Fancy Dancer

I am having fun exploring digital tools.  Today I signed up for Twitter.  It seems pretty stupid to me, if you want to know the truth.  But I enjoyed reading Stephen Wright’s Twitter… What do we call it?  A blast?  A blog?  A quote?  Whatever.  Here is my attempt to link to Twitter from here.

follow AuntFun at http://twitter.com

All You Need Is Love

I thought this was so funny, I just had to share.  Some of B’s friends came by the hospital 10 mintues after he checked out.  Here’s their story:

http://www.xcp.org/beringer/bruce/

What Do You Want The Girl To Do?

Yesterday I ran alone.  I didn’t want to go running.  After two days off, I wanted to stay in bed forever.  I wasn’t able to connect with any buddies to provide added incentive to get out of bed.  This was going to be me alone.  I didn’t feel well.  I had myriad excuses.  Nevertheless, I told myself that I would celebrate if I just ran one mile.  No more.  But on my way to the one mile point, I decided that I could run a mile out and a mile back.  I wasn’t paying attention as I passed the two mile turn around, so I decided to just lumber on a few more steps to the three mile turn around.  Unclear of exactly where that was, I continued to the four mile turn around plus just a little bit for good measure.  On the way back, a guy I saw before was running up to the canal and got right in front of me.  I fumed silently as I adjusted to go around him.  As I passed him, I realized he was huffing and puffing, groaning just a bit with each step.  “Tough to get going again, isn’t it?” I said.  “Yeah.” he answered.  “How far are you going today?” I asked.  “Two hours.” he said.  “Wow – good job! Have fun.” I said as I ran on.  About a third of a mile later as I crossed the street, he caught me.  “Did you earn that shirt?” he asked.  I was wearing my PF Changs Marathon shirt.  “Of course!” I said and I told him of my five marathons.  He is training for the Escape From Alcatraz triathlon.  That just sounds so difficult to me.  I prefer to run.  Just run.  I ran with him an extra mile making my one mile run just over five.

On this morning’s run with a buddy, I insisted we go easy.  I still wasn’t feeling well and plodding was all I could do today.  She agreed and then we set out to do some hill work.  She has decided that “easy” is my code word for “kick ass”.  At about 7 miles, my buddy pointed out a house with an antique Rolls Royce in front.  White Shoes!  Now I know where he lives – just a mile as the crow flies from us.   It was a nice run.  I want to do it again.  Right now.

In addition to finding the bottom of my in box, I have a writing assignment.  Sometimes, I feel about writing the same way I feel about running.  Better when it’s over.

Will the Circle Be Unbroken

White Shoes has found religion.  Bruce has taken my head phones.  I can’t listen to my iPod.  But tv is good when one is recovering.  And it is better with headphones.  So, I have been listening to White Shoes on the phone.  I am not sure if he is lecturing family members or friends.  He is going on at length about the evils of sugar and no exercise and insisting that the listener on the other end of the line take heed.  I seriously doubt White Shoes is going to change his ways.  If he were going to change his ways, wouldn’t he have done it after his previous visits? 

B’s blood pressure has been taking dives.  At one point, he was sure he was going to toss his cookies and then I thought I was, too.  Patrick, who took over for Anne after she went home, reacted quickly with a pan, wash cloths, an IV, and meds.  After B’s blood pressure came back up, the nausea subsided.  I get the feeling that Patrick really knows what he is doing and he takes his work seriously.  Just like Anne.  The nurse who took over for White Shoes’s brash nurse is just as loud and brash but in a flirty way.

I skipped dinner because I didn’t want to leave him to go get it.  Tonight I learned that some of our friends have signed up to bring us dinners for the next four nights.  We are so blessed.  What amazing friends we have.  Tonight I will say an extra prayer for White Shoes and his friends.

Only Heart

Leslie and I went to Miss LuLu’s in the lobby for lunch.  I had a tasty veggie sandwich.  There was a prayer wall with slips of paper and pencils.  I wrote a prayer for B.

After more than four hours into the surgery, the nurse called out to the receptionist and told her that they weren’t done yet, but that Bruce was comfortable.  I laughed and said “Of course he’s comfortable!  He’s sedated!” 

In the waiting room, Leslie and I were somewhat amazed.  We were in several waiting rooms today, but in one of them, the chairs were mostly “double wides” and most of the people waiting needed the extra room.  I wondered silently if this was just a microcosm of our society or if people who needed double wide chairs in the waiting room were also related to people who needed double wide chairs and that led to heart problems.  One older lady across from us didn’t need a double wide and was smartly dressed with her husband’s effects in a clear plastic hospital gear bag.  The kind we use as drop bags at marathons.  He wears white leather slip on shoes with tassles.  The doctor came out to chastize White Shoes’s wife and daughter that he needed to eat right and get exercise or he would have to have his legs amputated.  They reacted helplessly.  I suppose you can’t really make someone else take care of themselves.

When the surgery was over, Dr. Su came out and talked to me.  I like it that he acts like he has nothing better to do with his day than to patiently answer my questions.  I like it that he wrote a paper on this particular technique using animals 5 years ago and only a few months ago did they start doing it in this hospital on humans.  If Bruce had this procedure in December, as was originally scheduled, he wouldn’t have had the benefit of this specific technique, which is supposed to make healing go faster. 

Leslie came with me as we followed the gurney from the “Cath Lab” to his room in “The Tower”.  Sam, one of the nurses, joked with me that he kept calling for Susan during surgery.  But then before he left, Sam got serious and said “He told me that you get him off the couch and he slows you down and that’s why your relationship works.”  I got tears in my eyes.  That’s my B.

Leslie went home to her family.  I thought I wanted to spend the day waiting alone.  But having Leslie here was a good thing.  I am so glad she came. 

Turns out, Bruce has a roommate.  White Shoes!  I still haven’t seen him, but I have heard him complaining.  He had to lie flat on the table for one whole hour.  From the other side of the curtain, I am guessing that White Shoes won’t follow the doctor’s instructions.  The doctor came in to repeat his instructions.  This isn’t the first time White Shoes has been here for this.  It’s not looking good for White Shoes, in my opinion.  His nurse is loud and brash.  Is that the mask she puts on for patients like White Shoes?  (I am grateful we have Anne.  Quiet and quick yet willing to pause to answer my questions.) I will say an extra prayer.  And I will say a prayer for his roommate.  I don’t think it is going to be very peaceful around here tonight.

Bruce’s back is killing him.  He wants to move.  I feed him ice chips and massage his head and tell him that he has to lie flat.  If he doesn’t lie completely flat, the ends of the catheters could break off and would go straight to his heart.  Anne, his nurse, patiently gives me instructions and gives me the data I crave.  Any data is better than no data at all.  Anne takes a blood sample every hour or so and then has less than a minute to get it in the machine.  The magic number is 150.  When it gets below 150, they can take out the catheters.  The first time she test it, it was 181.  The next time was “In the 170s” according to Dr. Su.  He came in a few times to check on B, still acting like he would spend all day with us if we wanted him to.  The last time he was here, Dr. Su told us he would see us tomorrow.  I am worried about tomorrow.  I hadn’t planned on taking the day off, but I think I need to be here. 

Jeri sent out an email to the school asking for prayers and support for us.  I am overcome.  How did we get so lucky to be part of such a loving and supportive community?  I know my kids are being taken care of now.  I am not worried about them.  I know I have friends I can ask for help.  We are not alone.  It feels so good to not be alone.

Somebody

This song title comes from Christa’s favorite song.  She is the receptionist filling in here in the Cath Lab waiting area.  Leslie is here trying to make me laugh and it is working.  We are talking about going to lunch.  Here is a little something from a sign on every table here in the waiting area: 

“In consideration of our Patients who are Fasting, Please no Eating In the waiting Areas.  Thank you.”

Achy Breaky Heart

We’re sitting in Good Samaratain Hospital waiting for them to track someone down who can come in and perform another pre-op procedure on my husband.  I tend to speak up on his behalf and I am not sure if he appreciates it or just wishes I would shut up.  I am always trying to get the most competent medical professionals to perform the work.  They just told him that Betty, the tech who did the EKG and has a broken hand, was going to walk Linda, the tech who took his vital signs and from my assessment, the ink is still drying on her certificate from the Al Collins School of Medical Assisting (no GED required), through this next procedure and if that doesn’t work, they’ll get one of the nurses.  Would he rather have a male or a female nurse?  Excuse me?!?!  A couple of techs fumbling around trying to figure it out and if it doesn’t work then they’ll get a nurse?  I don’t think so.  I spoke right up and said “Male!  He needs a male nurse.  Don’t you, Honey?”  I figure if they think he needs a male nurse, they will bypass the bumbling techs and go right to the skilled professionals.  I could be wrong.  Our insurance might dictate otherwise.

Scott, the nurse is here.  Thank God.

Nothing But Time

I went to a great conference yesterday.  I am inspired to jazz up my blog with video clips and audio files…  Now, where is the time to do it?

One of my running buddies has suggested that all this plodding along and chatting is nice as far as it goes, but perhaps we need to devote one day a week to speed work.  Forget the talking and just focus on getting faster.  Holy Cow!  It’s a great idea.  How else will I meet my goal of running a sub 3:30 marathon if I don’t put in the speed work?  But actually running that hard sounds, well, hard.  My sister has graciously agreed to help us by preparing some workouts.  I am thinking that during the summer, we’ll have to be out there no later than 5 AM.  That’s early.

Tomorrow Bruce goes in for his operation.  I am trying not to over-think this.  But sometimes it is nice to have reminders to enjoy the moment.

Better Together

The last thing I wanted to do this morning was get out of bed.  I thought about just staying there – nice and cozy – ignoring the fact that this morning’s run was my idea.  They won’t miss me, I thought.  Nevertheless, I got out of bed because it was the right thing to do.  I don’t want my buddies to think I am a wimp.  There were two of the four buddies there.  We waited the prescribed 10 minutes for the others and then took off around the mountain.  When we were faced with choices about which way to go, I always picked the longer, hillier route.  We chatted and shared stories for several hours.  One of my buddies, who is still trying to snag a BQ, asked me questions about Boston and I got to think about how much fun I had there again.  I told her that I had been reviewing my mileage for the three months prior to that race and realizing that nobody with that kind of mileage can run a marathon and come out without injury.  Here is a picture of me with Robin and her neice who goes to Wellsley.

Today’s run was so much fun.  I love my buddies.  My advice to anyone who wants to run is to find buddies.  And how do you find buddies?  Run more.  It is a paradox of sorts, I think.  I came home and mapped my run: 14.25 miles.  Later when I logged in, one of my buddies had sent out the vital statistics as well – mapping each of our runs based on our different starting points.  It makes me smile and realize how good it is to have freinds.

fortyyearsoldandimlivinginmymomsgarage

In my own little tribute to today’s Kentucky Derby, I smooshed the words of this song title together.  One of the trainers interviewed on TV today said that his dad took him to Santa Anita when he was 10 and he was hooked.  My dad took my sister and me to the horse races when we were younger than that and throughout our formative years.  We went to Santa Anita most often, as I recall, but we also went ot Hollywood Park and Del Mar.  I loved going to the races with my dad and my sister.  Dad would allow us each 3 $2 bets because we got in for free and the entry fee was $6.  Once, she bet on a horse called whatdoesitallmean who was a gorgeous leggy chestnut.  In the same race, I bet on the compact Bue Knight. A black horse who seemed to glisten silver blue in the California sun.  He came in dead last by a wide margin.  My sister’s horse won.  That was the first race I remember.  From that race, I was hooked.  I didn’t grow up to be a big time horse trainer, however.  Nor a small time horse trainer.  Does that make me a failure?