The Nerve Test Thingy

A few days ago I mentioned going to the doctor with some discomfort and ending up scheduled for a round of bloodwork and a nerve conduction test.

You would think the bloodwork would be pretty basic. A quick stick and it's done. But not this time. Apparently this lab tech graduated from the Marquis de Sade College of Bloodletting. It hurt when the needle was going in. It hurt while it was in. And it hurt even worse when he pulled it out. And I still managed to walk out without bitch slapping him across the room.

And then came The Nerve Test Thingy. It was weird! First of all I had to walk around the room on tiptoe and then on my heels. No problem there. Then I had to hold my hands out in front of me, close my eyes, and shake my head. No problem again. Then I had to pat my head while rubbing my tummy. Oh, okay, so I made that one up. Let's move on.

The real core of The Nerve Test Thingy was the zapping, the poking, and the vibrating. The doctor had me lay down on the table while he attached all sorts of little devices to my arms and legs to measure response. Then he proceeded to zap me with a little electrical gadget that looked like those battery operated nose hair trimmers. It varied in intensity from a slight tingle to making me jump around the table like those actors when the yell 'clear' and zap them with the paddles! And then he put away that little gadget and poked me with wires (sort of an accupuncture thingy)...and oh yes, that was pleasant. NOT! Finally he touched me here and here and there (no, not THERE!) with a little vibrator. My job was just to let him know what I felt.

I'll get the results of some of this nonsense tomorrow. At the moment I'm not worried about the outcome. I think I'll be just fine. Unless they want more tests. Those things are worse than my original symptoms!

Stages of Recovery

Well mom has flown home. Back to her home in Georgia. And we have entered the first out of three stages of recovery. They are as follows:

Stage 1 - Decompression
This is the stage where each member of our family puts on their comfort clothing - old sweat pants, pajamas, robe, favorite jeans, etc - and retreats to a quiet spot in the house to do something they find enjoyable and relaxing. At the moment, Son16 is upstairs watching TV in our bedroom, Son19 is watching TV in his room, Daughter13 is watching TV in the family room, my wife is in the office on one computer listening to her favorite podcasts, and I'm hiding out with the laptop writing. This stage allows us to bleed off the anxiety and tension and can last from one evening to as much as three or four evenings, depending on the needs of each individual.

Stage 2 - Debriefing
This stage is most notable for the numerous instances where one member of the family approaches another, looks confused, and then utters the phrase "Did she really say (insert bizarre comment here)? What the hell was that?!?!" This is a real healing stage. During my mom's never ending monologue, so many freakish comments and stories poured forth. But in that particular moment, we were trying so hard to appear interested while really meditating on the dust bunny in the corner, that only now do we begin to comprehend some of what was said. And the healing comes in knowing others heard it too...that it is not a stroke-induced memory caused by the pressure of so many words pounding against our brains.

Stage 3 - Celebrating
My good friend, LD, asked today if we would celebrate now that mom was gone. Eventually. But these things must be done in the proper order. If the family went out to dinner tonight, we would sit and mutter while pushing the food around on the plate with our forks. Not until we've passed the healing of Stage 2 can we really move on to the celebration of having our life back to normal. Well, we may not be normal, but we like what we have. And it will be good to get back to that.

The Mom Gap

It has been a week since I last posted. I realize I miss it! I've wanted to write. But there just wasn't time. Why? Cause my mom came to visit. She arrived last Tuesday and heads home tomorrow. Nine days.

So what is a visit from mom like? I wanna say...take the bizarre behavior of Mork, take away every ounce of humor, and add 50 years of being absolutely certain that your view is the ONLY view of things in the world. And that might be selling the visit as better than it is.

Nine days of listening to rambles about people and things we don't know. We don't respond. But she doesn't need a response. In fact, any response just slows the flow of the monologue.

Nine days of answering the same "yes/no" questions. Any attempt to provide more information is met with a bored 'uh huh' or is just interrupted by the next question or monologue.

Nine days, sadly, of tolerating her deeply seated racist views of the world. We cringe. We redirect the monologue. My wife even confronted her directly on some of her comments...even relying on the old standbys of 'do unto others' and 'kindness is a virtue', along with 'the inherent worth and dignity of all people'. Surprisingly, that was met with 'the bible never told me I had to be nice to everyone'. Hmmm.

Nine days. Just about five days too long.

I never expected this!

So I turned 50 last month. Not such a big deal. I don't feel old. Don't look old (so I'm told by reliable sources). So I wasn't really worried. Oh, getting the bifocals - pardon me, graduated lenses - made me feel a little old. But that seemed to be the only real sign of aging.

And then I broke a tooth. Could happen to anybody, right? But I wasn't eating cashew nuts or nachos or chewy taffy. Oh no. I broke a huge hunk off of a tooth eating a glazed donut. A fresh one. Soft. Should not have broken a tooth, right? Dentist managed to repair without much discomfort.

Then I went to the doctor due to some discomfort. That led to some simple tests in the office. Not being satisfied, I'm now lined up for blood work, a session of nerve conduction testing, and a return to the doctor. Oh...and get this. The doctor actually used the phrase "a person of your age". OUCH! Totally unnecessary, dear doctor.

And last night, eating a pizza with a soft crust, I broke another freaking tooth!! Not the same one...but the same position on the opposite side! Of course the dentist was all booked up today. I whined on the phone about eating Thanksgiving dinner with a broken tooth and earned their sympathy. They worked me into the schedule and all is well - as long as I avoid hard food, sticky food, cold food, and hot food. And get this...he actually used the phrase "when people get to be your age". Is this a conspiracy?!?

So I feel a little like I'm falling apart overnight. And I'm not loving that feeling. But I know I've had enough of that 'person of your age' shit! I'm just NOT that old!

This is a 'must have'

Things are gearing up for the big feast. My wife has already baked lots of pumpkin bread and cranberry bread. We've planned our appetizers. And the actual meal is planned. Not too much work in the planning stages cause we stick with pretty traditional fare - turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie, etc. And all the shopping is done and the ingredients are awaiting us in the cupboard.

I've also had some time to engage in one of my favorite pre-holiday pastimes - watching The Food Network. Every cook who ever had a show gets their own holiday special. And then they all come together for The Food Network cook-off or holiday luncheon or whatever they call it. And from the shows I've seen so far, it seems that this year a huge focus is on the mighty cranberry. That tiny red fruit waiting to burst forth on our holiday table and bring us delightful goodness. No longer shall it be just a side dish. Oh no! It is time to heat up your cranberries with some various juices and liqueurs, throw in some diced mango, stir in some crushed nuts, and serve it all up as a feast for the eyes and the palate.

Good for them. But there is one thing that I absolutely must have to make my Thanksgiving meal complete...

Don't look, Mom!

When Son16 was about 5 years old, he was outside playing on the driveway one warm summer day when he dashed into the house, told his mom, "Don't look out the window, okay?", and then dashed back outside. Now, my wife is a very smart woman. So she did what any smart parent would do. She ran directly to the window, did not pass GO and did not collect $200. And she arrived at the window just in time to watch young Son whip it out and pee all over the driveway!

When you make the decision to have kids there is just no way to predict what types of rules you might have to make up. But 'thou shalt not pee in our yard' has been a standard guideline for our kids since that day.

Leaves From Afar

Look at the size of this leaf!

Yesterday I did a final leaf cleaning around the yard. And found numerous specimens of this gigantic size. Scary. I know there was nothing this big hanging over my head in the summer. That would not look like leaf cover. That would look like a tree filled with patio umbrellas! The only explanation I can find that makes sense...aliens. Someone from another planet is dumping his/her/its fallen leaves in my yard! That would certainly explain why I keep raking but never finish.