I am happy to report that I have nothing to report!
NOTHING TERRIBLE HAPPENED TODAY!
Bill even feels a tiny bit better, and rested! He is terribly white, and very nauseous sometimes, but at other times, can eat quite well! He wanted to ride in the car today, and was able to help a little with the dogs, and things like that.
Best of all WE DID LAUNDRY AND ALL DICKENS DIDN'T BREAK LOOSE!
(Poor Charles Dickens! Wouldn't you hate to have your last name be a euphemism for hell? How did he get stuck with THAT?)
Of course, if there is someone you REALLY don't like, you can substitute their names for all kinds of things, and get a mwa-ha-haaaa chuckle out of it. Example: They pumped all the Hitler out of my septic tank yesterday. And when I ran the washing machine on LARGE LOAD, I saw not one iota of liquid Hitler coming into my shower, sink or john!
Wait! Ew! How did "john" come to mean "toilet"? It should be "Adolph". Here: Not one bit of Hitler came up into my Adolph today!
Wow. Beth needs to find a constructive use of her mind... this particular conversation is getting way too strange.
Anyway, the only $1200 thing that happened to us TODAY (and compared to the septic tank saga, this seemed like nothing!), was that our outdoor stone staircase fell apart. Yeppers. The ONLY stairs we have, outside leading from the basement where we now dwell, up to the actual level of the world of the living.
So our "Is he human or angel?" general contractor Steve made one phone call for us and got his genius stone masons out here SAME DAY (just like he got all those plumbers SAME DAY) and these masons are doing a beautiful job of rebuilding our outside stone stairs. Meanwhile.... Yes, we have to go around the side of the house and walk up hill for a couple of days, and yes, that involves walking over the Septic Tank from Dickens, but at least the septic tank isn't filled with Hitler right now, and our Adolphs are sparkling clean!
Love to all! And thanks for all the email hugs I got yesterday! Got us both right through it all!!!!!
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Monday Night: post #4: FIXED! FOR REAL!
It's all fixed. FOR REAL.
I have never thought I was so close to going nuts as I was today.
Bill felt so ill that he cut his classes short and came home early.
I spent hours bleaching every subatomic particle in the downstairs bathroom.
At last, I THINK, we are really, really finished with having no plumbing.
I'll write more tomorrow. Bill seems to feel a little bit better tonight--he had an increased appetite! And seems cheerful.
Ohhhhhhhhh, the things we take for granted.
THANK YOU, LORD!
G'nite!
I have never thought I was so close to going nuts as I was today.
Bill felt so ill that he cut his classes short and came home early.
I spent hours bleaching every subatomic particle in the downstairs bathroom.
At last, I THINK, we are really, really finished with having no plumbing.
I'll write more tomorrow. Bill seems to feel a little bit better tonight--he had an increased appetite! And seems cheerful.
Ohhhhhhhhh, the things we take for granted.
THANK YOU, LORD!
G'nite!
Monday Post #3: Could Things Get Any Worse? YES!
Bill got to school and his extremely essential medical equipment failed! This has never happened at school! So he had to drive allllll the way back home because due to my car being somewhat broken, we didn't think it safe for me to take his backup equipment to Appalachian.
So the POOR MAN had to drive home, and change his entire outfit, and we can't do laundry all this time, so we're running out of clothes, and the misery level here has reached probably not only an all-time high, but the outer limits of what I personally can bear.
I wish I had someone to just come in the house, wrap their arms around me, hug me, and say, "Beth, it's gonna be okay" and then do the same for Poor Bill, who not only has this escalating chaos at home, but has to TEACH FOR THREE HOURS THIS AFTERNOON!
I have never been so afraid that I was going to just fall apart as I am right this minute. It has to get better from here. It just has to. Meanwhile, hes going back to ASU after changing his clothes, and I am sitting here waiting for the rooter, cameraman, jet man, and who knows who else.
Can you imagine what this is going to cost? Oh who even CARES!
AESOP'S FABLE ENDING: Be THANKFUL for your plumbing. You take it for granted and when it dies, you realize how your whole life depends on it in many ways. Seriously. Go say a prayer for your toilet. If necessary, KISS your toilet and BUY IT ROSES!
And pray for mine, while you're at it.
And if you drive by my house in the next three hours, please come in and hug me. I'm actually wondering if I've reached the end of what I can stand without going bonkers and having my eyes pop out of my head on springs leaving little Xs behind on my face. This is really really really TOO MUCH!
But if you have limited prayers, spend them all on Bill. He's got all this on his mind, AND 8 thousand terrible physical ailments at the same time. Ohhhhhhhhhhh, woe is that good Cowboy who deserves none of this and is patiently tolerating all of it............
So the POOR MAN had to drive home, and change his entire outfit, and we can't do laundry all this time, so we're running out of clothes, and the misery level here has reached probably not only an all-time high, but the outer limits of what I personally can bear.
I wish I had someone to just come in the house, wrap their arms around me, hug me, and say, "Beth, it's gonna be okay" and then do the same for Poor Bill, who not only has this escalating chaos at home, but has to TEACH FOR THREE HOURS THIS AFTERNOON!
I have never been so afraid that I was going to just fall apart as I am right this minute. It has to get better from here. It just has to. Meanwhile, hes going back to ASU after changing his clothes, and I am sitting here waiting for the rooter, cameraman, jet man, and who knows who else.
Can you imagine what this is going to cost? Oh who even CARES!
AESOP'S FABLE ENDING: Be THANKFUL for your plumbing. You take it for granted and when it dies, you realize how your whole life depends on it in many ways. Seriously. Go say a prayer for your toilet. If necessary, KISS your toilet and BUY IT ROSES!
And pray for mine, while you're at it.
And if you drive by my house in the next three hours, please come in and hug me. I'm actually wondering if I've reached the end of what I can stand without going bonkers and having my eyes pop out of my head on springs leaving little Xs behind on my face. This is really really really TOO MUCH!
But if you have limited prayers, spend them all on Bill. He's got all this on his mind, AND 8 thousand terrible physical ailments at the same time. Ohhhhhhhhhhh, woe is that good Cowboy who deserves none of this and is patiently tolerating all of it............
Monday Afternoon: PROBLEMS INTENSIFY With Plumbing
After a whole morning of people digging up our septic tank, then pumping it, new disasters befell us, and as i write this, the sink, toilet, and shower stall in the downstairs bathroom are.....well.....let's just say COMPLETELY FULL OF GROSS, HORRIBLE, DISGUSTING SOMETHING MIXED WITH WATER, but still, by the grace of God, have not overflowed.
Bill went to school because they have bathrooms there. We don't have bathrooms here. I mean, *I* don't.
This afternoon, two whole new trucks are coming with CAMERAS to do a COLONOSCOPY of the HOUSE SEPTIC PIPES. They can't figure out what is wrong.
Meanwhile, there is a very happy fly trapped in the downstairs bathroom, to which room I have closed the doors. And I feel sure that I am going to come down with Ebola Virus or Dengue Fever or both from being in such proximity to such substances, even by air.
This is the grossest most horrible thing I have been involved with lately, and that's saying something, because I've seen a lot.
Bill is so ill and miserable that he looks like The Thing That Crawled Out of the Crypt today, and should NOT be at a university teaching! He knows it. I told him. But he dragged his feet to the car and went, nonetheless.
So here I am, in quasi-shock, monitoring the dogs' proximity to the open septic tank, and waiting for the next round of trucks, cameras, roto-rooters, jets (whatever those are), and HOPEFULLY, since it's a colonoscopy, an anesthesiologist will be involved because I NEED A SHOT. AND I NEED IT NOW!
Bill went to school because they have bathrooms there. We don't have bathrooms here. I mean, *I* don't.
This afternoon, two whole new trucks are coming with CAMERAS to do a COLONOSCOPY of the HOUSE SEPTIC PIPES. They can't figure out what is wrong.
Meanwhile, there is a very happy fly trapped in the downstairs bathroom, to which room I have closed the doors. And I feel sure that I am going to come down with Ebola Virus or Dengue Fever or both from being in such proximity to such substances, even by air.
This is the grossest most horrible thing I have been involved with lately, and that's saying something, because I've seen a lot.
Bill is so ill and miserable that he looks like The Thing That Crawled Out of the Crypt today, and should NOT be at a university teaching! He knows it. I told him. But he dragged his feet to the car and went, nonetheless.
So here I am, in quasi-shock, monitoring the dogs' proximity to the open septic tank, and waiting for the next round of trucks, cameras, roto-rooters, jets (whatever those are), and HOPEFULLY, since it's a colonoscopy, an anesthesiologist will be involved because I NEED A SHOT. AND I NEED IT NOW!
Monday: TOTAL Plumbing Failure
At 8:01 the owner of LaBonte plumbing began his journey Drennanward.
Sand and...I won't say what else... filled--thank GOD did not overflow---BUT IT WAS PRETTY HORRIFYING THAT IT FILLED--our sink, shower, toilet, everything, when we did a THANK GOD AGAIN TINY TINY load of laundry last night. Had we done a large load of laundry, this whole thing would have flooded our basement and I would be on a plane to South America, because there IS a limit to what I can take. That would've been it.
So how this happened, last night we heard bubbling, ran into the bathroom only to see "the waters rising" and sandy water filling every available plumbing-related item in the bathroom.
Oh, the quantity of bleach that I used thereafter....this is nine oclock at night, when this drama struck.
Remember now: Bill has a CONDITION that I will not even mention that makes it impossible to proceed without frequent use of plumbing. So we are in a jam and a half.
The plumber is coming to pump out the entire tank, with equipment. Oh, Lord, help us.
After I publish this story which will get your Monday off to a Drennanesque start, I'm heading out into the woods with a shovel to create a Robinson Crusoe space for Bill who also feels quite ill, and is nonetheless planning to leave and TEACH today.
I was trying to think how to end this entry. No comment. It's just TOO....NOT funny...
Sand and...I won't say what else... filled--thank GOD did not overflow---BUT IT WAS PRETTY HORRIFYING THAT IT FILLED--our sink, shower, toilet, everything, when we did a THANK GOD AGAIN TINY TINY load of laundry last night. Had we done a large load of laundry, this whole thing would have flooded our basement and I would be on a plane to South America, because there IS a limit to what I can take. That would've been it.
So how this happened, last night we heard bubbling, ran into the bathroom only to see "the waters rising" and sandy water filling every available plumbing-related item in the bathroom.
Oh, the quantity of bleach that I used thereafter....this is nine oclock at night, when this drama struck.
Remember now: Bill has a CONDITION that I will not even mention that makes it impossible to proceed without frequent use of plumbing. So we are in a jam and a half.
The plumber is coming to pump out the entire tank, with equipment. Oh, Lord, help us.
After I publish this story which will get your Monday off to a Drennanesque start, I'm heading out into the woods with a shovel to create a Robinson Crusoe space for Bill who also feels quite ill, and is nonetheless planning to leave and TEACH today.
I was trying to think how to end this entry. No comment. It's just TOO....NOT funny...
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Disaster-Free Day--Almost
Well, it was a disasterless day at the Drennan corral, and we couldn't be more relieved.
Okay, yeah, there are a few hours of sunlight left, so something could still happen, but we think we have a fighting chance of making it through till Monday without any 911s to plumbers or doctors or mechanics or (fade out sound of Beth chanting list of last week's adversities, afflictions, bales, banes, blights, busts, calamities, cataclysms, catastrophes, debacles, exigencies, fiascos, misadventures, mishaps, reversals, ruinations, setbacks, upsets, washouts and woes.)
Unless you count what happened at the grocery store just now, which I don't think counts, since it has nothing to do with Cowboy Billy except that he was waiting in the car with the three pups when: we parked at WalMart to get a list of about 12 things, only WalMart didn't have two of them, so after waiting in the WalMart line to pay for the ten items, that line being about 8 people long and taking longer than the shopping itself....we then had to go to FOOD LION to get TWO items that were not at WalMart.
So, have you done this? I look in my cart, and with only 2 items, I realize that FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE, I QUALIFY for the 12-items-or-fewer-lane. OH, HALLELUJAH!
So I zip into that lane, only to see that some woman (you've met her or one of her clones) has said, "The 12-item rule doesn't apply to ME" and pulled her TWO CARTLOADS of groceries and plopped them on the conveyor belt of the 12-item lane, and looks like she's going to be there for the duration of several presidential administrations, so I mutter under my breath something inappropriate, and I go to the only other lane open.
Which lane has a red-headed woman with approximately 100 items to be checked out.
And I have two.
So I stand there as they check out 100 items.
FINALLY, FINALLY they're finished.
But then the red-headed woman says, "Wait. Did I get FIVE cents off the Orbit gum or only THREE CENTS?" The cashier goes through the tape and says, "Three cents."
"THREE CENTS? It was supposed to be FIVE CENTS! If it's THREE CENTS, then I wish to RETURN THE ORBIT GUM!" says the red-headed lady with all the indignancy she can muster.
"Yes, ma'am," says the cashier. And uses the microphone to call the manager over because she needs the key to return the Orbit gum.
Oh. My. Gosh. I'm starting to get in touch with some angry feelings.
So then the manager sashays over from, I don't know, the farthest reaches of maybe the parking lot? And gives the cashier the key. They do something with the key, and voila! The Orbit Gum From Hell is now RETURNED.
I'm thinking, "FINALLY!"
BUT NO! The cashier says, "Ma'am, you'll have to fill out this form for why you returned the gum."
Oh. My. Gosh. This. Isn't. Happening.
So the red-headed lady takes out a pen and FILLS OUT THE FORM. I'm thinking, "Gosh darn it, I'll buy the ORBIT GUM FOR YOU IF YOU'LL JUST GET OUT OF HERE!"
OKAY, form is filled out.
I think, "Finally!"
Nope.
NOW the red-headed lady reaches in her purse and pulls out approximately 35 carefully clipped COUPONS that pertain to her 100--no, now it's 99-items---that she has just purchased, but she looks smugly cheerful because she knows that by exercising extreme shrewdness and sagacity, she has saved TWO WHOLE PENNIES that were almost wrested from her wallet by some devilish misrepresentation having to do with the Very Evil Product Known As Orbit Gum.
I, myself, am NOT looking smugly cheerful. I am about to grab a magazine about the Royal Wedding and whack merry hell out of someone's head.
But to restrain myself, I simply sigh loudly, and lean over (I'm not kidding) and put my forehead on the hand-bar of my shopping cart, and remain in that half-bowed position, hoping to express the greatest amount of dismay that it is possible to express with simple body language.
But red-head is not deterred in the least by my very evident misery. Not in the least.
The cashier has to check allllllllll the coupons, one by one, and oh, the 25-cents-off-for-crackers one WON'T INTERACT WITH THE LASER so she has to fool with that one.
When said cashier is finished with said coupons, she says to the lady, "You saved a dollar ninety-eight with your coupons."
A DOLLAR NINETY-EIGHT?????????????
I am now breathing fire. I am thinking through every slogan I've ever heard in any 12-step program, in order to keep from pulling a dollar ninety-eight out of my wallet and throwing it into the HAIR of this madwoman in front of me.
Then she leaves.
By the time I get to the car, I look like I've been wandering in the Gobi desert for weeks. I throw my tiny little bag of two items into the car. Bill says, "You look upset. Did something happen?"
"Oh, noooooooooo," I said. "Just a little delay in the checkout lane."
Okay, yeah, there are a few hours of sunlight left, so something could still happen, but we think we have a fighting chance of making it through till Monday without any 911s to plumbers or doctors or mechanics or (fade out sound of Beth chanting list of last week's adversities, afflictions, bales, banes, blights, busts, calamities, cataclysms, catastrophes, debacles, exigencies, fiascos, misadventures, mishaps, reversals, ruinations, setbacks, upsets, washouts and woes.)
Unless you count what happened at the grocery store just now, which I don't think counts, since it has nothing to do with Cowboy Billy except that he was waiting in the car with the three pups when: we parked at WalMart to get a list of about 12 things, only WalMart didn't have two of them, so after waiting in the WalMart line to pay for the ten items, that line being about 8 people long and taking longer than the shopping itself....we then had to go to FOOD LION to get TWO items that were not at WalMart.
So, have you done this? I look in my cart, and with only 2 items, I realize that FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE, I QUALIFY for the 12-items-or-fewer-lane. OH, HALLELUJAH!
So I zip into that lane, only to see that some woman (you've met her or one of her clones) has said, "The 12-item rule doesn't apply to ME" and pulled her TWO CARTLOADS of groceries and plopped them on the conveyor belt of the 12-item lane, and looks like she's going to be there for the duration of several presidential administrations, so I mutter under my breath something inappropriate, and I go to the only other lane open.
Which lane has a red-headed woman with approximately 100 items to be checked out.
And I have two.
So I stand there as they check out 100 items.
FINALLY, FINALLY they're finished.
But then the red-headed woman says, "Wait. Did I get FIVE cents off the Orbit gum or only THREE CENTS?" The cashier goes through the tape and says, "Three cents."
"THREE CENTS? It was supposed to be FIVE CENTS! If it's THREE CENTS, then I wish to RETURN THE ORBIT GUM!" says the red-headed lady with all the indignancy she can muster.
"Yes, ma'am," says the cashier. And uses the microphone to call the manager over because she needs the key to return the Orbit gum.
Oh. My. Gosh. I'm starting to get in touch with some angry feelings.
So then the manager sashays over from, I don't know, the farthest reaches of maybe the parking lot? And gives the cashier the key. They do something with the key, and voila! The Orbit Gum From Hell is now RETURNED.
I'm thinking, "FINALLY!"
BUT NO! The cashier says, "Ma'am, you'll have to fill out this form for why you returned the gum."
Oh. My. Gosh. This. Isn't. Happening.
So the red-headed lady takes out a pen and FILLS OUT THE FORM. I'm thinking, "Gosh darn it, I'll buy the ORBIT GUM FOR YOU IF YOU'LL JUST GET OUT OF HERE!"
OKAY, form is filled out.
I think, "Finally!"
Nope.
NOW the red-headed lady reaches in her purse and pulls out approximately 35 carefully clipped COUPONS that pertain to her 100--no, now it's 99-items---that she has just purchased, but she looks smugly cheerful because she knows that by exercising extreme shrewdness and sagacity, she has saved TWO WHOLE PENNIES that were almost wrested from her wallet by some devilish misrepresentation having to do with the Very Evil Product Known As Orbit Gum.
I, myself, am NOT looking smugly cheerful. I am about to grab a magazine about the Royal Wedding and whack merry hell out of someone's head.
But to restrain myself, I simply sigh loudly, and lean over (I'm not kidding) and put my forehead on the hand-bar of my shopping cart, and remain in that half-bowed position, hoping to express the greatest amount of dismay that it is possible to express with simple body language.
But red-head is not deterred in the least by my very evident misery. Not in the least.
The cashier has to check allllllllll the coupons, one by one, and oh, the 25-cents-off-for-crackers one WON'T INTERACT WITH THE LASER so she has to fool with that one.
When said cashier is finished with said coupons, she says to the lady, "You saved a dollar ninety-eight with your coupons."
A DOLLAR NINETY-EIGHT?????????????
I am now breathing fire. I am thinking through every slogan I've ever heard in any 12-step program, in order to keep from pulling a dollar ninety-eight out of my wallet and throwing it into the HAIR of this madwoman in front of me.
Then she leaves.
By the time I get to the car, I look like I've been wandering in the Gobi desert for weeks. I throw my tiny little bag of two items into the car. Bill says, "You look upset. Did something happen?"
"Oh, noooooooooo," I said. "Just a little delay in the checkout lane."
Saturday, April 16, 2011
No. We Have to Be Making This Up.....But We Aren't....
This time, before I list our traumatic events, I want you to know that they are all solved.
Yesterday, I heard from a few people, that perhaps my blog posts had scared everyone to death. So maybe I should be a little more circumspect in what I list and leave some of the stuff out.
But then, how would I have ANY fun? Posting on this blog, given the junk that happens to us, is like telling ghost stories around a campfire! By the end of the stories, no one knows who's going to live or die or get sued or fall in a septic tank.
Septic tank?
Did you mention septic tanks?
Why, THAT'S a coincidence, because WE HAD OUR SEPTIC TANK DUG OUT TODAY.
YES! Our plumbing backed up to where WE COULD NOT USE IT AT ALL.
Not only that, but Bill came down with a gastrointestinal reaction to his antibiotics such that PLUMBING USE BECAME COMPLETELY MANDATORY! At the same time that we lost all our plumbing.
Please know I'm not kidding when I say that for several hours, the only option we had left, which option we admit we used, was going "potty" in the WOODS, despite driving rainstorms all morning. Which lovely cold rain made the experience even more pleasant. Not.
And as I was doing my thing at various times in the woods, due to much coffee drinking, I was admiring the little sprouts that were coming up in the nice leaves of my Robinson Crusoe "bathroom" amidst the rain-drenched rhododendrons, and I did have to start laughing because I realized that this was so far beyond ridiculous.
But thank HEAVEN for our contractor, who, even tho it was Saturday, out of the mercy of his bless-ed heart, found plumbers to come out here by early afternoon and rescue us. It took them the rest of the day, and given that it was TWO plumbers, at time and a half, I calculate that for the price of it, I could've paid off Ford Motor Credit company and bought myself a nice used van.
But yes. This ACTUALLY happened. TODAY.
And I admit that for a few minutes, despondency did set in. Bill and I were slouched on the bench outside, watching the plumbers digging up the septic tank, as we listened to "worst case scenarios" such as perhaps having to abandon our septic tank and do a $15,000 hookup to the sewer that is about a half mile away from us, and other such delightful possibilities. All of which involved moving to a hotel for a few weeks.
We DID actually start to get depressed at that point.
But suddenly, I remembered some slogans from the 12-step program I have joined in order to find out what I did wrong in my parenting to cause certain developments along the lines of the Ford Credit Fiasco, and quite a FEW VERY similar events since Christmas, that I shan't describe, to spare the reputations of the TWO unnamed young persons whose behavior has driven me into Codependents Anonymous.
And you probably think I'm joking.
Nope. I'm on step four of the twelve steps. Yes, I realized that I must have done something totally backwards in my parenting, something I'm completely unaware of, and I want to know what it was. You'd be amazed how many parents are in my group, telling stories about their adult kids and saying "Where did I go WRONG?"
But that's another day's post.
For TODAY, all I have is: our septic tank got dug up, our toilet got yanked, our pipes got whatever-ed, we "tinkled" in the woods, in the rain, and as for our Cancer Fightin' Cowpoke, he coughed LESS today, looked whiter, is bleeding from his side but has no fever, and ate a little FOOD! Even better, he said, "I feel a little bit better. Weak, very weak, but better."
Hey, coulda been a much worse day! We were 5 minutes from moving to that hotel when the plumbers, at one point, said, leaning on their shovels in the rain, "We just don't know what to do to fix this."
That was the nadir.
But once I started laughing and busting out the 12-step slogans, I felt so much better.
"There's no such thing as the end of the world, except the end of the world!" I said to Bill, courageously.
Bill said, to that one, "I think I see the end of the world over there where those two guys are shoveling."
Well, that's all I've got to report for today's fun. Let's see what TOMORROW holds for us!
Thanks always for caring and following this crazy, crazy plot.
Nighty night!
Yesterday, I heard from a few people, that perhaps my blog posts had scared everyone to death. So maybe I should be a little more circumspect in what I list and leave some of the stuff out.
But then, how would I have ANY fun? Posting on this blog, given the junk that happens to us, is like telling ghost stories around a campfire! By the end of the stories, no one knows who's going to live or die or get sued or fall in a septic tank.
Septic tank?
Did you mention septic tanks?
Why, THAT'S a coincidence, because WE HAD OUR SEPTIC TANK DUG OUT TODAY.
YES! Our plumbing backed up to where WE COULD NOT USE IT AT ALL.
Not only that, but Bill came down with a gastrointestinal reaction to his antibiotics such that PLUMBING USE BECAME COMPLETELY MANDATORY! At the same time that we lost all our plumbing.
Please know I'm not kidding when I say that for several hours, the only option we had left, which option we admit we used, was going "potty" in the WOODS, despite driving rainstorms all morning. Which lovely cold rain made the experience even more pleasant. Not.
And as I was doing my thing at various times in the woods, due to much coffee drinking, I was admiring the little sprouts that were coming up in the nice leaves of my Robinson Crusoe "bathroom" amidst the rain-drenched rhododendrons, and I did have to start laughing because I realized that this was so far beyond ridiculous.
But thank HEAVEN for our contractor, who, even tho it was Saturday, out of the mercy of his bless-ed heart, found plumbers to come out here by early afternoon and rescue us. It took them the rest of the day, and given that it was TWO plumbers, at time and a half, I calculate that for the price of it, I could've paid off Ford Motor Credit company and bought myself a nice used van.
But yes. This ACTUALLY happened. TODAY.
And I admit that for a few minutes, despondency did set in. Bill and I were slouched on the bench outside, watching the plumbers digging up the septic tank, as we listened to "worst case scenarios" such as perhaps having to abandon our septic tank and do a $15,000 hookup to the sewer that is about a half mile away from us, and other such delightful possibilities. All of which involved moving to a hotel for a few weeks.
We DID actually start to get depressed at that point.
But suddenly, I remembered some slogans from the 12-step program I have joined in order to find out what I did wrong in my parenting to cause certain developments along the lines of the Ford Credit Fiasco, and quite a FEW VERY similar events since Christmas, that I shan't describe, to spare the reputations of the TWO unnamed young persons whose behavior has driven me into Codependents Anonymous.
And you probably think I'm joking.
Nope. I'm on step four of the twelve steps. Yes, I realized that I must have done something totally backwards in my parenting, something I'm completely unaware of, and I want to know what it was. You'd be amazed how many parents are in my group, telling stories about their adult kids and saying "Where did I go WRONG?"
But that's another day's post.
For TODAY, all I have is: our septic tank got dug up, our toilet got yanked, our pipes got whatever-ed, we "tinkled" in the woods, in the rain, and as for our Cancer Fightin' Cowpoke, he coughed LESS today, looked whiter, is bleeding from his side but has no fever, and ate a little FOOD! Even better, he said, "I feel a little bit better. Weak, very weak, but better."
Hey, coulda been a much worse day! We were 5 minutes from moving to that hotel when the plumbers, at one point, said, leaning on their shovels in the rain, "We just don't know what to do to fix this."
That was the nadir.
But once I started laughing and busting out the 12-step slogans, I felt so much better.
"There's no such thing as the end of the world, except the end of the world!" I said to Bill, courageously.
Bill said, to that one, "I think I see the end of the world over there where those two guys are shoveling."
Well, that's all I've got to report for today's fun. Let's see what TOMORROW holds for us!
Thanks always for caring and following this crazy, crazy plot.
Nighty night!
He Slept Through the Night
It's 10 am, and he is still asleep! Meaning his coughing didn't wake him up (he has good cough medicine), and he isn't so banged up that he can't just sleep. I'm sure he's missed a lot of sleep in the hospital.
I'm feeling great today and rested, and imagining a good day here with NO problems of ANY kind.
Hey. I can dream!
But actually, we can all (meaning me and YOU) breathe a sigh of relief, because nothing terrible has happened in almost 24 hours now, AND it's been pretty amazing that God didn't forget to wrap all the hurdles in comedy. Well, okay, a lot of it wasn't funny. Moment of seriousness. But...okay, moment over: a lot of it WAS funny.
(All my atheist friends, please translate "God" to whatever you call the pen that writes the storyline. Yes, existentialists, I know you call it "YOU". Yes, fatalists, I know you call it "fate."Yes, agnostics, I know you're not SURE what to call it.) Okay, Beth. Stop. Go drink your coffee.
I'll post later, after he's up, but I think things are better. I just feel it in mah bones!
Love love and more love to all of you for caring and following and wanting to help and wanting the best for an ole cowpoke and his girl.
Happy day to you!
I'm feeling great today and rested, and imagining a good day here with NO problems of ANY kind.
Hey. I can dream!
But actually, we can all (meaning me and YOU) breathe a sigh of relief, because nothing terrible has happened in almost 24 hours now, AND it's been pretty amazing that God didn't forget to wrap all the hurdles in comedy. Well, okay, a lot of it wasn't funny. Moment of seriousness. But...okay, moment over: a lot of it WAS funny.
(All my atheist friends, please translate "God" to whatever you call the pen that writes the storyline. Yes, existentialists, I know you call it "YOU". Yes, fatalists, I know you call it "fate."Yes, agnostics, I know you're not SURE what to call it.) Okay, Beth. Stop. Go drink your coffee.
I'll post later, after he's up, but I think things are better. I just feel it in mah bones!
Love love and more love to all of you for caring and following and wanting to help and wanting the best for an ole cowpoke and his girl.
Happy day to you!
Friday, April 15, 2011
READ THIS POST BACKWARDS (not really)
Oh. My. Gosh.
You might as WELL read the post backwards--and I don't even know what that means, read a post backwards--but at this point, I don't know what ANYTHING means, so yeah, go ahead and read it backwards.
Because THIS WILL MAKE AS MUCH SENSE TO YOU IF YOU READ IT BACKWARDS AS IT WOULD IF YOU READ IT FORWARD.
WHICH IS NONE AT ALL. ZIP. ZERO. NADA.
UNBELIEVABLY ****WEIRD****!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Am I in a Fellini movie? Has God left the building and has some teen-aged vandal on crack taken over the controls and made a practical joke out of our entire lives?
Okay.
THEY LET BILL GO HOME TODAY.
Wait. Did they run any more tests on him? NO.
To see if he could survive if he walked more than 20 steps? NO.
To see if his body had ever even HEARD of white cells? NO.
To see if he was better? NO.
Did they give him any treatments after making him stay in the hospital another night and day? NO.
Did anyone mention any of the stuff Dr. Braun said the night before? NO.
They just LET HIM GO HOME, and rolled him to the door with all his stuff, and BOOM. I'M in charge of him now!
He can't walk, can't breathe, is deathly white (sorry, Bill, but that's the only color adjective that fits today), can't stop coughing, can't eat, is completely nauseated, couldn't even carry one bag in from the car, can't sit up, can't stay awake, looks like something out of a teen horror movie, and feels absolutely WRETCHED.
And he's home.
What in the wide, wide world of sports is going ON?
And if that wasn't enough, my car is broken, my drains in my house are stopped up suddenly, to the point that we can't use the water except briefly, we still live in the basement with no stove or fridge, China (the country) forgot to ship one of our cabinets and now they can't install them till April 26th, and, oh, there must be some more...oh, someone whose young name I won't mention....and for whom I--with parental love and trust--co-signed a car loan way back in 2006, has announced that said person is no longer able to pay said car loan and told the collection agency they'd have to collect it all from "his Mom, the co-signer", because he is "out of options" so in the midst of all this, now I personally have to come up with 8 THOUSAND DOLLARS IMMEDIATELY or have liens put on my cars, bank accounts and house. Yeah, that JUST happened, too. Pretty cool timing, wouldn't you say? [THIS JUST IN! OH MY GOODNESS! SOMEONE JUST WROTE AND OFFERED TO HELP US WITH THE 8 THOUSAND DOLLARS! I DIDNT MEAN TO MAKE IT SOUND LIKE WE DON'T HAVE THE 8 THOUSAND DOLLARS. BY GOD'S GRACE, WE DO HAVE IT, AND DON'T NEED HELP, BUT THIS JUST SHOWS YOU WHAT KIND OF ANGELIC SOULS THERE ARE OUT THERE IN THE WORLD! THEY ARE PRAYING FOR US AT THEIR CHURCH AND WILLING TO DO ANYTHING TO HELP. OH, MAN. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. BILL SAID I SHOULDN'T HAVE PUT THAT IN ABOUT THE 8 THOUSAND DOLLARS, BUT I THOUGHT IT HELPED PAINT THE TOTAL PICTURE OF THE TRAGI-COMEDIC NATURE OF THIS CRAZY TIME PERIOD! OH, PERSON WHO MADE THAT OFFER, MAY GOD BLESS YOU A THOUSAND TIMES FOR BEING SO UNBELIEVABLY GENEROUS. WE REALLY ARE OKAY, THOUGH. BUT THANK YOU!]
There must be a few more things I'm not thinking of, but Bill is coughing up spleen parts right now, so it's hard to think, and the dogs are barking, and I believe I hear the laughter of a teenaged vandal on crack coming from the control booth.
DEAR GOD: HALP!!!!!!!!!!!!!! COME BACK! WE MISS YOU!
Love, and just kidding about God. I know it's all going to turn out just rosy. But you gotta admit......
You might as WELL read the post backwards--and I don't even know what that means, read a post backwards--but at this point, I don't know what ANYTHING means, so yeah, go ahead and read it backwards.
Because THIS WILL MAKE AS MUCH SENSE TO YOU IF YOU READ IT BACKWARDS AS IT WOULD IF YOU READ IT FORWARD.
WHICH IS NONE AT ALL. ZIP. ZERO. NADA.
UNBELIEVABLY ****WEIRD****!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Am I in a Fellini movie? Has God left the building and has some teen-aged vandal on crack taken over the controls and made a practical joke out of our entire lives?
Okay.
THEY LET BILL GO HOME TODAY.
Wait. Did they run any more tests on him? NO.
To see if he could survive if he walked more than 20 steps? NO.
To see if his body had ever even HEARD of white cells? NO.
To see if he was better? NO.
Did they give him any treatments after making him stay in the hospital another night and day? NO.
Did anyone mention any of the stuff Dr. Braun said the night before? NO.
They just LET HIM GO HOME, and rolled him to the door with all his stuff, and BOOM. I'M in charge of him now!
He can't walk, can't breathe, is deathly white (sorry, Bill, but that's the only color adjective that fits today), can't stop coughing, can't eat, is completely nauseated, couldn't even carry one bag in from the car, can't sit up, can't stay awake, looks like something out of a teen horror movie, and feels absolutely WRETCHED.
And he's home.
What in the wide, wide world of sports is going ON?
And if that wasn't enough, my car is broken, my drains in my house are stopped up suddenly, to the point that we can't use the water except briefly, we still live in the basement with no stove or fridge, China (the country) forgot to ship one of our cabinets and now they can't install them till April 26th, and, oh, there must be some more...oh, someone whose young name I won't mention....and for whom I--with parental love and trust--co-signed a car loan way back in 2006, has announced that said person is no longer able to pay said car loan and told the collection agency they'd have to collect it all from "his Mom, the co-signer", because he is "out of options" so in the midst of all this, now I personally have to come up with 8 THOUSAND DOLLARS IMMEDIATELY or have liens put on my cars, bank accounts and house. Yeah, that JUST happened, too. Pretty cool timing, wouldn't you say? [THIS JUST IN! OH MY GOODNESS! SOMEONE JUST WROTE AND OFFERED TO HELP US WITH THE 8 THOUSAND DOLLARS! I DIDNT MEAN TO MAKE IT SOUND LIKE WE DON'T HAVE THE 8 THOUSAND DOLLARS. BY GOD'S GRACE, WE DO HAVE IT, AND DON'T NEED HELP, BUT THIS JUST SHOWS YOU WHAT KIND OF ANGELIC SOULS THERE ARE OUT THERE IN THE WORLD! THEY ARE PRAYING FOR US AT THEIR CHURCH AND WILLING TO DO ANYTHING TO HELP. OH, MAN. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. BILL SAID I SHOULDN'T HAVE PUT THAT IN ABOUT THE 8 THOUSAND DOLLARS, BUT I THOUGHT IT HELPED PAINT THE TOTAL PICTURE OF THE TRAGI-COMEDIC NATURE OF THIS CRAZY TIME PERIOD! OH, PERSON WHO MADE THAT OFFER, MAY GOD BLESS YOU A THOUSAND TIMES FOR BEING SO UNBELIEVABLY GENEROUS. WE REALLY ARE OKAY, THOUGH. BUT THANK YOU!]
There must be a few more things I'm not thinking of, but Bill is coughing up spleen parts right now, so it's hard to think, and the dogs are barking, and I believe I hear the laughter of a teenaged vandal on crack coming from the control booth.
DEAR GOD: HALP!!!!!!!!!!!!!! COME BACK! WE MISS YOU!
Love, and just kidding about God. I know it's all going to turn out just rosy. But you gotta admit......
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Thursday Night: Bill is Not Released. Doctor: "Do You Realize How SICK YOU ARE?"
OHHHHHHHH boy.
I just walked in the door of home, and after returning lots of phone calls, I'm on the blog to let you know the very latest. But I can't write out the extended version tonight, even though it was one of the funniest scenes I have ever beheld except on Saturday Night Live or Jay Leno.
The outcome, however, wasn't funny. Just the conversation with the NEW doctor, who is from Wisconsin (can you believe it?) and a genius and sooooo funny and theatrical and knew Bill's case backward and forward. I'll describe it all tomorrow, as I just don't have time tonight. There are still calls I have to return, and it's almost 9 already.
Bottom line:
Bill's oncologist of whom we are NOT fond (I left out of a previous post an entire scene in which she scolded him in his hospital bed for going to the emergency room after she had called in a prescription for him at noon. I think she was mad because it made her look bad to the hospital doctors for calling in a random prescription for a patient as sick as Bill, WITHOUT even seeing him or testing his blood or urine, KNOWING he has no white cells! I was trying to be polite and leave that story out, but I'll put it in, in another post).
Anyway, this same oncologist, Miss Personality, told Bill this morning he could go home today, subject to the final okay of Dr. Braun (the Wisconsin cool guy), but that she could see no reason he couldn't go home.
So he thought at first he felt pretty sick and it was weird they were sending him home, but by the end of the day, he had warmed to the idea and got excited about going home. So excited that by 4, he was dressed, had his Florida gators hat on, all his bags packed and was lying on his bed just waiting to be released.
Well, it got to be 7 pm and nothing.
So I started hunting around the floor trying to find the doctor who would release him. I found him (Dr. Braun) and did NOT expect to encounter a doctor with a sense of humor that could easily be on TV, and a really smart brain, AND who had Bill's case utterly memorized, AND who looks like Johnny Depp only 6 foot 4 feet tall. The nurses were swooning around him and he was just making everyone laugh.
So I said, hello, that I was Bill Drennan's wife and that my mission was to block the elevators so he couldn't leave until he had released Bill.
He said, "Release him? Are you kidding? He is not going ANYWHERE. He is sick as a dog!"
I said, "But the doctor this morning told him he would go home."
He says, "Well, i don't know what she was thinking when she said that, because he is not going anywhere, and if you saw his lab results, you'd understand."
I said,"Okay! I'm with you! I don't think he seems all that great either! I'm actually relieved, but Bill's going to be really mad, because he's all dressed and thinks he's going home."
Dr B says, "Well you go break the news, and if he wants a fistfight, send him on down here." (He was being funny, but acting this out theatrically).
So I went and told Bill, and Bill was furious. Bill came down the hall and said to the doctor, "WHY in the WORLD am I not getting released?"
The doctor said, "Well, for one thing, [and right here, the doctor leaned close to Bill's face and said in a Bill Murray impression] your lab results were HORRIBLE. Do you want to see them?"
Bill: Actually, yes I do.
Dr: Okay, lets take a look.
So they open the chart (this is all happening at the nurse's station and all the nurses are giggling at how funny the doctor is making this scene.)
The doctor goes, "Oh, Look! YOU ONLY QUALIFIED FOR *FOUR* UNITS OF MAGNESIUM TODAY! Do you know how sick you have to be to need four units of magnesium? And let's see here. Oh, Look! You have no white cells. Look at this number! You're worse than when you came in!"
Bill: Are you serious?
Dr: (He looked at Bill's hat and said these exact words, just like this, with no punctuation): Yes, I'm serious, and after I show you the rest of the lab results go gators you are not going to be mad at me."
Oh man, I don't know. Was it as funny as it seemed? Even Bill was laughing by now.
Then the doctor gave us the clincher. "Here's how messed up you are. If you came to the ER right NOW, with these lab results, I would have you admitted to the hospital in one minute. Now get back to your isolation room and go to bed. You're not going anywhere, and you're probably going to get some transfusions, AT LEAST, for starters tomorrow, and a lot of stuff besides that. These lab scores are wretched!"
So finally Bill understood, and I escorted him back to his room. As we walked away, the doctor took the file and slid it about 10 yards, down the nurse's station countertop and said, "And if you want more drama, keep reading your file. It's in there, ad nauseum."
Bill said, "Don't say nausea!"
Well, it ended with all of us laughing, even poor dejected Bill as he changed back into his jammies and got in bed, and we said good night, and I'm home and will be back there tomorrow morning early.
I'll let you know more stuff tomorrow, but for now, you're pretty caught up.
The illness is still a mystery, and Bill seems to be slightly worse than when he got in. So much for ever listening to that Boone oncologist again. But that's another day's whining.
Thank heaven for Dr. Braun. He honestly might have saved Bill's life today. And talk about bedside manner: do you know how hard it is to make someone who is furious not only calm down but start laughing??? This guy is amazing.
Love to you all for caring and following along. Nighty night!
I just walked in the door of home, and after returning lots of phone calls, I'm on the blog to let you know the very latest. But I can't write out the extended version tonight, even though it was one of the funniest scenes I have ever beheld except on Saturday Night Live or Jay Leno.
The outcome, however, wasn't funny. Just the conversation with the NEW doctor, who is from Wisconsin (can you believe it?) and a genius and sooooo funny and theatrical and knew Bill's case backward and forward. I'll describe it all tomorrow, as I just don't have time tonight. There are still calls I have to return, and it's almost 9 already.
Bottom line:
Bill's oncologist of whom we are NOT fond (I left out of a previous post an entire scene in which she scolded him in his hospital bed for going to the emergency room after she had called in a prescription for him at noon. I think she was mad because it made her look bad to the hospital doctors for calling in a random prescription for a patient as sick as Bill, WITHOUT even seeing him or testing his blood or urine, KNOWING he has no white cells! I was trying to be polite and leave that story out, but I'll put it in, in another post).
Anyway, this same oncologist, Miss Personality, told Bill this morning he could go home today, subject to the final okay of Dr. Braun (the Wisconsin cool guy), but that she could see no reason he couldn't go home.
So he thought at first he felt pretty sick and it was weird they were sending him home, but by the end of the day, he had warmed to the idea and got excited about going home. So excited that by 4, he was dressed, had his Florida gators hat on, all his bags packed and was lying on his bed just waiting to be released.
Well, it got to be 7 pm and nothing.
So I started hunting around the floor trying to find the doctor who would release him. I found him (Dr. Braun) and did NOT expect to encounter a doctor with a sense of humor that could easily be on TV, and a really smart brain, AND who had Bill's case utterly memorized, AND who looks like Johnny Depp only 6 foot 4 feet tall. The nurses were swooning around him and he was just making everyone laugh.
So I said, hello, that I was Bill Drennan's wife and that my mission was to block the elevators so he couldn't leave until he had released Bill.
He said, "Release him? Are you kidding? He is not going ANYWHERE. He is sick as a dog!"
I said, "But the doctor this morning told him he would go home."
He says, "Well, i don't know what she was thinking when she said that, because he is not going anywhere, and if you saw his lab results, you'd understand."
I said,"Okay! I'm with you! I don't think he seems all that great either! I'm actually relieved, but Bill's going to be really mad, because he's all dressed and thinks he's going home."
Dr B says, "Well you go break the news, and if he wants a fistfight, send him on down here." (He was being funny, but acting this out theatrically).
So I went and told Bill, and Bill was furious. Bill came down the hall and said to the doctor, "WHY in the WORLD am I not getting released?"
The doctor said, "Well, for one thing, [and right here, the doctor leaned close to Bill's face and said in a Bill Murray impression] your lab results were HORRIBLE. Do you want to see them?"
Bill: Actually, yes I do.
Dr: Okay, lets take a look.
So they open the chart (this is all happening at the nurse's station and all the nurses are giggling at how funny the doctor is making this scene.)
The doctor goes, "Oh, Look! YOU ONLY QUALIFIED FOR *FOUR* UNITS OF MAGNESIUM TODAY! Do you know how sick you have to be to need four units of magnesium? And let's see here. Oh, Look! You have no white cells. Look at this number! You're worse than when you came in!"
Bill: Are you serious?
Dr: (He looked at Bill's hat and said these exact words, just like this, with no punctuation): Yes, I'm serious, and after I show you the rest of the lab results go gators you are not going to be mad at me."
Oh man, I don't know. Was it as funny as it seemed? Even Bill was laughing by now.
Then the doctor gave us the clincher. "Here's how messed up you are. If you came to the ER right NOW, with these lab results, I would have you admitted to the hospital in one minute. Now get back to your isolation room and go to bed. You're not going anywhere, and you're probably going to get some transfusions, AT LEAST, for starters tomorrow, and a lot of stuff besides that. These lab scores are wretched!"
So finally Bill understood, and I escorted him back to his room. As we walked away, the doctor took the file and slid it about 10 yards, down the nurse's station countertop and said, "And if you want more drama, keep reading your file. It's in there, ad nauseum."
Bill said, "Don't say nausea!"
Well, it ended with all of us laughing, even poor dejected Bill as he changed back into his jammies and got in bed, and we said good night, and I'm home and will be back there tomorrow morning early.
I'll let you know more stuff tomorrow, but for now, you're pretty caught up.
The illness is still a mystery, and Bill seems to be slightly worse than when he got in. So much for ever listening to that Boone oncologist again. But that's another day's whining.
Thank heaven for Dr. Braun. He honestly might have saved Bill's life today. And talk about bedside manner: do you know how hard it is to make someone who is furious not only calm down but start laughing??? This guy is amazing.
Love to you all for caring and following along. Nighty night!
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