Let me explain….

Husband has been out of the hospital for seven weeks now. He returned to work last week. I want to thank all of you for your thoughts and prayers, it really helped us through this very difficult time.

Part of his therapy is to walk every day. He is doing very well - when he was discharged he was in a wheelchair, then progressed to a walker, and is now using a cane. A very spiffy cane, that looks just like the one on “House” with flame decals on it.

We go to a city park with a nice walking trail to exercise and strengthen his leg. Sometimes we take a sandwich to eat before beginning our hike around the lake.

The sandwich we took one day was on an onion bun, with lots of onion bits on top. After we ate, I made a quick trip to the park potty because we’d also taken a big jug of water, and it’s a long walk. I’d left Husband sitting in the car in the sun so I was hurrying. I noticed onion bits on my T shirt as I was relieving myself. Being in a hurry, I just brushed them off as I sat there, then pulled my pants up and scurried out.

We started our walk on the trail around the small lake, and I noticed a peculiar feeling in my nether regions. But I was holding Husband’s “assist” belt, a big webbed belt he has to wear around his chest for someone (me) to hold onto in case he stumbles, so I couldn’t just hike back to the restroom. The farther we walked, the more uncomfortable it became, and by the time we got back to the car, my hoo-ha felt like it was on fire. Tears were streaming down my face.

I dashed back into the bathroom and yanked my panties down. The crotch was full of onion bits. Worst of all, they were wedgied into my unmentionable places. Never before have I wished that a park restroom had a bidet, but that day I did.

Let me tell you, if you think onions near your eyes make you cry….

:-)

(picture courtesy of Marti’s daughter)

“Hello Marti! Welcome to Hell!”

“Oh, hey Satan, how’s tricks?”

“Wonderful! I love the American political season. So much opportunity for mischief! But I brought you here to talk about you. How are things…hmmm?”

“Well, I gotta give you credit. You have done a real number on me. Been taking care of grandma with her Parkinson’s for more than a year now. Just got the girl through high school, with all the prom and graduation hoopla. She’s not out even a month when you give Husband a stroke. Good one, Lucifer.”

“Oh thank you! I love kudos. So why haven’t I heard from you? Many people in your situation call on me, you know.”

“Nah, I’m hanging in there.”

“But I’ve forced you to live at your mother-in-law’s house! That one works almost every time!”

“Nope. Actually it’s easier to take care of both of them in the same house, especially since hers is all on one level and already has safety bars in the bathroom.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re enjoying your time there or I will hurl.”

“I’m just hangin’ in, that’s what I do.”

“Isn’t the noise getting to you? I enticed dozens of teenagers to hot rod up and down her street at all hours of the night. And I got 100 gremlins to work on the next-door neighbor’s air conditioner compressor, so that it rattles and roars like an airplane engine. Surely that is annoying you!”

“I just moved down to sleep on the floor. It gives hubby more room to sprawl in the bed, and it got my head away from the wall where the sound came in.”

“But what about the late-night call you got from your son? I caused his car to overheat on the freeway and you had to go rescue him. Wasn’t that enough to make you at least consider…?”

“Sorry, Beelzebub, not interested. Husband is still seeing improvement, getting more movement back. Daughter is learning responsibility by having to take care of herself more. I have faith that things will get better.”

“Damn you!”

“I think you’ve already tried that. I need to be gettin’ back now.”

“AAARRRGH! Be gone with you!”

“Okie dokie. See ya.”

“Oh you can count on it, my dear. You can count on it.”

When the alarm went off last Thursday morning, (one week ago) he couldn’t get out of bed because his left arm and leg were numb. Daughter and I got him into my car and called 911 and told them we were bringing him in to St. Mary’s Hospital (the closest one). They tried to get us to accept an ambulance, but Husband didn’t want to do that so we started for Blue Springs. The emergency operator called back and said there was no point in going to St. Mary’s because they didn’t have a neurologist on staff and asked us to let an ambulance take him to Centerpoint Hospital in Independence, Missouri. She kept insisting that we let an ambulance meet us along the way and transfer him, but I knew that would take longer than me driving him. I told them we were already on our way and that I would drive him to Centerpoint. We got him there and took him in to the ER. They gave him some medicine to lower his blood pressure because it was 222 over 180. The ER tech looked like she was pretty scared when she saw those numbers. They gave him several doses of blood pressure lowering medicines and kept him there until they could get a room upstairs. He was assigned Room 633. He was well enough that he made a joke about it not being room 666. A staff doctor came in and checked him, and said it looked like a full-blown stroke instead of a TIA, and that they would need to run a bunch of tests.

They ran a ton of tests, CT scans, MRI’s, heart echo, cardiograms, sonograms and more that I can’t remember. The doctors confirmed that he had a full blown stroke, located in the parietal area of the brain. We had hoped that it was a TIA, a transient ischemic attack, (a mini stroke) but with those you regain motion in the affected area pretty quickly, and his damage is still there. His left leg has some mobility (he can lift his leg about three inches off the bed, but when he tries to stand on it, it buckles under him). His left arm just hangs (or lays on the bed). The doctors still think that with therapy he will regain a good deal of use, but they aren’t making any promises. When the therapist worked with him yesterday, they were able to get him to focus on the leg and straighten it enough to “lock” his knee into place. This allowed him (with assistance of two therapists) to take one step towards the chair to sit in. With the arm, they had him use his right arm to lift the left one and exercise it. When they had him hold it up at chest level, and pull his wrist toward his chest he was able to get a little jerk motion happen from the muscles, which was encouraging that some of the neural pathways are still intact and can be rebuilt.

He was transferred to the hospital that is closer to us now, because they have a floor that is a dedicated in-house physical rehabilitation unit. (I hate saying my husband is going to rehab - LOL)

Already seeing some progress though, as he has regained a little movement in his arm, and can stand up with a walker. They put him in a wheelchair and he is able to drag himself forward with tiny steps. (Can’t use the wheels because the left arm is paralyzed and if he only used his right hand he’d just go in circles. I’m not being cruel, that was HIS joke - LOL)

If you know any good clean jokes, please share them, as Husband is getting daily visits from the chaplain and they are exchanging jokes. Plus I could use a good laugh.

Thank you for your love and support.

For the first time in 25 years, I have no children in school. Wow. The girl has been a high school graduate for more than a week now, and I find myself in a very strange place.

Been in a lot of strange places recently, one of which was on the floor at Walmart.

See, in addition to doing the prom, getting the cap and gown, and lining everything else up for graduation, we had to dodge zombies.

We have a family tradition (admittedly an odd one) of playing the video game “Resident Evil” with our kids. The family that slays together, stays together.

On top of all the school stuff going on, Daughter had a birthday. And she wanted the newest video game system from Nintendo, the Wii. That’s the one nobody can find in stores. I made phone calls, visited stores, checked online and begged, pleaded, cried and cajoled with store clerks to get a lead on one.

Then the news came. Walmart would have a very limited number of them available for sale. They could not be purchased until one minute past midnight. I was warned there was sure to be a line, and advised to arrive early.

So we did.

9:45 PM Saturday evening found us at the electronics counter to check in. A young man with multiple face piercings told us that the rumor was true, and the line would form over there by that display of manila envelopes. Go wait there.

I tried to make a joke about remaining stationary in stationery, which he did not get. In fact it seemed to confuse him, and he frowned so severely I feared his left and right brow-rings would interlock, and Every Mother’s Prophesy about not contorting your face or it would get stuck that way, would come true.

I waved my hand, smiled to relieve his anxiety, and headed for the display of manila envelopes.

I do not stand well. My feet are attached to my legs by metal plates and screws from having broken both of my ankles twice. So after a few minutes, I gave up all efforts at proper demeanor, and sat down on the floor.

People look at you strange when you’re sitting on the floor at Walmart. The ones who notice you anyway. I swear there are more zombies in Walmart at midnight than there are in Resident Evil. They wander by and never take note of Daughter and I sitting on the floor. Many were talking to their shopping companion, or a cell phone, or most horrifying, to themselves. Lotta self-talkers at Walmart at midnight. (Husband took the shopping cart and strolled around but as far as I know never once started muttering).

So there we were, at the head of the line that wasn’t. Apparently this shipment was a very well-kept secret. Only one man joined us, and he appeared to be human. He exchanged pleasantries, remained standing and did not hold conversations with himself.

Sure enough, at one minute past midnight, we were motioned over to the electronics counter and allowed to spend a substantial amount of money. I was stiff and longing for a stiff one. We took the prize home and the girl was happy. Now she gets to spend her not-in-school days shooting zombies and doing whatever it is players do to Mario in his Brawl. I don’t really want to know. She smiles at me every time we see one another, and that’s good enough.

:-)