. He told her what they'd given her last time- remember 5 weeks through a picc line, and they said they weren't familiar with that and he'd need to call the doc who prescribed it. He'd been trying every which way he knew to get ahold of that doc, but no luck. This is the bacteria that rendered her unresponsive, then psychotic for days and sent her right back to not eating, talking, knowing us etc. David suggested just calling information for his home phone and Pete did, apologized profusely, but got the doc at home. The doctor said he'd check her records in the morning and tell Pete what to do. If she spiked a temp, to go to the emergency room. Then he said that he didn't want to dispel our hopes, but it practically impossible to cure a recurrence.
TILT
It's just so scary, as now I have awful images of what might be in store for her if it goes south like last time.
So, if you will, just pray for all decision making parties to have wisdom about her care and treatment. And just as much for Pete. I know if I feel terrified, how much more he feels it.
I will confess to having a lot of jumbled feelings where Kaye is concerned these past ten months. I don't feel I had the need to know that a person could suffer what she has suffered. Had no idea you could even live through what she has lived through. I'll admit, I've wondered more than once, "For what?" But then Pete bucked authority, took her home, did what they said he couldn't and we've watched as slowly she's improved. I mean just four months ago she couldn't eat, talk, feed herself at all, or care to eat, for that matter. Now, we're celebrating Christmas and she had Pete call me last week and she asked me to pick up Mom and bring her to the party and I understood it. She enjoyed her dinner last night and rumor has it, she's walking with help and the walker a bit more each time at therapy. I've adapted to the "This is how Kaye is now" groove, and my topsy turvey world seemed more topsy than turvey for a moment. It was a good moment-it's gone.
Tonight was Kaye night and I headed to town about 4:30, but she was already in bed and Pete was in an absolute tizz. He asked for a urine test last week and the results came back today-Klebsillia Pneumonia, again. The urologist office called to say they'd called in Bactrim and he returned the call to say that it doesn't work for her. He told her what they'd given her last time- remember 5 weeks through a picc line, and they said they weren't familiar with that and he'd need to call the doc who prescribed it. He'd been trying every which way he knew to get ahold of that doc, but no luck. This is the bacteria that rendered her unresponsive, then psychotic for days and sent her right back to not eating, talking, knowing us etc. David suggested just calling information for his home phone and Pete did, apologized profusely, but got the doc at home. The doctor said he'd check her records in the morning and tell Pete what to do. If she spiked a temp, to go to the emergency room. Then he said that he didn't want to dispel our hopes, but it practically impossible to cure a recurrence.
TILT
It's just so scary, as now I have awful images of what might be in store for her if it goes south like last time.
So, if you will, just pray for all decision making parties to have wisdom about her care and treatment. And just as much for Pete. I know if I feel terrified, how much more he feels it.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
P U at the Palace
Hmm, wind, rain, sleet and snurries made little time for chickie girls to be out and about this week, so Cluckingham was a little smelly. All it takes is turning over the litter and opening the front and back doors and the P U is gone. Wish all P U's in life were so easily dealt with, don't you?
I was fairly determined, when I got the girls, to be the primary coop cleaner. Handy Man is as unaccustomed to seeing me wield a shovel as I am in wielding one. I know people have issues with it, but we just never have. I do the traditional girl stuff, and he does the traditional guy stuff. I'm just not in anyway insulted by him scraping my wind shield, starting my car and toting all the heavy stuff. It doesn't hurt his feelings to find his supper on the table and clean socks and underwear appear on his bed, placed there no doubt, by the good laundry fairy. So, when I clean the coop, Handy Man just stands and looks at me-the whole time. He's waiting, I know, for the familiar, "Gee, this is heavy," or " Aghhh, there's a mouse, snake, wildebeest (you get the idea) in these poopy chickie wood chips." Alas, far too familiar, " Ummm, I don't want to do this anymore." Then he will save me, just like in the fairytales, just like in our daily living.
I am of a grateful heart for all this saving through the years, but in the hen house, I persevere and he watches, that sweet man.
Handy Man models Christ to me in that way. My decisions, to do things on my own in my own way, aren't always as purposeful as coop cleaning. When it gets too heavy, when I come to my senses, and realize my idea wasn't such a good one, I turn to One who hasn't forgotten, but was just waiting and watching, ever forgiving and loving.
I love that I can celebrate Him where I work. This week was the Christmas Musical. I'm sort of in charge of the drama, costumes, etc. I mean, seriously, it was the sweetest play. The message was the one of our hearts and has a place in our school, but especially sweet, because two students, no one would've expected to find on stage, were the stars.
I have always had a heart for little boys that most teachers, people in general, find a bit out of control. I have no clue why. I really have to fight all year to not play favorites. I got a little guy this year, who came with a reputation. My school is small and we all know each other, so every time I talked to the parents through the years, they would say, " Just wait till you get Mr. Question Man!!!." I replied, "I am not scared." Now, he can't easily let anything go, and he thinks I am his personal encyclopedia, but I love this boy.
Crazier still, is the way I love quiet, backward, hard working girls. Ummm, no idea. Of course, I always have at least one and this year was no exception. My little wallflower would easily fade herself right into the woodwork, just working her fanny off and being good.
Mr. Question desperately wanted a part in the play and Wallflower wanted no part in being front and center. So, I threw caution to the wind, asking myself, "Where else will Mr. Question be allowed this opportunity?" Then, I shamelessly pulled that, "I will do anything for you teacher" card on Wallflower, and she reluctantly acquiesced. Both of them shocked and amazed us all, in addition to making us all cry.
I'm crazy over nativity sets, and have too many, of every make and model, but no matter how they appear, every Joseph I snuggle in the straw with Mary and the baby will wear the face of my sweet boy, Mr. Question. Each time I see Hawaiian stuff, Wallflower's beautiful face will be on my mind. Precious!
14 to 16 eggs a day this week. The girls knows we're getting ready for Christmas
I was fairly determined, when I got the girls, to be the primary coop cleaner. Handy Man is as unaccustomed to seeing me wield a shovel as I am in wielding one. I know people have issues with it, but we just never have. I do the traditional girl stuff, and he does the traditional guy stuff. I'm just not in anyway insulted by him scraping my wind shield, starting my car and toting all the heavy stuff. It doesn't hurt his feelings to find his supper on the table and clean socks and underwear appear on his bed, placed there no doubt, by the good laundry fairy. So, when I clean the coop, Handy Man just stands and looks at me-the whole time. He's waiting, I know, for the familiar, "Gee, this is heavy," or " Aghhh, there's a mouse, snake, wildebeest (you get the idea) in these poopy chickie wood chips." Alas, far too familiar, " Ummm, I don't want to do this anymore." Then he will save me, just like in the fairytales, just like in our daily living.
I am of a grateful heart for all this saving through the years, but in the hen house, I persevere and he watches, that sweet man.
Handy Man models Christ to me in that way. My decisions, to do things on my own in my own way, aren't always as purposeful as coop cleaning. When it gets too heavy, when I come to my senses, and realize my idea wasn't such a good one, I turn to One who hasn't forgotten, but was just waiting and watching, ever forgiving and loving.
I love that I can celebrate Him where I work. This week was the Christmas Musical. I'm sort of in charge of the drama, costumes, etc. I mean, seriously, it was the sweetest play. The message was the one of our hearts and has a place in our school, but especially sweet, because two students, no one would've expected to find on stage, were the stars.
I have always had a heart for little boys that most teachers, people in general, find a bit out of control. I have no clue why. I really have to fight all year to not play favorites. I got a little guy this year, who came with a reputation. My school is small and we all know each other, so every time I talked to the parents through the years, they would say, " Just wait till you get Mr. Question Man!!!." I replied, "I am not scared." Now, he can't easily let anything go, and he thinks I am his personal encyclopedia, but I love this boy.
Crazier still, is the way I love quiet, backward, hard working girls. Ummm, no idea. Of course, I always have at least one and this year was no exception. My little wallflower would easily fade herself right into the woodwork, just working her fanny off and being good.
Mr. Question desperately wanted a part in the play and Wallflower wanted no part in being front and center. So, I threw caution to the wind, asking myself, "Where else will Mr. Question be allowed this opportunity?" Then, I shamelessly pulled that, "I will do anything for you teacher" card on Wallflower, and she reluctantly acquiesced. Both of them shocked and amazed us all, in addition to making us all cry.
I'm crazy over nativity sets, and have too many, of every make and model, but no matter how they appear, every Joseph I snuggle in the straw with Mary and the baby will wear the face of my sweet boy, Mr. Question. Each time I see Hawaiian stuff, Wallflower's beautiful face will be on my mind. Precious!
14 to 16 eggs a day this week. The girls knows we're getting ready for Christmas
Sunday, December 6, 2009
The Annual Gingerbread House Party
Long ago and far away, when 1st. Lt was a serious, quiet, three year old, daily aggravated by twin one year old siblings, we made our very first gingerbread house . Since then, it's been an annual event. One year I awoke on G-Day with a bad case of vertigo, and the house was made later at Granny's Christmas party. Other then that one unfortunate event, it has gone on. Saturday was twenty-five years.
This was my favorite picture of the day. Uncle Jimi has been at most every gingerbread event and, as I said, Jakester has been old faithful. After decorating his Gramerly built house, Bean wasn't out of the decorating mood, so Uncle Jimi helped him construct another one.
Baby Boy's 1st
Not long after the house that came from a catalog, I found a pattern for wee house from graham crackers, allowing each decorator his/her own house, and that's been the norm. I've not only done it with mine and our adopted families, but in classrooms where I've worked, at afterschool programs, etc., etc. I would love to know how many of those houses I've made. I used to tell my nephews they wouldn't be too old for gingerbread until it was time to bring their own babies. Jakester took me at my word and was faithful to show.
For everyone, this time of year is hectic. I head up a Christmas Musical where I teach, and I teach. I planned to get all of the decorating done over Thanksgiving weekend, but my plans were changed. Simply put, I just didn't see how in the world I could get it together for Saturday morning. It was Saturday morning, because Antebellie was having her first recital. I didn't want her to miss the party, and I didn't want to miss her first recital, so we had a Gingerbread Breakfast. Everyone who cared to went and plucked their own egg from the palace for breakfast. Anyway, not everything got done. There was a tree, it had some lights, it had no ornaments, no one cared-maybe lights will be its only decoration this year.
On a sad note, a dear friend came to watch the sugar laden chaos. I offered it as a distraction after the sudden, unexpected loss of her beloved pet. I knew her house would be lonely without her fancy, prancy, girl. Isn't that all we can do when someone experiences loss? Just offer something. It doesn't fix anything, just lets them know you care. I know the holidays will be painful for several folks I love this year, and of course, tons I don't know about. Just offer yourself, that's the best we can do.
Woo, hoo, we got 14 eggs today. That's a record!
And yet another record- today I made about twenty pounds of fudge. Peanut butter fudge, chocolate with pecans, chocolate with black walnuts, chocolate with toffee, chocolate with chocolate, white chocolate with toffee, white chocolate with coconut and plain ol' white chocolate- and now, I'm all done!
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Grief
Mom called last night. I expected it. I knew in the coming days she would need lots of contact. Since the egg basket is overflowing, I stopped by to see her on my way to the grocery with a dozen. It always leaves me sad. She had a brace on her foot, an ice pack on her knee, a pillow form around her neck and oxygen in her nose. For someone who loved doing, it is so hard for her. I do believe she's breathing a bit better. This watching someone leave this world is quite a stressor. I know we'll need to hover close by.
Is it just the lot of being female to always feel pulled in multiple directions. As I was leaving, she asked me to make her some Mexican Cornbread and told me I really disappointed her when I made it at Kaye's and didn't bring her any. I remember that Sunday. It was a Kaye day and I try to make supper for her and Pete and then make ours at the same time, then I was going to drop some off to mom. My original plan was to do just that, but as usual, plans changed. Ceece and 1st Lt. needed a sitter at 4, and Miss Bugg had been begging to see her best friend Antebellie. I had Antebellie and O Henry's birthday gift, so I said for 1st Lt. to drop the kiddos off to me at Kaye's and I would take them to play at their cousins and deliver the presents. 1st Lt needed his Dad's truck, so he then took Handy Man's dinner to him. Alas, another stop didn't make it into the agenda.
Tonight I ran by with the eggs, but had two errands to run to be ready for the Gingerbread House Party and because I'm teaching rocks and need to make an edible example of sedimentary, igneous and metamorphic rock, to move it from my students short term to long term memory, and had to be back at PTO meeting at 6:30, so no time to cook supper for Handy Man. Then I feel disappointed in myself, but sometimes, I just can't make it all work.
I do believe however that the above paragraph contains the world's longest sentence.
At PTO, the question came up about Christmas gifts for teachers. First, I expressed that my students don't owe me a gift at Christmas. Ones that are handmade and heartfelt are appreciated, but really, mugs and favorite teacher ornaments are, well, not so much. I mean if the intention is to spend five bucks, I'd rather have a gift card to the local coffee shop for five bucks. Same for fragrant lotions, bubblebath etc. Handy Man buys my favorites and I have no real need for more. Gift cards to places like Hobby Lobby means way less is spent out of my pocket on their kiddos. It surprised to me hear that some parents were surprised to know a teacher would like that. Typically parents have no idea how much money we spend out of our own pocket every year. My kids do a ton of projects and most of it I pay for. I did have someone in leadership for a time who would help me out, which was certainly lovely. Anyway, I was glad they asked.
One reason I love teaching in a Catholic School is that I get to celebrate Advent with my students every day. We turn off the lights, light the candle, have a devotion, scripture, prayer and song in the candlelight. In this season of craziness, it is sometimes the very best part of my day.
What's the best part of your day?
Is it just the lot of being female to always feel pulled in multiple directions. As I was leaving, she asked me to make her some Mexican Cornbread and told me I really disappointed her when I made it at Kaye's and didn't bring her any. I remember that Sunday. It was a Kaye day and I try to make supper for her and Pete and then make ours at the same time, then I was going to drop some off to mom. My original plan was to do just that, but as usual, plans changed. Ceece and 1st Lt. needed a sitter at 4, and Miss Bugg had been begging to see her best friend Antebellie. I had Antebellie and O Henry's birthday gift, so I said for 1st Lt. to drop the kiddos off to me at Kaye's and I would take them to play at their cousins and deliver the presents. 1st Lt needed his Dad's truck, so he then took Handy Man's dinner to him. Alas, another stop didn't make it into the agenda.
Tonight I ran by with the eggs, but had two errands to run to be ready for the Gingerbread House Party and because I'm teaching rocks and need to make an edible example of sedimentary, igneous and metamorphic rock, to move it from my students short term to long term memory, and had to be back at PTO meeting at 6:30, so no time to cook supper for Handy Man. Then I feel disappointed in myself, but sometimes, I just can't make it all work.
I do believe however that the above paragraph contains the world's longest sentence.
At PTO, the question came up about Christmas gifts for teachers. First, I expressed that my students don't owe me a gift at Christmas. Ones that are handmade and heartfelt are appreciated, but really, mugs and favorite teacher ornaments are, well, not so much. I mean if the intention is to spend five bucks, I'd rather have a gift card to the local coffee shop for five bucks. Same for fragrant lotions, bubblebath etc. Handy Man buys my favorites and I have no real need for more. Gift cards to places like Hobby Lobby means way less is spent out of my pocket on their kiddos. It surprised to me hear that some parents were surprised to know a teacher would like that. Typically parents have no idea how much money we spend out of our own pocket every year. My kids do a ton of projects and most of it I pay for. I did have someone in leadership for a time who would help me out, which was certainly lovely. Anyway, I was glad they asked.
One reason I love teaching in a Catholic School is that I get to celebrate Advent with my students every day. We turn off the lights, light the candle, have a devotion, scripture, prayer and song in the candlelight. In this season of craziness, it is sometimes the very best part of my day.
What's the best part of your day?
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Roy
Roy's obituary is online at the New Albany Tribune.
Let me say, it bothers me more than a little that our names aren't there, considering we're the only family he has had for the last eight years. Particularly, my sister who cared for him twenty four hours a day and my nephew/brother who has lived half his life with him. Oh well, life ain't fair.
Let me say, it bothers me more than a little that our names aren't there, considering we're the only family he has had for the last eight years. Particularly, my sister who cared for him twenty four hours a day and my nephew/brother who has lived half his life with him. Oh well, life ain't fair.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thanksgiving in Pictures
Jakster pointing to is pies
Handy Man's first fried turkey- dee wish us
Kaye was fairly exhausted after an early dialysis, but seemed to enjoy her dinner.
A ginormous egg for Thanksgiving!
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