Merry Christmas...or should I say Happy New Year?  I guess I skipped the whole Christmas because I was busy and then all heck broke loose on Wednesday.  So Merry Christmas and here is looking toward the New Year with hope and NO diet plans  for me.

Let's back up.  The semester is over for me!  My finals week was December 17th-21st.  On the 17th I had my 3 BIG finals (it's all essay baby!).  I went in to them confident and though my hand twitched from all the writing, and was literally sore for days, I am proud of how I performed.  This is going to sound egotistical - though mind you completely true - but I have learned a lot about history and the most rewarding experiences for me since I started college have been when I get the opportunitiy to demonstrate that knowledge in essays.  Any yahoo can take a multiple choice test and do well by dumb luck - but it takes actual brain power and comprehension skills to produce coherent paragraphs and essays.  So yes, I rock .  Tuesday was my appointment with Dr. Baker and marked the end of my days as a "tubed" individual (see "Tube-less" post for details) as well as a mildly successful Christmas shopping adventure with Kyle (the biggest accomplishment in my opinion was the purchase of my most "favorite-est" pair of pants EVER as my Christmas present from Kyle).  Then it was back to the apartment.  Wednesday was another final, 75 multiple choice questions, and I was done in less than 20 minutes - eh, no biggie.  On Thursday was my last final - another multiple choice with a couple terms to define.  By Friday evening I was at my mom's house to begin the countdown to Christmas festivities.  

Friday night my Aunt Sherri, Uncle Mark and my little cousin Alita arrived from MN, while my sisters, my mom and I drove up to MN to drop my nephew Sam off for a visit with his dad.  It is a hoot when we all get together.  We ate dinner in La Crosse at Famous Dave's BBQ shack (YUM) and after we dropped Sam off (always sad, but it is good that his Dad and his Dad's parent's take an active interest in Sam - we know they love him - and Sam loves them, so it is all good) we went Christmas shopping.  For my family, Christmas shopping is basically we pick out what we want and drop not so subtle hints so the other people have no choice but to figure out what we want (ex.  "Gee, I could sure use an espresso maker.  I don't think I want anything except an espresso maker, this espresso maker right here actually would be awesome.  Why don't I just set this in your cart so you can look at it and think about it as a present for me?"  This is an effective method for getting exactly what you want - not so good if you want to be surprised. 

Saturday night we got 8-11 inches of snow (which brings the season total to well over 2.5 feet).  Sunday we were dug out (at the small price of $20) by a kind four wheel driver with a plow on the front of his "ride" and later by a teenage boy with a tricked out John Deer tractor.  See there is this snow plow driver that burries our driveway in a wall of frozen junk that gets 2-3 feet high sometimes.  If I ever meet the snow plow driver in a dark alley he had better hope I don't have a shovel, that is all I've got to say.  We are such girls.  We had hoped to spend time with my relatives, but because of the snow they were stuck at my grandparent's house (20ish miles out of town) and we were stuck in town.  Monday found us with better driving conditions so my Aunt Sherri and my cousin Alita came to my mom's house to make cookies.  This is probably a bad idea for a post-op, but what are you going to do?  It is Christmas and someone has to make the cookies.  My sister, Debbie, helped Alita roll out sugar cookies while I embarked on the great "ginger bread cookie" experiment.  Alita wanted ginger bread cookies, but the recipe I had was for ginger bread cake.  So I made the batter and kept adding flour to try to get the dough more cookie-ish.  More flour, then I needed more brown sugar and an egg, then more flour and baking soda and a little bit more cinnamon, but not more ginger because let's face it - no one really likes the ginger in ginger bread - and then I got creative and added a splash of vanilla and some more sugar and a bit more molasses and then I needed all the more flour...it was a vicious cycle that ended with a HUGE batch of ginger bread batter - resulting in A TON of fluffy ginger bread cookies (yes, I said FLUFFY! most gingerbread cookies are only good for home construction because they are so stiff, but these were edible because they were soft and they only had a fraction of the recomended amount of ginger).  By the time I finally had the dough figured out Alita was happily decorating the baked and cooled sugar cookies - oh well, what are you going to do?  So I baked all 1000 of them myself and most of them are still sitting in gallon ziplock bags in my mom's kitchen (the fate of many unhappy Christmas ginger bread cookies that aren't used in construction projects, I'm afraid).

About the time the cookies were done my mom got home from work, my grandparents arrived as well as my uncle Mark with their family dog - Millie.  Debbie had made her famous sandwiches (lots of lunch meat, a specail sauce involving cream cheese, mustard, and mayo, and then topped with shredded cheese and lettuce) for us to enjoy as a light dinner before our church's Christmas Eve service.  The service was delightful as normal - and about half way through Kyle arrived after work (Wal-Mart showed some unusual Christmas spirit by kicking customers out as soon as possible after the store was supposed to close on Christmas Eve, so associates could get home to their families).  It was nice to see him considering I had been gone for a while.    

After the service we rushed to my mom's house to open stockings (a Robertson family tradition).  We went around from yougest to oldest opening one present at a time.  My grandparents are the ones that hand out these stockings (which are really socks stuffed to the gills with various goodies).  But the rest of the family had small things to give to Grandma and Grandpa too.  Back story - my grandma loves pomeranians (the kind of dog Delilah was) because she grew up with them and when we first heard there was a dog needing a home all we knew about her was she was a small, blonde dog.  Delilah was the small blonde dog, and the first time my grandma saw Delilah, her face was just priceless.  It was love.   Fast forward.  Just a week or two before Delilah died she was really lethargic and just wanted to be cuddled and held, which was a bit unusual for our usually independent little girl.  My grandparents came over for dinner and Delilah rested in my grandma's arms for probably a good hour.  We got the sweetest picture of the two of them resting in the recliner and I printed off a copy of it and framed it in a nice picture frame, and also had a mug made with that image on it.  Grandma opened the framed picture Christmas Eve.  I think it is safe to say that she loved the picture.  It chokes me up to think about it.  My poor Delilah, I can still see her sad brown eyes as the vet inserted the needle in her vein.  She just looked so small and tired.

Anyway. Christmas Eve stocking opening was a lot of fun.  And when all the presents were opened we played cards (another Robertson family tradition).  After card games were over and everyone was getting ready to go home, I had made a special stocking for Kyle, that he was supposed to open in private, but my over-excited younger sister, Cathy, advocated for him to open it right then.  I warned her that some of the items inside the stocking were not "safe"  to open with small cousins running around.  But I did pick out the "safe" ones - which included Jelly Belly Jelly Beans, silky black PJ pants with kisses all over them and a DVD.  He got to open the rest later...

Christmas day we headed out to my grandparent's house for a brunch of honey ham, waffles, cheesy potatoes, and all kinds of other goodies (another Robertson tradition - no one leaves even remotely hungry or underfed).  I am a bit embarassed to say I passed out after brunch because I had a few too many bites of my waffle, causing me to dump big time.  While I slept everyone else played card games.  After that we saw my Aunt, Uncle and cousin off - then we headed back to my mom's house.  Christmas Day evening found me, my sisters, my mom, my grandparents and Kyle opening the rest of our gifts at my mom's - with way too much food to eat.  Highlights of my gifts include - an espresso maker (YESSSSS!), a really nice sweater from my older sister, coffee paraphinalia to use with my espresso maker and peanut M&M's.  As soon as present opening was over I went to the kitchen to make myself a long-waited for macchiato.  Half an hour later I got really frustrated, cursed the machine and gave up.  Thankfully my husband and older sister are much more patient - and they worked to make me a really good macchiato as I pouted.  Then more card games.  

9:45 Christmas Day evening found my two sisters, Kyle and I at the movie theater - watching the second National Treasure movie.  Grrreat movie.  I like them both a lot.  That brings us to Wednesday - Dad arrival day - which you can read about in the "YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE..." post further down so I won't bore you with the details.

Grades came out just a day or two ago and I made out with 5 A's and 1 B.  Mind you this is after I missed at least 3 full weeks of school this semester from my tube nightmare. 

LOL!  Okay, let me preface this by saying - Everything is OK.  A little smelly, but OK.  

It was an uneventful day - my dad left this morning to go back to Pennsylvania after a relatively unexciting visit (well, unexciting except for that first day - tell you about the rest of it later).  I worked a couple hours at my mom's office and I practiced some music to perform tomorrow at church with my mom and sisters.  Very exciting.  My older sister (Debbie), my nephew Sam, my mom and I were reclining in my mom's living room watching Finding Nemo (one of Sam's favorites) for the 1000000000000th time getting unwound for bed.  I figured as long as I was just sitting around I might as well be hanging out on OH - so I turned my laptop on.  Almost as soon as it booted up the TV and a bunch of lights went out.  I figured that my laptop blew a fuse.  So my mom sent my older sister down to the basement to check the fuse box (I'm sure there could be a more technical term for the box on the wall where the fuses are, but I am a typical female so I don't know wha that term is) but it wouldn't let her flip the thingy.  So my mom went down after her with a flashlight and I stayed upstairs with my nephew - talking to Kyle (husband) on the phone.  Then my sister calls up to me "Something is burning down here!"  I tell Kyle that the house is on fire so I'd better go.  I get down there and investigate.  I opened up the door to my sister's room (the basement is an apartment made for my older sister and my nephew) and it is full of smoke.  It was about then that my older sister sent me upstairs with Sam, just in case.  While I was upstairs with Sam my mom called Bob (the guy, the saintly guy, who did the electrical work in the basement and knows the layout - and who also lives a good 15 miles out of town) and Bob said he'd be here as soon as he could get here.  Then when it kept getting worse (I could smell it upstairs) she called another guy that she works with who is on the fire squad (Chris).  She babbled 'I was...ahhhh...and then we....ahhhh....upstairs and the lights....ahhhh...and now there is smoke.....ah....and it's burning in the basment but we don't know where." and somehow Chris' wife (who my mom was talking to) disiphered that to mean we were having fire-type-problems and she sent Chris right over.  My mom is sitting next to me on the couch - having read her what I've written thus far she laughs and says "Yeah.  I'm good under pressure."  In the meantime I am upstairs with Sam, who wants to be downstairs where all the excitement is (not to mention his mom and playroom).  I am trying to clean the living room and kitchen in the event we need to call the fire department - heaven forbid our house is messy as it burns to the ground.  It occured to me that cleaning a house that is potentially burning down is kind of silly, but that is the kind of silly I am.  While cleaning I also called my younger sister, Cathy, who was out with friends, to get her to come home in case we needed her.  She was surprisingly willing to come right away.  Once I felt like I wouldn't have to die of embarassment from the mess in the house, I figured I needed to get socks on Sam just in case we need to evacuate.  Sam, being a typical 2 year old, saw me coming with the socks and took off running.  He was going to be clever and darted in the pantry, but he didn't quite get the door open wide enough so he smacked his head on the door knob.  Well, he burst into tears, and just then Chris showed up, followed by the fire department.  At least the first floor was semi clean....

Downstairs at this time my mom is cleaning the front room (see where I get it?) after calling 911 (when she called the operator advised us to evacuate the house - and my mom said "Well, we can't really tell where the smoke is coming from so we're going to try to find it just in case we can stop it") and my older sister is tearing through her room looking for the source of the fire (checking outlets, lamps, whatever with her little flashlight).  The fire department guys couldn't find the source of the "fire" at first either, which makes me feel better.  Eventually, after a good 8 fire trucks, 2 police cruisers and an ambulance showed up outside of our house, the fire fighters found the source of all the smoke - a burnt out balast, whatever that is.  They had to cut some wires and take the balast out, but then we were back in business.  In the meantime Bob had arrived and was touring the damage in the basement, while Sam and I were admiring the fire trucks through the front door.  Cathy pulled up to the house and called me with her cell phone, "I see there are a lot of fire trucks outside.  Can I go back to my friend's house now?"    

To Prairie du Chien's finest - Thanks for the help.  They got here very quickly, were very helpful and did not laugh at us for being a house full of girls.

No harm, no foul, and it wasn't even my laptop that caused all this.  That was what I was afraid of - I figured I overloaded the circut or whatever it is called, when I booted up.  Turns out it was just a coincidence.  It was funny, after the fire department had left Debbie, Sam, Mom and I sat in the living room and laughed about how we reacted (and we were also a little delirious from the adrenaline).  My mom's first reaction was to think about how to get the piano outside.  I was worried about my espresso maker.  Notice we didn't actually get anything outside - we just kind of thought about it - instead we went on "merry maid" mode and tried to get our house, that we thought was on fire, in good shape so we wouldn't have to be embarassed as it burned down.    Priorities.  

Well, that's it for now.  The house smells like a long poker game played between cigar chain smoking men was hosted here, but just as burnt popcorn smells of the past have eventually wafted away I expect this will eventually pass too.  What a night...what a week...what a life 

 I think I have about seven minutes of sanity left before the proverbial "they" have to come and lug me away in a straight jacket.  So consider this my last entry as a competent person - well, mostly competent anyway.  How did we get to become to crazy in just one day you ask (we being me and the voices in my head that have sprung up one by one throughout the course of today until they are a happy little chorus chittering away as my brain cells flee one by one)?  I would like to take these few precious moments to explain, lest anyone think I went crazy for no reason.

YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE THE DAY I'VE HAD AND IT IS ONLY 4 PM!

It started out as many vacation days do - me lingering in bed just a little bit longer, until 9:15 am rolled around.  I got up and went downstairs to converse with my two sisters, Debbie (the older) and Cathy (the younger) who were just about to leave to go pick up my nephew from a visit with his dad.  I got the low down, and created a mental to-do list as I bid them farewell.  See today my dad was supposed to get here (here being my mom's house where I am staying until the New Year) from Pennsylvania for a visit.  If you are just tuning in to the "As the days go by through the hour glass Amy melo-drama" you might not know the sigificance of my dad.  Let me get you up to speed.  My dad left us when I was 8 with no money (he emptied my mom and his checking accounts and split) several years later he started paying child support.  He left us in government subsidised housing with food stamps and less than $6000 in income the first couple years in the meantime.  Fast forward.  He faithfully (well, relatively faithfully) pays child support and is a cop, not just a cop, but chief of police.  Then he is done with that gig and starts as a cop in a school where he acts as security and also teaches courses and hosts clubs.  I am about 14-15.  He starts a relationship with a girl a year younger than me.  Ick.  They get found out and he gets arrested.  He spends about 3 years in jail, mostly because when he is put on probation he continues to meet up with and have a relationship with the underaged girl.  Great.  As for me, I finish high school, go to college, have WLS, get married and move on.  Occasionally he drops in to my life and though it takes time I eventually recover.  I'm not sure it'll be possible this time.

So, back to our regularly scheduled programming....  The Time:  10am December 26th. The Place:  My mom's kitchen

I am fidgeting with my new espresso maker that I got for Christmas, trying to make a sugar free caramel macchiato.  The carafe has over flowed twice and I have burnt about 8 oz of milk.  It is going to be a while.  I empty the machine of water totally, clean it out, and start over.  In the mean time I take the garbage out as part of my "To Do before Dad gets here" list.  Our little dumpster-ette has been tipped over by all the snow and high winds we've gotten, so I dig it out of the snow, shovel out a place to put it and fill it up with garbage - elapsed time:  30 minutes.  I go back in the house and my espresso has successfully been made, but has gone cold.  Great.  I pour espresso in to a mug and place it in the microwave.  I need a shower.  Before I get to the shower my dad calls.  He is about 45 minutes away and just wanted to give me a heads up.  I dive in the shower, get dressed and FINALLY succeed in making my macchiatto which tastes even better because of the anticipation.  My mom calls and asks what we should make for dinner, I am chatting with her when my cell phone rings.  It is my dad.  I hang up with my mom and answer the cell phone.  

My dad says, "I got pulled over for speeding and Crawford County (where we live) has a warrant for my arrest.  The trooper is going to take me to jail and I need you to come here and get my truck and my dog.  I am about 15 miles south of PdC on Highway 18."

WHAT?

THE CHILD SUPPORT!  He didn't pay the STINKING CHILD SUPPORT that he owes to the tune of $25,000+!!  AND NOW CRAWFORD COUNTY IS GOING TO ARREST HIM!  

I call my mom, who has the same reaction WHAT! but she slaps herself together and is in the car in no time on her way to get me so we can go retrieve the truck and frantic dog who have both been abandoned on the side of the highway.  I call my little sister to let her and my older sister know what is going on and she says "That's not funny!".  They can't get back to town until 2:30 at the earliest, so I'm on my own until then.  The time is about 11am.  So we go get the truck - the dog (who's name is Buffy) is crazy.  I drive the truck in to town and on the way I get a call from the county jail.  If my dad can pay $2,201 he can leave.  He has two credit cards from his girlfriend (the same, formerly-underaged girl who he was seeing when he got arrested) and he will use those.  I just need to come get him.  Great.  

I get to the jail house, let the dog tinkle, then go inside where I am told my dad will be out as soon as the they finish some paper work. Could be worse so I wait.  Not two minutes later a deputy comes out to talk to me.  My dad can't use the credit cards because they aren't signed.  If I can't come up with $2,201 to give him he is going to get booked for 90 days.  My dad gives me three cards and tells me to go withdraw as much as possible - going to every ATM in town if necessary - and get back ASAP.  Great.  I drop the dog off at my mom's house (where she takes a HUGE dump on the floor) and thus begins my adventure.  He wanted me to forge the girl's signature but I wouldn't do it.  My first stop after my mom's house is the ATM at Kwik Trip.  The first card lets me get $200 out with no problems and I make the mistake of thinking this won't be so bad.  Then I pull out the second card.  After several attempts and receipts that accuse me of entering the wrong pin and trying to make illegal transactions I try the third card and get the same reaction.  Apparently I have the wrong pin numbers for those two cards. A line has formed behind me at the ATM and I can feel the judgemental stares piercing my skull so I go out to the car.  Then I make about 50 phone calls and finally get the girl's number so I can get the right pins.  She doesn't know them either, so I give her the card numbers and customer service numbers to call and get them.  She calls me back with one pin - I get $200 more out using the second card and a different ATM - but the third card has to mail her the pin so she won't have it for a couple days - however if I don't show up at the jail house by closing time with $2,201 my dad gets booked.  In the mean time this poor girl calls the jail house and empties her bank account - putting $1,000 toward the cause.  I still need $801.  I drive to another ATM and it lets me get $300 out of the first card.  Now I only need $501.  The time is 3pm.  She has an idea!  Western UNION!  She could wire me the money, only there aren't any Western Unions in PdC.  AH!  So I am to go to Wal-Mart and see if I can get a Money Gram with the unsigned credit card.  After speeding to Wal-Mart (wouldn't it be funny if I got pulled over?  That would be the only thing missing from today...) I find that the ATM actually prints Money Grams, so the unsigned-ness shouldn't matter.  This will be a piece of cake.  I swipe the third card and find out that the Wal-Mart ATM TALKS.  Yes ladies and gentlemen, the thing says in a loud, automated voice, "Swipe your card please", "Enter your PIN number please", "Enter the CORRECT PIN number please", "That is still not the correct PIN number", "You are trying to perform an ILLEGAL transaction", "You have Insufficient funds you dead beat", "What do you need $500 for, crack?".  The stupid thing is LOUD too, so everyone within 15 checkout lanes knows your credit card is over drawn or something, and is looking at you like you are a big loser (the bad kind of loser) and I just keep smiling and pretend laughing, "You are so funny you cute little ATM, pretending I don't have any money, ha, you are so clever" while under my breath the dialoge sounds more like "You listen here you over-rated cash register.  You accept that PIN because it is the RIGHT PIN and you know it.  Hand over the cash or the only thing I'm going to enter is my big foot right in your big, ugly screen."  Ugh.  It didn't work after a lot of tries, so when the nearest cashiers started looking at my suspiciously I had to give up and walk away like I was a satisfied ATM customer.  I don't know what else to do.  The girl calls me back - she has one final credit card with $500 on it, and the jail house accepted that as payment over the phone.  I need $1.  My little sister, who just got home, volunteers to pay it.  She jumps in the car as I slow almost to a stop in front of my mom's house, and I toss the wad of 20's at her to have her count them just to be sure.  She promptly drops them all over the front of the car.  Eventually after some seat diving all of the bills are recovered so we speed off to the jail house and finally everyone is home safe by 4pm - ugh. 

My macchiato is cold.  Boo.

And for the more important question:  "Why didn't we just let him get booked?"

That is a complicated question.  As people closest to me were alerted to the goings on of today, several of them suggested we just let him cool his heals in the clink for  a few days.  My mom called the Child Support office to see if she could call them off (she is too nice - literally) and the lady at the office after telling her they really couldn't do anything about it, wondered aloud what would be wrong with leaving my dad in jail for a few days.  When my grandma called (my mom's mom) already knowing what was going on, she cackled maliciously at the thought of my dead-beat dad finally in cuffs for slacking on his fatherly financial duties and I can't say I blame her.  When my sister called to tell my dad's parent's what was going on my Nana had the same reaction.  When I called my husband as I paced in front of my mom's house, waiting for my mom to come and get me so we could go get the truck, he didn't see the problem quite the same way either.  Heck, as I parked my car next to an outdoor ATM, my third encounter with an ATM of the day - waiting to hear back from my dad's girlfriend I looked at the cash I already had out - $700 in 20's - and had the urge to go get some new duds.  

So, why is he spending tonight in a comfy hotel instead of in the slammer?  Well, he IS our dad, number one, and when I saw him at the jail house on the other side of the glass, the abandoned 8 year old in me had a good internal cry.  Second, he is FINALLY making payments on the back-due child support, at about $40 a week.  It might not be much but it is $40 more than he has paid for years.  If he gets booked for 90 days here in Wisconsin he is sure to lose his job, and my mom will lose her shot at ever getting repaid.  So in the end we benefit - even if I have to sacrifice my sanity for a couple days. Now, where is that macchiato...and some rum...everything will be better with macchiato's and rum.

  =    Me right now.

What I need to be...




PS - The new time: 5:58pm.  I get a call from my little sister as she and my dad are at his hotel checking in.  My dad has just stepped out of the room so she has just a moment to let me in on the news - she asks if I am sitting down - so I sit.  Then she drops the bomb.  My dad's formerly-underaged girlfriend is PREGNANT.  In 9 months we get to welcome another kid into this SCREWED up scenario.  GREAT.  I guess I posted too soon because this day just keeps getting better.  This poor girl empties her bank accounts, maxes a credit card to get my dad out of jail - she is pregnant by a 44 year old and she is only 20 - and the other day he told me he is CHEATING on her, because and I quote "she is so mean".  My older sister and I had a conversation before everyone got back to the house.  I told her what Cathy told me and she says "When did our dad become such and ass hole?"

We look at each other.  Neither of us can remember a time when he WASN'T an ass hole.  We laugh. It isn't funny, but we laugh just the same and I imagine we'll just keep laughing all the way to the therapist's couch and eventually the padded rooms.

There will probably be more to this story - seeing as in oh, 20 minutes or so, we're all going out to dinner (we = me, my two sisters, my nephew, my dad AND my mom).  This should be fun.
 

I want to ask on the Main Board but I'm afraid to get myself in trouble.  I think someone(s) decided to "Ignore" button me!  Here is why...

I replied to a post and saw that someone had posted after me (ya know, in the far left column that shows the pic and username of the person who last responded to the thread) and I wanted to see what she said.  When I opened the thread her post wasn't there.  Then I tried to click on her username and is said "profile unavailable".  What's up with that?

Unfortunately this wasn't the first time that has happened.    What'd I say?

For the first time since August 12th I woke up this morning, put my hand to my left side, and there was nothing there but skin...beautiful, loose, skin.  *sigh*  and it feels great.

For further details...

Posted yesterday (12/18)

The saga is hopefully at its end as I watched Dr. Baker TAKE MY G-TUBE OUT this afternoon.  I went in to see him today because the muscles around the tube were really aggitated - I kept having painful spasms.  

Let me back up - I had corrective surgery on November 21st to deal with a complication.  Back in August I had a tube placed in my excluded stomach, a G tube, that drained fluid unable to drain because of a blockage - that blockage was fixed during the 11/21 surgery - but the tube had to stay in as a precaution.  3 weeks ago I had a couple tests done and the tests showed things were working properly, so they clamped my tube - forcing my plumbing to do all the work - and also to make sure it WOULD do the work.  And it did.

So, back to today.  Dr. Baker came in and asked how long I had my tube clamped.  I told him 3 weeks.  He asked if I had any trouble from keeping it clamped.  I told him I hadn't had any problems.  He asked me if I wanted to have it taken out and I said.....

 HECK YES!

So he took it out!  As soon as I stood up clear liquid gushed out, soaking through several gauze pads and paper towels before quitting.  Dr. Baker said that was pretty normal, and told me to expect it to ooze for a few days.

Well, I'm home and it is oozing, but not just oozing - BURNING and the fluid is brown and bloody.  I look like I've been shot in the belly.  The pain gets unbearable when liquid comes out - basically because the acid from my stomach is burning my belly skin, which is now dark red and puffy for about 2 inches all around the former-tube site.  Ugh.  I am currently on hold with the on call nurse, will let you know how it comes out....

Posted this morning (12/19)

Okay, it has stopped gushing stomach acid!  Last night was awful, but towards daylight things got better.  When I called the nurse hotline at the hospital where my surgeon works last night, they told me to make a barrier of vasaline or antibiotic ointment to cover the skin, so when the acid oozed out the skin wouldn't have acid burn.  They also told me to lay on my back as much as possible to keep the fluid inside the stomach (which makes sense - it got a lot worse when I stood or sat) so I just went to bed after I got off the phone.  

I had to readjust the packing around the wound several times last night, and when I got up this morning I had splotches of dried stomach juice all over my PJ shirt - but at least it feels better!

I was just panicked because no one told me it would be like that.  My surgeon told me it would ooze but he said nothing about acid burn.  It hurt like the dickens, and the skin is pretty red and has actual blisters this morning - but at least it doesn't burn anymore.  The stomach wall is supposed to have closed by now, so all the goop that oozes out is just normal goop from any open wound.    

So - I AM TUBE-LESS!  Did I mention that to anyone?  This is significant for a few reasons - the first being I will stop getting caught on doors, the second now I won't have muscle spasms from my stomach muscles trying to push my tube out and finally - 
THAT MEANS I AM ALL BETTER!  


Yeah.  That ROCKS.  God is good, and so are OH friends who have supported me through all of this.  Bye bye complication country, hello happy post-op bariatric life!  

The wound is sore, as any gaping open abdominal wound should be.  However it will heal, it is healing.  I am healing.  This will soon be a distant memory that I draw strength from.  I survived. 

IHOP = I Hope Overdose Passes or I Have Oversized Plate or International House of Pain.  Now it might not be this for everyone but it is for me becaue you stick a chicken fajita omlete and strawberry cheesecake pancakes in front of me and I can't stop myself.  This would be the 3rd time I've over eaten there (and I don't eat there very often at all).  Then this morning I decided to have the leftovers of my pancakes  and I just got back from heaving over the bathroom sink.  I didn't eat too many pancakes, well one is too many, but the sickness this time is from the sugar/carb content that is too much if you have more than 1-2 bites.

So note to self, as yummy and potentially good for me IHOP is / could be for me I think I've proven to myself that I can't handle it and I've lost the privilege of going there for a long while.  It just isn't worth the pain.

Sheesh it has been a crazy week.  I've hardly had 1/2 an hour to just SIT this week.  I've had a major project/paper due at the very least EVERY day this week - this is in addition to other readings and smaller essays.  We're talking MAJOR, makes a substantial difference in your grade, projects.  Those kind of projects that are worth staying up until 3 in the morning working on and then getting up at 5:30am to drive your husband to work.  I've averaged about 4 hours of sleep a night since Sunday beause I've been so busy - and anxious about being busy.  I was busy enough to forget an appointment with Dr. Baker for the first time EVER.  I am so embarassed about it, but I've never done anything like that before.  I realized this afternoon that I was supposed to have an appointment this morning at 8 with Dr. Baker in La Crosse, so as soon as I remembered I called and re-scheduled for next Tuesday - but I still feel like a jerk.    It just slipped my mind.  Did I mention that this was a crazy week?  Thank goodness it is almost over.

Then today the paper came out.  Something was missing...something, oh, I don't know - MY COLUMN.  No one told me it wasn't going to run, it just didn't run.  I submited something, but nothing ran.  I am a little out of joint about it, but I haven't had the chance (or been level headed enough) to ask about it yet so we're going to save angry, expletive laced rants for after I get an explanation if indeed they are still necessary.  I'll just go ahead and tell you now - I noticed - and I'm not happy about it.

On a more positive note, this was my last day of International Relations and my professor said to me "It was a joy to have you in class and I hope to see you again." .  That just abotu makes up for the column.  She is a good prof too so it means something.  I'm going to try to re-arrange me schedule for next semester so I can take something I need with her.  She has been really nice to me this semester.  She notices when I'm gone and when I tell her I have to be gone from class for appointments, surgery and what not she always asks me how I'm doing when I come back to class.  It is just nice because a lot of professors either don't care enough to ask or they are afraid to.  I appreciate professors who take an active interest in me.  So thanks.  I really do appreciate it. 

Tomorrow marks the end of this crazy week - and the week after that is finals.  That might sound scary but I'm not that worried.  2 of the 5 I have are take-home so that helps.  The other 3 aren't necessarily going to be easy but I think I'll be okay.  I've just got some time on the computer while I wait for Kyle to be done with an appointment. 

So this my new plumbing is working as far as anyone can tell.  That's great for a lot of reasons.  I still have this tube though.  The tube's original purpose - for normal people who have it - is for feeding purposes.  I am weird so it is a jerry-rigged draining device, but in the past it served as a way to feed me too.  It was kind of nice to be able to ingest protien drinks through this tube once upon a time because I HATE protien drinks and the only way I will consume them is if I don't have to taste them.  Well, my grandma got me these powders a while ago (carrot powder and barley powder) because she was worried - we all were - about how much nutrition I was able to consume.  I took the carrot powder with water for a while but it is NASTY - and I only took the barley once before deciding that God gave man real food for a reason.  That real intelligent people consume this stuff blows my mind.  Do you see where I am going with this yet?

I still have the syringe we used to feed me with, way back when this tube was a feeding tube.  And yesterday I had WAY too much time on my hands (and seeing as I had several writing assignments due today I was also easily distractable).  I decided to feed myself carrot and barley supplements through the tube.  All went well and I ended up ingesting 10 oz of the barley carrot mixture (2 tablespoons each per 4 oz water).  Then, about an hour later, I burped BARLEY!  ICK!

It made me laugh, and want to puke, for a long time.  I thought some of you might appreciate that.  Now off to class...

Yep.  Her body is shutting down, so tomorrow (Monday, 12/3) we're going to put her to sleep.  I have been crying on and off since Delilah got sick.  I think I've got it together pretty well now, but I don't know how I'm going to hold it together later on tonight when I'm at my mom's house.  I know she is starting to suffer.  Her bowels have shut down and soon it'll be her kidneys and liver.  She is resting, but her bloated belly does not look comfy according to my mom.  I don't want her to suffer anymore.  

We are fortunate because our vet makes house calls to do such things so Delilah won't have to go through the trauma of getting to the vet.  She is always so anxious and disoriented when we have to take her, so I am at least comforted to know she will be able to pass at home.  She won't be as scared that way.  Both of my sisters and I are able to be there so that is also a relief.  She'll be surrounded by people who love her.  I still haven't figured out how we're going to tell my nephew about this - how is he ever going to understand - but that is a problem for another day.

Somehow I can't shake feeling as if I've condemned her to death.  You know, like I'm helping to plan an execution.  I know that I don't want her to suffer and I also know that outside of an act of God Delilah won't get better.  I just hope she isn't scared or nervous.  I want her to be at peace and feel safe at the end - not frightened.  It is an oxymoron - safe lethal injection - but there's nothing else we can do so I'm going to have to find peace with it.  I'm also worried about there being pain for her.  It has been argued in court, in cases brought against the death penalty, that people who are giving lethal injections have some kind of a painful reaction at the end - that it isn't always peaceful.  I don't want that for Delilah.  Then again I don't want any of this for Delilah.  My heart hurts.

Pictures....



The red-eye tool made her eyes creepy, but this is still one of my favorite pics.  This is Delilah in her Christmas sweater.



Delilah could find a comfy napping place anywhere...



I rest my case.



Making friends with the enemy...from this picture you might think Delilah liked brushes.  Ha.  "Keep your friends close but your enemies closer"



Just what we asked for...what we always needed...and will always be thankful for.

The paradox of pets.  We love them so fiercely, yet the most we can hope for is to have their company for less than two decades.  Why do we torture ourselves knowing that in 10-15 years we're going to have to say goodbye?  Because we need to love like this and we need to hurt like this.  It is good to love fiercely and I can think of no other creature more worthy of this heartache.