Hauled hay today.
Fell through the fucking floor with a loaded truck and trailer. happy. NOT.
Had to have the tractor pull us out and board over the whole before the trailer could be pulled clear. Left rear tire all the way through the floor to the axle. Missed taking out the fender by a hair. Did not tweek the trailer or tongue, though I have no idea how at that angle. Hubby was seriously pissed. And not at falling through the floor, I mean that was expected. We're just shocked we made it this long. It was the manner in which they wished to yard out our truck, you know, the rig they DON'T OWN.
Still had to make a second load. Fucking Amazing.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
You know your day is going to shit when:
You are awakened at 7 am by the sounds of what appears to be your son puking in the bathroom. No, no, not puking (thank god, I'll shoot myself if that shit starts again)....that snarfling and gagging sound is him trying to blow his nose complete with an accompaniment of moaning and groaning.
You have a nagging feeling you are supposed to BE somewhere. You assume it's the bank to deposit the check you've been waiting on for 2 weeks!
Your phone rings and as soon as you see the name on the caller ID you remember where you where supposed to BE. *FUCK* Gah! I never do that. I'm blaming PROVO for getting us off schedule! Though I did remember to email last night to make sure it was today.... but forgot to go back and check for the answer. *Double GAH!*
This day has got to get better. From the sounds coming from the living room, maybe not so much. For me, with my el crapo lungs, having a sick child is a killer. I want to comfort him and do all the *stuffs* we do for a sick one. (Though he isn't little and cuddly anymore.) On the other hand I want to send him to the garage with a space heater and a warm blanket, setting his meals on the back steps for him while wearing gloves and a mask. *Ha*
I just can't risk catching his crud. Yet I can't just leave him to fend for himself, he's a baby still. *HA* Ok, MY baby still.
So we're off to screw up some more of this day. Looks like medication is in order. Ohhh and call the pharmacy. Good god I need a secretary.
You are awakened at 7 am by the sounds of what appears to be your son puking in the bathroom. No, no, not puking (thank god, I'll shoot myself if that shit starts again)....that snarfling and gagging sound is him trying to blow his nose complete with an accompaniment of moaning and groaning.
You have a nagging feeling you are supposed to BE somewhere. You assume it's the bank to deposit the check you've been waiting on for 2 weeks!
Your phone rings and as soon as you see the name on the caller ID you remember where you where supposed to BE. *FUCK* Gah! I never do that. I'm blaming PROVO for getting us off schedule! Though I did remember to email last night to make sure it was today.... but forgot to go back and check for the answer. *Double GAH!*
This day has got to get better. From the sounds coming from the living room, maybe not so much. For me, with my el crapo lungs, having a sick child is a killer. I want to comfort him and do all the *stuffs* we do for a sick one. (Though he isn't little and cuddly anymore.) On the other hand I want to send him to the garage with a space heater and a warm blanket, setting his meals on the back steps for him while wearing gloves and a mask. *Ha*
I just can't risk catching his crud. Yet I can't just leave him to fend for himself, he's a baby still. *HA* Ok, MY baby still.
So we're off to screw up some more of this day. Looks like medication is in order. Ohhh and call the pharmacy. Good god I need a secretary.
Monday, October 12, 2009
A word of Caution
Just word of caution for all my dear friends in case you are ever in the position to wear oxygen and are still upright and capable of moving. Or a word to the wise for all my smoking friends... *ahem*
1) The 20ft hose will get caught on everything. It hurts like hell when yanked. Think reins on a horse, only through your nose.
2) It is highly annoying when some steps on it, because DUDE, it's attached to my NOSE for gods sake.
3) Equally annoying when you step on it yourself, only without the satisfaction of anyone to yell at for stepping on it.
4) Kittens will think it's a great toy.
5) They will flop their fat bodies on it and expect you to drag them through the house. *I'm looking at you, Evil.*
6) Husbands will forget about it after a while and hook their foot in it, ripping it totally off your face, and barley blink, while you are holding your nose making sure it's still attached. As soon as you can catch your breath from the pain, you can commence yelling, but the spry bastard has escaped the house.
7) You will wake up at least once a night wrapped up like a friggin' mummy in 20 ft of hosing.
8) You will learn not to roll completely over, you will learn to roll from side to side to keep 7 from happening.
I'm sure I could think of more, but these will get you off to a good start in case you are ever in this position. Which for the love of god don't be.
I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep if I ever get to retire George. I'm kinda used to him humming in the room and the hiss of the O2 in my head all night.
1) The 20ft hose will get caught on everything. It hurts like hell when yanked. Think reins on a horse, only through your nose.
2) It is highly annoying when some steps on it, because DUDE, it's attached to my NOSE for gods sake.
3) Equally annoying when you step on it yourself, only without the satisfaction of anyone to yell at for stepping on it.
4) Kittens will think it's a great toy.
5) They will flop their fat bodies on it and expect you to drag them through the house. *I'm looking at you, Evil.*
6) Husbands will forget about it after a while and hook their foot in it, ripping it totally off your face, and barley blink, while you are holding your nose making sure it's still attached. As soon as you can catch your breath from the pain, you can commence yelling, but the spry bastard has escaped the house.
7) You will wake up at least once a night wrapped up like a friggin' mummy in 20 ft of hosing.
8) You will learn not to roll completely over, you will learn to roll from side to side to keep 7 from happening.
I'm sure I could think of more, but these will get you off to a good start in case you are ever in this position. Which for the love of god don't be.
I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep if I ever get to retire George. I'm kinda used to him humming in the room and the hiss of the O2 in my head all night.
Friday, October 9, 2009
2 new lungs, please
Well, ok, since I'm frighteningly good at saying something significant, and then, ohhh, you know, totally dropping the ball, like I did over at LJ, I thought I should pick up the pieces here and fill in the blanks.
I have my appointment for a transplant consultation. It's Nov. the 19th, in case you are the praying or sending good karma type. This is where they decide if they'll accept me into their program at UCSF. This can go several ways:
A) You're a total fuck up and regardless of your lung function we don't feel your a candidate for transplant. The fact that I spent 10 years out of the "loop" could stick me here.
B) You lung function is low enough to qualify you, but your general health and mobility makes us choose to wait. Come check in every 3 months and we'll list you at a later date. You know, possible right before you die. Oh, and fuck you for being active and stubborn.
C) Holy shit batman how are you creeping along in life? We need to list you right away. Which, Dr Blue Eyes says, based solely on numbers is where he'd put me. It's that meet me, seeing me in person factor that screws me every time. See last line of B.
If A happens, well I don't know where to go after that, but I'm sure Dr. Blue Eyes will have a suggestion. Rest assured I will cry, bitch, and probably scream and I would recommend avoiding me like the fucking plague for awhile.
If it's choice B, well I won't be ecstatic but at least we're on the radar and if something takes a turn for the worse they can list me quickly.
If it's C then the next couple months will be a blur. In two to 3 weeks they will call me and I'll have to do a bunch of lab work and testing. These are exclusion tests. If I fail, I'm excluded. They will be checking for other diseases that would make transplant pointless. After that it's waiting time. I can't think of anything that will exclude me, unless I'm harboring cancer or some damn thing, in which case, shoot me now.
So how do I feel about all this, you ask. Lets see.....
Mixed.
On one hand, won't it be AWESOME to get back to the things I've been "modifying" out of my life for 2 years!
On the other hand, what really and truly scares me about the whole process; once we get past this "rejection based on human perception", because I hate that, black or white baby, period; is the surgery itself. I'm totally scared shitless they will kill me on the table. Because then all of this is totally pointless. TOTALLY. This is the part that makes me go WHOA. Right now, I may not have the best/fullest life, but umm HEY I"M ALIVE. But the other side of that is, if they don't kill me, and I come out the other side, I will have 6-10-15 years of normal living. Where normal means I don't have to fight to not only breath in but out. As Dr. Blue Eyes has pointed out, I have no idea how hard I breath. Normal people don't DO that, he tells me. To which I tell him no one has ever accused me of being normal.
Yeah there will be some major drugs I'll have to take.
But in number it will be 1% of the drugs I'm taking now. The time factored in will be minuscule compared to the hour/s it takes me to be ready to leave the house now.
Go hiking, yep. Camping, yep. Goat shows/chores, alone even, yep. Stay the night somewhere without lugging 2 machines, 10 drugs, 2 back up oxygen sources..... holy crap, yep! Not being a never ending burden on my friends and family, yep!
Is this the end all cure all? Well for my CF it is. We don't feel I have the intestinal issues, which means, for now, I'll be CF free and it WILL NOT come back into the new lungs. However, Out with CF, In with anti-rejection medication death. Right. Now I die from the transplant.
So right now I just try to get "in". In the program. On the list.
I have my appointment for a transplant consultation. It's Nov. the 19th, in case you are the praying or sending good karma type. This is where they decide if they'll accept me into their program at UCSF. This can go several ways:
A) You're a total fuck up and regardless of your lung function we don't feel your a candidate for transplant. The fact that I spent 10 years out of the "loop" could stick me here.
B) You lung function is low enough to qualify you, but your general health and mobility makes us choose to wait. Come check in every 3 months and we'll list you at a later date. You know, possible right before you die. Oh, and fuck you for being active and stubborn.
C) Holy shit batman how are you creeping along in life? We need to list you right away. Which, Dr Blue Eyes says, based solely on numbers is where he'd put me. It's that meet me, seeing me in person factor that screws me every time. See last line of B.
If A happens, well I don't know where to go after that, but I'm sure Dr. Blue Eyes will have a suggestion. Rest assured I will cry, bitch, and probably scream and I would recommend avoiding me like the fucking plague for awhile.
If it's choice B, well I won't be ecstatic but at least we're on the radar and if something takes a turn for the worse they can list me quickly.
If it's C then the next couple months will be a blur. In two to 3 weeks they will call me and I'll have to do a bunch of lab work and testing. These are exclusion tests. If I fail, I'm excluded. They will be checking for other diseases that would make transplant pointless. After that it's waiting time. I can't think of anything that will exclude me, unless I'm harboring cancer or some damn thing, in which case, shoot me now.
So how do I feel about all this, you ask. Lets see.....
Mixed.
On one hand, won't it be AWESOME to get back to the things I've been "modifying" out of my life for 2 years!
On the other hand, what really and truly scares me about the whole process; once we get past this "rejection based on human perception", because I hate that, black or white baby, period; is the surgery itself. I'm totally scared shitless they will kill me on the table. Because then all of this is totally pointless. TOTALLY. This is the part that makes me go WHOA. Right now, I may not have the best/fullest life, but umm HEY I"M ALIVE. But the other side of that is, if they don't kill me, and I come out the other side, I will have 6-10-15 years of normal living. Where normal means I don't have to fight to not only breath in but out. As Dr. Blue Eyes has pointed out, I have no idea how hard I breath. Normal people don't DO that, he tells me. To which I tell him no one has ever accused me of being normal.
Yeah there will be some major drugs I'll have to take.
But in number it will be 1% of the drugs I'm taking now. The time factored in will be minuscule compared to the hour/s it takes me to be ready to leave the house now.
Go hiking, yep. Camping, yep. Goat shows/chores, alone even, yep. Stay the night somewhere without lugging 2 machines, 10 drugs, 2 back up oxygen sources..... holy crap, yep! Not being a never ending burden on my friends and family, yep!
Is this the end all cure all? Well for my CF it is. We don't feel I have the intestinal issues, which means, for now, I'll be CF free and it WILL NOT come back into the new lungs. However, Out with CF, In with anti-rejection medication death. Right. Now I die from the transplant.
So right now I just try to get "in". In the program. On the list.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Noted in case my husband questions what we did while he was off hunting and sleeping all weekend.
- Unloaded and restacked 1000 pounds of alfalfa
- Cleaned chicken pen
- Cleaned baby goat pen
- Installed perch and nesting box to winterize the chicken coop (Hopefully my mom takes her chickens before winter)
- Fixed a better hay feeder/grain tub/waterer for the baby goats at the house
- Cleaned BBQ pit room and put away 4 wheeler w/ cover after husband used it and left it out in the yard for the chickens to roost/shit on. (Grr)
- Went to dump hay/shavings
- Did all the friggin' dishes
- Currently soaking the milk bucket and milk jugs in soap and bleach.
Friday, September 18, 2009
I will not be three, I will not be three, I will not be three....
Yesterday my husbands "second dad" passed away from a sudden and unexpected heart attack. As we were told, he hadn't been feeling well and when his wife called home to check on him he didn't answer, she rushed home to find him unresponsive. The 911 call went out, and one of his other "kids" was the first on scene sheriff and was unable to revive him either. My husbands brother was the third to arrive and all the boys stayed with "mom" until the coroner had come and gone. My husbands BF was this man's oldest step son, and my BIL's BF is this mans youngest step son. All 5 boys (yes there is one other, in the middle age wise, step son) grew up next door to each other since my husband was 10 or 11 and his brother was 7 or 8. My husband will be driving down to spend the day with the family on Sunday.
Today I find out that one of my fellow sups from the fair died of kidney cancer. She hadn't worked at the fair for a few years now, and had been exposed last year to some sort of toxic gas and inhaled it at her new job. It burned her lungs and heart and apparently did damage to her kidneys that they didn't find until too late.
Also today I find out (no one dead this time) that my mom had a bad fall yesterday and THEN her truck caught on fire on the way off the mountain on her way to town. Her and truck are fine. Truck was/is fixed as far as I know.
I think I'll go find a rock to hide under for a while. Sheesh.
Today I find out that one of my fellow sups from the fair died of kidney cancer. She hadn't worked at the fair for a few years now, and had been exposed last year to some sort of toxic gas and inhaled it at her new job. It burned her lungs and heart and apparently did damage to her kidneys that they didn't find until too late.
Also today I find out (no one dead this time) that my mom had a bad fall yesterday and THEN her truck caught on fire on the way off the mountain on her way to town. Her and truck are fine. Truck was/is fixed as far as I know.
I think I'll go find a rock to hide under for a while. Sheesh.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
When at my doctors on Friday he suggested I try this. He is a funny funny man that Dr. Blue Eyes. It should be noted that I have a sever phobia of having water up my nose. I have a hard time in the shower for gods sake and Dr BE wants me to voluntarily shove water up my nose. Irrigation is for fields people, not my sinuses. Upon reading the instructions, when I got to the line where it says, "...squeeze bottle until water starts to drain from the OPPOSITE nasal passage...", I just about threw the whole damn thing out the car window, freebie or not.
So it's taken me several days to man (woman) up to trying the damn irrigation system. Several of the talks went like this... "Oh it'll be fine you sissy ass, besides how will you ever convince your kid to try things he's unsure of if you won't. Oh screw you self, I've told him never to jump off a bridge if his friends do, I don't think drowning myself is going to prove any points."
So today I manned up. I had the boy ever so slightly warm the bottled water for me to drown myself with. Hey, I want to be warm and fuzzy while I DIE. Add the solution, which is really just a mild salt and baking soda mix, and march myself into the bathroom.
The directions say to bend at the waist and tilt head down, this keeps the solution from running down your throat... and you from gagging.
After a few trials and errors getting the bottle to work correctly.. it contains a straw that you hold vertical and squeeze and it shoots the water out the top... which was much easier than trying to tip my head to pour the stuff/shoot it up my nose.
Walla we had water flow from the other side! Ohh and a bonus, water shooting out my eye!
Sadly I have no gross reports of any small mine fields breaking loose in there. I'd spare you those details. No I wouldn't, really, has it been so long since I've posted you've forgotten who's writing?
You do have to clear your sinus's with a few gentle blows after you use the Rinse. And people, there was fair dirt in there! F.A.I.R. dirt. The same fair that has been over for 15 days. Identified by it's serious black color. Trust me, once you've seen fair dirt, you KNOW fair dirt. I mean really! Still? Holy crap.
I did notice that for a couple minutes when I tipped my head from side to side I would get a little water drip-age.
So the Sinus Rinse passed my test. I didn't die. My nose feels, umm... like a nose? Really it doesn't feel any different. For me this is to help alleve my allergies and maybe, just maybe, get me off the OTC decongestants that are really bad for my heart. I think it may take a few tries to break some of the old stuff we suspect is there.
But the main thing... I didn't DIE!
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