The World is a Curious Place

Well, I have been remiss about writing for the past couple of weeks. Not much going on in the way of life adventures, but we have been fairly busy medically. My poor hubby has been through the wringer lately with medical procedures. Nothing in terms of being serious issues, but rather those annoying procedures that should be done to make an easier flow for the patient. 

We start with a colonoscopy. Preparation for this invasive appointment is difficult enough, but to go through two and a half days of drinking two gallons of a nasty solution that tastes like chalky sewer water and then only being able to drink beef, chicken, or vegetable broth for that time period, that's bad enough. We starved him well. I grabbed a beef broth which does taste and smell great, as it is from the juices of a roast beef and that seemed to help a bit. But you can still only handle so much of it before you gag. 

Oh, but the best part is the Jell-O. Yes, lemon Jell-O for dessert. Awesome. That can help fill the void inside your gut and make you feel as though you have eaten something solid, but the wobbly plate of goo just doesn't completely bring it home when it comes to eating a good meal. Two and a half days of this crap ...

Terry was on his last stretch before the big day. He handled it all like a boss, keeping his smile and remaining somewhat mellow. We had to drive to the VA where his procedure into hell would begin. Shoving anything into the cavity we are trying to keep healthy isn't fun, but the absence of food doesn't help the mood. At least you know you can devour an entire banquet table piled with good eats does provide you with a light at the end of the tunnel. No pun intended there. 

Off we went to the doctor's appointment he had scheduled. Ah, the fun never ends when you get old. But wait! There's more! For $29.99 you can also add the chance of rejection for the procedure. Yes, folks. After two and a half days of drinking milky, chalky, nasty hell water, eating a vile, wobbly concoction of yellowness that looks like the creature from the film, The Blob, and drinking the juices that tease you into believing you are eating a roast beef, you find your ass without the colonoscopy results. 

The uncomfortable and painful IV needle was put into his arm. He relaxed after all of this and was set for just getting this test for the older crowd completed. Here we go ... 

I'm sitting in the waiting room, playing a game on my phone in a feeble attempt to keep my mind off of him being put through the amusement ride he was going to visit. After about 35 minutes, a nurse came out into the waiting room, looked at me, and asked if I was the one waiting on the patient. 

"Terry?" I asked, pushing the knot in my throat further down to allow words to come out. "Yes." My mind began to throw all kinds of horrid thoughts through it. "What could have happened in a colonoscopy procedure?" And the bigger question of, "Do I really want to know?"

She looked at me with a longing of a good Maui vacation in her thoughts. I have to say, I really can't blame her. The poor nurse proceeded to tell me that they found out he is allergic to Klonopin, and the medication they were intending on using is in the same family of medication. Because of this fact, they would not be able to do this procedure on Terry today, simply due to the fact that he may go into a seizure if it moved forward. 

Images of Terry tearing up the room he was lying in rushed through my head. He would be on the search for a candy bar, someone's lunch, or even a protein drink or two. He was a hungry man. I knew the outcome of this was not going to be good. 

"I'll bet he's not a happy camper," is the only thought I had at the moment. "No, he's not," she muttered, but added, "And who can blame him?" 

Terry has had another colonoscopy in years prior to this, using the same medication. It all went smoothly and he was sent on his way. Our question, as we discussed later, was why did they wait until he had been put through hell to get there, was trying so hard not to molest a hamburger and plate of fries for the past two days, plus having him drink that horrid concoction they need to clean your system out, and then we add in the pleasantness of the large needle for the IV being shoved into your hand, feeling as though they are digging for bones while getting it in place before they asked the simple question of, "Are you allergic to anything?" They could have simply read the chart with his information to know the man is allergic to Klonopin and possibly the Klonopin family of meds. 

After telling the doctor in no uncertain terms to, "Get out," he made it clear he was not happy with this entire process. He reported the nurses looked embarrassed, and quite frankly, in agreement with him. Terry did swing into the patient advocacy office before leaving to file a report. It was all understood that the doctor should have handled that better than it was. 

My ravenous, unhappy hubby came out, asked if I was ready to go, grabbed my hand, and asked that I aim the car toward the local Sizzler. We were going to go to the nearest feeding trough to let this man catch up on his missed meals. Can't say as I blame him. 

We were both fairly silent as he consumed a steak, baked potato and two plates of salad. He was feeling much better. I remained quiet for the most part to allow the feeding frenzy to take place. It made me smile to see him happy again. On the way home, a chocolate mocha drink from Starbucks. All was right with the world again. 

***

We are still waiting on our release of the Kia contract, which is past due. They are supposed to have 90 days, or at least that is the time reported on the paperwork, to release us from the contract entered into upon purchasing our brand new 2023 Kia Sportage that was in the shop more than we drove it. This is a literal statement. Our car had 14,000 miles on it and it broke down four times under the same condition. Terry got a lawyer and began the legal process immediately. And so now we wait. 

During this time, I cannot work doing my usual deliveries, so I looked into my transcription work. Nothing available at this time. It is a graveyard. No files available, throwing a monkey wrench into my whole life. No captioning files. No anything. Dead quiet on the home front. 

Moving on, I applied to three or four various places to do something, anything, to keep myself occupied. No call backs and several messages stating they were not hiring at this time for online jobs. 

Jewelry. I can always fall back on jewelry. I purchased beads, findings, ear wires, threading wire, stretch cord, and anything else to create necklaces, earrings, and bracelets. Here we are in October and still no word from the attorney or the Kia manufacturing site. So we wait some more. 

Kia in Eugene is the site where we bought the vehicle. They cannot figure out why the car shuts down into safety mode that leaves us driving at 24 to 28 miles per hour, top speed. Four times the car was sent to Eugene for appointments, kept for over a month, sometimes two, and still nothing. They report they cannot get the car to do what it did to us. Since the lawsuit went into motion, we don't have a loaner car through them either. So, once again, we wait. 

I have now run out of beads. Scraping the bottom of my beading trays, I have finished off any reasonable beads left to create new jewelry. Slowly, but surely, the pieces and sets are being purchased, but once again, I wait. I'm about ready to begin painting the house, buy clay to sculpt, and even take up jogging. But, though I've tried, I can't seem to run or jog the way I used to be able to before I dislocated my ankle and broke my leg in three places. So now, I wait. 

***

Now that I have so much time on my hands and have found that I do not seem to fall into the category of retired old people very well, I find myself walking the husky and taking pictures along the way. 

I'm quite certain my neighbors think I'm spying on them as they hear the camera "click" during my walks. I'm sure I will be yelled at soon. 

***

Our little Esme, or at least she used to be "little," has been praying at the altar of Mom and Dad. I find her looking at our pictures and searching the ceiling lights in the home for some sort of message. She is an adorable girl, but quite odd in her actions. 

I have looked for spiders or flies along the walls or ceiling as she stares at photos and lights, but there is absolutely nothing there besides the photos and lights. I call her our Buddha kitty as she tends to look like she is in a transcendental meditative state of mind most of the time. She will lie on the couch, look up at our eyes, and watch us for a long time. Not just search our face, but she directs her stare directly into our eyes. I swear this tiny soul was sent here as a cat, maybe to look after us or possibly to guide us. Who knows, but the oddities in her make her personality so unique that we know she is no ordinary kitty. 

Esme came around as a stray, shortly after our sweet Bella passed away due to old age. Terry rescued Bella from a shelter in California, and she had some of the personality traits that little Esme came to us with. For instance, Bella would stand on her hind legs, put her front legs into the air, and wave them toward us when she wanted love. Esme does the same thing, however with her it is the food dish she begs for. She loves to snuggle with us but hates to be held, as Bella did too. Bella came into Terry's life at the age of two. Esme was taken to a vet and we found that she too is two years of age. It is not exact, but we feel it is close enough to make us curious. Are there such things as kitty angels?

***

Terry's job has dropped to two days per week, leaving him at a shortage of money that he had before it changed. He looked into finding something else and ingeniously found that he could be a bookkeeper, work from home, and actually make more money than what he makes at the VA. He is in the process of working through some courses, getting good grades on three tests, and then jumping into the pool of workers through a company he has found. But to do this, a desk is needed. 

I have my glass top desk that I had before I met him, and we have been sharing it off and on. Instead of having to work around the work schedule of each other, Terry went on the hunt for a desk. A desk he did find! I absolutely love the design of a roll top desk. He found one, and boy, that led us into an adventure in its own right. 

This desk weighs a ton! Terry and I had the help of an older gentleman ... well, that's a different story for a different time ... to load the desk into the vehicle. It fit pretty well. We drove it home. But now what? Terry has had surgery on his arm from a muscle that tore away from the bone a few years ago. For the rest of his life, he is not to lift anything heavier than a milk jug. I do believe the solid wood desk falls into that category unless the milk jug market has changed. 

Me? I went into being a weakling when I had my fall in January of 2024. Those months in the wheelchair and on a walker really made me weak. So, this leaves a desk that must come up five cement steps and through the living room to arrive in our office. What to do?

Our neighbor is a younger guy, but not one I believe to be any type of Mr. Universe at all. But, the three of us together created a cohesive unit to slowly move the ton of a desk into the office. Finally. Next up? The chair. Crap. 

The chair is always a challenge. Not in heavy lifting but in putting things together. Anyone who follows the blog knows that Terry and I procrastinated for months in putting a bookcase together for the office. We finally hired someone who completed the task for us. 

Terry worked hard to get the chair put together. He did well until it came to the arms. The screws were going in wrong, moving upward instead of heading straight in. He finally gave up and left the room to take a break. I couldn't stand the fact that this chair might win against two intelligent people. I knew we had to be smarter than the plastic parts. I grabbed my phone, turned on the flashlight, and headed in for surgery. Moments later, I figured out how to screw the bolts in to ensure they went directly in and not upward like we both had them going before. Voila! Chair complete. Terry's desk is properly in place and the studying can begin!

***

I mentioned that Terry had his colonoscopy or as he calls it, his "abortion," but he also had a couple of other medical procedures done. All of this has the man healthier, for sure, but not wanting to see the inside of a doctor's office for a long, long time. 

His blood glucose numbers were a bit high the last time he went in. Much to his dismay, the Mediterranean diet was suggested. He scowled when the doctor mentioned that plan. It brought back the idea of salads and various diet meals that he was not happy about the first time around. Terry used to be heavy set before I met him. He ate so many salads and walked for miles to get the weight off. Now the thought of green rabbit food meals gets him every time. He just can't do it. Can't say as I blame him. 

But this time around, the doctor also suggested something that I've had for years, and that is the CGM, a continuous glucose monitor. You inject it into the backside of your arm where it stays for about two weeks to continuously keep a record of your blood sugar readings. Terry's is the newer type. Mine had a small device that let me know the readings. His goes to his phone. I know that I did much, much better when I had that monitor in my arm. I kept a watchful eye on my numbers that way, studying what made my numbers go up or what brought them down. Great way to learn about what we eat and what it can do to us. 

So, that was put into his arm. I was happy. If he is like I am, I believe he will be able to really learn more about himself and his dietary habits by using the monitor. Great invention!

***

On top of that, Terry had an odd looking mole type of growth on his head. He had that removed this month too. The dermatologist cut it off and froze some others that were not as large. He stated they are from sunshine beating down on skin for years. 

Now for the worst of the worst. A procedure that really had me cringing at the thought of it. Terry also has psoriasis, as do I. But his grew under his toenails, making the skin underneath tough and thicker than usual. You couldn't tell unless you really looked close, but this was making Terry's nails difficult to cut. He went into the podiatrist where he had his nails cut, filed, and beautified again. They looked great!

Before he left though, his podiatrist educated him on a procedure they can do called a matricectomy, where the toenails are removed completely, and an acid is put onto the matrix of the nail to prevent regrowth. Being an empath, every cell in my body screamed, "Oh, hell no!" and began to hurt. Just the thought of that being done to me was enough to make me want to curl up in a ball, lie in bed, and never come out from under the covers again. 

I know it's not like Terry would be able to feel the nails being removed like being in a torture chamber or anything close to that, but give me a break. I guess it's too many movies where tearing someone's nails off their fingers brings about excruciating pain so they give up the world's best secrets to the villain of the film. I just know that when he mentioned it, my empathic nerves lit up like a Christmas tree on steroids to shoot pain into every inch of my body. 

I found myself sitting in the waiting room once again, trying to be patient. There was another woman in the room with me, waiting for her husband or whom I assumed was her hubby when he went through those doors when they called his name. She and I began to chat and that chat soon ended up being an hour of showing each other pictures of our babies. No, not human babies, but our fur babies. We oohed and aww-ed over each other's beautiful pups and kitties as the photos flew in front of our eyes. 

After our pictures had been shown and our chests were pounded in pride, we began to discuss our hubbies and the day they were having. I was daydreaming about going home to be with my hubby and my fur babies until I heard these terrifying words come out of her mouth, "My husband is getting his toenails removed." Once again, the nerves came to full attention. Pain shot through me as if I had been beaten with some rocks. I could not believe what I heard her say. 

The words hit my ears and the brain shot the pain through my system like a pinball. Ugh. I hurt so badly for both of them. I told her what Terry was in the horrible torture room for and she cringed. Neither of us had heard of this procedure before, but today, well, today the Universe was making this known, at least to us. 

Terry walked through the doors as we both sat in shock about what we had shared with each other. I introduced Terry to her, and informed him that her husband was there for the same thing. He only had two nails to be removed on his feet, but he was still there for that same thing. We all giggled over the similarity of medical operations being done today and then moved on. On to our home, together, where happiness and love existed and grew. 

We discarded the thoughts of horrible toenail removal and considered our dinner choice. Now this, this is what I want to dive into. I want to have a nice meal, pet and feed my fur babies, snuggle up with my husband, best friend, and love, and watch our show. Life is a curious predicament, yet one that offers some of the finest blessings we could and do experience. 

Hold your loved ones close. Be grateful for the blessings we have, and we have so much to be thankful for. 

***

Love to you all. We hope that you can find your way through a peaceful, happy, love-filled life with family, friends, fur babies, and joy. Be happy. Fill your soul with the joyous memories and happiness you have experienced in this lifetime. May your path be lined with flowers, and your joy be overflowing. 

Until our next blog post ...

With much love and life,

Vicki & Terry Macrae,

Partners in love