So...I had mega-doses of IV steroid infusion this week. I got stuck several times. I have bruises to show for it. I have been up, down and all around. I've tried very hard to find as much humor in the situation as I possibly can.
I did NOT want to take this treatment. Honestly. I wanted to go to bed, pull the covers up and crawl out another day to find out that somebody else's blood work had gotten mixed up with mine. Doesn't that happen sometimes? Somewhere?
Out with the big girl panties yet again.
No Hello Kitty.
No Princess Barbie.
No Days of the Week.
Not Joe Boxer.
Sheesh! Not even Victoria's Secret.
Just the ordinary, grown-up, big girl panties that somehow transform the me who would just love to stomp my foot and say "NO! I'm not gonna!" just once...just once in my life and have it be so... into the me who pulls up the panties and does what needs to be done. I never once got anything by stomping my foot except a hurt toe. Might as well get on with it.
Guess what? It wasn't all that bad. Well, except for the being drugged, unable to sleep, using up a lot of sick leave, maybe acting a little crazy and perhaps taking one too many sleeping pills by mistake one evening.
The actual infusion process turned out to be sort of sweet. The first day was almost like a party...after we got me stuck and everyone got over the sticking of Mollianne. Mother, Daddy, Rocket Man and I sat in the room and laughed and cut up with the nurses. I mostly ignored that 1000 mg of steroids were dripping into my vein.
We got to go to lunch when it was over and I had a yummy-o sandwich at Jason's Deli with a spot of ice cream for dessert.
Tuesday was more of the same, only I didn't have to get stuck. I did have a bit of a time bathing with the IV thingy in, but a big black garbage bag and some stunning hot pink duct tape kept the thing dry and I was able to get clean as a whistle. Tuesday was a bit funnier, at least to me, due to the Category I Federally Controlled Substance I was given to help put me to sleep because I was so hyped up on steroids. It put me to sleep,but didn't keep me asleep. I remember singing a lot and thinking a whole lot of things were funny all night long. Basically, I had my own little party and cracked myself up all night. I was a bit groggy Tuesday morning.
By Tuesday night, I'm feeling no pain at all. None! I have turned into Sassy Barbie. I took charge of the Remote Control. This is something unheard of in MolliWorld. The Good Prince Rocket Man believes that the TV Remote Control is the seat of all power in the Universe and He protects me from Evil People who might try to harm me if I have such power in my control by making sure I never get to touch it. He is sooooo good to me.
When I thought I might be able to sleep, I went upstairs with my glass of water and took the Catergory I pill that was going to make me sleepy and take me to the Land of Winken, Blinken and Nod. At least, that is the way it was supposed to work.
Sometime in the night, things went terriblly wrong. The best we can deduce (after counting pills because I was totally wigged out-and I don't use that term very often) is this: at some point in the night, I took another pill.
Let's all say it together now...Poor, Poor Rocket Man.
I guess I sang, laughed, got up and down and if he hadn't been in need of sleep I might have been terribly amusing all night long.
All. Night. Long.
About 6:00 am, just when he thought he had me sort of asleep, he decided he was going to sneak into the bath, grab some coffee and leave me in the care of my parents and escape to his meeting! He started the bath water and ran downstairs to get something.
When he came back into the bathroom, there I was! Big as life and in his bath water. High as a kite and crying because I was certain that someone had come in the house and put water all over all the furniture. I cried about lots of things on Wednesday morning. I think he was thrilled to leave me with my Mother and sorry that he'd agreed to the 'No Deposit, No Return' policy where I was concerned. I cried because my hair dryer was broken, I might gain weight and I almost used the oriental carpet as a toilet by accident. I cried because I had promised him I would never be crazy and I was absolutely certain I WAS being crazy and I couldn't stop.
There was about a molecule of me that knew I was behaving irrationally. I called Rev. Boss in tears to let him know that I wasn't coming to work. I called 2 co-workers to get them to do things for me, sobbing that I couldn't get to work. I think I kept telling everyone that I was just 'too little.' I cried because my parents were seeing me act like a baby. It was a very P-p-p-iglet sort of morning for me.
By the time I stumbled into the infusion center, I had downed about a pot of coffee in an effort to sober up, stopped crying and was feeling somewhat euphoric, if not a bit sleepy. I confessed to all the lovely nurses that I thought I might have taken one too many pills. They were smiling. I think they could tell.
You will be pleased to know that The Catergory I Federally Controlled Sleeping Aid Medication is put away. I don't know where it is. If I need it, I have to ask for it.
Probably not a bad idea to have it hidden.
I've decided to harness the excess energy I feel and do some laundry, catch up on the dusting and who knows? Maybe I'll re-roof the house tonight after I go make cinnamon rolls for breakfast tomorrow? Wait...Rocket Man was specific about no going up on the roof. Guess I'll just make the rolls.
Some things really do need to be put out of reach.
For very good reasons!
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
If You Live Long Enough...
...you might find some satisfaction in your circumstances.
You might hear one or more of your children say the Oh! So! Amazing! phrase:
“You know, Mom…you were absolutely right about ________.”
Even better:
“I should have listened to my Mother when she said I should __________.”
I have tried to hide my smiles when my grown-up daughter fusses about something her pre-adolescent child does that is driving her crazy. Wonder where I’ve heard those complaints before??
I always knew that what goes around would come around where children are concerned. I’ve watched my Mother laugh at me with my children and simply shake her head about stuff and nonsense.
What I was NOT prepared for was something that happened today.
I’m having IV Steroid Infusions this week for a condition that I am naming Molli’s Rare and Goofy Disease. If I told you the real name of it, you’d think I made it up. Besides, it bores me to tears at this point and I am quite over it. I’d like to make a Royal Decree in MolliWorld that we have a very nice dinner, exchange gifts and never speak of this again. (I know how far that would get me. I may be the Queen, but I know my place in the food chain).
Anyway, my precious parents are here this week. They visit me every year about this time, and were scheduled to arrive later this week but came late last week because of some weather concerns.
They accompanied me to the hospital this morning to get my first treatment. We are talking a mega-dose of steroids given via IV for 5 days. The lovely nurse, Mary, was putting the IV in and having a bit of a hard time. I noticed that My Sweet Daddy left the room. When she said, “I think this vein blew…yep, it’s blown!” My Dear Mother left the room.
I looked at Mary and said, “They could beat me half to death when I was a little kid but can’t seem to watch me get stuck now that I’m almost 53!! What’s up with that?”
Mary laughed. Of course, they didn’t REALLY beat me half to death, although I did get my share of whippings. Daddy would say, “I’m going to beat the tar out of you!” but I don’t think he ever really did. And what does that mean, anyway? I'm going to beat the tar out of you? What the heck is the 'tar?' How does it get beaten out of you? What if I someday need my tar and its all gone? These are the questions I pondered as a small child in the closet where I loved to sit and think about things.
Rocket Man showed up after the IV was in place and then Mother and Daddy came back in. I saw my chance to say what I’d wanted to say all those years ago and I figured I could get by with it today.
I smiled, batted my eyes, tried to look pitiful and said what I'd longed to say all those years ago, but had sense enough not to say. I said;
“That hurt me a lot worse than it hurt you!”
If you live long enough…..
You might hear one or more of your children say the Oh! So! Amazing! phrase:
“You know, Mom…you were absolutely right about ________.”
Even better:
“I should have listened to my Mother when she said I should __________.”
I have tried to hide my smiles when my grown-up daughter fusses about something her pre-adolescent child does that is driving her crazy. Wonder where I’ve heard those complaints before??
I always knew that what goes around would come around where children are concerned. I’ve watched my Mother laugh at me with my children and simply shake her head about stuff and nonsense.
What I was NOT prepared for was something that happened today.
I’m having IV Steroid Infusions this week for a condition that I am naming Molli’s Rare and Goofy Disease. If I told you the real name of it, you’d think I made it up. Besides, it bores me to tears at this point and I am quite over it. I’d like to make a Royal Decree in MolliWorld that we have a very nice dinner, exchange gifts and never speak of this again. (I know how far that would get me. I may be the Queen, but I know my place in the food chain).
Anyway, my precious parents are here this week. They visit me every year about this time, and were scheduled to arrive later this week but came late last week because of some weather concerns.
They accompanied me to the hospital this morning to get my first treatment. We are talking a mega-dose of steroids given via IV for 5 days. The lovely nurse, Mary, was putting the IV in and having a bit of a hard time. I noticed that My Sweet Daddy left the room. When she said, “I think this vein blew…yep, it’s blown!” My Dear Mother left the room.
I looked at Mary and said, “They could beat me half to death when I was a little kid but can’t seem to watch me get stuck now that I’m almost 53!! What’s up with that?”
Mary laughed. Of course, they didn’t REALLY beat me half to death, although I did get my share of whippings. Daddy would say, “I’m going to beat the tar out of you!” but I don’t think he ever really did. And what does that mean, anyway? I'm going to beat the tar out of you? What the heck is the 'tar?' How does it get beaten out of you? What if I someday need my tar and its all gone? These are the questions I pondered as a small child in the closet where I loved to sit and think about things.
Rocket Man showed up after the IV was in place and then Mother and Daddy came back in. I saw my chance to say what I’d wanted to say all those years ago and I figured I could get by with it today.
I smiled, batted my eyes, tried to look pitiful and said what I'd longed to say all those years ago, but had sense enough not to say. I said;
“That hurt me a lot worse than it hurt you!”
If you live long enough…..
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Home, at last...
…at least for awhile. I think.
Over the past 6 ½ months, I have made four trips to Florida, one overnight to Birmingham and most recently, a road trip to Galveston, Texas. Previous to the first Florida trip, I had slept in my very own bed, with my head on my very own pillow for over 16 months straight. Seems like it is either feast or famine for me where travel is concerned.
Here is what I think about being home to stay:
When my Rocket Man is at home, there is no place on God’s green earth I would rather be. Truly.
It isn’t that our home is ready for a Better Homes and Gardens shoot. It isn’t. In fact, it is a mess. Built in 1964, it is really in need of some TLC and a few major repairs. Inside and outside.
It is where my ‘stuff’ resides and I do think I have some pretty cool ‘stuff’.
Mostly, home is where Rocket Man and I go to escape from reality. And it is only truly home to me if he is there.
We have developed the ability ignore the things that need to be repaired. Honestly, I don’t necessarily even see them anymore. Unless someone is kind enough to point them out to me. So the dishwasher doesn’t work all that great. Guess what? I know how to wash dishes by hand. And that is just the sort of task that I secretly enjoy.
I even like the 1960s era spot of wallpaper that we have where we took down a cabinet. I’m used to it. Its comfortable to me. Fixing it would require a big decision that I’d have to live with for a long time. I almost want to put a frame around the vintage wallpaper and call it mid-century modern art!
I am just thankful that it looks like our lives are just about to return to normal…whatever that is. I can tell you that whatever it is, we will adjust and adapt gladly. Because it means that all of his clothes will either be in the chest of drawers in our bedroom or in the laundry basket in our bathroom. I'm putting the dreaded blue suitcase in the attic! It means that we will have our coffee together before work and come home in the evenings and be together.
Yep, I’m looking forward to that. I’m even wise enough at this point in my life to know that this return to normal is probably temporary. Always is. But for now, I’m just going to enjoy it.
Change continues to be the constant in our lives. When I listen closely with an open heart…I can hear the winds of change blowing in the distance.
I think that they may be blowing my way.
(and I think I might be getting a new dishwasher this weekend, too)
Over the past 6 ½ months, I have made four trips to Florida, one overnight to Birmingham and most recently, a road trip to Galveston, Texas. Previous to the first Florida trip, I had slept in my very own bed, with my head on my very own pillow for over 16 months straight. Seems like it is either feast or famine for me where travel is concerned.
Here is what I think about being home to stay:
When my Rocket Man is at home, there is no place on God’s green earth I would rather be. Truly.
It isn’t that our home is ready for a Better Homes and Gardens shoot. It isn’t. In fact, it is a mess. Built in 1964, it is really in need of some TLC and a few major repairs. Inside and outside.
It is where my ‘stuff’ resides and I do think I have some pretty cool ‘stuff’.
Mostly, home is where Rocket Man and I go to escape from reality. And it is only truly home to me if he is there.
We have developed the ability ignore the things that need to be repaired. Honestly, I don’t necessarily even see them anymore. Unless someone is kind enough to point them out to me. So the dishwasher doesn’t work all that great. Guess what? I know how to wash dishes by hand. And that is just the sort of task that I secretly enjoy.
I even like the 1960s era spot of wallpaper that we have where we took down a cabinet. I’m used to it. Its comfortable to me. Fixing it would require a big decision that I’d have to live with for a long time. I almost want to put a frame around the vintage wallpaper and call it mid-century modern art!
I am just thankful that it looks like our lives are just about to return to normal…whatever that is. I can tell you that whatever it is, we will adjust and adapt gladly. Because it means that all of his clothes will either be in the chest of drawers in our bedroom or in the laundry basket in our bathroom. I'm putting the dreaded blue suitcase in the attic! It means that we will have our coffee together before work and come home in the evenings and be together.
Yep, I’m looking forward to that. I’m even wise enough at this point in my life to know that this return to normal is probably temporary. Always is. But for now, I’m just going to enjoy it.
Change continues to be the constant in our lives. When I listen closely with an open heart…I can hear the winds of change blowing in the distance.
I think that they may be blowing my way.
(and I think I might be getting a new dishwasher this weekend, too)
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