I hate sitting in this place waiting. It makes my mind wander. Fully 50% of the people meandering around this building . . . those not employed by Moffitt . . . are cancer patients. Most of the other half are relatives, friends, neighbors. My eyes automatically drop to each couples wrists to see who wears the white, hospital dispensed, badge of courage and who does not.
Walking in, we are greeted by the phalanx 0f wheel chairs . . . as if a mere one or two will not suffice. A painful reminder of the ravages of the disease. The lobby smells of nothing. Another reminder that the needs of oversensitive noses are being taken care of.
It is cold since it is easier to add layers to keep warm then to cool off when too hot. Nauseated stomachs can be sensitive to too much heat.
I feel guilty here. For my health. Because so far, I have escaped its clutches. I see it on the faces of other spouses.
I check my watch a lot. To see how long before I get him back. Although the PET scan itself is relatively short, the prep work takes a long time. Total: 3 hours. I brought lots to occupy myself.
********************************************************************
We are home. The news was not as good as we expected. There are two more spots on the right side of his chest. Not on the surface, but not in or on the lung either. This was just the preliminary finding. The Amazing Dr. Z will call us on Wednesday after the definitive results of the PET are in and the board has met with their recommendations. Friday we go back over for a brain scan . . . it's just a precaution.
We are tired. It was not such a very good day in the cave. Tomorrow will be better. Yes. Yes, it will.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
there lived a young boy named . . .
tonight four of the Yoga Yaya's met for drinks before two of us continued on to class . . . nothing like a glass of wine to get your Om on. We don't normally participate in the night class but this was an exception to make up classes missed. I arrived at the center first. Not paying too much attention other than to note the police car parked over to the side, I locked my pocketbook in the car trunk, grabbed my mats and headed to the side door. I was almost there when I noticed a rather strange gentleman along the porch. Surprised, I jumped back. Since Lee, was pulling in the parking lot, I waiting to introduce her to my new friend.
He, however, would not move as we got closer. Not a good sign, so Lee went to get the officer to see if he could help. Our friend still didn't want to leave. As a matter of fact, he continued to guard the entrance. We finally caved and went around to the main door, leaving the cop and control services to handle our new bud.
Just thought you might like to meet him too:
Now somewhere in the black mining hills of Dakota
There lived a young boy named Rocky Raccoon
And one day his woman ran off with another guy
Hit young Rocky in the eye Rocky didn't like that
He said I'm gonna get that boy
So one day he walked into town
Booked himself a room in the local saloon.
Rocky Raccoon checked into his room
Only to find Gideon's bible
Rocky had come equipped with a gun
To shoot off the legs of his rival
His rival it seems had broken his dreams
By stealing the girl of his fancy.
Her name was Magil and she called herself Lil
But everyone knew her as Nancy.
Now she and her man who called himself Dan
Were in the next room at the hoedown
Rocky burst in and grinning a grin
He said Danny boy this is a showdown
But Daniel was hot-he drew first and shot
And Rocky collapsed in the corner.
The doctor came in stinking of gin
And proceeded to lie on the table
He said Rocky you met your match
And Rocky said, Doc it's only a scratch
And I'll be better I'll be better doc as soon as I am able.
Now Rocky Raccoon he fell back in his room
Only to find Gideon's bible
Gideon checked out and he left it no doubt
To help with good Rocky's revival.
I apologize for the quality of the shots, but at dusk with a cell phone, that's as good as it gets.
He, however, would not move as we got closer. Not a good sign, so Lee went to get the officer to see if he could help. Our friend still didn't want to leave. As a matter of fact, he continued to guard the entrance. We finally caved and went around to the main door, leaving the cop and control services to handle our new bud.
Just thought you might like to meet him too:
Now somewhere in the black mining hills of Dakota
There lived a young boy named Rocky Raccoon
And one day his woman ran off with another guy
Hit young Rocky in the eye Rocky didn't like that
He said I'm gonna get that boy
So one day he walked into town
Booked himself a room in the local saloon.
Rocky Raccoon checked into his room
Only to find Gideon's bible
Rocky had come equipped with a gun
To shoot off the legs of his rival
His rival it seems had broken his dreams
By stealing the girl of his fancy.
Her name was Magil and she called herself Lil
But everyone knew her as Nancy.
Now she and her man who called himself Dan
Were in the next room at the hoedown
Rocky burst in and grinning a grin
He said Danny boy this is a showdown
But Daniel was hot-he drew first and shot
And Rocky collapsed in the corner.
The doctor came in stinking of gin
And proceeded to lie on the table
He said Rocky you met your match
And Rocky said, Doc it's only a scratch
And I'll be better I'll be better doc as soon as I am able.
Now Rocky Raccoon he fell back in his room
Only to find Gideon's bible
Gideon checked out and he left it no doubt
To help with good Rocky's revival.
I apologize for the quality of the shots, but at dusk with a cell phone, that's as good as it gets.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
the amusing 9TS and other things . . .
I keep a chalk board hanging on the wall in the kitchen. If you use the last of something, the rule is, you have to put it on the shopping list or don't be surprised if it doesn't exist the next time you want it.
My kidlet is really good about this. I can always count on her to make sure she has Nutella, Grenadine or Chex Mix in good supply. The 9TS, not so much.
His mother always checked every cabinet before running to the store to see what she and her family needed. Bless her heart, she was a good mom. But she and I are different as moms and wives tend to be, so it took a little longer to get the 9TS with the program.
Now however, he likes to spice things up a little. This morning, I found Taco Bell sauce, Nonni's, and tilapia on the board. Oh, and one of the Sloth's picture grams.
My kidlet is really good about this. I can always count on her to make sure she has Nutella, Grenadine or Chex Mix in good supply. The 9TS, not so much.
His mother always checked every cabinet before running to the store to see what she and her family needed. Bless her heart, she was a good mom. But she and I are different as moms and wives tend to be, so it took a little longer to get the 9TS with the program.
Now however, he likes to spice things up a little. This morning, I found Taco Bell sauce, Nonni's, and tilapia on the board. Oh, and one of the Sloth's picture grams.
I'm used to him and I know what he runs out of most often so I got it right away. Do you know what he wants?
And while I was in the kitchen shooting the list, I found the sloth buried under the kitchen sink. We have a pesky leak where the granite counter top meets the back splash. Once again, it has buckled the floor of the cabinet and once again the 9TS is replacing it.
So while the 9TS is up to his ears in sawdust, hammers and nails, my cleaning supplies are scattered all over everywhere.
Which is OK, because . . . well . . . because the two of us rarely have any interaction. My vacuum, yes, the cleaning supplies I leave to Christine who scrubs her little heart out once every two weeks and keeps us one step ahead of the health department. She is a blessing. A boon. An angel.
And while I was in the kitchen shooting the list, I found the sloth buried under the kitchen sink. We have a pesky leak where the granite counter top meets the back splash. Once again, it has buckled the floor of the cabinet and once again the 9TS is replacing it.
Which is OK, because . . . well . . . because the two of us rarely have any interaction. My vacuum, yes, the cleaning supplies I leave to Christine who scrubs her little heart out once every two weeks and keeps us one step ahead of the health department. She is a blessing. A boon. An angel.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
thread and needles . . .
My poor sewing machine has been on the fritz for a long time now. I've not done anything about it since it is 52 years old. Yep, I inherited it from my mother. She used it to make most of my clothes for elementary school. It went to boarding school with me and to college. It made most of my maternity clothes, the majority of the Kidlet's baby clothes, even my Christmas cards two years ago.
And lately, things have been piling up that need attention. New curtains for the window panel adjoining the front door, new pillow shams for my bedroom, a cute pattern still unused for a mid length cotton skirt. A tote whose fabric I purchased last year.
But apparently nothing compelling enough for me to actually do something about it. My guess was the power cord since before it died completely, if I jiggled the cord, it would occasionally start to work. That and I blew its 52 year old bulb. The bulb was an easy replacement. The cord, not so much, but after scouring the internet and phoning around locally, I discovered a little shop several towns south which seemed to have the proper replacement cord. The 9TS hauled my all metal, monster weighing machine to the Vette and off we went.
The gregarious repair man extolled the virtues of older machines as he fiddled with the cord and finally got the new one installed. We collectively held our breaths as he plugged her in and flicked on the switch. And then there was light!!!!
We are back in business for a paltry $10 bucks. And why was I so stoked on getting my machine fixed after all these months???
This!
And lately, things have been piling up that need attention. New curtains for the window panel adjoining the front door, new pillow shams for my bedroom, a cute pattern still unused for a mid length cotton skirt. A tote whose fabric I purchased last year.
But apparently nothing compelling enough for me to actually do something about it. My guess was the power cord since before it died completely, if I jiggled the cord, it would occasionally start to work. That and I blew its 52 year old bulb. The bulb was an easy replacement. The cord, not so much, but after scouring the internet and phoning around locally, I discovered a little shop several towns south which seemed to have the proper replacement cord. The 9TS hauled my all metal, monster weighing machine to the Vette and off we went.
The gregarious repair man extolled the virtues of older machines as he fiddled with the cord and finally got the new one installed. We collectively held our breaths as he plugged her in and flicked on the switch. And then there was light!!!!
We are back in business for a paltry $10 bucks. And why was I so stoked on getting my machine fixed after all these months???
This!
from Karenika's blog here. In fact, take a look around and almost all of her projects involve sewing. And if I look back at all of the digital layouts I have done, there is stitching in almost every single one.
So tomorrow morning as soon as I get home from an appointment, I am going to play. And I couldn't be happier. Thanks for the push, Karen. I needed it.
So tomorrow morning as soon as I get home from an appointment, I am going to play. And I couldn't be happier. Thanks for the push, Karen. I needed it.
food is better together . . .
The 9TS and I have been missing our dinners lately. Not missing as in not eating but missing as in not eating properly and/or together. I've been missing home cooked goodness.
Friday night was Carrabba's, of course, where I couldn't decide what I wanted to eat and so with the help of Jen, our fabulous waitress and Joe, the proprietor, we created a new offering. I had remembered an old dish, long since removed from the menu, that I sort of liked called Pasta Rambo but it included shrimp or crab, neither of which was setting my palette afire. So they suggested adding chicken or sausage. And again I couldn't decide because both are well . . . slurp. So they made Pasta Rambo with chicken and sausage. Oh, and was that good, so good in fact, that I will be dining on it again tomorrow. I promise. So if you like mushrooms and spinach sauteed in a white wine and butter sauce served over linguine and topped with your favorite fish or meat, you know where to go . . .
But things went down hill from there. Saturday, the 9TS and his youngest son, dropped down to Daytona to watch the 24 hour race. While the sloth noshed on speedway fare, I had a mixture of romaine, tuna, feta, greek olives and dressing. Good but not a real meal with the 9TS consuming along with me. Sigh.
Sunday started very late and by the time I went to cook, I realized my zucchini had not fared well in the fridge and all plans for goat cheese, basil and aforementioned zucchini over grilled chiabatta went out the door. We ordered pizza.
Monday was all messed up. We went on a pillow hunt . . . another story . . . and by 3:00, my unfed body fell apart and demanded nourishment NOW. So we noshed at the closest establishment. B.J.'s. A cob salad sandwich (moi) and pulled pork sliders (9TS), later, all was right with our world. We continued our hunt and finally finished by doing the weeks grocery shopping. No one was hungry for dinner. We both snacked at 9:30. Sigh.
Tuesday, instead of our normal take-out, I wanted a real home cooked meal, but our tastes would not converge. And so, the 9TS made his broccoli and cavatelli and I, my much delayed zucchini. It was good but not quite the same as when we sit down together and eat the same meal.
Last night we finally agreed. Stuffed eggplant: zucchini, mushrooms, red pepper . . . oh my! Parmesan, bread crumbs, mozzarella . . . no lie! Onion, garlic, fresh basil . . . to die! Fresh parsley, ground pepper, olive oil . . . sigh! It was good. Very, very good. And we sat and noshed together, as we should.
And so, while I enjoy eating out, the truth is, I would much rather be futzing around in the kitchen making a meal for the two of us to enjoy together and now you can see why I have not done well on MMEL this week.
Friday night was Carrabba's, of course, where I couldn't decide what I wanted to eat and so with the help of Jen, our fabulous waitress and Joe, the proprietor, we created a new offering. I had remembered an old dish, long since removed from the menu, that I sort of liked called Pasta Rambo but it included shrimp or crab, neither of which was setting my palette afire. So they suggested adding chicken or sausage. And again I couldn't decide because both are well . . . slurp. So they made Pasta Rambo with chicken and sausage. Oh, and was that good, so good in fact, that I will be dining on it again tomorrow. I promise. So if you like mushrooms and spinach sauteed in a white wine and butter sauce served over linguine and topped with your favorite fish or meat, you know where to go . . .
But things went down hill from there. Saturday, the 9TS and his youngest son, dropped down to Daytona to watch the 24 hour race. While the sloth noshed on speedway fare, I had a mixture of romaine, tuna, feta, greek olives and dressing. Good but not a real meal with the 9TS consuming along with me. Sigh.
Sunday started very late and by the time I went to cook, I realized my zucchini had not fared well in the fridge and all plans for goat cheese, basil and aforementioned zucchini over grilled chiabatta went out the door. We ordered pizza.
Monday was all messed up. We went on a pillow hunt . . . another story . . . and by 3:00, my unfed body fell apart and demanded nourishment NOW. So we noshed at the closest establishment. B.J.'s. A cob salad sandwich (moi) and pulled pork sliders (9TS), later, all was right with our world. We continued our hunt and finally finished by doing the weeks grocery shopping. No one was hungry for dinner. We both snacked at 9:30. Sigh.
Tuesday, instead of our normal take-out, I wanted a real home cooked meal, but our tastes would not converge. And so, the 9TS made his broccoli and cavatelli and I, my much delayed zucchini. It was good but not quite the same as when we sit down together and eat the same meal.
Last night we finally agreed. Stuffed eggplant: zucchini, mushrooms, red pepper . . . oh my! Parmesan, bread crumbs, mozzarella . . . no lie! Onion, garlic, fresh basil . . . to die! Fresh parsley, ground pepper, olive oil . . . sigh! It was good. Very, very good. And we sat and noshed together, as we should.
And so, while I enjoy eating out, the truth is, I would much rather be futzing around in the kitchen making a meal for the two of us to enjoy together and now you can see why I have not done well on MMEL this week.
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