I would like to start out my post with a large thank-you to my dear Paco. As much as we drive each other insane sometimes, he has been my knight in shining armor lately. (Does anyone have a spare suit of armor lying around? The visual is a bit of a turn on.) He has gracious wheeled me around, driven the entire way to Myrtle Beach and back by himself while I played with unicorns, carted me to various appointments, done all the laundry (um, he did run my miraclesuit through the washer and dryer, but, miraculously, the suit still lives up to it's name. It just smells like burnt tires now.), he has made dinner, fetched 414 glasses of water, pulled me from the depths of various toilet bowls, and he has lovingly tended to our dear 3 boys. And all this with only minimal amounts of sarcasm and narcissism.
I started off by asking him do things for me by saying something like, "hey babe, can you do me a favor? can you ________?" And he would do it for me without saying a word. After 20 or so rounds of this he may have snapped and said "it's not a favor. It's an order. Just tell me what you want already and stop saying I'm doing you a friggen favor."
Um, Ok, point well taken.
So now I just order him around. I have decided that I now need a tiara to make my transformation complete. How could he deny the orders of a woman wearing a crown, right? I think it's a brilliant idea. And I could call myself the supreme ruler. I am even thinking of bedazzling my crutches with 4 million rhinestones. If I have to use them for the next 5 months, they should be FABULOUS, right? I even talked to a friend yesterday about getting some flames and chrome wheels for the ol' wheelchair. I will only ride in style, you see.
Perhaps even a wand would be helpful. He did threaten to snap of my fingers when I pointed to him the other day and asked him to put "that over there." Gotta give the guy credit though. If the roles had been reversed, we all know that I would have pushed his wheelchair down the stairs by now. (With HIM in it!!) So, I am forever thankful for him. He really is a bit of a saint. Even if he does leave his sneakers lying around and I trip over them on my crutches. It's forgivable.
If you see Paco, give him a pat on the back and tell him he is a great guy, and he is doing a great job looking after his wife. And tell him that jewelry and flowers always make women feel better. Much better.
Now, I'm off to find my tiara . . .
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
A Cure for the Blues
I'm blue. Sad. Slightly depressed. Completely bummed.
In my one attempt at Olympic Freefalling I managed to completely wipe out any fun plans I may have had for the summer. I have completely torn my ACL, put 2 tears in meniscus, wiped out my ligaments, and cracked my tail bone. I'm a hurtin' pup, to say the least. I'm an Orthopaedic Dream! I did some other stuff too which I don't really quite understand. But the gist of it is that I bruised my bones in such a way that it created a large amount of internal bleeding, some of which has calcified in my knee. So, I'm also seeing a vascular surgeoun. (And apparantly he's HOT. So, that could be fun.)
I have been to see two different Orthopaedic Surgeons and I have been given two different courses of action. But there are two distinct similarities: One - My golf game is over for the year and TWO - my crutches will be my best friend for the rest of the summer. Not what I wanted to hear. (And by the way, do you have to be a Grumpy Old Man to be an Orthopaedic Surgeon? I'm noticing a trend. . .)
Normally I beat the blues with mass quantities of chocolate. However, I have screwed that up too. Since I am limited with my movements, I have to be very careful of what I eat now too. I have been on a quest to lose weight since January, and sadly my ars is bigger than ever. (If you say ars instead of ass it is not swearing. My Dr. told me that.) My mom came and cleaned out my pantry of all that is good and filled it with fiber puffs and bulgar wheat. (She can be a party pooper sometimes. Even though she has my best interests at heart. Does anyone know if they make chocolate dipped fiber puffs????)
Normally in times of depression, I look to two things that never fail me - Jewelry and purses. They ALWAYS fit. No matter how big my ars is. So, I am looking to all you lovely ladies to help cure my Blues. I am hosting a Lia Sophia book show, and I need you all to buy something. Yes, I know, this is major guilt. However, you will all be helping to save a seriously depressed soul in her time of need. Screw the casseroles, hook me up with some bling. (I promised you that as I lie here on my couch typing right now I am wearing a fabulous pair of earrings. I am wishing I had a tiara too. I think Paco would take my orders much more graciously if I was wearing a tiara.) Oh, and the deal is, if you buy 2 items at regular prices, you get 4 items at half price. And you can use the half off deal on the most expensive stuff. Isn't that GREAT?????????
I have already picked out over $1400 worth of jewelry that I want, so I really need to sell, sell, sell. I have this fabulous idea that we should all get the Surge ring and it will be like our secret society decoder ring. We will see each other on the street and we will know that we are Girlfriends. Wouldn't that be fun? Our own private club! We can come up with secret shakes and passwords and everything. Clearly I have lots of time on my hands to think of these things. Oh, but I absolutely must have the Moonlight earrings too. Maybe we could use those instead. Hmmmm. But, I also LA-HOVE the Moon dance bracelet. Oy. Decisions, decisions. Now you see why I need you all to buy something. Please, please, pretty-please with sugar on top!!!!!
The way it works is that you buy yourself some fabulous jewelry at fabulous sale prices, and I get credits, and in the end I will get some free bling. It is win-win! Mother's Day is around the corner, so you can even buy your Mom something fabulous. (I am hoping to get free jewels for my Mom since I am still bitter about the fiber bit.) And remember if you buy two items at full price you get up to four more items at any price for half off. And you can use the half off on the higher priced items. Isn't that great? My LA roomate is a Lia Sophia sales manager and she encouraged me to host a party. Naturally after looking at the catalogue I was immediately hooked.
Go to liasophia.com/coleenmckeown
Click our jewelry. You will have full access to the current catalogue.
After you order your first item, you will have to put in Jennifer Pawlewicz as your hostess name. (so I get the credits. Don't forget that part. I need all the credits I can get.) And you can check out right there. They take visa, mastercard, and discover. They will ship your order right to you.
Sorry to use the guilt thing on you. Well, if it gets me some cool jewelry for free and some more for sale prices, then I'm not that sorry. A girl has to do what a girl has to do. Oh, and don't forget to shop at Habitat of Ithaca while your at it. I am in such pain. Ouch. I can feel my knee aching right now. Help a sister out. (Insert guilt-inducing puppy dog eyes here.) Just remember, I am in a wheelchair for the entire summer. And it is up to you to make sure that I am well accessorized in my new throne.
Orders need to be in by May 10th. I have lots of catalogues if you need one, let me know!
Thanks in advance for any orders. I promise, I will let everyone borrow my baubles.
In my one attempt at Olympic Freefalling I managed to completely wipe out any fun plans I may have had for the summer. I have completely torn my ACL, put 2 tears in meniscus, wiped out my ligaments, and cracked my tail bone. I'm a hurtin' pup, to say the least. I'm an Orthopaedic Dream! I did some other stuff too which I don't really quite understand. But the gist of it is that I bruised my bones in such a way that it created a large amount of internal bleeding, some of which has calcified in my knee. So, I'm also seeing a vascular surgeoun. (And apparantly he's HOT. So, that could be fun.)
I have been to see two different Orthopaedic Surgeons and I have been given two different courses of action. But there are two distinct similarities: One - My golf game is over for the year and TWO - my crutches will be my best friend for the rest of the summer. Not what I wanted to hear. (And by the way, do you have to be a Grumpy Old Man to be an Orthopaedic Surgeon? I'm noticing a trend. . .)
Normally I beat the blues with mass quantities of chocolate. However, I have screwed that up too. Since I am limited with my movements, I have to be very careful of what I eat now too. I have been on a quest to lose weight since January, and sadly my ars is bigger than ever. (If you say ars instead of ass it is not swearing. My Dr. told me that.) My mom came and cleaned out my pantry of all that is good and filled it with fiber puffs and bulgar wheat. (She can be a party pooper sometimes. Even though she has my best interests at heart. Does anyone know if they make chocolate dipped fiber puffs????)
Normally in times of depression, I look to two things that never fail me - Jewelry and purses. They ALWAYS fit. No matter how big my ars is. So, I am looking to all you lovely ladies to help cure my Blues. I am hosting a Lia Sophia book show, and I need you all to buy something. Yes, I know, this is major guilt. However, you will all be helping to save a seriously depressed soul in her time of need. Screw the casseroles, hook me up with some bling. (I promised you that as I lie here on my couch typing right now I am wearing a fabulous pair of earrings. I am wishing I had a tiara too. I think Paco would take my orders much more graciously if I was wearing a tiara.) Oh, and the deal is, if you buy 2 items at regular prices, you get 4 items at half price. And you can use the half off deal on the most expensive stuff. Isn't that GREAT?????????
I have already picked out over $1400 worth of jewelry that I want, so I really need to sell, sell, sell. I have this fabulous idea that we should all get the Surge ring and it will be like our secret society decoder ring. We will see each other on the street and we will know that we are Girlfriends. Wouldn't that be fun? Our own private club! We can come up with secret shakes and passwords and everything. Clearly I have lots of time on my hands to think of these things. Oh, but I absolutely must have the Moonlight earrings too. Maybe we could use those instead. Hmmmm. But, I also LA-HOVE the Moon dance bracelet. Oy. Decisions, decisions. Now you see why I need you all to buy something. Please, please, pretty-please with sugar on top!!!!!
The way it works is that you buy yourself some fabulous jewelry at fabulous sale prices, and I get credits, and in the end I will get some free bling. It is win-win! Mother's Day is around the corner, so you can even buy your Mom something fabulous. (I am hoping to get free jewels for my Mom since I am still bitter about the fiber bit.) And remember if you buy two items at full price you get up to four more items at any price for half off. And you can use the half off on the higher priced items. Isn't that great? My LA roomate is a Lia Sophia sales manager and she encouraged me to host a party. Naturally after looking at the catalogue I was immediately hooked.
Go to liasophia.com/coleenmckeown
Click our jewelry. You will have full access to the current catalogue.
After you order your first item, you will have to put in Jennifer Pawlewicz as your hostess name. (so I get the credits. Don't forget that part. I need all the credits I can get.) And you can check out right there. They take visa, mastercard, and discover. They will ship your order right to you.
Sorry to use the guilt thing on you. Well, if it gets me some cool jewelry for free and some more for sale prices, then I'm not that sorry. A girl has to do what a girl has to do. Oh, and don't forget to shop at Habitat of Ithaca while your at it. I am in such pain. Ouch. I can feel my knee aching right now. Help a sister out. (Insert guilt-inducing puppy dog eyes here.) Just remember, I am in a wheelchair for the entire summer. And it is up to you to make sure that I am well accessorized in my new throne.
Orders need to be in by May 10th. I have lots of catalogues if you need one, let me know!
Thanks in advance for any orders. I promise, I will let everyone borrow my baubles.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
I Like That Boom Boom Pow
Boom Boom Pow is a new song out by the Black Eyed Peas. It is the perfect song to be the soundtrack to my yesterday. (Coincidentally it is also my niece's ring tone on her cell phone. And since she was taking me around yesterday I heard it a LOT.) It's a very catchy song and once you hear it you'll have it stuck in your head all day. I promise. I like that Boom Boom Pow . . .
Yesterday was my big day out. I had all sorts of appointments and errands and my fabulous niece was carting me around. She is so much fun to be with. Unfortunately, her wheelchair driving skills leave much to be desired. So sadly, I spend most of the day going Boom Boom Pow into various walls, doorways, and pieces of furniture.
We started the day with my MRI. She pulled right up in front of the hospital doors to drop me off. She gets the wheelchair, lovingly assists me into my seat, and then Boom Boom Pow, she wheels me right into the sliding door frame and nearly knocks me out of my chair.
We go to the registration desk and are directed to another desk to check-in. My niece is busy checking out the cute guy in the hard hat working behind the counter, and yep, Boom Boom Pow right into the desk. (He was really cute so I can't blame her there.)
I survived the rest of my appointment with just a few Boom Boom Pows. But the bigger digger in the bathroom was all me. I can't understand why the hospital bathroom off the MRI waiting room doesn't fit a wheelchair. WTF??? (Insert my WTF scrunched up face here.)
We then stopped by my store to take care of a few things and to say hello to one of my favorite people. (My store is Habitat of Ithaca, on the Downtown Ithaca Commons. It is a fabulous store filled with wonderful gifts and home furnishings. If you have never been there, you MUST come. It is so much fun. Please stop by ASAP and buy something. Yes, I know I am going a bit over-the-top with the gratuitous sales pitch here, but it has been slow, and we have just gotten in some of the cutest Spring merchandise. Please help me keep the lights on . . .sniff sniff) So, since we were only going to be a few minutes, we parked in the 15 minute loading zone. Again, my sweet niece brings my chariot right to me and gingerly helps me get situated.
Then Boom Boom Pow she rams me into the curb and again almost knocks me out of my chair. Then Boom Boom Pow into an upturned brick. Then Boom Boom Pow into the doorframe. Then Boom Boom Pow into the elevator frame.
We finally made it into the store. I was a tad bruised, but thankfully, no blood. My manager had done quite a bit of rearranging since my last visit and the store looked absolutely stunning. (Insert another gratutious sales plug for Habitat of Ithaca on the Downtown Ithaca Commons here.) We visited for a few minutes, looked at all the pretty new stuff, and headed back out for appointment #2.
My second Dr's Appointment was to have my blood pressure checked. It had been registering extremely high, so it was suggested that I follow up with my Dr. to have it looked at. (Hellooooooo, I'm in PAIN. Of course it's off the charts!)
We get to my Dr's and my lovely niece only Boom Boom Pow's me once getting in. (I think she is finally getting the hang of it.) I have a cute male nurse that is getting all my vitals.
He is clearly flirting, and I can't tell if it is for my benefit, or my nieces, but at any rate, he is laying on the charm. I explain how I am supposed to have my blood pressure checked and I also tell him that my tail bone is killing me, and I think I may have hurt it when I fell. "Do you want us to take some pictures of your butt?" he asks?
"Um, only if you give copies to my hubby. He likes that kind of thing." That shut him up for a minute.
He attempts to take my blood pressure but can't get a reading. He tries the other arm. Still no reading. Back to the first arm. No reading. "Great, now I'm dead too."
Finally the Dr. comes in and we start talking about my blood pressure. It's high, and she's concerned. She asks me if I use a lot of salt. I explain that I do not salt my food, but I use some in cooking. I tell her that I am more of a sweets eater. She doesn't buy it and puts me on some new medicine to lower my blood pressure. The problem here is that I am not supposed to drink while I am taking the medicine. Great. Take away ALL my fun.
Next I go to x-rays. My niece only Boom Boom Pow's me once on doorcase. After a series of x-rays I find out that I have a small fracture on my coccyx bone. She explains that is a bone that serves no purpose and can fracture pretty easily. Oooh, fun. She recommends that I get a Donut to help with the pain. "I wish there was a Krispy Kreme nearby," I say.
"Not THAT kind of donut. A chair donut. It's a pad that will help relieve the pressure on your tail bone. But, I'm beginning to see why you have high blood pressure" she replies.
I finally exit the Dr's with a full cache of happy pills, my new blood pressure meds, and bragging rights that now I have TWO butt cracks.
My niece and I go to Chili's to have one last drink before I start my new pills. I am in quite a bit of discomfort so I decide to take a pain pill with my El Presidente Margarita. It is at that moment that my niece spits out her drink and starts laughing uncontrolably.
I am certain that she is laughing at my choice of chaser for my percocet. However, after serveral minutes she finally blurts out, "I think I may have found the source of your salt problem."
I look up from my Margarita glass and I am suddenly aware of the rock salt mustache decorating my face. Sooooooo good.
We finish our lunch and head out to Wal-mart. This is the last stop on our list. I get the pleasure of tooling around in one of their electric shopping carts. And, I must admit, even though I am an awful driver, it is a LOT of fun.
I tool into the store and the cart is too fast for the electric doors and I ram right into them. The "welcome to Wal-Mart" guy sees this and runs over to help. Not a good call on his part because I manage to run into him as well. Oy.
I make it back to the shoe department. I need some new flip flops, since none of my shoes or sneakers will fit my swollen foot, and naturally all my flip flops are 2" platforms. Not the best with crutches.
I quickly find a pair and we head towards check out. We scoot past a group of college kids that go out of their way to smile and say "hello."
"Who are they?" my niece asks. "I have no idea." I reply. "That is the 'sorry you're a cripple' greeting."
"Oh, I get it now," she deadpans.
We make it home without any further incident. I am so happy to have my niece helping because she kindly carries in all my groceries. I scooched my way up to the top of the stairs. In my futile attempt to stand I managed to Boom Boom Pow myself and lock my knee out of joint. I was literally rolling around in pain on the floor. I couldn't get my knee to pop back in place. It took almost 15 minutes of stretching and twisting to get it back where it belonged.
Now I am sweating, sick to my stomach, and my knee is throbbing. I lay on the couch and promise myself I will never ever leave this spot.
A few minutes later my youngest son Trey enters with a huge bouquet of dandelions for me. "Mommy, I'm sorry you broke your knee. I love you sooo, sooo superdy much." So, I get my happy ending after all.
Yesterday was my big day out. I had all sorts of appointments and errands and my fabulous niece was carting me around. She is so much fun to be with. Unfortunately, her wheelchair driving skills leave much to be desired. So sadly, I spend most of the day going Boom Boom Pow into various walls, doorways, and pieces of furniture.
We started the day with my MRI. She pulled right up in front of the hospital doors to drop me off. She gets the wheelchair, lovingly assists me into my seat, and then Boom Boom Pow, she wheels me right into the sliding door frame and nearly knocks me out of my chair.
We go to the registration desk and are directed to another desk to check-in. My niece is busy checking out the cute guy in the hard hat working behind the counter, and yep, Boom Boom Pow right into the desk. (He was really cute so I can't blame her there.)
I survived the rest of my appointment with just a few Boom Boom Pows. But the bigger digger in the bathroom was all me. I can't understand why the hospital bathroom off the MRI waiting room doesn't fit a wheelchair. WTF??? (Insert my WTF scrunched up face here.)
We then stopped by my store to take care of a few things and to say hello to one of my favorite people. (My store is Habitat of Ithaca, on the Downtown Ithaca Commons. It is a fabulous store filled with wonderful gifts and home furnishings. If you have never been there, you MUST come. It is so much fun. Please stop by ASAP and buy something. Yes, I know I am going a bit over-the-top with the gratuitous sales pitch here, but it has been slow, and we have just gotten in some of the cutest Spring merchandise. Please help me keep the lights on . . .sniff sniff) So, since we were only going to be a few minutes, we parked in the 15 minute loading zone. Again, my sweet niece brings my chariot right to me and gingerly helps me get situated.
Then Boom Boom Pow she rams me into the curb and again almost knocks me out of my chair. Then Boom Boom Pow into an upturned brick. Then Boom Boom Pow into the doorframe. Then Boom Boom Pow into the elevator frame.
We finally made it into the store. I was a tad bruised, but thankfully, no blood. My manager had done quite a bit of rearranging since my last visit and the store looked absolutely stunning. (Insert another gratutious sales plug for Habitat of Ithaca on the Downtown Ithaca Commons here.) We visited for a few minutes, looked at all the pretty new stuff, and headed back out for appointment #2.
My second Dr's Appointment was to have my blood pressure checked. It had been registering extremely high, so it was suggested that I follow up with my Dr. to have it looked at. (Hellooooooo, I'm in PAIN. Of course it's off the charts!)
We get to my Dr's and my lovely niece only Boom Boom Pow's me once getting in. (I think she is finally getting the hang of it.) I have a cute male nurse that is getting all my vitals.
He is clearly flirting, and I can't tell if it is for my benefit, or my nieces, but at any rate, he is laying on the charm. I explain how I am supposed to have my blood pressure checked and I also tell him that my tail bone is killing me, and I think I may have hurt it when I fell. "Do you want us to take some pictures of your butt?" he asks?
"Um, only if you give copies to my hubby. He likes that kind of thing." That shut him up for a minute.
He attempts to take my blood pressure but can't get a reading. He tries the other arm. Still no reading. Back to the first arm. No reading. "Great, now I'm dead too."
Finally the Dr. comes in and we start talking about my blood pressure. It's high, and she's concerned. She asks me if I use a lot of salt. I explain that I do not salt my food, but I use some in cooking. I tell her that I am more of a sweets eater. She doesn't buy it and puts me on some new medicine to lower my blood pressure. The problem here is that I am not supposed to drink while I am taking the medicine. Great. Take away ALL my fun.
Next I go to x-rays. My niece only Boom Boom Pow's me once on doorcase. After a series of x-rays I find out that I have a small fracture on my coccyx bone. She explains that is a bone that serves no purpose and can fracture pretty easily. Oooh, fun. She recommends that I get a Donut to help with the pain. "I wish there was a Krispy Kreme nearby," I say.
"Not THAT kind of donut. A chair donut. It's a pad that will help relieve the pressure on your tail bone. But, I'm beginning to see why you have high blood pressure" she replies.
I finally exit the Dr's with a full cache of happy pills, my new blood pressure meds, and bragging rights that now I have TWO butt cracks.
My niece and I go to Chili's to have one last drink before I start my new pills. I am in quite a bit of discomfort so I decide to take a pain pill with my El Presidente Margarita. It is at that moment that my niece spits out her drink and starts laughing uncontrolably.
I am certain that she is laughing at my choice of chaser for my percocet. However, after serveral minutes she finally blurts out, "I think I may have found the source of your salt problem."
I look up from my Margarita glass and I am suddenly aware of the rock salt mustache decorating my face. Sooooooo good.
We finish our lunch and head out to Wal-mart. This is the last stop on our list. I get the pleasure of tooling around in one of their electric shopping carts. And, I must admit, even though I am an awful driver, it is a LOT of fun.
I tool into the store and the cart is too fast for the electric doors and I ram right into them. The "welcome to Wal-Mart" guy sees this and runs over to help. Not a good call on his part because I manage to run into him as well. Oy.
I make it back to the shoe department. I need some new flip flops, since none of my shoes or sneakers will fit my swollen foot, and naturally all my flip flops are 2" platforms. Not the best with crutches.
I quickly find a pair and we head towards check out. We scoot past a group of college kids that go out of their way to smile and say "hello."
"Who are they?" my niece asks. "I have no idea." I reply. "That is the 'sorry you're a cripple' greeting."
"Oh, I get it now," she deadpans.
We make it home without any further incident. I am so happy to have my niece helping because she kindly carries in all my groceries. I scooched my way up to the top of the stairs. In my futile attempt to stand I managed to Boom Boom Pow myself and lock my knee out of joint. I was literally rolling around in pain on the floor. I couldn't get my knee to pop back in place. It took almost 15 minutes of stretching and twisting to get it back where it belonged.
Now I am sweating, sick to my stomach, and my knee is throbbing. I lay on the couch and promise myself I will never ever leave this spot.
A few minutes later my youngest son Trey enters with a huge bouquet of dandelions for me. "Mommy, I'm sorry you broke your knee. I love you sooo, sooo superdy much." So, I get my happy ending after all.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
No Pain, um, No GAIN????
Slight problem. I went to the Dr's today, and I seem to have, ahem, gained 12 pounds since I left for vacation. I'm certain it is the um, swelling in my knee and foot. Swelling creates lots of fluids and um, fluids weigh like a LOT. Plus I was stuck in a wheelchair so that made me retain even more fluid. So, like according to my calculations, if I urinate every 2 hours for the next 17 days I will be back to um, normal. (I am quite certain that the cadbury mini eggs had nothing to do with this since they are so small and innocent looking. How can such a happy snack be bad for you??)
So, clearly my miraclesuit was working major miracles. It held in an extra 12 pounds of, um, fluid, and still managed to keep me fabulous. (And yes Ardell the suit was fabulous. It was not just the alcohol and happy pills this time. You silly, silly girl...) Unfortunately I did not take off my miraclesuit until the night before we left. Perhaps I might have noticed the swelling and um, fluids a bit sooner.
At least my pits are smooth. . .
So, clearly my miraclesuit was working major miracles. It held in an extra 12 pounds of, um, fluid, and still managed to keep me fabulous. (And yes Ardell the suit was fabulous. It was not just the alcohol and happy pills this time. You silly, silly girl...) Unfortunately I did not take off my miraclesuit until the night before we left. Perhaps I might have noticed the swelling and um, fluids a bit sooner.
At least my pits are smooth. . .
Saturday, April 18, 2009
And so are the days of my life
Yesterday was very interesting. To say the least. It was so eventful, I really don't know where to begin.
I guess I should start with yesterday morning . . .
I'm laying in bed watching the news, and Trey sneaks into bed and snuggles up under my arm. "Mommy, I love you. You're so beautiful." Awwww. What a great way to wake up. "Mommy, you have hair on your armpits. Only fat girls have hair on their armpits, right?"
I hear Paco choke on his coffee and my mother bursts out laughing. Even Deuce was laughing.
At this point I have no energy to engage so I simply say "yes honey, only fat girls have hair on their armpits." (In my defense, it was mere stubble. . .)
Naturally my mother couldn't resist and says "What about Grandma?"
"No Gramma, you don't have hair cause you're skinny."
Insert knife and turn, turn, turn.
We get around early and head out for the beach. It was a big day for me. I was finally going to set foot on the sand. Paco had made arrangements with a lifeguard to use a beach wheelchair for the day. This should be interesting, to say the least.
As we are heading down in the elevator, we stop on another floor and a lovely couple and a group of golfters get in. Trey proudly exclaims to them "my Dad always drinks beer."
Oh dear Lord. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I make my way down to the clearing and I see Paco standing next to this enormous blue and white contraption. Upon closer inspection I see that it is a beach chair made out of pvc pipe attached to ginormous inflatable tires. He really doesn't expect me to be seen in this thing, does he?
As it so happens, 2 tour bus loads of high school band members happens to be unloading at the exact same time as I make my ever-graceful transition from one wheelchair to another.
After many grunts, groans, and a 64 piece band tribute, I get settled into my fancy new ride and we head to the beach. Naturally everyone on the beach has to turn and look. It looks like I am being wheeled in on some sort of ceremonial throne. Paco naturally is doing donuts and figure eights, having a super time. I am just thankful that my miraclesuit is still holding up after all this time, and I hold on for dear life.
It was very windy at the beach, and after shivering for 2 hours, we head poolside. I get one last ride in my beach chariot. It's actually a nice ride if you don't mind looking like you belong in Smurf-land.
Poolside there is very little breeze, and it gets hot quickly. Very hot. So I get this wonderful idea that I am going to take a dip in the pool. I manage to hop and slink my way into the pool and I enjoy a very relaxing swim.
Getting out of the pool? Well, let's just say it was NOT pretty. I accidentally shifted my weight to my bad leg and I ended up falling down like a house of cards. As I lay there thrashing like a beached whale, a very sincere 90lb-80 year old man came running to offer his assistance.
Um, sir, you are very kind. But, I don't want to take you down with me.
I managed to get myself hoisted up and back into my wheelchair. Paco just happens to wander back at this exact moment. I explain to him how he is 5 minutes too late to see me flopping around like a beached whale.
He proceeds to inform me that beached whales lay motionless. That is why they are beached. They can't move. He gives my the 5 minute Discovery Channel synopsis of the life cycle of whales.
Seriously Paco, did you have to go there? Your sympathy is overwhelming.
Thankfully my mother hands me a coctail, and life seems much better for the time being.
We spend the next 5 hours poolside. After absorbing as much sun as my skin could handle, we move to the indoor pool to let the kids finish the day with a swim.
After my afternoon coctails I am again feeling brave and I decide to enter the hot tub. (Paco promised to help me get out this time.) There are three hot tubs that are connected in a semi circle. They are all empty, so I pick the one the farthest back.
I ease myself in and enjoy the warm water. Within minutes my bliss is interupted when Grizzly Adams decides to join me in the hot tub. (Did he NOT see the two EMPTY tubs????) This man was covered from head to toe in a carpet of black body hair. I'm not convinced that it wasn't a sasquatch. At any rate, all I could think of was being in a hot tub with a black shag carpet and I really needed to get out. Fast.
Paco was heading over thinking I was being attacked by a Grizzly Bear. He helped me hop out of the hot tub and back into my wheelchair.
At this exact moment a young girl with Down's Syndrome walks over to me and tells me she is sorry that I am in a wheelchair. "I bet it is really hard," she says.
I am convinced that God has a wacko sense of humor and He was warning me about my window licker post. I'm feeling very small, needless to say.
We get back into the room and I immediately head to the shower. I have this insane feeling that I am covered in bear hair and I really need to shower.
I decide to remove my miracle suit for the first time all week. It is a sad moment. But, she has earned a rest. As I take it off I notice a blue mark on the side of my left boob.
Naturally I am starting to panic thinking I have some wierd skurvy from the dude in the hot tub. But upon closer inspection I realize it is just a piece of shell from a cadbury mini egg. Wonder how long that's been in there.
I get situated in the shower. My mother has cleverly placed a plastic deck chair in there for me to sit on. However, I can't seem to get the shampoo out of my hair. So, I carefully stand up and try to turn around on my good leg while holding on to the chair.
Naturally I slip a bit on the water and start to fall backwards. My ass lands square on the faucet and gives me um, quite a jolt. Ahem.
Well, the good news is that my little fall seemed to get things moving in the pipe department. I literally ended up scaring the crap out of myself. . .
After my eventful day I am exhausted. I crawl into bed and get settled in. Trey naturally climbs in behind me and nestles up under my arm.
And he doesn't even skip a beat. He immediately notices that I have shaved my armpits.
"Mom, you don't have any hair on your armpits anymore."
"No honey, Mommy shaved." I reply.
"So, you're just a little fat, right?"
Um, right . . .
I guess I should start with yesterday morning . . .
I'm laying in bed watching the news, and Trey sneaks into bed and snuggles up under my arm. "Mommy, I love you. You're so beautiful." Awwww. What a great way to wake up. "Mommy, you have hair on your armpits. Only fat girls have hair on their armpits, right?"
I hear Paco choke on his coffee and my mother bursts out laughing. Even Deuce was laughing.
At this point I have no energy to engage so I simply say "yes honey, only fat girls have hair on their armpits." (In my defense, it was mere stubble. . .)
Naturally my mother couldn't resist and says "What about Grandma?"
"No Gramma, you don't have hair cause you're skinny."
Insert knife and turn, turn, turn.
We get around early and head out for the beach. It was a big day for me. I was finally going to set foot on the sand. Paco had made arrangements with a lifeguard to use a beach wheelchair for the day. This should be interesting, to say the least.
As we are heading down in the elevator, we stop on another floor and a lovely couple and a group of golfters get in. Trey proudly exclaims to them "my Dad always drinks beer."
Oh dear Lord. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I make my way down to the clearing and I see Paco standing next to this enormous blue and white contraption. Upon closer inspection I see that it is a beach chair made out of pvc pipe attached to ginormous inflatable tires. He really doesn't expect me to be seen in this thing, does he?
As it so happens, 2 tour bus loads of high school band members happens to be unloading at the exact same time as I make my ever-graceful transition from one wheelchair to another.
After many grunts, groans, and a 64 piece band tribute, I get settled into my fancy new ride and we head to the beach. Naturally everyone on the beach has to turn and look. It looks like I am being wheeled in on some sort of ceremonial throne. Paco naturally is doing donuts and figure eights, having a super time. I am just thankful that my miraclesuit is still holding up after all this time, and I hold on for dear life.
It was very windy at the beach, and after shivering for 2 hours, we head poolside. I get one last ride in my beach chariot. It's actually a nice ride if you don't mind looking like you belong in Smurf-land.
Poolside there is very little breeze, and it gets hot quickly. Very hot. So I get this wonderful idea that I am going to take a dip in the pool. I manage to hop and slink my way into the pool and I enjoy a very relaxing swim.
Getting out of the pool? Well, let's just say it was NOT pretty. I accidentally shifted my weight to my bad leg and I ended up falling down like a house of cards. As I lay there thrashing like a beached whale, a very sincere 90lb-80 year old man came running to offer his assistance.
Um, sir, you are very kind. But, I don't want to take you down with me.
I managed to get myself hoisted up and back into my wheelchair. Paco just happens to wander back at this exact moment. I explain to him how he is 5 minutes too late to see me flopping around like a beached whale.
He proceeds to inform me that beached whales lay motionless. That is why they are beached. They can't move. He gives my the 5 minute Discovery Channel synopsis of the life cycle of whales.
Seriously Paco, did you have to go there? Your sympathy is overwhelming.
Thankfully my mother hands me a coctail, and life seems much better for the time being.
We spend the next 5 hours poolside. After absorbing as much sun as my skin could handle, we move to the indoor pool to let the kids finish the day with a swim.
After my afternoon coctails I am again feeling brave and I decide to enter the hot tub. (Paco promised to help me get out this time.) There are three hot tubs that are connected in a semi circle. They are all empty, so I pick the one the farthest back.
I ease myself in and enjoy the warm water. Within minutes my bliss is interupted when Grizzly Adams decides to join me in the hot tub. (Did he NOT see the two EMPTY tubs????) This man was covered from head to toe in a carpet of black body hair. I'm not convinced that it wasn't a sasquatch. At any rate, all I could think of was being in a hot tub with a black shag carpet and I really needed to get out. Fast.
Paco was heading over thinking I was being attacked by a Grizzly Bear. He helped me hop out of the hot tub and back into my wheelchair.
At this exact moment a young girl with Down's Syndrome walks over to me and tells me she is sorry that I am in a wheelchair. "I bet it is really hard," she says.
I am convinced that God has a wacko sense of humor and He was warning me about my window licker post. I'm feeling very small, needless to say.
We get back into the room and I immediately head to the shower. I have this insane feeling that I am covered in bear hair and I really need to shower.
I decide to remove my miracle suit for the first time all week. It is a sad moment. But, she has earned a rest. As I take it off I notice a blue mark on the side of my left boob.
Naturally I am starting to panic thinking I have some wierd skurvy from the dude in the hot tub. But upon closer inspection I realize it is just a piece of shell from a cadbury mini egg. Wonder how long that's been in there.
I get situated in the shower. My mother has cleverly placed a plastic deck chair in there for me to sit on. However, I can't seem to get the shampoo out of my hair. So, I carefully stand up and try to turn around on my good leg while holding on to the chair.
Naturally I slip a bit on the water and start to fall backwards. My ass lands square on the faucet and gives me um, quite a jolt. Ahem.
Well, the good news is that my little fall seemed to get things moving in the pipe department. I literally ended up scaring the crap out of myself. . .
After my eventful day I am exhausted. I crawl into bed and get settled in. Trey naturally climbs in behind me and nestles up under my arm.
And he doesn't even skip a beat. He immediately notices that I have shaved my armpits.
"Mom, you don't have any hair on your armpits anymore."
"No honey, Mommy shaved." I reply.
"So, you're just a little fat, right?"
Um, right . . .
Friday, April 17, 2009
For the love of Percocet
Percocet is my friend. Let's just get it right out in the open. It could quite possibly be one of my new favorite things. I think the man who invented it should be cast in bronze and placed in the Percocet house of worship. I would certainly come and visit.
I have found that every morning I wake up in excruciating pain. I take a Percocet, I pass out for about 45 minutes, and then I wake up in considerably less pain. It's wonderful. I see rainbows and unicorns. I have even come to understand the B-52's song "Shiny Happy People." And 3 1/2 hours later when the pain gets unbearable again, I begin the process all over.
I have noticed that when taken with a Margarita, it is even more powerful and the pain becomes almost non-existent. (Coincidentally drool and slurring are a common side effect.)
There is one downfall to the wonderful world of Percocet. My pipes are a bit clogged. I haven't been able to poo since we left NY. And things are starting to get a bit, well, uncomfortable. My toots have turned toxic, and my bowels are starting to protrude out my back. (I am beginning to think that there might be a significant back-up of cadbury mini eggs that could turn lethal. I guess I really should have listened to my mom.)
I have been popping Dulcolax like tic-tacs. And after spending 2 hours on the throne the most I've been able to produce are a few, sad nuggets. Seriously folks, this brings pain to a whole new level. I started drinking cider vinegar today because my mom read in a magazine that it would help. Oh, and I stopped taking my Percocet. (OK, so officially I ran out, but in my defense, the cute ER Dr. only prescibed me 20 pills because I was supposed to follow up with an Orthopedic Surgeon in a few days. Not 12 days later. oops. My bad.)
So now I am stuck in my wheelchair constipated, in pain, and smelling like salad dressing. But at least my miraclesuit is still looking fabulous.
I have found that every morning I wake up in excruciating pain. I take a Percocet, I pass out for about 45 minutes, and then I wake up in considerably less pain. It's wonderful. I see rainbows and unicorns. I have even come to understand the B-52's song "Shiny Happy People." And 3 1/2 hours later when the pain gets unbearable again, I begin the process all over.
I have noticed that when taken with a Margarita, it is even more powerful and the pain becomes almost non-existent. (Coincidentally drool and slurring are a common side effect.)
There is one downfall to the wonderful world of Percocet. My pipes are a bit clogged. I haven't been able to poo since we left NY. And things are starting to get a bit, well, uncomfortable. My toots have turned toxic, and my bowels are starting to protrude out my back. (I am beginning to think that there might be a significant back-up of cadbury mini eggs that could turn lethal. I guess I really should have listened to my mom.)
I have been popping Dulcolax like tic-tacs. And after spending 2 hours on the throne the most I've been able to produce are a few, sad nuggets. Seriously folks, this brings pain to a whole new level. I started drinking cider vinegar today because my mom read in a magazine that it would help. Oh, and I stopped taking my Percocet. (OK, so officially I ran out, but in my defense, the cute ER Dr. only prescibed me 20 pills because I was supposed to follow up with an Orthopedic Surgeon in a few days. Not 12 days later. oops. My bad.)
So now I am stuck in my wheelchair constipated, in pain, and smelling like salad dressing. But at least my miraclesuit is still looking fabulous.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
The miraculous miraclesuit
OK, let me just start by telling you that my new miracle suit is worth every stinkin penny. Since I nearly killed myself trying to get this thing on (had to take 2 pain pills with a wine chaser) I made the executive decision just to keep the darn thing on for the entire vacation. And, let me tell you that was a brilliant move on my part. I have showered in it, swam in it, gone out to dinner in it, and slept in it. I love this thing so much I think I may wear it forever. It gives a wonderful girdle effect under clothing that makes everything look so much better. When I win the lottery I will buy the company and give you all free miracle suits. They are truly miraculous.
The rest of my vacation has been a tad less miraculous. I am slowly learning the trials and tribulations of getting around in a wheelchair. Everywhere I go I get the "oh, she must be a window-licker" look and the obligatory head nod. I am truly treated like I must be semi-retarded. I've noticed people talking much louder and more slowly. But, because of the fog caused by my fabulous pain pills, this has actually been quite helpful.
Also, I have learned that hotel bathrooms are not wide enough to fit a wheelchair. So, I have to do the wobbly hop into the bathroom every time I need to go. (The floor is tiled so my crutches just slide. I have deemed it much safer without them.)
I have had the pleasure of falling into the toilet not once, but twice, when one of my precious sons left the seat up. Very humbling when you have to scream at 3 am to have your hubby come in and haul you out because you can't do it yourself. (Even more embarrassing was the fact that I had my miraclesuit pulled over to the side and wedged up my butt crack so I wouldn't have to pull it all the way down. Lovely vision, I'm sure.) However, I am quite certain that I have put the fear of God into my children and they will never leave another toilet seat up as long as they live.
I had the pleasure of a surprise visit from a long-time Girlfriend and her family and her mother, who is also a dear Girlfriend. It was nice to visit even if I was stuck in my bed most of the time. But, I did learn that taking a pain pill with a Margarita makes me feel supercalifragilisticketchbealidocious. Thanks for the yummy drinks Chris! (She even brought fabulous Margerita glasses. I am such a spoiled brat.)
I have determined that I am a very bad cripple. I just do not have the patience to be waited on hand and foot. I know that sounds ironic being that my number one wish is for my own personal cabana boy. However, having to rely on someone else for every basic need is rather frustrating. My poor mother has been waiting on me endlessly. And I am truly thankful for that. It just gets old every time I ask for a drink and she reminds me that I just finished one a few minutes ago. Or she says something like "Jenny, you are on your third bag of cadbury mini eggs. Don't you think you should slow it down a bit." "Do you really need another helping of ice-cream? I mean, I know you said it helps cool you off, but, it's only 61 degrees in here right now." "Um, Jenny sweetie, I am quite sure that you are not suppossed to take your pain pill with a bullfrog. Um, by the way, what exactly IS a bullfrog Jenny? And why does it smell like vodka?"
My boys love pushing me around in my wheelchair. They feel like they are being wonderful little helpers. I have been pushed into walls, doors, and parked cars. But, they feel like they are doing a good thing so I just grin and bear it. (And wipe off the blood and dirt when they aren't looking.)
I really have no patience being pushed around in the wheelchair. I have tantrums like a 2 year old. It's quite sad. However, I have learned that my mother and my husband push my wheelchair like it's a grocery cart. They will just stop mid-stride and walk away, leaving me right in the middle of a walkway or in the middle of the parking lot. When they push me into the elevator, they often push me right to the back corner so I get to stare at the wall like I've been naughty. The worst is when I have to use the public bathrooms and my mom insists on coming in with me. I know I should be greatful for the help, but it has to look a bit odd for a 35 year old woman to be taken to the bathroom by her mommy. Thank God she hasn't tried to wipe me . . . yet.
The good news is that the weather has been fabulous. It has been sunny and in the 70's almost every day. Once I get wheeled down to the pool, I flop into a lounge chair and nap all day. It's been great. My purple and yellow leg has been getting lots of odds looks though. I get it all shiny with tanning oil so then it really looks sausagilicious. A big ol' link of pork parts. Yummo.
I have a feeling Myrtle Beach might never be the same . . .
The rest of my vacation has been a tad less miraculous. I am slowly learning the trials and tribulations of getting around in a wheelchair. Everywhere I go I get the "oh, she must be a window-licker" look and the obligatory head nod. I am truly treated like I must be semi-retarded. I've noticed people talking much louder and more slowly. But, because of the fog caused by my fabulous pain pills, this has actually been quite helpful.
Also, I have learned that hotel bathrooms are not wide enough to fit a wheelchair. So, I have to do the wobbly hop into the bathroom every time I need to go. (The floor is tiled so my crutches just slide. I have deemed it much safer without them.)
I have had the pleasure of falling into the toilet not once, but twice, when one of my precious sons left the seat up. Very humbling when you have to scream at 3 am to have your hubby come in and haul you out because you can't do it yourself. (Even more embarrassing was the fact that I had my miraclesuit pulled over to the side and wedged up my butt crack so I wouldn't have to pull it all the way down. Lovely vision, I'm sure.) However, I am quite certain that I have put the fear of God into my children and they will never leave another toilet seat up as long as they live.
I had the pleasure of a surprise visit from a long-time Girlfriend and her family and her mother, who is also a dear Girlfriend. It was nice to visit even if I was stuck in my bed most of the time. But, I did learn that taking a pain pill with a Margarita makes me feel supercalifragilisticketchbealidocious. Thanks for the yummy drinks Chris! (She even brought fabulous Margerita glasses. I am such a spoiled brat.)
I have determined that I am a very bad cripple. I just do not have the patience to be waited on hand and foot. I know that sounds ironic being that my number one wish is for my own personal cabana boy. However, having to rely on someone else for every basic need is rather frustrating. My poor mother has been waiting on me endlessly. And I am truly thankful for that. It just gets old every time I ask for a drink and she reminds me that I just finished one a few minutes ago. Or she says something like "Jenny, you are on your third bag of cadbury mini eggs. Don't you think you should slow it down a bit." "Do you really need another helping of ice-cream? I mean, I know you said it helps cool you off, but, it's only 61 degrees in here right now." "Um, Jenny sweetie, I am quite sure that you are not suppossed to take your pain pill with a bullfrog. Um, by the way, what exactly IS a bullfrog Jenny? And why does it smell like vodka?"
My boys love pushing me around in my wheelchair. They feel like they are being wonderful little helpers. I have been pushed into walls, doors, and parked cars. But, they feel like they are doing a good thing so I just grin and bear it. (And wipe off the blood and dirt when they aren't looking.)
I really have no patience being pushed around in the wheelchair. I have tantrums like a 2 year old. It's quite sad. However, I have learned that my mother and my husband push my wheelchair like it's a grocery cart. They will just stop mid-stride and walk away, leaving me right in the middle of a walkway or in the middle of the parking lot. When they push me into the elevator, they often push me right to the back corner so I get to stare at the wall like I've been naughty. The worst is when I have to use the public bathrooms and my mom insists on coming in with me. I know I should be greatful for the help, but it has to look a bit odd for a 35 year old woman to be taken to the bathroom by her mommy. Thank God she hasn't tried to wipe me . . . yet.
The good news is that the weather has been fabulous. It has been sunny and in the 70's almost every day. Once I get wheeled down to the pool, I flop into a lounge chair and nap all day. It's been great. My purple and yellow leg has been getting lots of odds looks though. I get it all shiny with tanning oil so then it really looks sausagilicious. A big ol' link of pork parts. Yummo.
I have a feeling Myrtle Beach might never be the same . . .
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