Finishing Days

I've been accused of being ADD, something I've always denied. Now I'm giving it second consideration and there actually may be some truth to the accusation. It seems that I am always overwhelmed by projects that need just a tad more energy or work to be completed. "Are you finished?" asks my quilting buddy, Randi. "Well, I'm almost finished. I just have a button a label to make." I reply. "Well that isn't finished and until it is done, it's NOT finished" she quips back. I lose focus before projects are completely finished in all aspects of my life. Frustrating to be sure! So we decided to develop some adaptive behaviors and have quilt/sewing days to finish projects.

Our first finishing day was Wednesday, July 22, and I managed to put the straps and button on my Dad's apron and put the binding and labels on the quilt for the Watkins family. I accomplished this with a good measure of whining, I'll admit. After arriving at 11:00 am and setting up my machine, my first question was when are we going to eat? Randi insisted that, until I finished a project, I was not going to eat. I got right on my Dad's apron and had it finished in no time. Then on to the quilt. I tried shifting gears and work on Betty's apron but Randi held my nose to the grindstone (imagine that feat!) and I finished project number 2. Now that I'm on a roll, so to speak, I am also finishing sewing the binding on the quilt for baby Katherine Dawson.

We have a second finishing day on Friday, July 31. I plan to complete my stepmom's apron and sew the blocks for a baby quilt I started years ago to gift to my niece's baby, born in late May. So the days are helping me focus on getting things COMPLETELY done. Thank you Randi for being such a task master and bringing me backto focus. I really do appreciate her efforts despite my whining and complaining and the best part about it is that I am finishing projects.

Rosie the Rooster

Rosie entered the Levy home as a chick, hopefully and preferably a hen. (S)he was packed about the yard, tucked under arm, as my grandchildren discovered the joys of raising chickens. As it turned out, chicken droppings, collected on the soles of tennis shoes and traipsed through the house, ended the chicken romance and the birds were packed up and sent to live with us in Silver Springs. By that time Rosie declared himself a rooster and was delighted to meet the harem of hens residing in our coop.

We noticed the personality disorder immediately. This docile "hen" turned out to be a fierce rooster and ruled the roost with iron spurs. We were all afraid of Rosie, the hens and people alike. He stalked all of us and jumped up, ready to cock fight with barely a moments notice. We learned quickly, never to turn your back on this bird for he was poised to attack. "What the hell is wrong with him?" I lamented to my friend and resident chicken expert. She explained that Rosie had "berserk rooster syndrome," a malady that sometimes affects birds raised by hand. They have no fear of humans and don't hesitate to challenge them. I knew then that Rosie had to go....

Bill went outside on a Saturday morning and came back in to tell me that Rosie was loose. They acknowledged each other, Bill turned westward out the front door and Rosie headed east. All of a sudden Bill heard a whirring sound behind him as Rosie careened through the air, ready to attack Bill. Leaping out of the way, Bill grabbed the garden hose and the battle was on. He swung the hose over his head, aiming for Rosie. The first toss fell short, but the second was a hit. Rosie was stunned. Meanwhile Bill, convinced that Rosie was to meet his maker that day, went to sharpen his axe.

Rosie hobbled to the backyard as Bill was preparing to "do him in" and he sought cover under the vegetation. When Bill was ready, Rosie was gone. We looked and looked, but never saw him again. I'll admit that I felt a tad fearful, going outside with the berserk rooster unaccounted for, but in time I relaxed for I knew that he was gone. He was a beautiful rooster, gone bad. RIP

The Old Ticker

Well, "the clock struck one and down he run. Hickory, Dickory, Dock." It was three months ago when Bill first experienced the tightness in his chest. As he swung that mallet through the air, aiming at the wedge lodged in the log he was splitting, a tight feeling spread across his chest. he stopped, scarcely daring to breathe, as he did a quick assessment. "What was happening?"

We talked about the cough that persisted and if he could have pleurisy. We wondered and worried and days passed by. Bill went to the doctor and the PA thought it could be pleurisy after all. But the pain, a tight burning sensation continued and began traveling down his arm. The next doctor visit landed him on a treadmill in the cardiologist's office.


The left anterior descending artery was blocked 95%! Now this Bill of mine is no ordinary man with an ordinary heart. He is an oatmeal eating, garlic crunching, sardine snacking fellow who eats slivers of ginger and sprinkles tumeric and cinnamon on everything he eats. He exercises every morning before getting out of bed; all core strengthening movements guaranteed to wake me up at 5 am. Even though heart disease may run in his family, it wasn't going to wrap it's icy fingers around Bill's heart, no siree. I expected a rebellion but got none. Bill acquiesced and welcomed the chemo release stent, plavix pills and the generic statin guaranteed to reduce his cholesterol. He remains optimistic, cheerful and the lovable man I married over 40 years ago. His old ticker will keep on going, given new energy with the help of a tiny stent. Hickory Dickory Dock.

My Newest Friend...Aspirin

I spent the 24th and 25th of February at my allergist's office being desensitized to aspirin. Arriving at 9 am, I was escorted to a corner room and told that I would be there until 4:30 pm. I was advised to bring food and a good book, or two. Then I was left alone except for the half hour checks on my blood pressure, pulse, O2 level and hourly checks on my lung function.

I brought plenty of work as I was still wrapping up the fall events for River Wranglers. I typed letters, wrapped Hershey's kisses, compiled folders, wrote minutes for the RW board meeting, compiled bills, and wrote letters.

Taking a break from work, I also did some embroidery on pillow cases I a m making for Kyna's 30th birthday and read magazines and books. Since the door was open to my examination room, I became part of the office in a way not usually experienced. The backroom conversations, the birthday party for office staff. In a way, I became part of the team.

The doctor started me on 1/4 baby aspirin, increasing the next dosage to 1/2 baby aspirin and then a whole baby aspirin, 81 mg. When I reached that level, I had a reaction! My nose began running. When the nurse went to get the doctor who was with a patient in an examination room, he came out dancing. His delight was contagious and his relief that I reacted nasally, rather than a chest reaction.

The next day I came back and spent the entire day taking aspirin, having my vitals checked and performing lung function tests. At the end of those two days I was desensitized. So what does that mean? Actually I have Samter's Triad, a concert performed by the trio, aspirin, nasal polyps and asthma. Now that I am desensitized my other symptoms should reduce. The very next day I awoke and realized that I could smell, something I rarely experienced. As delighted as I was to smell again, it didn't take me long to figure out that all smells are not enjoyable.

So now I take two aspirin daily, 650 mg, one at morning the other at night. I am feeling good and can breathe freely through my nose. Thank you to the good doctors that take the risks and challenges to help patients maintain health and quality of life.

Filing

I know my ABCs, which is good because I am filing. I am walking, single file, through my house which is easy to do in a singlewide trailer, gathering papers that have no home and creating army-green recycled folders to be kept in a metal cabinet. Actually, there are three metal cabinets; one in the River Wranglers shed for RW files, one in my sewing room filled with quilt, craft, crochet and embroidery projects in one drawer and personal files in the other and the last cabinet is in the office I share with Bill. He's on top, I'm on the bottom.

Debbie came over last week to help me organize the RW files. This is a four drawer legal sized cabinet and we worked from 8 am to 5 pm. Fortunately the donuts she brought along gave us enough energy to see it almost to the end. Then the drawers, with all the files intact, sat on and under my kitchen table, waiting for me to put them in the shed. I had to take all the files out to move the drawers but on Saturday morning, that job was finished. Thanks to Debbie!

On Thursday night, after Debbie left, I began the job of organizing the files in my sewing room. Well I was really too tired after shuffling papers all day but I was relentless and ended up working until 10 pm. I was exhausted and grumpy by the time Bill walked in from his Spanish class and I admit I wasn't the best company. I worked on files through the weekend and finished up the second cabinet, pretty much. I think I have to buy another box of files to complete that job.

Now I have the office file to take care of, but really no interest in doing it, at least not right now. I want to cross "organize files" off the Blood Pressure List but I guess it's just not time to do that, yet. Perhaps this weekend, we'll see.

The Wishing Well

I didn't know that "drill a new well" was on my blood pressure list. But, had I known, I would be crossing it off today. Yes, we drilled a well right next to our existing well. Typically you can tap into a well and use a smaller casing to save the cost of the depth already drilled. From there, you drill deeper. In our case, the windmill tower kept the drill rig from getting close enough to tap into the existing well so we had to drill another well.

I learned about this last weekend when Bill told me he signed a contract and the well driller would be starting on Wednesday."What???!!!" I exclaimed. Bill talked about the well and the fact that the diminished flow concerned him. What I missed was the conversation. I "heard" what he said but never offered comments and the next thing I knew we were in a contract to drill a well at least 160 feet deep. The current well is 90 feet and we've had it "blasted" a couple of times to build up the water flow. This ancient lake bed we reside upon has it's challenges to be sure.

So the well drillers came and drilled down to 160 feet but were pulling up grayish water with lots of sand particles. They suggested going deeper and we agreed to go another 40 feet. Fortunately they encountered a small gravel strata at 180 feet and capped it at 200 feet.

So now we have a new well and have to go about the business of capping the existing well. Lots of work. According to the well drillers it will cost $1500 to close down a well. Sounds a little too much to me so I'm going investigating by calling the EPA Wellhead Protection program to check on the legal requirements.

With the ending of the old well, I figure I should use it as my "wishing well." Would you like to join me and add your wishes to my well? And, even though it may be considered cheating, I think I will add "drill a new well" to my Blood Pressure List and check it off!

Windmill photo by Kyna Conlin Moser

Blood Pressure List

Boy, I think I have a theme going on here. First there is "Buried Alive" and now the "Blood Pressure List." Can you see waves of stress here? I went to the doctor and she raised her eyebrows over my blood pressure and gave me a slip of paper to track it for a month. The first time I checked it was on New Year's Eve in Tucker's Pharmacy with one of those machines; a chair attached to a BP cuff and a digital read out of my pulse and blood pressure. I pushed the green button and the pressure built up. 143/85. Not good enough. I cleared the numbers and pushed the green button again - 139/80. Could be better. By the fourth time I was 129/81 so I decided to take that reading.

I began a list of things that cause me to feel overwhelmed, stressed out, short of breath, panicky. I'm up to 65 "things" that are bugging me and am beginning the process of elimination. Some of the items are tips of iceburgs such as "Mom's house". That entry actually means "sell Mom's house" something I've been trying to do in vain for nearly three years. I've gone through four realtors with no luck. The only thing that constantly changes, besides the realtor, is the price. I've gone from $280,000 to $140,000. Since I no longer have a realtor the idea now is to rent it and compete with three other houses in the culdesac for rent. Not an easy one to cross off the list.

Some of the posts were easy to scratch a line through; make an appointment with the allergist, my fourth quarter report for 2008, and Christmas thank you letters. Others, like the house, aren't quite so simple; set up a living trust, organize River Wranglers files, remove the heater in the hallway (I think the house was built around it!). I've already drawn thick, red lines through 20 entries and you know what? I think my blood pressure really is going down!