All Hallow's Eve

I think Halloween is my 26-year-old son's second favorite holiday, right after Christmas. He still enjoys dressing up as someone else and playing games. Now it's organized by the single's group at the church he attends. This year he dressed as Obi-Wan and his fiance was Princess Leia. Every day last week if I wasn't at work or asleep I was sewing their costumes. They turned out really well.

After I finished those, I made a little present for my beautiful granddaughter who is bringing her mother to visit us for a few days. GOODY! GOODY! GOODY! GOODY! GOODY! They land around 7:30 tonight and have to leave on Thursday.

Saturday I need to go to Miss Janie's and get some plants for the yard. She's moving so this is my last chance.

And at some point I need to get serious about Christmas shopping.

...it pours

To continue the October saga, we move on to my dad.

Ever since he had a skin cancer removed from his temple several years ago, he's had intermittent pain in the affected side of his face. Over the last few months, the pain had increased in frequency and intensity. Then he found a lump in his lower lip/jaw, but it wouldn't appear on x-rays or scans. When he went to the dentist a few weeks ago, the dentist could feel it but still couldn't see anything so he sent dad to a surgeon. The surgeon ordered a biopsy that confirmed the presence of cancer, but not the type so he ordered more tests to determine that. In mid-September they finally diagnosed squamous cell carcinoma.

They scheduled an MRI for 10/11 to see if it had spread and prepared to start chemo and radiation on 10/17. The week before that, Dad decided he was too unsteady and falling too much to live alone anymore, so on 10/8 he moved in with Connie and Larry. He fell again on 10/9 and cut his head open. Because of the blood thinners he was taking, Connie couldn't stop the bleeding so she bandaged him up and took him to the hospital. They admitted him and moved the MRI up a day since he was already there.

The MRI showed that the cancer had spread to the brain stem which explained the problems with balance and swallowing. By Tuesday he couldn't swallow at all and the oncologist decided Dad wouldn't be able to withstand the chemo and radiation. They started him on morphine for pain, signed up with hospice on Thursday, and early Friday morning he died in his sleep.

The family started gathering on Saturday. All of dad's descendants and both surviving brothers were able to come. Visitation was on sunday evening and the service on Monday morning. Having all the great-grandchildren there made it much easier. As many people noted, although one life was ending there were more beginning (including 8-month-old Braden and 2-week-old Alice).

I didn't really have much trouble handling Mom's death. We weren't all that close and we fought all the time. Dad was different. Even when he was working too much overtime and days could go by that I didn't see him, I always knew he was only a phone call away. When tensions were high between me and Mom, Dad's presence was all it took for both of us to calm down and resolve the conflict. When things were changing all around me, Dad was the steadying influence I could count on.

I keep telling myself that Dad is in better health now than ever before; that he's receiving his reward for living a good, Christian life and it helps, but I still feel adrift; like I've lost my anchor. I know it will pass with time and someday I'll see him again along with my grandparents and I just have to keep my focus on day.

While I recovered from surgery,

my first grandchild decided to make her grand entrance two weeks early. My daughter gave birth to a beautiful little girl on September 28. Whether or not I was physically able to travel, I went. We flew up the day she was born and stayed for a week to help out and start spoiling her. I requested wheelchairs in the airports and really tried to get plenty of rest and not lift anything heavy. I still did way too much and paid for it by prolonging the pain, but it was worth it.

Little Alice has given us cause for concern. Like many other babies, she was jaundiced at first. Being a premie she had some trouble nursing which made the jaundice worse but she started eating just fine and the jaundice cleared up once we found a nipple shield.

Then a blood test indicated that Alice had inherited the gene for cystic fibrosis from someone. We aren't sure where that came from. It's a recessive gene so she has to get it from both parents to actually have cystic fibrosis. They tried to run a sweat test to determine her situation, but she didn't sweat enough to do it so they will try again later.

She's also had some "trouble" with bowel movements. I put that in quotes because I'm of the opinion that it isn't necessary to have a movement every day. She went to the doctor yesterday and he more or less agreed with me.

Meanwhile, her Uncle Jacob gave her stuffed Snoopy and Woodstock dolls that are bigger than she is, but she looks SO cute lying between them. Uncle Michael and Aunt Sarah gave her Braves clothing including a pink onesie. I've told her Grandpa Chaffin that he needs to build a play house for her to use when she comes to Georgia to visit. We'll see what happens.

She's a beautiful little girl and leaving her to come home was incredibly difficult.

When it rains....

The last couple of months have been ... um ... er ... well ... different.

On August 31 I had all my reproductive plumbing surgically removed. It went quite well and I was released from the hospital the next day after having my first experience with morphine. (side note - I prefer demerol). The doctor had warned me that I was facing six weeks of recovery time, but I had no idea how bad it would be.

My only experiences with surgery had been a tubal ligation - less than a week of recovery, and removal of fibroids - still only a week or so of recovery. On those rare occasions when I get sick, I'm down roughly half as long as other people with the same illness. Even broken bones didn't slow me. This did.

John stayed home with me from Thursday through Monday (Labor Day) and I pretty well stayed on the daybed. That way I had rails around three sides that I could pull on to help me move around. Before he went back to work on Tuesday, he took set up my work computer in the dining room and made a bed on the couch. Each morning that week, he helped me down the stairs and I stayed there until he came home. By that time I was feeling pretty decently as long as I took my time getting around, so I'd spend too long sitting in the dining room working - and be worn out by the time John came home and really sore the next day.

By the second full week I was able to negotiate the stairs alone, so John moved my computer back to the spare room where I could sit in a rocking chair to work. That helped immensely. The rocking chair had me leaning back enough to take the pressure off my gut so I didn't hurt as much, but it still took the full six weeks (and then some) for the pain to really go away. I've been warned that it could take up to six months to regain my stamina and really feel like myself.

And I'm not even going into the whole hot-flash-and-mood-swings business.

But the downpour continues tomorrow.