I think we both feel a bit less discombobulated, but I at least am still coming down from the top of the roller coaster. I managed to accomplish a great deal this morning since my tea date had been rescheduled. Dusting, cleaning bathrooms, even picture framing kept me busy. Things from our Panama trip are now framed, and someday, will grace a wall. But I’m emotionally drained, finding myself on the verge of tears or hollering without any provocation. I want to be over it, but darn, it’s hard. Doug’s bib brother, Bob, who has had the same surgery, reminded us via email that he had actually made it to the hospital and was all prepped for surgery when he was bumped in favour of a heart transplant. OK, that I get, sort of. But all we know is that there was “some sort of problem” and that’s not helpful. Anyway, Bob went home and eventually went back and had the procedure. He is now perfectly fine, thank you, and the delay didn’t hurt him. His need was more urgent than Doug’s is, so we should relax about it, right? Right! I will. soon.
Since it’s the end of the month, I did what I usually do; update our cheque book. Everything that’s coming in is in, and most of what’s going out for April has gone, including our tax payments to the Canadian Revenue Agency, otherwise known as the taxman. This is actually the first year we’ve had to pay the man, so I shouldn’t complain. The payments were set up in my on-line banking system to be made at the end of April. A couple of weeks ago, our accountant advised us that Doug’s was actually a bit more (the university screwed up his T4), so I went into the system and changed the amount. Fast forward to today, when I discovered that both amounts have been taken from the account. The taxman received double payment, and that ain’t a good thing. I know I’ll get it back, but it is so annoying. I know I cancelled the first one, so I guess the bank is at fault. I’m working on it!
Rainy days make me gloomy and grumpy and achy, as you know by now. Add to that the anxiety about Doug, which I can’t just turn off, and I become an unhappy and unfriendly puppy. Then there is this monumental screw-up at the bank! I think I will go and bang my head against the wall for a while. That should take my mind off everything except my headache.
See you tomorrow!
Roller coasters are not my thing, but boy, are we ever on one now!
In case you hadn’t heard, the call came at 11 or so, telling us that Doug’s surgery was not going to happen tomorrow. It wasn’t so much that he specifically was being bumped; the was a “problem at the hospital” and everyone was being bumped. So we’re back to “sometime before the end of May,” which means we have to go through the whole thing again. I wonder if it gets easier.
I also wonder when I will stop making this about us and me. It’s Doug who will be going through the surgery, having what my dear niece calls “having his chest sawed open.” But when you read the way I talk about it, it’s as though I were going to be there on the operating table with him. I realize that there is an important role for me here, but he is the guy who will be lying there going through it.
And then there is the impact of stress on our weight loss efforts. Many of you share the stress-eating syndrome so you get this problem. Coupled with the flagging commitment (or even lack of commitment so far) to exercise, we clearly have a problem. But we’re going to try again, starting tonight. No promises though; I can’t handle the guilt of any more broken promises. My Jewish mother did a wonderful job of instilling the guilt response in me.
One good thing that comes out of the postponement is that my tea date with Michael is back on!! And I don’t have to rely on my neighbours to supervise the window washers (who may not come anyway if it rains). And I get to have coffee with brother Art on Friday and go to a financial planning breakfast seminar at Spencer Hall. Some good after all.
It’s Jeopardy time. Gotta go!
It’s been a day. Lots done in the morning, again. Probably too much, again. Nearly asleep in my chair by three, Still tired. Not writing more tonight. Will post final info about surgery tomorrow sometime.
… so we went to Port Stanley for lunch. It’s always fun for me to go to a small town because it reminds me of my misspent youth, or at least, childhood. Life for a kid in small town (like less than a thousand souls) Muskoka is really heaven, or can be. If one is a tom-boy like I was, there are fish to catch and trains to ride and berries to pick. Of course, if you were me (or is it I?), there was work in the family restaurant too, work that interfered with gathering bait for the early evening fishing expedition. But there were perks too…. but this is about Port Stanley, where we ate lunch at a re-invented Me and Susie’s, poked around the hardware store, and bought some bird seed on sale. Of couse, we ran into some firends of mine on the restaurant patio, which is in the nature of small towns.
We walked a bit, but the darned ankle started objecting again. I’m really tired of it; almost two weeks is enough! Home in time for a brief nap before church tonight, there to be surrounded by the love and support of our young friends. We are blessed indeed. And now to settle down with a cup of tea and Mr.Selfridge.
p>Here it is, 12 noon. Groceries done, 3 loads of laundry nearly finished, lunch nearly ready, notifications about Doug sent to everyone who should know (I hope). Did I mention that I forget my lessons very quickly? Yesterday’s excess resulted in a pretty bad night, restless and uncomfortable, unable to settle because of fatigue and pain. So of course, I do it again. Oh well. Time to go finish getting lunch on the table. More later.
At 8:00 pm, I have finished a full day of stuff. Stuff makes me tired and achy and often grumpy. I continue to talk too much about the elephant in the room because Doug and I have such different approaches to elephant hunting. If the metaphor leaves you cold, forget it. Go watch TV or something. That’s what I’m going to do, with a nice cup of tea and my husband.
Oh yeah, and all that stuff about pacing. Maybe I’ll remember tomorrow.
Here’s what I started to write for today’s post:
One of the first lessons in fibromyalgia school is about pacing. It’s a lesson I have to relearn on a regular basis. This morning, for example, we did a bunch of stuff, came home and had tea, and then I did a bunch more stuff while waiting for the man to come to fix my chair. By the time Doug went out to get us some lunch, I was barely standing up. Fibro in full flair, dizzy, the works.
The rest of the post was to be about how hard a lesson this is to learn.
Then, about 4, we got a call from the surgeon. Doug is tentatively scheduled to have a triple bypass sometime on Wednesday, April 30. The “tentative” will be clarified on Tuesday morning (!) and is likely to allow for the possibility of a more serious case appearing. The “sometime” will also be clarified on Tuesday; it depends entirely on the nature of the second case to be done on the Wednesday. I will let you know when I do. Surgery is likely to be in excess of 4 – 6 hours, and I will post updates when I can.
Needless to say, the rest of the post is done for today. We went out to Mandarin for a last supper, and tomorrow begin to prepare us both for surgery!
A great quote stolen from my friend Peter’s blog, with thanks to both him and Henry Ward Beecher.
“Every tomorrow has two handles. We can take hold of it with the handle of anxiety or the handle of faith.”—Henry Ward Beecher
Started this Thursday with a rescheduled coffee date with my favourite brother. OK, he’s my only brother, but if I had more than one, he would definitely be my favourite. He will be in Toronto on Saturday at our annual family reunion/Blue Jays’ game so our routine coffee date had to be changed,. Doug and I decided to give it a miss this year. Then I got to do one of my favourite things — eat! Doug cooked a chicken masala and a to-die-for eggplant and green apple dish. He makes the best Indian food in London, in my humble opinion, dishes that remind us of our year in India, in another lifetime . After lunch, I did a few necessary things, but really, none of them was significant enough to remember. Other than firming up a tea date with Michael, I really can’t remember much of the day. I suppose, in many ways, that’s a good thing.
One note: Those of you who follow this blog will already have seen Doug’s response to yesterday’s post, as well as Peter’s reply to that. On further reflection, and taking into account the wisdom of my readers, I must amend the “good things involve Doug” part of the post to read “The very best things are those that include us both.”
Bye for now,
I’m back, and somewhat better, but no wiser about why such days happen to me (and others, I know). And I’m not going to worry about it.
Good things that happened today:
breakfast with Doug; quick shopping trip to Costco with Doug (emphasis on the quick); quiet cup of tea at home with Doug in Roll Up cups from one of the few places in town that still has them (he won a free coffee); drop-in visit from friend Vikki; lunch with Doug; quiet afternoon doing not much of anything with Doug; great phone conversation with Doug’s cousin Val, who lives in Winnipeg; nap; light supper with Doug; Jeopardy with Doug; the movie “Captain Phillips” with Doug in the comfort of home; and finally, bed.
Bad things that happened today:
realization that my ankle still hurts when I walk, despite the fact that the fall was more than a week ago; ditto my elbow; the recognition that I should have have bought gas for my aging Mazda yesterday. Or last week.
Notice that most of the good things include Doug.
That’s all for now.
Talk away, friends. I may not answer.
Don’t talk to me. I may bark at you, or I may cry. Nothing’s wrong; nobody did anything. It’s just that kind of day.