To David:
Smugly stuffing your face you lost weight;
Burning every last morsel you found;
Now limiting the calories on your plate,
This week you gained back a pound!
Hahahahahahah!!!!!!
Welcome to the rest of us, honey pie.
Portland’s public transportation system is called Tri-Met. And my buddy Ginny B. knows what it’s good for. She’s a Love and Logic mama if I ever saw one. I love this story she told me:
A few days ago my darling little baby boy borrowed my car so he could drive to night school. So, imagine my surprise when his teacher called and wondered where Andy was.
“Why, he is in school. I know because he borrowed by car to go to school!” Uh huh.
In strolls Andy just when he should, as school was out. When I asked him how school was, I got the usual response.
“Fine.”
I like to think I am a rational person, but I had had two hours to stew over this situation. Imagining all of the places he was and all the trouble he was getting into. How he was running out all of my gas and would bring my car back empty.
I said loudly (but, not yelling), “Your teacher called twice! You have NOT been in school. You are NEVER going to drive my car again!”
His response: ” What are you going to do, take me off the insurance?” He knows I would never do that.
“No,” I said, “I will take you to school and bring you home, and you will still NEVER drive my car.”
Today is Andy’s 19th birthday. As I left my bedroom this morning there was a piece of paper dangling by a string from my doorframe. It read “Please, please let me borrow your car today! I need to go to the bank to get money for my birthday. Consider it my birthday present. Please, please!”
I quietly went into his bedroom and started singing “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you” and handed him $2 for Tri-Met.
I am still alive. I know this because I’m typing, which is a positive sign that my vital signs are stable and synapses are firing. It’s been a long day.
Handed the girls over to Mom after making them waffles, and drove to the clinic in Vancouver. Got two treatments today; the usual knock-me-over IV treatment, plus the one where Dr. M removes a unit of my blood, treats it and then returns it to my body. We usually chat during my treatment, and today we started talking about politics and religion. Wrong. While he and I share common ground in many areas, politics and religion are not included. It was still a friendly, although heated discussion but it distracted him while he was hanging my blood to be drained back in and the next thing I knew he swore and there was blood everywhere. It was on the tubing and on his gloved hands and on his pants. I don’t even know what happened to cause the accident. He cleaned it all up but that wasn’t the end of it.
While that was going on, my IV site occluded and a large clot developed in the end of the tubing. So he removed the tubing and attempted to reopen the IV with heperin without success. He had to insert a new canula. Then, he had to get the clot out of the end of the tube, trying not to lose the whole tube and more of my blood with it. Carefully regulating the stopcock, he opened the tube over a pile of gauze and tissue and the clot came out in a stringy glob. Naturally, the next thing that happened was that the entire tube decided to let lose and started pouring out before he could get the stopcock closed.
This time my blood was on the gauze, the table, my chart, and his lap top. Blood is such a beautiful color, one of the richest reds known in nature. I almost made that comment to him, but wisely chose not to as he wiped everything down with disinfectant again, with what sounded like an low growl.
Finally, everything was clean again and I got the remainder of my blood back. He then started the second IV treatment, with no discussion of politics and I went and sat in the treatment room without further incident. The treatment room consists of three recliners and one rocking chair and there is usually one or two other patients in there. Today a friend I haven’t seen for a couple months was there and we had a nice visit, so it ended well.
Now I’m home and starting to crash from the treatment, physically and mentally, but it’s the start of my real day off and I’m grateful. No matter what your religion is or beliefs are, you should set a side a day as a sanctuary in time. Don’t give me excuses, I’m as busy as all of you. Just do it.
If you have time to read it, this is a fascinating (and bittersweet) article, with great writing.
Notice this forecast. If, when in Portland, you are seen using an umbrella you will be marked as a tourist. Oregonians don’t do umbrellas. If there is a downpour you just walk faster. About two weeks ago we had some very heavy rains (which is saying a lot) and many Oregonians realized that an umbrella might come in handy. The problem was we couldn’t find them, buried forever among life’s detritus of things used once and then forgotten; rollerblades, Flowbees, urns, umbrellas.
If you are easily queased, do not open this next link. I dedicate it to my sister, Mia. For the rest of you who are wondering why I would do something like that, let me attempt an explanation. She and I have very interesting conversations in which we solve most of the world’s problems. In this case, we have discussed opening the world’s most effective diet website and product line. (Anyone want to name this website?) The point is to keep the dieter nauseated at all times. Specially selected clips from Fear Factor would be included. This article would be included. It’s genius. Stupid, yet genius (just like me and my sis).
Dear Spouse,
I’m not sure I like you. I admit that this past week I haven’t tried to lose weight or get in shape, but I have been careful, suspiciously eyeing each morsel of food, and imagining each muscle fiber re-flabbing itself while I’ve been sick this week. I was anxious as I stepped on the scale this morning for our weekly weigh-in. I neither lost nor gained.
You on the other hand. One night you ate two plates of nachos before you went to bed. You drink large, undiluted glasses of juice. You’ve emptied our secret stash of truffles. All the cashews have disappeared. You had thirds of taco salad.
You lost two pounds.
I don’t like you.
