Friday, April 8, 2011

Day two, at sea . . .


Credits: Template: Tiffany Tillman, Papers: Katie Pertiet, Brads, Wave and Fish: Julia Makontinsky, Date Stamp: Dawn Inskip.

insanity . . .

it's sort of like Easter. Everyday I go to the litter box and hunt for eggs and jelly beans. I'm just saying . . .

Thursday, April 7, 2011

yippie ky ai . . .

let us off this rootin' tootin' rodeo!!!

Dr. K. and the Moffitt team have determined that the IL-2 would be too stressful on the 9TS's body. It has been nixed. Shuffle those cards boys, the plans have now been changed.

The good news is that last Friday, IPI was finally approved by the FDA . . . meaning it works. The bad news is that since it is no longer a trial drug, it will take a little time for the insurance companies to gather their wagons and decide to cover it . . . the drug companies have been flipping the bill up until now. Dr. K. says the 9TS is in no danger while this is happening.

So, we are on hold for a couple more weeks until they round up the strays and we mosey on back to Moffitt.

Peace out cow girls.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

a glorious afternoon . . .

this morning, having discovered that the heart group had not in fact, faxed the results of the 9TS's stress test to Moffitt, I decided a visit was needed. They were very pleasant about giving us a copy but then the snag seemed to be that it is Moffitt's policy not to give out email addy's. I begged and pleaded and whined and it worked. Soon after, I scanned and emailed the information, I received confirmation that Moffitt not only got my email but finally, a fax from the heart group. YAY!!! Mission accomplished. Hoop one completed. Now we need for them to clear the 9TS (hoop 2) and for our insurance to OK him for the procedure (hoop 3) and easy peasy we are ready to go.

And so, with this in mind, we scoured the neighborhood for p.j. sets for the 9TS. This is one of the reasons that I long ago sneaked into the 9TS's computer and deleted his link to my blog . . . he is not particularly happy when I chat about things like why he doesn't own one single p.j. set. But the answer is simple, he doesn't need them. I'll let you draw your own conclusions.

But, here was the problem. Dillard's and Macy's carry men's p.j. sets . . . about $68 per top or bottom. I'm thinking $136 is a bit pricey for a hospital stay especially considering we need seven sets. GAH! So we decided to try elsewhere. Target was a no . . . I guess I should mention that they have to have buttons/snaps or a zipper down the front, as pullovers won't function with a PICC line. Kohl's was another no. After a little more searching, we found ourselves in Belk's. Bingo. $36.00 per set, plus 30% off. Ding. Ding. Ding. The 9TS will be sporting fashionable duds at Moffitt.

After trekking around town, and stopping for lunch so the sloth could eat prior to his four hour required fast for his CT scan this afternoon, we decided a nap would be oh so decadent and delightful.

He ensconced himself in the blue lounger, covered by the afghan a client had made me back in the day before retirement and was soon softly snoring away. I decide to make camp on the bed tucked under the flap of the quilt. I quickly had the company of three snoring beasties and in short time, the cacophonous-ness of my cold ridden nose, joined in the choir and the roof top raised ever so slightly in tribute to Morpheus.

Such afternoons are glorious bits of heaven. I am convinced that if practiced the world over, this earth would be a little finer place to be.

Monday, April 4, 2011

ICK . . .

we got home from the 9TS's endoscopy and I headed upstairs to feed the beasties. I don't know what made me look around the loft but when I did, I screamed. Shrieked really. Hollered for the sloth. Carried on something fearful.

Who, but this guy, was looking in the window at me:

he was walking around on the cage to our pool. Now, that's a face only a mother could love.

They are carrions. I hope he wasn't looking for a little cat canape!!!!

As soon as I took a couple of shots, I opened the window and yelled bloody murder. He sauntered off, opened his wings, and took off for parts unknown.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

10 reasons to go back to bed . . .

1. I swung my feet out of bed this morning and landed in cat yak, compliments of Bear.
2. I have run out of Kleenex.
3. My neighbors were blaring music at 6:25 and have finally stopped.
4. We are on a water boil and I had to trudge downstairs for water.
5. My cold is at the never ending hacking stage.
6. The sky is falling.
7. I want a do over.
8. I have no choice but to prep my taxes today.
9. I read a blog that says never whine on your blog
10. It's my blog and I'll whine if I want to.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

he passed and other things . . .

with flying colors!!! The doctor was amazed. My old sloth has the stuff!!!!


and dorkism #3746

Joanie and I went to get my second ever pedicure. So I figured this time, I would be an old hand at this most wondrous phenomenon. And I was. I settled into my comfortable chair and played with all the buttons, I relaxed with my feet in the water watching the different colored lights flash back and forth, I moved my feet when he needed them moved, I barely flinched when he tickled the heck out of my feet with the loofah brush, I kept my tootsies calm as he painted each one . . . Vodka and Caviar . . . I sighed appreciatively when he threw on the hot towel, and I shuffled over to the drying station without scuffing my new paint. And there is where I got into trouble. The drying station has a place for your hands. Check. And then there is a shelf and then there is the floor. So I happily propped my feet on the shelf . . . until the little girl came over and motioned for me to put them under the lights . . . UNDER the shelf. GAH!

So of course she had to tell the guy who did my feet and they giggled . . . and giggled. And they were right. I am a dork. With an audience. Oh, why can't I do these things alone, at home, in the cave?

Oh yeah, I do. I just don't tell you.