Weight I have lost

Friday, March 25, 2016

The Road to the Book of Mormon

So I got discharged from the hospital on 1/12/16.  D took me home and then went to the pharmacy to fill all of my prescriptions.  My dad and Scuttlebutt took care of me.  D came back, and then he and my dad helped me into bed.  Since my dad was in the "good" guest room, D got to sleep in the second guest room.  They had set up the dog crate so Scuttlebutt was not allowed in the Master Bedroom.  That made me sad.  D and I set up my phone to take my meds.  He wrote them on paper, and I set alarms...as you can see, this is why he was sleeping in the other guest room.

When am I supposed to sleep?
So on Wednesday, D got up and went to work.  Dad started my physical therapy.  D and I had tickets to Book of Mormon on 1/19, and Dad decided I was going to go, since this would be the 3rd time I had tickets and still hadn't seen the play.  On top of it we had Row F Center, so they were a pretty penny.   The problem? We didn't know if I could sit in a chair that long.  That first day of "home PT" was excruciating.  I had to walk down the stairs, sit in a chair for 30 minutes and listen to Dad scream at Fox News in agreement with them.  I'm not sure if the TV or the chair were more exhausting.

The second set wasn't so bad.  No yelling at the TV.  He helped me with my Short-Term Disability papers, figuring out what I had to sign, and what had to be filled out (a lot had been done at the hospital, but nothing by me).  And we made some doctor's appointments.

He also made me an egg with a tortilla.  I remember Scuttlebutt getting the tortilla and half the egg, since I was full.

I sort of remember talking to both of my sisters-in-law about my mother-in-law (she had been in the hospital over Christmas).  I remember my dad's phone ringing a lot, and him talking in a hushed voice.  And wishing I could take a shower as it now was over a week since I had one (I don't call the fall as a shower, since I never actually showered.). One of my SIL's told me my MIL wanted yogurt and the hospital, and that's about all I really remember.  I had a lot of sleep and was in and out of it.  D came home from work and looked really tired.  I could hear him and my dad talk but couldn't figure out words.  They came and talked to me.

D's mom was back in the hospital, and he had to go back to Maryland.  They were worried about what I would think.  Looking at D's face, all I remember thinking was that I was going to have to tell him to take a suit, just in case, and that I was upset I couldn't go to give my MIL a hug.

One of my friends, Devo stopped by.  He brought me my laptop from work.  I'm not sure if hijinx were involved getting it since Devo doesn't work at my company (he works in the building).  But it was good to see him.  He had just lost his mother, and unfortunately I had been in the hospital for the funeral. I had wanted to go.  But you know, it was rather impossible.  So we spoke...I don't think for long...again, look at all the times above for when I had to take a pain pill of some sort.

Anyway, he left, and D helped me get a shower.  Thursday, he left for MD.  Thursday continued my physical therapy courtesy of Dad. 2 things...1) Dad is a 2 time stroke survivor.  So his reflexes are a little slow. 2) He complained about walking SB.  The dog wouldn't poop.  Somehow I knew this was going to become an issue.  D got to MD with no issue...his mom was re-admitted to the hospital.

The dogs' daycare got a picture of McMenamin at this point.  I missed him a lot.  They didn't get one of Lompoc, which is to be expected...she runs no-stop.

McMenamin, courtesy of Rex and Roxy's
Dad and I hung out.  I did laps around the main floor.  I watched him clean out our cheese drawer.  I watched him cut all the bags of vegetables because the bags had too much bag on them.  Scuttlebutt was not allowed in the bedroom.  The way he and D had positioned the dog crate to block the door, SB was miserable because he also couldn't get into the crate.

On Thursday, Dad wanted to check my back, and didn't put close the half door, so there was space for SB to come in the room.  He took his chance.  He ran in and got on the bed.  Dad told him to get off.  He rolled over and stretched.  I got him off, so then the rule became he was allowed in the room, but not on the bed.  (Since my back was open, my dad was afraid of dog hair getting into the wound).  That didn't last long.

No, Grandpa.  I'm not in the bed.
My friend, The Doctor (he has an MD and PhD) came over to bring me soup and bread.  We talked for a little bit.  He gave me the history of Grady hospital when I made a comment of how the middle of the hospital seemed to be "courtyard" and the sides were the rooms.  He said it had to do with the fact that it used to be segregated. Since it was too expensive to have 2 ORs,  they had designated times when whites and blacks could be in there.  So that's why it always felt like I was going into the "middle" of the hospital.  Anyway he picked up my Short Term Disability papers so that my friend J (his neighbor) could fax them to different places.  And then I slept.

I guess it was Saturday. We had so much food, and we kept eating in the dining room since the chairs were proper for sitting in (continuing my therapy).  Besides the soup and bread, my friend V brought us empanadas.  I did eat an empanada in bed, and there was a bone in it.  I accidentally knocked the plate off the dresser, and the bone went under the bed.  I had to get on the floor and get the bone before SB  did.  My dad was coming upstairs at the point to take a nap.  He saw me "praying" at the bed.  I was actually stuck trying to figure out if I could get up.  I did manage.  Then he gave me the vacuum and told me to clean up the rest of the mess.  Man, I felt like I was 16.

 My dad let me take a shower by myself, waiting outside, just in case.  I saw the scars on my back and cried in horror.  I thought there would be 1 incision, not 5 gashes.  It was hard to handle.  I managed to get myself dried off sort of, and got some clothes on.  Then my dad took a nap.  During that time, SB started acting out.  Remember how I said he wouldn't poop?  Yeah, this was a "take me out now" dance.  So I went downstairs, sat down and got a harness on him, and a leash, and we went out.  Not far, but he was able to do his thing.  Then we came back.  Then I got yelled at for not letting my dad know where I went.  Did I say 16?  I meant 5.

So Sunday, I made dinner for the crockpot.  Then because I needed to get out, I made my dad drive me to get a bagel.  We also went to the grocery store to get some more dinner. I was not allowed to use the walker because that's what a cart is. We got back, and my friend M texted me if she could bring over  some Greek Soup and Pizza (and salad).  Of course!  So she came to visit.  It was good to see her, because it had been far too long.  I showed her the scene of the crime, and we talked for awhile.  She laughed that my dad checked on us to see if we needed anything.

She left and I took a nap.  Dad and I also walked SB.  He was watching football.  I was watching hockey.  Our conversations were starting to take a toll.  I had started talking with every sentence ending in an inflection.  He kept saying, "Like Really."

D's mom had stabilized, and was on the mend.  So D came home Sunday Night.  Dad and I talked about when he (dad) should go home.  He left Monday afternoon.  Before he left he checked my back because it was itching uncontrollably.  He washed it out, made sure no signs of infection and put lotion on it.  It made it feel better.   Then he left.

D went to daycare after work, and picked up Lompoc and McMenamin.  I was so excited to see them.  It had been 12 days.  Lompoc ran into the house and just cried in happiness.  Then she passed out.

Lompoc sleeping on Scuttlebutt's butt

So 1/19 rolled around.  D worked and came home.  He helped me shower.  At this point I had lost 12 pounds.  So I put on a pair of pants that I hadn't worn in forever.  They didn't zipper.  WTF?  The only pants that fit that weren't yoga pants were my fat jeans, which prior to the fall were loose.  So they went on.  I felt a little foolish wearing jeans to see a play (a pet peeve of mine), while D looked nice in khakis and a dress shirt.  But such is life. (No doctor could explain how I lost weight but gained 3 inches in my waist and 1 in my hips, losing 12 pounds)

D took me to dinner at Argosy (I wanted a hamburger and a beer).  I hadn't taken a pain pill since the day before, so I could have that beer. I may have been a crazy woman and had 2 beers.  (Buxton's Sky Mountain Sour and Wicked Weed's Cherry Go Lightly).  And I got that burger!  I ate 1/4 of it.

La Plancha Burger from Argosy
We went to the Fox for the play.  Being the cheap ass that I am, I refused to let D park by the Fox. It was $20.  We walked (with my walker) for a really long time (at Cypress Pint and Plate) so we only had to pay $5.  He laughed at the fact I refused to pay $20.  We got to the theater, and got some soda.  I took my pain pills then.  Then we went and watched the show.  3rd time was a charm.


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