The Life of a Kayaking Widow

No, he didn’t die.  He just goes away for large swaths of time as soon as the forsythias start their yellow bloom season up north here until the crimson leaves begin to fall into the local waterways.  Then he “comes back to life” again when I need him to keep me warm when the snow flies, that’s all.  Such is the life of a kayaking widow!

For those of you who have taken a break from reading your cereal box and picked up your beloved’s issue of Canoe News instead, this one’s for you!  You may or may not be a paddler and that is o.k.  If you are not a RACER, however, and HE IS then you are invited to join me in this paper support group!  We are not alone!  (He does eventually come home to sleep and eat, right?)  I mean, I understand girlfriend.

So we must stick together, you and me, and figure out alternatives to dreamy picnics in the park with our men.  It probably won’t happen.  Our guys are either out fulfilling the requirements of their United States Canoe Association membership or too tired and sore from the workout the day before to take a walk on the local Prairie Path on a Sunday afternoon.   “Would you massage my back?” is more likely heard than, “the moonlight sure is lovely reflected in your hair tonight.”  But I digress.  Just focus on the other scenic benefits of being married to an athlete if ya know what I mean?  J

And try these tips to get past the USCA Nationals in August at least!

  • Go shopping.  Spend wisely and no more than the amount he has invested in paddling gear.
  • Try a recreational race if you can paddle some; offer to take pictures of the event or help out if you prefer not.  Kids can come too if desired.  He will love you for taking an interest in his sport.
  • Leave a note of encouragement in plain view for your man to find as he makes his way out the door on race day before the rooster crows.  Add food.  Lots of food.
  • Plan regular events of your own either alone or with like-minded “widows.”  There a lot of us out there, left behind from various endeavors requiring testosterone.  Pick ones that require lots of estrogen to enjoy.
  • Eat chocolate and don’t share with anyone.
  • Look busy when he comes home yet be sure to greet him from upwind.

Surely there are a virtual bevvy of strategies for us land-lovers as I am only getting started here.  Actually I was a fan of boating under power when I met my River Bear.  What happened?  Who knows but her name might be “Stella” or something like that!  I would love to hear from you ladies (and possibly widowers?) with your best tips on making the most of the paddling season.

Until then, gardening anyone?  JJ

Blueberries take a stroll . . .

blueberry, buckle, compote, crumble, bake, Valentines Day, special occasion, humor, funny, baking, loveI wasn’t exactly thinking of baking a blueberry dessert when the little rascals from my Big Box Store shopping extravaganza were scrambling all over our driveway the other day!  Oh dear.  My beloved will probably be reading this.  I washed them off Steve, truly I did!

Such is the caper of the rogue blueberries:  I opened the passenger side door of my truck to a splash of little purple berries spilling out onto the concrete beneath my feet.  I ended up stepping on one or two as I stepped back to figure out what had happened.  Squish!  They had rolled underneath the truck, in front of the door, all around my feet, down the driveway, and even past the sidewalk 20 feet away.  Geez oh man!  Good thing for cracks in the sidewalk or the courtyard would be a “hazy shade of Winter” too!  Maybe they wanted the freedom from their cramped clam shell cave into the cloud-covered, 30+ degree air?  I dunno.  I was getting cold so I set myself to rescue all that I could quickly without crushing them . . . two by three.  Blueberries on the loose are not easy catch you know!

Two days later I had figured out that the day AFTER Valentines Day would be a perfect occasion for putting my little treasures to good use.  I didn’t even use a recipe and yet I was able to concoct a gluten-free wonder made with a stick of butter, chopped pecans, and slightly sweetened coconut cream topping that would seem to get along well together.  Yes!  It was yummy!

So let this be a lesson for bakers everywhere.  If you want a great homemade treat for a special holiday and exceedingly wonderful someone, rough up the ingredients on the pavement first.  The beating will soften them and you just enough to get your creative juices flowing.  The delectable dessert prize surely will soothe your taste buds long enough to make you forget about your sore knees and the blue stains under your fingernails!

Your sweetie will like it too.  ;JJ

 

 

 

O.B. Panties and an HGTV Hangover

Are you going to love it or list it?  Are you ready to see your fixer upper?  I just don’t think this kitchen is big enough for me!  This will all have to be torn out and redone!

And so goes the thoughts in my head the day after being discharged from the hospital.   Since cable TV was my only steady friend and we don’t have cable TV at home, we got really well acquainted in the past 3 days.  I am convinced now that the wood floors in our home are stunning and that we can stay put for awhile longer.  Wood floors are on-trend these days dontcha know?

I also learned that O.B. elastic panties secure blankets over hospital bedrails really well!   When you are on “Fall Precautions” and have a history of seizures, they pad the bedrails with them.  The only problem is that I am sure that wrapping blankets over metal bed rails hardly meets JCAHO requirements for prevention of injury!  They outta have provided bed pads.  Oh well.  Welcome to the modern hospital complete with a 20+ year old hammock sling for a mattress.  Otherwise, the food filled my belly and care was alright.

I was in the hospital after an urgent trip to the Rapid Care Clinic associated with my doctor’s office sent me there on Sunday.  The Internal Medicine Doc said I could get an evaluation from an Infectious Disease Specialist there (which I was later promised in the ER as well).  That never happened.  What did happen was getting pumped with a plethora of drugs that created nausea for the first day and one-half, exhaustion from side effects and lack of sleep, weight gain from 4,000 cc of fluid and food-snacks-with-every-drug-to-protect-my-tummy, and a lesson in humility.

Regarding the latter, I learned that Nurse Practitioners and Physician’s Assistants run the modern hospital in America these days.  Or at least they do for what happens bedside.  I saw both types of professionals; they got to talk to the Infectious Disease Doc but I did not.  Turns out that my acute case of shingles had been seen before so they treated me “by the book.”  Never mind my history of daily seizures and concern for the brain-swelling complications that can come with the worst cases of shingles:  a disaster potential which could change my life even further, forever.  Thank you Lord that I had called the Ophthalmologist on-call the night before and gotten the treatment needed to protect my eyes from the herpes zoster virus.  It is through the blurry vision of an eye ointment that I chat with you today!  The hospitalists never mentioned protecting my eyes from the spread of this nasty, searingly painful viral infection . . .

So I did my time, got my drugs, stabilized a good part of the intractable pain, and got sent home with:  red lesions and swelling on the right side of my face, a 4th day of constipation, lots of prescriptions for drugs and OTC meds, and a renewed sense of what it means to NOT be in charge of your own life, your own healthcare.  I did get to ask questions and for that I am grateful.  I did receive my Lyme infusions of antibiotics before I left to continue that part of my treatment and for that I am grateful.  I tolerated a peripheral line for 3 days without skin irritation and for that I was amazingly grateful.  I did catch up on HGTV enough to last me a good long while and for that I am grateful.  And I was reasonably able to tolerate a modified, hybrid version of my diet from the hospital menu and for that I am grateful.  I was alone for those 3 days and 2 nights yet my Heavenly Husband was always present and for that I am grateful.

There are two other tidbits to note:  I met a lady while walking the halls who was in the hospital for pneumonia.  She’s a smoker and familiar with Jesus Christ whose birth we celebrate at Christmas.  I shared with her a short testimony of how the Lord appeared to be orchestrating the meds I was given during that hospital stay to possibly treat the serious seizures I have been suffering for 5 years.  Please join me in praying that the person of Jesus Christ would become real for her as well:  as her personal Savior this Christmas.

My second point was hidden in the first noted above.  Did ya catch it?  Yes, I have not had a seizure since coming home from the hospital and had WAAAY FEWER since taking Neurontin in the hospital.  Neurontin is not typically given for Non-epileptic seizure episodes but hey, it is commonly indicated for shingles.  Win-win?  I am hopeful.  What if these 5 years of suffering daily episodes are about to end?  It is too soon to tell how this will proceed going forward yet I am grateful for my little Christmas week reprieve for sure!

Merry Christmas to you, Gentle Reader.  Be sure to check out the Christmas Letter from Steve and me posted today as well.  Even in the dark times there is hope since the Light of the World has come as the person of Jesus Christ.  Oh I do hope that you will share with me in knowing this joy today!

And keep an eye on your panties, eh?  JJ

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The County Sheriff and a mobile compost pile

Sometimes the dirt in your life follows you around for awhile . . . literally!

The weather was unusually warm here in the Midwest of the United States this past December.  By “warm” I mean that it was still in the 50’s and that was all I needed to do a little gardening project still left undone from the prior season.  Factor in the heartache of having been too sick to do it earlier, you can see why I jumped at the chance to get some dirt under my fingernails before the snow was set to fly!

And so I did.  The borders around the flower beds and tree in our front yard were re-cut and tidied up for the wintry freeze to follow. A Master Gardener simply cannot have her front yard unkempt when visitors were set to come for Christmas celebrations . . . even if they are not into landscaping!  Afterwards I felt a little better about the whole thingy.  The cuttings went into the bed of my truck like they always do with the intent of making a quick trip to dump it at the town compost pile.  That never happened.  Such a bummer being sick virtually all of the time . . .

Flash forward two months.  I was headed in my truck to my doctor’s office, hoping that they would see me on time.  Usually we patients can call ahead to see how far he is running behind and to leave our phone number for a call when they have an exam room available for us.  The phone lines were either turned off or unanswered when I had tried to call so I hurried to get on my way, lest I lose my appointment altogether!  This arrangement is a minor inconvenience for most folks but a major undertaking for me these days.  I had a more severe seizure attack waking up that morning and barely had enough time to get ready, grab some of my special food for the day (these appointments require 3+ hours plus I had an IV treatment at the hospital next door for another 4 hours later on), and focus enough to get myself out the door.  Maybe I should have had Steve drive me to the appointment?

Clearly I was a little distracted.  The purpose of the appointment was to re-evaluate the first month of IV treatments for Lyme disease.  I had first treated Lyme disease 4 years ago and it was a disaster; the next 4 years were spent taking down other infections and toxicities to get ready for intense treatment of Lyme that likely had been underlying ongoing health issues for a very long time.  The process has been most difficult.  I would learn in this appointment that the burning in my forearms that occurred during the past 5 infusions of the antibiotic (Rocephin) had caused superficial phlebitis!  All I knew is that they hurt.  More treatment recommendations would follow to add to my already complex treatment regime.  Everything came clearly into focus when I saw that beige-n-brown Dodge Charger sitting alongside Auburn Road.

As soon as I saw him I knew that I was in trouble.  That’s the color of the County Sheriff vehicles and I was traveling 14 miles per hour over the speed limit!  I thought I was only 9 MPH but unfortunately I did not see the traffic sign until my trip home!  He followed me for a block or so before turning on his flashing lights.  I sat stunned by the side of the road.  The Sheriff turned out to be friendly young lad, albeit dressed in his intimidating finery.  He recognized my last name and asked if I knew someone that he did by that name in another town?  Nope.  I could hardly speak.  “May I call my Doctor’s office?  I am running late for an appointment,” I asked.  “Sure,” he replied as he took my ID cards and walked back to his beast on wheels.  If he was friendly did that mean that he would have mercy on my story and not give me a ticket?

Nope again.  The “icy” conditions warranted a citation.  He spouted off more instructions than I could understand then left me with a cheap ticker-tape style TICKET.  All I could do was pull over onto a local street to gather myself to figure out what to do next.  The Doctor’s office finally answered their phone, apologized for not picking up earlier as they were short-staffed and stated that the Doc was running 1 1/2 hours behind schedule (as usual!).  “Would I like to leave my phone number for a call when they were ready?”  Sure, no problem I thought to myself . . .

Somehow I managed to contact my hubby at work and return home.  The struggle to leave the house earlier that morning resulted in a very expensive speeding ticket with funds earmarked for adjunct treatments not the county coffers.  I was upset at myself and upset at this wretched illness.  I was guilty of speeding.  I had not even looked down to see how fast I was travelling.  Driving a truck makes you a little over-confident in inclement weather and that false sense of security had caught up with me.  Gee, did he also notice that I still have a quarter of the bed of my truck filled with dirt, plants, and sod pieces in the middle of winter?  Perhaps not.  The pile has already begun composting into a fertile loam on sunny days!  They should make a nice, top-dressing the vegetable bed by Spring!  Maybe I’ll just leave it in there?

Sigh.  Life goes on and sometimes the State trooper is the one to remind me of this.  Regardless, if it really does get to 57 degrees tomorrow (on February 19th!) I will be digging some, Lord willing.  There’s much to do and the IV treatments are helping me feel some better.  Besides, I have a lot more room in the bed of my truck that needs to be filled dontcha know?  You can never have too much of that “black gold” stuff anyways.  :JJ

compost, gardening, truck, Nissan Frontier, garden, load, dirt,

How the professionals load compost!