Jan 31: Quick updates, nothing exciting

Gee, where to start. It's Sunday night, I'm on call and watching the Grammy Awards. Need to pack a lunch, decide what to wear in the am and get to bed.

Should check my INR, but my feet are cold, which means I can't get enough blood for the sample. Of late it's been taking 4-6 sticks to get enough for a sample. I may have to relent and stick my finger, which hurts more and often continues to hurt for a day or two. It was high 10 days ago, then mid-week was a little low. No explanation.

Zerla is much better. I put a little footstool next to the couch and she joins me for TV time, which isn't as often as you would think since most of the time I'm doing stuff on line and watching in the dining area. The footstool was so successful that I wrestled up from the basement a long shelf thing meant to expand shoe storage, then glued carpet remnants from the upstairs apartment on top for paw stability. This now is at the bottom of my bed, allowing her to jump up on the bed, which currently has a down comforter, a cat's dream place! Just today I moved a box and chair around in the dining room area to allow her to get on top of the radiator cover, which beats even the comforter! When she's been lying down for a while she is clearly stiff, but getting around pretty well, active and playful.

My tenant Marilyn is planning on moving out end of February. Houses are so cheap that she got a bank repossession for a song and her mortgage is the same as what she's been paying in rent. (Of course that doesn't take into account all the things that come up with a house....) With sound traveling down so easily to my area I only wanted one person living there. So, I dropped the price. And found someone! Nice guy named Dave, construction worker, has offered to mow the lawn and help with lifting things. But I'm going to miss Marilyn!

Working out how to survive on my lower hours at work. I kept trying to learn how to do the pacemaker interrogations, but just couldn't get the hang of it. I read the book, asked questions, had a lot of time with the people who do the interrogations from the manufacturers but it just wouldn't click. Honestly, I think it's the brain damage from the surgeries. Everyone says I'm exaggerating, that I'm back to what I was before, but that's not true. It's frustrating, but understandable. My heart's been stopped five times for a total of over 11-12 hours, how can that not affect those little neurons? It's a well documented phenomenon, so it's mystifying to me why my bosses don't believe me. So, I lost those hours. And since the older doctor retired they hired a third PA for the hospital, but that gives a 'spare' for vacations, etc. So I'm down to just 24 hours a week, plus whatever on-call time I can get. My biggest concern is how the lack of hours will effect my health insurance, but that's a story for another time....

As a side note to the brain thing, Michael was asking before his heart surgery about 'pump head'. This is the result of having your heart stopped and being on bypass, your brain is just stunned. I said it was indescribable, the closest was trying to think through a brain full of cotton. A very disconnected feeling, frustrating because I felt like what I was trying to express was on the other side of a thick glass wall--could vaguely see it, but couldn't reach it. So, as we went to lunch the other week he started the conversation with "Oh My God--pump head is horrible!" "Isn't it?", I replied, "How would you describe it?" He said "Well, you and a couple people told me that it was like trying to think through heavy wool, and that wasn't it, but I can't think of any other description." "How do you explain the unexplainable?" said I. He agreed--there just are not words that adequately can give the picture. I still get sort of that feeling when exceptionally tired.

Trying some different things for the pain, alternative stuff. If it works, then I'll talk more about it!

Ok, gotta get to bed! More later, thanks for checking, Laurie

Jan 20: Defense of 'Larry' and my response

The following was meant to just go under comments, to address what had been said there and keep the main part of the blog about my recovery, life, etc. But it was too long for the comment section. I enjoy spirited debate with worthy opponents, but don't want the overall blog to get bogged down with them. PLEASE do not feel that you have to defend your Church or beliefs, try to convert me or show me the 'light'. These are just my opinions, to which everyone is entitled. If you don't like my opinions or point of view then either ignore them or don't read further. This blog isn't meant to be a religious boxing match.

Ya know, I've read 'Larry's' comments again, and there really isn't anything objectionable. His phrasing was much more impressive than was mine, and I'm really impressed by the Greek/Hebrew type-set! On re-reading, he actually backs up what I initially said regarding the phrasing of Jesus' title. And he is correct that once posted on the blog it's public, nothing he said was disrespectful, although the quote wasn't necessary. In a tone trying to be respectful of a differing opinion, here is my response:

Larry, to answer your question regarding my feelings of the Jewish faith: based on what I'd said you weren't leaping to conclusions if you thought I had Jewish leanings. But, in my opinion, the Bible is not the word of God. I believe the Bible is a collection of stories which have been in existence for a long time and have become tradition. To my mind there is no difference between the stories in the Bible and those of Greek and Roman mythology, they were just the first ones written down. Every civilization throughout time has had some interpretation of creation, tried to find order in the universe, what happens after death. All of these stories are trying to explain basic human questions of where we came from, what the earth around us represents and our relationship to something greater than ourselves.

The rise of Christianity, while initially rooted in Jewish tradition, flourished for other reasons, explainable if you look at the political and social situations of the people who were attracted to the teachings and promises Jesus represented. Unlike the prevailing religions at the time which required money to attract the favor of the gods, Jesus' religion promised that just believing was enough. What a change to a mostly poor and downtrodden populace who couldn't hope to compete with the rich gifts they had been told were necessary to the other religions!

But it doesn't mean any of that is the word of God.

Larry, based on your references and obvious knowledge of Biblical history, you must know the rather checkered beginnings of early Christianity and how the gospels were initially communicated. Room for lots of mistakes and elaboration by well-meaning people trying to attract others who were used to being told stories of gods and goddesses which were filled with magic. "King of the Jews" was meant as a deliberate insult, referring to the Jews refusing to worship Cesar as a god. And, as the Catholic church grew in power and influence, deliberate interpretations which would increase their standing with kings and countries which would support them financially, increasing their power.

If Christianity works for you, Larry, then that is great. If it makes you a better person, helps you through the day and gives you peace regarding what comes after this world, then it fulfills what religion should represent. But my issue with the very vocal Catholics/Protestants that seem to have the greatest influence on our country and politics right now is that someone else's religious beliefs shouldn't be imposed on me, or my country which was founded on the principal of Separation of Church and State. The 'religious right' who claim that their interpretation is the only one, that they know what God wants and are channeling his wishes. (Robertson's statement that the earthquake in Haiti was a result of their 'deal with the devil'. He's the 'moral majority'? Yikes!) In the Old Testament Moses is permanently changed by his personal encounters with God, and yet these Bible-pounding evangelists claim to have a direct line of communication? Anyone who says they KNOW what God wants makes me very, very afraid. It seems to be the very definition of hubris.

More concerning is that these 'ministers' who have such large followings and profess to be such good Christians don't follow what Jesus taught: they are horribly judgemental, don't show compassion for those less fortunate than themselves, believe in forcing their interpretations on everyone, feel that they are justified in their bad behavior because they have God on their side. That is a very dangerous point of view. Didn't Jesus lead by example? Help others without requiring them to believe in him, but know that he was teaching in the way he treated anyone with whom he had contact?

Jesus taught surrounded by nature, he didn't ask, much less demand, large expensive structures to be built to his or God's glory--that was man's interpretation. These cathedrals built at great expense, the leaders of both Catholic and Protestant religions dripping with expensive cloths and gold adornments, standing on a stage covered with silver, gold and jeweled cups and such representing someone who dressed simply and lived sparsely? How much money is wasted on glorious representations of what was a plain wooden cross? The Catholic Church controls their believers with threats of purgatory and hell, which isn't what Jesus' message seems to represent to me. If you read anything on the history of the church you see that over the centuries they have been tremendously hypocritical in what they actually practiced, changing the 'message' to glorify themselves, just using God as an excuse. They favor the subjugation of women, promoting disparity between the sexes instead of recognizing and appreciating what men AND women can add to humankind. Why do the gifts that we bring as individuals have to be judged in worthiness based on our sex?

These are just a few of the reasons why I'm so against the C/P religions, although not the people who try their best to live what truly is a Christian life, live the teachings of Jesus, which is why my phrasing always excludes them. People who live lives of service, helping others, sacrificing themselves and putting others before their personal wants: those are the people who are truly followers of Jesus Christ. To me a Christian doesn't need to quote scripture of questionable origins, but they live the teachings, the essence of what is contained in those gospels.

There are so many wonderful teachings from other religions, mind-stretching and elevating words from 'regular' people as well, some better known than others. My favorite UU bumper sticker is "God is too big for just one religion". How can we think we can totally understand something as vast and wondrous as God? Yet all religions have something akin to the Golden Rule. Wouldn't it be wonderful if everyone could just deal with others as they would like to be treated? And respected the right to have different opinions with the understanding that no one really knows what or who God is?

That is what I've always strived to do: treat others as I would like to be treated and respect opinions which differ from mine, even if I don't agree with everything expressed. All I can be responsible for is how I live my life based on my interpretation of the Divine. Some days, some moments, I do a better job than at other times. I only hope that in the end my life averages out to having done more good than bad, having made my tiny corner of the world left better with me than it was without me, to make a positive difference in other people's lives. Because, regardless of what comes after this life or whatever your definition of what God wants, that can't be the wrong thing to have done.

Wishing you peace and understanding, regardless of your choice of religion. Laurie

P.S. I keep going back and revising, editing and tweeking this--gotta get some sleep!

Jan 14: Christianity and a cat that needs a home....

Kevan's comments made me cry. Thank you, my old friend. It's always nice to get recognition, although everyone in Ossining has expressed their appreciation. John certainly talks about me, because after introducing myself as John's cousin Laurie it is often followed by "Oh, you're THE cousin!" Martha's family, especially her mother, father and half-sister have personally thanked me for taking care of her. Her friends have also been very grateful, I feel like my circle of caring people has been expanded tremendously.

Only one correction: I am definitely NOT a Christian, I just try to act like one ;) Howard, one of the members of my small group ministries (we meet monthly) expressed it perfectly when he said "I follow the teachings of Jesus, not Christ." This differentiation is not understood by many, but Christ was the title given to the man and what became changed to suit those who sought power and control over people. My disgust of the Catholic/Protestant religions is a badly kept secret. Not those who truly try to love and practice what Jesus taught, but the hierarchy who have politicized and bastardized the message over the years, taught exclusion and hate of anyone or anything different. That isn't what Jesus meant, especially if you read some of the Gnostic Gospels. (Here endeth the sermon....)

On a separate note: A gal at work needed a place for her cat, it was supposed to be short-term as she had someone who could take her in a couple weeks. Well, that fell through. It's now been over six months. Oreo did not do well with my four, especially Chester, who really enjoyed terrorizing her. In fairness to Chester, however, Oreo really invited it. She hissed at everyone, lashed out when both Zerla and KC tried to be friendly. After years of being an only cat she was not fitting in well. Marilyn took her after seeing Chester being mean, but Oreo hasn't even managed to get along with Marilyn's two cats, who are just the nicest, sweetest things. She is now expressing her dislike of the situation by concentrating her urine, causing a horrendously strong ammonia smell which permeates not only the upstairs apartment but actually comes down into my place as well. This will make the apartment completely un-rentable.

So, Oreo's time here must come to an end--fast. The limit to my largess can be defined when it comes down to me losing money, especially since my hours have been backed down to just 24 a week. I have to rent this apartment with as little down time as possible.

Oreo is six, and had a completely clean bill of health when I took her to my vet a few months ago, also receiving her immunizations. She's small, about 7 pounds, mostly black with some white on her chest. She is very sweet, loves being on people's laps, is quiet and well-behaved. But she has to be an only cat. She'd be perfect for an older person who needs some easy companionship. I'll try to place her in a no-kill shelter, but with time of the essence she might end up at the SPCA where she would probably be euthanized fairly quickly. That would be a shame for a healthy, loving animal.

Hope someone can help, please let me know ASAP. Thanks for checking, Laurie

Jan 13: Didn't mean to leave you hanging....

Just had checked Michael's blog (he's doing fantastically well!), about to get ready for bed and checked here. Seems you are due the quick report....

Got the picture boards done Thursday night, except for the dates and all. Left later than planned on Friday because of the weather; KYW was just reeling off a list of accidents that morning and it wasn't worth the risk. I went straight to Martha's best friend Lisa's house, met up with her and two of her other closest friends. They loved the boards (six in all) and helped with identification. Went to house, some family there, all gone by 7 pm. The friends came over briefly, everyone was in bed by 10:30.

The service started at 1 pm Saturday, John got out the door fully dressed and in organizing mode about 9:30 with instructions to me to arrive with the kids by 11:30. In one of the only moments in history I was actually ready early and after a couple minor things were taken care of (Lyle needed something of his Mom's to have with him, Emma's skirt was having static cling issues with her pantyhose....) we arrived before the appointed time.

The service was wonderful, John did an outstanding job of conceptualizing and arranging things. There will be a site with the entire service posted, I'll let you know the address on the off-chance you want to see it. She already had a site when she was running for supervisor.

There were over 500 people there, without exaggerating. The church sits 390 and every pew was packed. The walls were lined with people at least 2 deep, the vestibule was full and a room behind the worship area usually used for coffee also had a lot of people, although only wired for sound. The reception line after went on and on and on. John and the kids held up incredibly well. There was an amazing long party at a local restaurant afterwards that was joyful and celebratory and sad all at once.

I had to leave the party and go back to the house for a rest, although I hated to miss anything. After an hour and a half I went back, cognizant that this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Sunday John wanted to go to church, so while Lyle and Emma slept late we went back to the church for usual morning services, accompanied by a long-time friend of John's who had driven down from Vermont and slept at the house as well. In the afternoon there was a smaller impromptu party at the house before everyone started leaving. I swung by the friend's house to say good-bye to the 'girls' again before heading home, arriving about 9 pm, absolutely exhausted and spent.

Jane, John's sister who has lived in New Zealand for over 30 years now, has extended her stay, which makes John very happy. He and the kids are now returning to 'normal' activities, with the knowledge that a 'new normal' has to be established. It's remarkable how many times that phrase seems to be appropriate....

In addition to massive amounts of catching up on everything, my main focus is in finding another tenant. My current renter, Marilyn, has become a close friend in addition to being a model co-habitator of the house. It's hard to begrudge her leaving, because she has bought her own house, which is very nearby. Finding someone new will be difficult, especially someone very quiet. In a careful reading of craigslist regarding discriminatory postings it seems that I'm exempt from a lot of them because it's less than four units and I live on the premises. I'm just not allowed to say in the ad or on the phone 'no kids'.

I'll catch up on more spiritual stuff later. This experience with Martha has definitely put death and dying back in the forefront of my mind, as well as dealing with grief and change.

The only remaining issue directly affecting my health from this whole experience is the significant chest pain I still have after well-meaning people were too exuberant in a lot of hugging. I'm afraid there has been much more Tylenol, Advil and Darvocet use in the last few days.

Gotta get to bed, thanks for checking, Laurie

Jan 6: I may be repressing?

Didn't sleep well last night, not sure why.

Stomach off all day, nothing specific.

Zerla is definitely walking better!

Michael's surgery is tomorrow, and I'm totally comfortable about where he is (Cleveland Clinic) and how great he's going to do.

Took six sticks, combining fingers and toes, to get enough blood for my home INR test. It makes no sense, because it was on the high side (4.0, supposed to be 3.0-3.5). So now I've got 6 small round bandaids stuck on fingers and toes. The fingers hurt, but my feet were too cold, only tried twice. I hate sticking my fingers, because they hurt afterwards. (FYI: more blood needed for this than checking blood sugar.)

Got a lot of stuff done on the poster boards for Martha's memorial. Two out of six done (except for dates, notations, etc.). Then started on the middle two, which begin with John and her marriage. I used two of the colors from her bouquet to accent, added some hearts, put their photo in the center, 5 x 7, then surrounded it with a few other shots: in a line up with her family, with her BFFs (and they have been), her father walking her down the aisle, her mother helping with her hair. It takes up about a quarter of one board. Then I lettered it with pretty cut outs (my handwriting is NOT the best!). After all this I stood back and surveyed the results with pride, because it really looks nice. Martha always raved about my scrapbooking. And my first thought was "Martha is SO going to love this!" And then it hit me that she isn't going to see it, that this was because she's dead, and I just started sobbing. Because it's still so unreal. She is so vibrant in the pictures, so alive. But she's not.

This just sucks.

Maybe if my stomach stays off I'll lose a couple pounds. There has to be a silver lining here somewhere.

Now late, have to get to bed. Work full day again tomorrow, try to finish up the boards, leave Friday morning for NY. Have to check with John to be sure Lyle and Emma both have appropriate clothes for the funeral. Lyle got a really nice shirt from a grandparent for Christmas, John turned to me and said quietly "Well, at least I know he's got a nice shirt for the funeral." Emma should have gotten a dress when shopping with her cousins from New Zealand--everything is so expensive there that they go wild with shopping when here.

Maybe if I really let lose and cry myself to sleep my stomach won't bother me tomorrow. Or I could have horribly swollen eyes and still have an upset stomach. Decisions, decisions.

May not be able to post for a few days, or may use this venue to vent.

Thanks for checking, in any case. Laurie

Jan 3: Martha, stumbling around, Zerla, Michael

My mind has been in a whirl, I've been exhausted and numb and all sorts of emotions. Last week was just incredible fatigue, barely got through the days of work. Not making the situation any easier was that I had to work in the hospital a couple days, which tires me out under normal circumstances, and these weeks have been anything but normal.

This last weekend was very recuperative for me. Friday I didn't even leave the house. But so much stuff had to get done that posting kept getting pushed to the back burner. And there is so much I want to write about: illness, being close to death but on a different side of it, the grief that is coming now. It's almost 11:30 pm, so this will not be comprehensive, but will hopefully serve to remind me of things to expand on at a later period.

It's the grief now, mine and others. I'm feeling somewhat isolated with no family or friends around me who are sharing in this particular death, so a lot of time has been spent on the phone. I was trying so hard to take care of everything with John and the kids that my own emotions hadn't come to the surface, and sharing those with others who have lost Martha is necessary and therapeutic. I've also had to get an appropriate dress, requiring a trip to KOP mall, which I do not enjoy. But found a pair of shoes for my hard-to-fit feet as well, so at least productive.

I've taken on a project for the memorial which has gotten progressively larger in scope than originally planned, and the next several days and nights will be spent trying to madly finish it. I've had to admit to John that it involves pictures, but am trying to keep it a surprise beyond that. John and the kids don't read this, so it can be safely revealed to you loyal readers. I called Martha's mother, brothers, friends and half-sister (who is the daughter of Martha's father) and asked them to send pictures of Martha from childhood and over the years, especially before she and John were together. These will go on a series of poster boards, the number expanding by the day, for the memorial service. Afterwards I'll put them as a collage in a poster-sized frame. But it takes time for people to go through photos, then get them to me. Her mother is sending another packet to me tomorrow, and those need to be scanned (which takes me an inordinate amount of time, for some reason), the rest are being e-mailed, then have to go and get them printed. Then arrange them, decide on a narrative. The repeated phrase has been how much people have enjoyed doing this, going through old photos and memories, re-living happier times. It's been good for me to have something to concentrate on, to be involved with, channel my grief. Otherwise I feel kind of zombie-ish.

Zerla is doing pretty well. She's supposed to be walking around, the hope is that scar tissue will form and help hold the kneecaps in place. The left side is healing beautifully, the right side is still problematic. She doesn't seem to be in pain, but is uncomfortable in walking. The vet said it was OK for her to jump about 2 feet, allowing access to the bed and couch, but she won't do it. That takes a lot of rear leg projection, and she clearly doesn't feel comfortable with that yet. She loves it when I stay on the sofa for several hours, coming and looking up at me until I pick her up and settle her onto the couch, and I did that a couple times over the weekend. But with the aforementioned running around it hasn't happened that much in the last couple of days. But last night I was on the couch, commiserating with Martha's best friend. And we got each other crying. After only a minute or so I felt something at my feet, which were extended on the recliner couch. It was Zerla, the only cat who actually comes to comfort me when I cry, reaching up a paw and tapping my foot. I picked her so she could lie next to me where she assumed her usual position of putting her paw gently on my leg and purring. You simply can not stay morose with a purring cat next to you giving her gentle support. It also served as a reminder that the thousands of dollars in vet bills were because she is so sweet. None of the other cats will come near me when I cry, although to give appropriate credit, Chester has been very affectionate over the last several weeks.

The latest story to follow is that of my friend Michael. Michael is a friend from Fellowship who was diagnosed with a known but unusual heart problem about a year ago. It's called Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy, or HCM. I think it's mentioned in a couple previous posts. He's done a lot of research, which along with my recommendation lead him to Brigham. Various medications were tried, but he's been incredibly symptomatic. The only treatment for this is open-heart surgery, and the place that has done the most is Cleveland Clinic, where they operated on 168 people with HCM last year, the highest number at one hospital in the country. We've been talking since he was diagnosed, and he has adopted several of my recommendations, including a blog. Hey, why re-invent the wheel? He's an excellent writer, and you can follow his story at http://www.mlkheart.blogspot.com/ Anyway, his surgery is Thursday. Since he follows my blog, he knew I'd been distracted of late, but sent me a gentle reminder that he goes under the knife in a couple days.

So, that's all there is time for now. Getting my hair touched up tomorrow, which any female will tell you is necessary before a major event like a funeral/memorial service. And trying to get the last of the photos so something can get put on the boards. I work Wednesday and Thursday, then will go up to Ossining on Friday for the service on Saturday. Despite all the family there, including his sister from New Zealand, John informs me that everyone else will be in hotels and that I have my usual spot. It means a lot to me that he wants me with him and the kids at this time, even with everyone else around.

I'll post when is emotionally possible. In the meantime, please keep Michael and his wife Jenn in your thoughts and prayers.

Thanks for checking in, Laurie