The Bemused Muse

Pre and Post-Surgical Update

I am attempting to catch up on the activities over the last few days. Sadly, my efforts are falling very short of my actual goal.

A brief synopsis:

I arrived safely at DIA on Monday morning, and am pleased to report no lost luggage. Mum chanced the lengthy drive up from Colorado Springs (she experiences severe panic attacks in traffic) and we had a delightful trip back “home”. The area has become far more overcrowded than when I left.

Mum’s pre-op appointment was on Tuesday. Her surgeon, Dr. Fischer, is a charming man with an admirable patient rapport. He took the time to reassure Mum as well as rechecked her medication needs.

Yesterday was Mum’s surgery, which was delayed due to heavy operatory use. She did rather well and had no reactions to the anesthetic. They placed her on the 9th floor, post-recovery.

Poor Mum. Not only was she not permitted to leave her bed to walk after surgery yesterday (which helps get the lungs back in working order), but she was also given grief over liquid intake (she had written orders that liquids were permitted.) Her respiratory therapist did not turn up yesterday to explain the use of the device left at her bedside (thank God I recalled my own post-op experience with it). Her voice is hoarse and they would not provide her with any means to relieve it. She was not administered any pain medications, sans a single crushed-up Vicodin around 1700 last night. Her post-surgical abdominal cavity gas (which is to be expected after the procedure) was intense, and they did not provide her with any methods of relief.

By this morning, she was in a right agonizing state due to the night nursing team. Her O2 saturation levels were very; they recommended sending her home with a pony bottle. This is due, of course, to her not being able to exercise her lungs at all. She called several times, begging to be allowed to return home. It was time that I put my foot down.

I (as her MPOA) raised hell and the Second Coming this morning. I have dealt with hospitals for over fourteen years (Better Half has his own medical needs) as well as have working medical experience. I do not take lackluster patient care lightly. In other words, don’t fuck around and then expect me to give a hopeless shrug and a clueless look. I was polite up until the staff attempted to give me the “brush off”; I promptly began taking names and ripping assholes. One can accomplish much when one speaks in a polite, professional manner. One needn’t scream or talk down to people. You simply must let your displeasure be known by using a very stern tone of voice. Needless to say, shortly after my call, the nursing supervisor was in Mum’s room making full apology for the mistreatment Mum had to endure last night. They unhooked her and allowed her to walk the halls. The respiratory therapist was at her side 30 minutes later, testing her levels. She was given a chance to shower. These are little things, priceless and cherished, that allow one to feel like a human being again. No one messes with my mommy.

Dad left to retrieve her from the hospital, and I have a pot of

holistic chicken soup on the stove. He has been a good man through all of this, taking each situation in stride while maintaining his sense of humour.

I leave you with a few photographs of the Courtyard and its Christmas lighting. (Better Half, I miss you!)

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Some reflections on Colorado and Colorado Springs

This is a state built upon pretenses: we can not be anybody unless we have a fancy home and vehicle. Having lived in California for half of my life, I can assure you that the Natives who move to Colorado are the ones who could not hack it in California. They are the plastic cast-offs of a plastic scene, embroiled in their desires to be seen as cultured while battling the shackles of their own blue collar upbringing. These are not the true Fruits and Nuts of the Wacky State. They are the crumbs oft found in the bottom of the trail mix bag. They live on credit cards and broken dreams, purchase homes too expensive for their budgets, and drape themselves in what they think is high fashion. Nowhere but in Colorado can one find a women in her forties walking around in torn-apart Birkenstocks, Route 66 jeans (ala K-mart) and a Tahari knit sweater (covered in fuzz balls), all the while reeking of cheap Tommy Girl. Said woman then climbs into her 2007 Jaguar XKR convertible and putters off to her $380K (1,100 sq ft) home, which is nestled between the cookie cutter copies of her neighbor’s homes, not more than eight feet between the buildings. Welcome to Colorado: land of the misfits.

We can forget all about educating them to Victor & Rolf, Bvlgari or Jivago. White Shoulders, Obsession, and other “tried and true” scents are the norm. There are more Prada knockoffs around here than at a hooker convention. The clothing is a mixed bag: Perry Ellis might be on every street corner, but you will not see anyone wearing a Stefano Genovese unless they are some lost businessman trapped here on a layover. I highly doubt any of these people have touched a Hugo Boss suit, let alone heard of the name. Versace? What is that? (While I am on that subject, I saw an exquisite Versace men’s two button single breasted suit that I would simply adore seeing on Better Half. It would compliment his skin tone perfectly, lending a steel grey cast to his eyes. I thought about mugging the kindly gentleman who was wearing it, but airport security would have locked me in chains.)

Where was I?

“You were dogging the Coloradoans, Aut.”

Yes, how about those Denver Broncos?

Bah, I could lament the obtuse townsfolk all night. I am reasonably confident that I gave you an accurate enough picture of their (lack) of actual taste. I do not have any problems with people who do not recognize what fashion is (I myself am clueless as to women’s fashion.) I do have a problem with people who pretend that they fit the “rich bitch” bill, behave as if they are God’s gift to the “scene” and have not even so much as a scrap of common sense – while working at Arbys and possessing an income level that qualifies them for public assistance. Expensive clothing does not make one classy; appropriate attitude and poise do. Should I stuff a pig into an Armani Collezioni wool suit, it would still be a pig. This holds true of those who purchase to impress their neighbors. (Aut, do you own any expensive Italian suits? I do not. I drive a basic car, live in a lovely old home replete with older furniture and appliances, and only check my labels for the correct size. I am a lot happier for it too. I never have to bother with dry cleaning.)

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January 2, Pre-op Appt at Penrose

I have precious little time to do a proper "update", so I shall leave you with a few pictures of Penrose Hospital in downtown Colorado Springs. I have included a view of Pikes Peak, the sidewalk (much of the snow has finally melted down), and four shots of the inner courtyard near the in-patient lab/main entrance. My cell phone camera does not do anything justice!

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My New Year's Morning

Ah, the breakfast of champions. I happily sit in the Irish Pub that is located in the beautiful sprawl of the Pittsburgh International airport. It is my favorite of all airport restaurants, and not simple due to their lax policy on smoking. No where have I found a better deal on a hearty hamburger or traditional Irish fare, although today I have opted to feast upon a cinnamon raison bagel with cream cheese.

I have an affectionate spot in my heart for this airport. It is one of the few terminals where one is not acutely aware of the pressing crush of humanity. Wide breezeways provide gay avenues to stroll down, and the myriad of shops and restaurants keeps the traveler quite entertained (thought at this early hour of 6 AM, few businesses are open.) Pittsburgh is one airport where one does not waste away once they journey past the security checkpoints.

My check-in was quite effortless today, as there were no long lines. I was able to select my seat, and anticipate basking in the surplus leg room. I am not afraid to fly; it is an adventure. Indeed, my only lament is being trapped next to a virgin passenger (one who has never flown), or perhaps being shackled with a gregarious businessman or granny. Dear Readers, you know that I am not a Morning Person.

I must pause to knock back some coffee and a Vicodin. I typed that with good intention; my bottle is stowed in my checked bag. Shit. Migraine and back pain aside, I shall persevere.

My thoughts roam back to the Airport outside the Irish Pub, and I am ticked to say they have a T. rex on display near the escalators. I will endeavor to take a picture upon my return from Colorado; it would be intriguing to see which cast it is. There is also a simply charming advertisement for the local Greyhound Rescue (Better Half, I promise to return home sans a new Fur Child) and a shadowbox display in honor of Mr. Rogers. Local talent, dear Readers.

Smoke if you got them, Autrice. I must try harder to pollute my lungs prior to boarding. Alas, poor Autrice! She must resort to matches, having made a 20 yard pass with her Cherished Lighter across the security line; Better Half makes for a good receiver. I failed to remember to tuck it into my bra (ladies, please remember this handy ploy – should they “wand” you, it will register as an “under wire”.)

I am quite pensive this morning. My mind dwells partially on my packing list (as I always overlook at least one Very Important Thing.) I also amused myself by recalling TFMM’s words the other day: “how do you sit with your legs closed? I tried it on the plane, and my muscles were aching.” My response was, of course, “I don’t know. I don’t sit like that.” I attempted it just now, and somewhere in Canada a man is rolling over in his sleep with sore legs.

Better Half has just called to inform me as to his safe arrival at home. Thank God. My family out here in Ohio was “too busy” to shuttle me out. I have determined that I will surely write them off upon my return. We had several cousins visiting from out of town, and I have a plethora of cousins living in the area, yet not one of the group was able to provide me transport last week in order to pick up my Vue from the dealership in Robinson. Aah have ahlways relied on the kindness of strangers.

Oh Autrice, stop with the southern thing. LOL

I am not a morning person, do recall! I swore off mornings when I was deemed Too Facetious To Be Allowed. Truly I am an obnoxious person before 1 PM. All my friends (unfortunately) are also Afternoon People. I would love to call someone and prattle on for an hour. Better Half has retreated back to the toasty cocoon of our bed sheets, or I would surely bother him. TTFM and Spouse are probably recovering from a fabulous New Year’s Party (I am absolutely dying to hear all about it, given that my night ended at 8 PM last night.) Ox and Spider are out of country and thus out of cell range. Figgy works until 3 AM, and she refuses to participate in any social matter until at least 3 PM.

Ta for now. I must prepare to board. Happy New Year to you all!

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Sunday Scribbles #40 - Destination

#40 Destination

“Wherever you go, there you are.”

We often become so caught up in our destination that we fail to notice the methods we are utilizing to arrive at it. We disregard living in the present as we intently daydream of the future.

How do we approach our goals? Are they pragmatic? Are they obtainable? We push ourselves to achieve some great thing (be it a personal goal, the completion of a project, the closure of a chapter in our lives, the beginning of a new dawn) and at times permit ourselves to fall into despair when it seems as if we are no closer to the realization of that destination. We can reach the unreachable star, but we must harness mastery of ourselves to do so. We must allow our journey itself to prepare us.

“Slow and steady vs. now, now, NOW.”

If we stand upon a prairie and gaze at a distant mountain, it appears to be far from us. We set out walking, our eyes never losing sight of our goal, but after even a day the mountain seems to loom no closer. A week of walking may gain us fifty miles at a slow pace yet the mountain has not been reached.

We may be tempted to cheat. Why walk when we can drive? After all, object of our goal is paramount to our happiness! We have to reach the top! Thus we find a vehicle and climb aboard and find ourselves at the foot of the mountain.

We also discover that the mountain is higher than we thought. If we are to reach the top, we must begin to climb.

What have we failed to notice up until this point? We missed the strength we would have gained if we had kept walking rather than seeking the easy method of travel. Our goal is before us, but we are not conditioned enough to endure the lengthy climb.

“Watch your thoughts; they become words. Watch your words; they become actions. Watch your actions; they become habits. Watch your habits; they become character. Watch your character; it becomes your destiny.” ~ Frank Outlaw.

Our character is built upon our methods. If we coast through life seeking the easy way out of things, we will quickly find that we have cheated ourselves out of the opportunities needed to realize our own dreams. Our habits will make or break us.

Whatever your destiny in 2007, I wish you success and progress.

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In Praise of my Vue, and Saturn

We had a delightful Christmas, dear Readers. Thank you for all the holiday ecards and lovely toasts to our health and success for 2007. I will be posting about the holiday momentarily. I dedicate this post to my Vue. Ha!

It has been a very difficult weekend for Better Half and Autrice! It commenced on Friday morning, when our only vehicle ceased to cooperate. Our Vue, which we acquired new several years ago, simply stopped running. Thankfully, we did pay for the extended warranty and car care program (I highly recommend Saturn to all of you!)

The computer had malfunctioned, and had to be altogether replaced. No work on the vehicle could be carried out until Tuesday – which meant that we were unable to shop, attend mass, or drive about. The repairs were completed yesterday, and they are throwing in an oil change. Free of charge, dear Readers! Thank God something is going well as this year draws to a close. $400 saved.

I do find my little Blue Vue simply irresistible. It

is a perky SUV that handles like a dream and has enough power to navigate the hectic streets and avenues of Pittsburgh, yet it glides like a luxury car over country roads. Our Vue is a 2003 4-cylinder with all wheel drive – the last year they equipped that type of engine with that particular feature. The continuously variable transmission gives it superior energy while ascending the steep hills of this area, and it handled the Rocky Mountain snow with ease. We have a tow package on it, and I was greatly pleased by how well the vehicle handled hauling a small trailer during our relocation to Ohio. It has been touted as a manageable and highly functional sport-utility that doe not guzzle gasoline or require a huge parking space. I consider my Vue a prized all-weather plaything.

It is not a sports car, but Saturn claims the standard model hits 0 to 60 in time of 11.1 seconds. I have pushed it to go beyond that (during heavy merging at the Ft. Pitt Tunnel); it jumps to 60 mph in under 9 seconds, thanks to the VTi continuously variable transmission. The EPA rating of 23/28 mpg City/Highway is accurate, but we do save on fuel by coasting the larger Pennsylvania hills. The Vue handles the decrease of demanded engine power well, and the Vti allows the Vue to keep up speed downhill through gravity without the engine winding through all sorts of changes to accommodate. For those who do not know what a VTi is – the vehicle does not “shift”. You do not hear it shifting, nor does the engine rev while the transmission clicks into “gears”. It is a smooth operation that releases power to where it is needed as it is needed. I am not too reluctant to say that I have pulled speeds close to 100 mph without experiencing any vibrations or whines of protest. (I have no desire to test what the governor is set to.)

People have groused about the Vue’s lack of sophistication, stating that they can hear road noise and sense vibration. Bullshit. The SUV operates smoothly. It does have good ground clearance and the suspension handles most road conditions rather well. The speed-sensitive power steering offers precise, easy steering in parking lots, yet adjusts for good road feel and stability on the highway. It uses a torque sensor to automatically boost assistance during emergency avoidance maneuvers (Pittsburgh allows you the opportunity to test that feature on a constant basis.) The anti-lock brake system operation is superior to the systems I have experienced on other vehicles.

The exterior is hardly racy. It understates the true grace of the Vue itself. I prefer that in my vehicles. Anyone can slap “Eddie Bauer Edition” on a car and make it look expensive. The Vue is inexpensive but operates better than an SUV sold for three times its price.

I enjoy having a cloth interior (with five dogs, leather would surely suffer) and the simple dash consol means that I do not spend a vast amount of time hunting for buttons. There are plenty of storage nooks and crannies for my drink, sunglasses, CDs, and other such items.

A 70/30 split folding rear seat provides more versatile stowage of longer items while carrying rear passengers. Even the front passenger seat folds flat. The back of that seat has a heavy grade plastic, perfect for a laptop. There have been many times where I have used my Vue as an office on the road, hammering out reports while sipping my coffee and listening to music. Three standard power outlets provide opportunities to plug in toys or tools. The HEPA filtration system keeps dust at bay; I have driven in windstorms in Colorado, Utah and Wyoming and the dust did not get an opportunity to invade the Vue’s interior.

We have plenty of cargo room, as the rear seats fold flat thanks to the compact all-wheel-drive system. A cargo organizer folds out of the floor to corral smaller objects. There are hooks for grocery bags and a cargo net, and a pop-up cargo organizer with two compartments sized specifically for gallon jugs and plastic bags, a welcome luxury for our trips to Oakdale for monthly grocery shopping. Tie-downs provide for the safe transport of a wide variety of goods.

The low step-in height is a Godsend, and the doors open wide. Big power-operated mirrors afford good visibility rearward and to the sides, and the computer-operated rearview mirror automatically dims the glare of headlights from behind, while providing us the current temperature outside of the vehicle (it also flashes “ice” to alert us to slick hazards.) The Vue has a very open ambiance to the interior, and I am afforded a panoramic view from my windows. My “blind spot” is miniscule.

Saturn has always stood by its customer care policy and warranty. We have never paid for an oil change, or for diagnostics. They replaced a windshield for free after one of my treks to Grand Junction resulted in a rock chip (and eventual cracking) to the glass. They replaced the rearview mirror (which is computerized) several years ago, and they happily replaced the computer system today. “Oh, Mr. Wheeler, you are due for your road maintenance and fluid changes. Would you like us to do them while we have the Vue?” I should also add that Saturn paid for the vehicle to be towed from our hometown to Pittsburgh. I love being in good hands.

I know several other Vue owners, and they too seem pleased with their investment. We recommended this vehicle to our neighbors in Colorado, and they promptly bought one after a quick test drive. I believe Ian has one, and the OxLord has two. If you want flash, drive a label. If you want function and quality care, then buy or lease the Vue.

Autrice? Are you writing an essay for school, or simply performing a commercial spot on blogger? Forgive me, dear Readers. I am infatuated with my Blue! I was able to get to the dealership today, thanks to a friend with a big heart. It is now happily parked once again in our driveway.

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Sunday Scribbles #39 - Change

The prompt for this week’s Sunday Scribbling is “# 39 Change”. “New Year's is coming up, and with it, maybe, resolutions for change, for growth, for achievements in the coming year. You might write about that -- whether you make resolutions or not (if not, why?) -- or about the idea of change in general. Is it scary? Is it possible for people to change in any fundamental way? Or are we stamped with our strengths and failings, cast in a mold, unable to change our natural shapes? What do you think of change?”

I do not think of “Change” when I think of the proverbial New Year’s Resolutions. I prefer to adapt – embrace that which is in order to achieve that which is not.

Many people embark on their New Year with great expectations, creating an entire paradigm of “resolutions” meant to recreate the body and soul. Some avow to increase their health, while others set determination towards improving their natures. “I WILL quit smoking!” or “I WILL eat less chocolate!” are tantamount to “I WILL spend more time with my children” and “I WILL read at least one book a week”. Empty promises, all of them.

We can not miraculously break old habits and restructure new ones in their stead. Our environment will remain as it was on December 31, and the mystifying harkening of the new year at the stroke of midnight will not suddenly revamp it, barring leaving our entire life as we know it behind and taking up existence in a new time and place far removed from what we held true prior to that fatal midnight chime. Should we seek to make changes, we must start with the understanding that it is we who must adapt while we attempt to place those “resolutions” into effect.

If one resolves to attempt smoking cessation, one usually runs through the house removing all the ashtrays. They throw out matches and lighters. They browse the pharmacy shelves and select a nicotine cessation aid. They perhaps toss a package of drinking straws, hard candy or toothpicks in for good measure because they know they must also break the oral fixation and habit alongside the dependency upon nicotine. Set and ready, eager for the stroke of the Midnight Toll, they jump and shout and proclaim “NOW!” as the moment of their planned resolution’s naissance. They are attempting to adopt a new behaviour by adapting their environment to fit that desired behavior. Failure is certain for many, while some do actually succeed.

Instead of attempting to adapt the environment to suit our desired goal, we need to focus on adapting to our environment to better reach success. In the case of the smoking cessation, all we have done is deprive ourselves of the enjoyment of a habit. The normal day-to-day stress will still be there, now coupled with the stress of habit rehabilitation. Once the stress becomes too extreme (kudos to the kids, the job, the spouse, the bills, and all the other little bothersome worries) we take on a “screw this” mentality, and race to our nearest mini-mart to purchase a pack of cigarettes. “Just one,” we chide ourselves, “just one to get past this stressful moment!”

Rule Number One: that which you are stressing over is causing you to stress.

Emotional stress (for I am not speaking of physical stress, such as lifting weights or running a marathon, or physical duress such as being physically held hostage at knife point) is cause by our reactions to our environment. We do not want to accept that which is beyond our ability to change.

Example: I break a cherished Christmas ornament. I have two options now.

1. I can cry and wail in angst over the loss of the ornament (which will do nothing but make me more upset; it will not bring the ornament back to a state of being whole. How stressful!)

2. I can acknowledge the ornament is broken by briefly mourning its loss, and then sweep the pieces into the waste bin. I should not punish myself for my moment of carelessness, nor should I hate myself. My feels should be pure, a simple grieving for the loss of something material rather than a emotionally filled diatribe over the stress caused by self-abuse and self-punishment. (How often do you allow that which you stress over to spill into the lives of your loved ones? Do you often find yourself taking out your “feelings of stress” on others?)

Option #1 is an example of us being unwilling or unable to accept – to adapt – to a situation. Option #2 is an example of adaptation – the acceptance of “that which is” so that we are ready to advance to the “that which shall be”. Option one leads to the oppression of true feelings – we depress – instead of allowing us to feel as we need to in order to move on.

Rule Number Two: perspective is everything.

How we see something is how we react to it. We can not hope to see the positives when we concentrate only on the negatives.

Example: a woman struggling with maintaining a “diet” in order to lose weight.
The woman has chosen to “diet” for several reasons. She may see herself as ugly and useless. She might wish to shed pounds to wear the latest fashions. She may be seeking a mate. She has a variety of reasons to alter her normal diet routine in order to achieve her goal of a slimmer person. How does she approach it?

1. She looks at her image in the mirror and loathes herself. She sees only a repulsive, obese person staring back at her. She sees what society has told us to believe about people who are overweight: a lazy, useless individual who is unable or unwilling to cease stuffing her face with carbs and refined sugars. She throws out all “bad food” and purchases carrots, celery and appetite suppression pills. She hunkers down for the horrible ordeal that she knows lies ahead. This woman punishes herself for every “slip”. She may allow herself to degrade into an eating disorder. She is depressed; she is stressed. She may lose weight, but it returns over and over – the dieting yo-yo effect.

2. She sees a woman on the verge of rebirth. She acknowledges the thin person inside of her. She gazes upon her own eyes and sees that they are beautiful. She looks at her face, and pulls skin and fat back to show the promise of a cheek bone or jaw line. She likes what she thinks can be done, and sets her mind towards liberating the body shape she knows that she can achieve. She knows it will be a challenge, and she seeks out her doctor to rule out any disease or illness that may have attributed to her weight gain over the years. She then sets up a simple diet plan, fully aware that she may not always be able to stick to it. Her weight loss is slow but healthy, and she adapts to her new way of eating over the course of time. She celebrates every new change and she revels in the gradual loss of inches. Her goal was simply to liberate herself for the pure pleasure of “change”.

If we tell ourselves that something will be bad, it will be horrid. We should acknowledge that we will have to struggle with coping while we adapt, but we should never think of something as being insurmountable simply because we fear the challenge.

Rule Number Three: live, laugh, love.

Once we learn to let go of the things we can not change, and accept the things we can – and once we learn that our perspective is the key to our success – we have plenty of time to take pleasure in life itself. We preserve our healthy coping skills by suffusing them with abundant doses of delight and positive thinking. Life will not always be rosy and bright, but we quickly ascertain that we can handle the stresses of our environment simply by seeing them for what they are – our own reaction to the world around us.

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