My eldest granddaughter turns 18 on Feb 29^th. There not being a Feb 29 this year, we observe her b-day near the end of the month.

This is no longer the little girl I took for her first ride on the merry-go-round¹, or who helped Great Grandma Nelson “rearrange” her cupboards, or who, wearing a cute little straw hat, took my hand as I walked her down the concourse of the Wichita airport. She’s no longer the Barney loving toddler, whose eyes lit up, and who said “Barn-bee” when I presented her a stuffed rendition of the purple monster.

Pardon my stroll down memory lane, and waxing a tad nostalgic. Ericka is now a beautiful young lady, more of a world traveller than I’ll ever be², and who points out websites where Grandma and I can watch TV shows we missed and forgot to Tivo. She is also better at HTML than I am. Far better.

She’s graduating from high school in June; so I can start dreading TSA indignities as we make plans to attend³. But we’re planning to be there.

I’d like to say “Happy Birthday, and make your Grandpa proud.” But that is selfish on my part; it’s her life to live, and if she can do that, remain happy, and be the best person she can be, while maintaining that beautiful smile you see, that will make this old Grandpa very proud indeed.

Happy Birthday, Ericka Nichole!

-k-

Happy Mother’s Day to all the wonderful Moms who drop by here. I’d love to be able to call my mother; MLB called hers before I got up this morning. MLB was a little subdued; her mother’s mental condition is deteriorating constantly and more and more visibly.

I’m not sure I could handle such a situation; MLB and I have talked about that at length. My mother has been with the Lord for nearly 10 years; MLB’s, while still physically here, is really not the person we’ve loved over the years. Lights on, nobody home. Still, we can’t just abandon her; that wouldn’t be right, and it’s the furthest thing from our minds. I’m amazed at MLB and her sister in Arkansas, as they do a great job in seeing to their mother’s care. I’m supportive, but at the same time thankful that I don’t have to provide such services for my Mom.

So, if you haven’t called your Mother today, pick up that phone.

Scott has already posted some great Mother’s Day tunage; I’ll add one of my faves. There’s more truth than fiction in this little ditty, at least in my experience.

-k-

MLB continues to mend from her recent surgery/hospitalization. The incision wound no longer requires its twice-daily irrigation and dressing change; a Band-Aid handles it. MLB changes that. My major-league nursing duties are now no longer required. I’m glad for that, and hereby surrender my surgical gloves.

In my original post, I mentioned that she had emergency surgery. I note now that I never documented the nature of the affliction. She had a duodenal perforation, which I artlessly thought was an ulcer-like condition. And, it is ulcer-like, to a degree. This perforation was spewing stuff into the abdominal cavity that just doesn’t belong there. Left alone, the poisoning would have produced a far-from-optimal result.

The potential outcome of MLB’s affliction was made crystal clear to me today. MLB called her sister in Arkansas; sister-in-law mentioned an acquaintance who had recently gone to ER with similar symptoms. The diagnosis was pneumonia. It wasn’t. Sister-in-law’s friend died. From something similar, if not precisely the same thing as MLB had.

I’m more weak-kneed now than I was at the hospital. I had no idea of precisely how grave this was. I’ll use those weak knees, bow down, and give more thanks than I already have.

-k-

I have 16 first cousins on the maternal side of my family; they all live in Kansas. I have no idea how many second cousins I have¹.

I’d probably know my second cousins better, or at least be able to match them up with their parents, if I actually lived in Kansas and were able to attend all the family whingdings that happen back there. Alas, that’s not my current lot.

A while back, we received a wedding invitation from a second cousin who is tying the knot in Kansas City MO a couple of weeks hence. Her dad, my first cousin, is the closest to my age of any of the rest of the first cousins. He also called our Norton KS homestead within hours of my mother’s death in 1999 and offered his immediate condolences. If I recall correctly, he was also a casket bearer at Mom’s funeral.

So, I went out to his daughter’s and soon-to-be son-in-law’s wedding registry. They are registered at Sears and at Crate & Barrel. Many of their choices were practical and formulaic; the bathroom items, wine glasses, cooking accoutrements and gizmos. All perfectly practical. All needed. Then I happened on this, from the Sears registry, a Craftsman Professional 12 ton Hydraulic Jack.

As I bought the almost newlyweds their Craftsman Professional 12 ton Hydraulic Jack, I pondered how MLB and I have made it through nearly 30 years without such a thing. The discussion of whether or not we need one is ongoing.

Best wishes to Lindsey and Doug. I consider him a second cousin; is the spouse of the child of a first cousin also a second cousin? In my little world, it is so.

-k-

MLB can drive again. She’s made one excursion in her Saturn. She’s making another tomorrow. Unfortunately, that trip will be to refill her pain pill prescription. The pain is not severe, but of enough frequency that she needs something with a tad more kick than Tylenol.

I’ll get my chauffeur’s hat off its hook, and be ready to serve her transportation needs as required.

-k-

I took MLB to her doctor’s appointment yesterday. She’s doing well; the surgical staples are all removed, the wound continues to heal, and I’m less tasked, caregiving-wise. I still need to wash her back, since she still can’t reach around too well yet; she no longer needs the plastic covering over the wound come shower time. I continue to change the dressing on the wound; while a career in medicine isn’t in my future, I’ve gotten somewhat adept at the procedure.

She’s winding down the pain medication usage; she can drive again when that falls to zero. She still can’t bend down to reach low-lying cat food dishes, etc. We don’t want to mess up all the healing that’s been going on.

So, we’re in good shape. This is good. I can’t wait to resume my chiefly ornamental household duties, which consist mainly of falling asleep in my chair in front of the teevee.

-k-

MLB has had her breakfast, morning medications, her bath, and I’ve changed the dressing on the wound. We’re now taking her for a manicure and pedicure.

Lest the above make her sound too helpless, she prepares her own breakfast; she can do almost anything that doesn’t involve bending over or standing on her tiptoes and stretching. She also bathes herself¹. My only roles are washing her back, since she can’t reach around to do that, and just stand by in case she needs any help getting in and out of the shower. Thus far, she hasn’t. Oh, I also hand her a towel when the bathing is over.

The wound treating hasn’t been near as bad as my initial dreading of that process. As I said after the first dressing change, “I didn’t puke; she didn’t cry out in pain.” And she has yet to knee me in the stindeens, so I guess I’m doing OK on the gentleness front.

I’m driving her to her nail appointment; while she’s on the pain medication, she’s not supposed to drive.

Kind of a different way to spend a Sunday morning. I wish I didn’t have to, but glad I’m able.

-k-

MLB arrived back at tbbs WorldHQ around 4:30 PM today. I just got back from filling 6 prescriptions, doing a little grocery shopping, and buying some rubber gloves and packing sponges for wound maintenance detail.

She’s sore, tired, and uncomfortable. She is able to navigate stairs (tbbs World HQ is a 3-level townhouse); this small thing is great, and has saved a huge amount of furniture shuffling and resource reallocation to make her comfortable on a single level of the place; any solution we’d have devised, had this been necesssary, would have been sub-optimal all the way around. Still, we’d have done what we could with what we have.

She’s resting; I’m in the WorldHQ control room, catching up on news feeds, and thankful to have her back home. Before the surgeon released her, he looked at me and said, “You’re in charge now.” I just hope I can wear the caregiving mantle with sufficient skill and grace.

-k-