Filet time

BigD is having his chest opened tomorrow, his breastbone sawed in half and pulled apart with a heavy metal retractor (goog a photo and see what fun it looks like) , his heart stopped for 4-6 hours, his vessels rerouted, then his breast bone will be pulled back together and wired shut, finally ending with a lovely 7-10 inch scar down the middle of his chest.

It all sounds so simple.

Lets just hope tomorrow isn't the day the surgeon decides to quit drinking and gets the DT's, or he feels a head cold coming on and lets out a gigantic sneeze and the bloody scalpel slips out of his hand and slices the aorta, or a young inexperienced surgeon begs and begs to help (think kids in the kitchen) and the frustrated old surgeon says 'whatev' and lets him take over.

This is the way my mind works. I can't tell anyone in my real life because they would think I was nuts, or mean, or whatever. So, I come here to let you judge my bizarreness.

Am I nervous? A little. But not about the surgery. It is taking place in the #1 cardiac facility in the world. Kings and Queens have been in the very OR that BigD will be in. The surgery itself will be fine. I am worried about after. Depression, anger, pain, and those are just what I will experience. He may have some issues too.

Nagging feeling part deux

So, where was I?

BigD went in yesterday for his heart cath. We were both nervous. Me, because I knew to what extent that he had changed over the past year. Him, because he didn't want to hear any bad news. Both of us, because we knew things weren't "perfect".

S3 was off school so he wanted to come along. This in itself caused a "WHA?" reaction. 17 year old boy kid has a day off school, and asks to get up at 6am, drive to the big city to the north and spend the day hanging out in a hospital that gives him incredible heebeejeebees instead of sleeping in, grazing the fridge and playing ps3 all day. Did I tell you he is a great kid?

Once we got BigD checked in and prepped, they told us to go eat. The procedure would take between 45 minutes and 90 minutes. 45 if they found nothing. 90 if they had to place st.ents. We went to eat and as a side note, I found it a bit ironic that the best cardiac facility in the world, the one where sheiks and kings bring their faulty tickers, has an array of artery clogging specialties on the menu. I guess it is job security for them assuring repeat patients.

Anyhoo, on our way back to the cath lab we ran into future DIL's dad. I can't go into details, but lets just say he has something to do with the above mentioned sheiks and kings when they arrive into the fair city for ticker repair.

Future DIL dad (from now on will be FDILD) has a tendency to talk . A LOT. I wanted to get back to the lab but he kept talking. No sweat because the desk at the lab had my cell number and said they would call me if the doctor finished and wanted to talk to me. We were gone for a little over an hour when we finally made it back to the cath lab. When I walked to the desk, the sweet lady sat up and said "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?". Apparently they had been calling my phone and paging me for over half an hour. As she was telling me this, my phone made the sound it makes when a voicemail arrives. It was her message from 30 minutes earlier. Crap.

I instantly had two thoughts. Yippee...they were done in less than 30 minutes because all was good. Thought number two...Shit, they were done in less than 30 minutes, not enough time to stent so things are in the crapper.

They told me BigD was being admitted upstairs.....as in intensive care.....and we could go there. By this time S2 had shown up so the three of us went up to wait for BigD's arrival. We waited and waited. The kind desk lady called back to the lab for us to find out why BigD hadn't arrive upstairs yet and she said they were waiting on transport. Another 15 min went by and her phone rang and I heard our name. She called me to the desk with an odd look on her face and told me BigD was staying in the lab until he was discharged. HUH? Nothing made any sense. We made our way back downstairs.

We walked into the holding area of the lab and BigD was laying on the bed eating a turkey sandwich, baked chips (it is a heart facility afterall) and smiling. I was so confused. Patients don't go from being assigned a room in ICU to being discharged an hour later.

BigD said he talked to the doctor and the doctor said that there was only one area with a problem and he didn't think it needed to be stented. Now, thats what BigD heard. It's actually NOT what the doctor said.

Another hour passed while we waited for the doc to finish up another case and he came in to talk to us. What he actually said was........there is one vessel with 100% closure. As in completely. It is the major vessel. Yep, the wi.dow m.aker. Somehow BigD has developed an alternate circulation system and two new vessels have sprouted to take over the work. The man is a freak of nature. He managed to avoid dropping dead. Because it is 100% blocked he need not worry about a heart attack in that major vessel. It's already screwed. So now his other vessels are the ones that need to be addressed.

To say that my head is swimming still, would be an understatement. I have a ton of medical background, especially cardiology, and if I am befuddled, I can't imagine what the random patient must be thinking.

BigD has two options. He can either have a d-ouble by-pass or he can do nothing. Those seem like very unlikely equal options. Needless to say we have much to discuss, many more facts to ascertain, and multiple things to consider.

You know that nagging feeling in your gut?

The one that makes you hesitate for a second to process some information. It's the thing that you repress because it conjures up uncomfortable thoughts, or things you just want to avoid in general.

Starting six months to a year ago BigD started to "change". By that I mean he seemed withdrawn more. He would sit for hours playing mahjong and seem disinterested in everything. Since he had been taking a very low dose anti-D for years I recommended (when I wanted to scream) that he ask the doc for a dosage increase. Having been on the lowest dose for about ten years it seems realistic that it has lost it's effectiveness. Anyhoo....I noticed other "symptoms" as well. He was lethargic (p.s.doc..check the thyroid too), sad, emotional (continually telling me how wonderful I am, while it's terrific--he would almost be tearful--and I would wake up in the middle of the night and he would be kissing my hair and whispering how much he loves me...sweet but annoying at the same time), then I started noticing the physical symptoms. The weight gain (Well, I AM a kick ass cook), the ashen color of his skin when he would exert himself, the rest breaks that became so frequent it took him twice as long to do any yard work, etc. When we were in N.Y.City this fall I was walking along the parade route while he was marching and the thought flashed through my mind that I have seen that same pallor (ashen) and sweat on patients I was with in the ER during their MI's.

Knowing that it would piss him off, but doing it anyway, I subtly asked him repeatedly over the last six months if he was okay, if he felt okay. He admitted that he had been feeling down and that he felt out of shape (he is-and never used to be. I saw him on more than one occasion in his work capacity subdue the meanest of dudes without any difficulty). BUT, he also has no self control. We have talked about it over and over. If I make cookies (yes, temptress than I am, I DO cook and bake and the rest of us eat a sensible amount) he will eat 8 instead of 2, and then try to lie about it. I have taken to hiding my junk food to keep him healthy (I'm lying. I want it when I want it and if it's gone momma gets cranky).Last week I took 18 frozen cookie dough balls out of the freezer and baked them to have for dessert that night. I ate two, then left for the store. When I got home, there were 8 left on the plate. (There were going to be 5 of us at dinner). I was stunned. He ate 8 damn cookies that were for dessert.

He has been a regular at the R.ed C.ross donating every 52 days. They turned him away last week because his blood pressure was through the roof. He wasn't going to tell me but I saw the paper they gave him and confronted him. He said yep, it has been higher every time he has it checked. So, for the next three days I checked it a couple of times a day and it was ridiculously high. Now I got pissed. He had been taking this supplement crap to help with weight loss (hey, I have an idea...HOW ABOUT NOT SUCKING DOWN 8 COOKIES BEFORE DINNER) and it contains a legal version of amphetamine called phe.ntermine. He said that if it is sold over the counter it must be okay. Sometimes I find it hard to believe that he is as smart as he is when he is so stupid. He was taking some other crap for this and that too so I told him no more. If he wanted to kill himself he needed to do it at work because we get a huge death benefit then. I was kidding. Kinda.

Long story short, I got him in to see his doctor thanks to a friend that plugged him into a cancellation spot for the next day. He goes. BP is crazy high. Weight is up 25 lbs from last time. He finally admits to the doc that he has this *feeling* in his throat, upper chest, when he exerts. Not pain mind you, just a *feeling*.

Doc orders a nu.clear stre.ss test for yesterday. I took a book thinking I would have plenty of waiting room time. Not so much. Cardiologist comes out pretty soon and tells me that BigD has significant blockage. When I press him for which vessel, he tells me "the one on the front". He doesn't know that I am schooled in heart shit so I ask him if it is the L.AD. He gives me a look and briefly smiles and says yes. This my folks is commonly called "The W.idow Ma.ker". You literally have five minutes to get help if this one closes off. Five minutes.

So on Monday BigD is scheduled for a heart c.ath (they wanted to do it yesterday but the 'good' doctor is away until Monday. BigD was ordered to go home, don't do anything, don't work, don't get stressed, nothing. Seriously I can't believe the hospital let him go. It's a huge liability if something happens to him over the weekend.

We are looking at s.tents or bypass. We will know once the cath is done. Then comes the hard part. Getting him to eat healthy food. This is a man that lives on fat, grease and sugar. This isn't going to be pretty. I make healthy stuff at home, but when he is out and about he is on his own and his resistance to the smell of ribs, greasy burgers, fries, is very low. It would even be okay if he ate that stuff in moderation, but he is a second and third helping guy and he never leaves anything on his plate. It drives him crazy to see people not eating ALL their food. You would think he grew up in the depression for gods sake. His parents were fine financially, they were never ever hungry, so I have no idea where this clean plate obsession (that has gotten progressively worse over the past few years) came from.

So fun times ahead for the OHN household.

Not really a downer

Hey. Sorry about that last post. I am not a debbiedowner....well, at least not out loud. I can't be held liable for what happens INSIDE my head.

So, lets lighten things up a little.

The "boss" closed his practice and now I am working for a HUGE medical conglomerate with 100+ employees and guess what?? Nobody smiles. Everyone hates their job. There is a power struggle between two women that each think they are the boss (neither are, but both want to be) and they don't like each other and on a daily basis try to undermine what the other one has said. Fun times.

Fortunately, what I do, I do primarily alone, going to the office at my convenience, usually before patients start arriving. There are a couple days a week that I am with the patients and I enjoy that. They come in grumpy and sick, usually end up having a finger stuck up their asses, or a scope rammed in their johnson, and if I can make them smile before they leave, I have had a good day.

I have been able to stay out of the middle of the firestorm that is brewing and observe and it's really getting fun. My prediction is that the revolving employee door at this place will be spinning constantly.

That being said--I did update my resumé. In fact I have written a couple of different ones to a couple of specific areas of interest of mine and will keep my ears open. The one advantage to age is that I have experience in more than one arena so I can fill a void in many types of settings. I am not looking for a career....just a 15-20 hour a week paycheck to supplement my dwindling business income, but my goal is to work from home again. After doing that successfully for 15+ years, I have found that I rarely have to fight with myself for a lunch break, and my four legged office mates are quiet, never have ego issues and are generally good workers. The farting is a bit much, but I have an office with lovely windows that open.

Now, I want to leave you with a link to a craig.slist ad. I was catching up on some blogs this morning and this was posted by one of them. It made my whole morning. http://nh.craigslist.org/clt/2647453265.html I will have to track back to http://www.midgetmanofsteel.com more often if he leaves me with gems like that.

A day late...doesn't it always happen that way?

I was getting caught up on my magazines last night and there was an essay contest in one that for some unknown reason, felt compelled to enter. I wrote it all out (the essay subject was "when did you first understand the meaning of love") and as I was typing the submission email address I saw that the deadline had passed. (*note to self, read magazines closer to the time they arrive).

Anyway, since I can't share it with the thousands of people that read the magazine, I will share it will all three of you that read here.

My father was a charming, abusive, alcoholic. He was a pillar in the community, well liked, handsome, and in a position of power.

In her day and because she was Catholic, my mother knew that divorce was not an option. She endured his rages, threats and beatings not knowing what else to do in the era of the 1940’s and 1950’s. When I was born in the late 1950’s my mother was able to keep me sheltered, for the most part, from the turmoil but eventually one event led to a momentous decision for a woman in a small community in 1963.

After a particularly loud confrontation I walked into our kitchen in time to see my mother lying on the floor with my father standing over her in an alcohol infused rage. When she saw the look of terror and confusion on my face she made the decision, in that instant, to file for divorce.

Friends and family had to have known what was happening all those years. They didn’t know about the verbal abuse, or the times that the bruises and broken bones didn’t show. They didn’t know about the times she woke up with a gun pressed against her forehead with him asking her why he shouldn’t kill her that morning. Because of the era, and the way that “family matters” were not discussed with others, she never felt as though she would have any support and none was ever offered.

That morning, she didn’t care, the time had come. She told me later that she would not allow another child to live in such a horrid environment and that even if we had to live hand to mouth we would be safe. My brother had been witness to many episodes as he is a good deal older than I am, and ironically he has very little memory of any of the torment he was subjected to at the hands of our father.

So, knowing that she would be completely on her own with a young daughter, with no emotional or financial support from family and friends, and a community that would be stunned, she divorced my father because her love for me superseded everything else. It is an intense love that I thought I understood, but realized at the age of 32 I really never knew how intense it really was. That was when our first son was placed in my arms after struggling for eight years to become a mother myself. I got it. I finally really understood the whole “throw yourself in front of a bus for your child” love.

After word got around town that mom had filed for divorce, friends and family all quietly approached her and told her they wished she had done it years before. Everyone did know what was happening but because of the way things were, they couldn’t interfere in another family’s business, and they were also afraid of the ramifications from a powerful man.

Now, I hear myself telling my sons the same thing I heard from my mom for so long. They will understand how much I love them, when they have children. It took me 32 years.

Yep. Still kickin

Hello. My name is OHN and I am a bad blogger.

Life has completely run away with my time. I have started to post here about 8 gazillion times but there never seems to be enough time to put it all down. Face.book has drawn me away like a drug because it's quick and I don't have to think.

Small recap: S1 is engaged. Yep, I am officially going to be a dreaded MIL. Though considering my soon to be DIL begs S1 to spend ridiculous amounts of time here, I think we are going to get along fine. As long as she learns how to make a bed, unload a full dishwasher, load an empty dishwasher-not fill the sink with dishes, wipe toothpaste out of the sink, not leave wet towels on the floor, and closes the fridge door once in awhile. All that said, she is lovely and a PERFECT match to S1. The soon to be DIL didn't have her mom around much growing up so some of the finer things that make a brilliant June Cleaver homemaker have not been shared with her. I am up to the task of gently showing her...bwahhahahahha.

On the home-front, since we last chatted, things have hit the shitter more than once. The marriage has been tested, jobs have been lost, finances have been stretched, and I have thought about running away from home. Seriously. I am a budget genius. I can make a dollar spend like five. Considering that S1 and future DIL, along with S2 and his sweetie (I introduced them, did I tell you that story??) are cleaning out the fridge on a regular basis make 1=5 necessary. It's the proverbial double-edged sword people. I LOVE the fact that my adult children still enjoy "home" but its tough to feed seven, when I am geared for three, on the spur of the moment. I have attempted to rectify that by telling them I need a little warning when they are coming. Dropping in is fine, but don't expect to be fed then. When they say "it's ok, we can order pizza", I have had to resort to telling them that spending $45-50 for one meal on pizza pies isn't in the budget right now. Which brings me to the next ohhh poor me moment:

Remember over a year ago when I was here whining about my job security. Well, Doc finally decided to pack it in and close his practice. So I have about 4 weeks before my income falls another $1000 a month (after falling $1000 a month last year) if you don't have a calculator handy, it is about $24,000 a year less than I made a couple of years ago. Yes. It makes a difference. I have been looking, right along with all the recent college grads that are slinging burgers-because the job market isn't too open in case you haven't heard. To make matters a little more complicated, my experience is all in the medical field in one aspect or another, so my market is a little specific. I am not opposed to changing fields mid-stream, but I have no idea what else to pursue without heading back to the college scene, then join the above mentioned recent grads at Mc.Donalds. I am resilient and I will find something. Anyone need their dogs walked?

Now, on to the marriage. What can I say? There are days where my patience is tried to the thinnest possible thread. Where I am the queen of monetary distribution, BigD is the opposite. He has no clue why I want to make sure we have a nest egg for emergencies (like when our 20 year old oven blows up, or my tires are bald). He will see that we have money in the bank and think....hey great, I'm gonna go buy $500 worth of shit I don't need at H.ome D.epot. It's okay though, because he can put it on the credit card. Here is a man that tracks and apprehends murders, rapists, and assorted other felons, yet he doesn't understand why he can't spend money at will. His thought (and the basis for our most recent "chat") is that if he is making it, he can spend it.

I made a spreadsheet (okay, actually it was just a word document with a numbered list) of what our actual expenses are monthly. House payment, insurances-(car, house,life, medical) prescriptions, utilities, gas, cable (yes, this IS a necessity as it bundles with our internet that I need for work), and the list goes on and on to include food etc. When it is down on paper it looks absolutely impossible that we are able to pay everything, and on time, with our income, but I make it work. When he saw the list that I presented without an attitude-I swear-he went off on a tirade that he works as much as he can, earns as much as he can etc etc. He totally missed the point. I am not asking him to make more money, just to understand that the money he (we) makes needs to be spent wisely and not on impulse. I am not a shrink, but I do know that part of his thought process is insecurity about being a good provider. He is a fine provider, its just that his siblings are all mega-mega-money makers and he has always felt "lesser" than them. This is ridiculous but he has always felt the need to keep up with them. I wish I had seen years ago his level of need for sibling approval, many things would have been different. I would have talked him out of our huge home, and the trappings that make us appear to be much more well off than we are. The appearance is very important to him. It's all smoke and mirrors people. I was young and naive.

Years ago he was in charge of our bills. Because of his line of work everything is in my name--liability etc. Guess whose credit hit the crapper when he would "forget" to pay the bills. I finally convinced him that since I am the one that grocery shops, was buying the necessities for the kids etc, I needed to have the checkbook because he wasn't always here when I needed it. I then slowly started asking "hey, I have the checkbook, want me to pay the phone bill?" and from that point on he was actually relieved to be relieved of the task of bill payments so I was off and running. At some point along the way he has forgotten how stressful it is to have $3000 worth of bills with $2000 in the account.

We got a small inheritance from a distant relative and I was breathing a sigh of relief knowing we could beef up our emergency fund, then I saw the glimmer in his eye. He had plans for all of it. Hence, another "chat". We have had more "chat's" in the past year than we have in the past thirty years. They are rather loud chats at this point. Though, this most recent one did end with him doing two home repairs that had been put off for YEARS and together they only took 2 hours. TWO HOURS and I have waited years without any nagging. I hate nags, and he knew they needed to be done so bitching about it would have just raised my blood pressure. He did hang his head like a sad puppy when he was done and admitted he should have done them long ago. (I told him some of his glimmer money was going to be spent on me hiring a husband for the day to do all the little things that haven't been done----he may have been thinking stud service, but I was thinking stud service....two entirely different kinds of studs :-)

Anyway, I have been under tremendous pressure from many avenues this summer and have neglected to write. I really should have remembered that it makes be feel incredibly good to purge here. At this point, I seriously doubt that anyone even reads this but it's good therapy for me. I have been reading some blogs, but not much. Even my favorites (yep, yours) have not been read for a bit. Hell, one went and got an awesome job and if we weren't Fbook friends I wouldn't have even known. Another traveled the world to speak at Blog.her. We WILL meet someday Eden, DD, Becky....and the list goes on and on. I have "met" some great people here and I feel like I have walked away. I haven't, life just got in the way for a bit. I will be back bitching as usual in no time.

You don't have to leave a comment, but if anyone is actually still reading, a quick "yep, still hanging with you OHN" would be great.

What I did today

Okay. Whew, been a long time huh? Yeah, about that...sorry. I have been doing tons and will jot it all down here soon. But, in the meantime I wanted to share with you a letter I wrote this morning to a physician I started working for A WEEK AGO. Yes, I could only stand it one week. People...if you go to a doctor, and you have a test, CALL THE OFFICE for a copy of the report. If they don't call you, it doesn't mean all is peachy. Things fall through cracks, idiots are attracted to doctors office staff positions (ever wonder why every 6 months or year that you go there are new people??)

Anyway.....the letter is as follows. The dark print is the actual letter. The red, I would have loved to add in, but yet was able to restrain my strong desire to do so.

Dear Dr. Needsabettersystem:

I feel the need to explain to you why I am leaving my new position. My first day I was given (a ridiculous) 45 minutes of training, though most of it was spent by my trainer eating, chatting and texting with her cell phone (along with a few trips to the medication room...hmmmmm). Very few of my questions were answered, and I found much (all) of the (little) information she provided was either incorrect or incomplete. I am very surprised that there is not a procedure manual dedicated to your particular desires in regard to your EMRD data entry. (considering this computer system has supposedly be in place for three damn years). While the girls in the office have been helpful, (they too spend extreme amounts of time talking about their various tattoos, piercings, and drug addict baby-daddies), they are very busy with their own responsibilities, and because of that, my training has been haphazard at best, with me having to interrupt them to clarify information. (and when I do ask a question nobody else knows the answer and stare at me and each other like I just told them J.erry Sp.ringer is waiting to interview them).By my third day, I was no further along than on my first day. As a business owner myself, I recognize the value of a dedicated employee, but it is imperative that the employee be sufficiently trained for their position. (I am smart. Make no mistake, one solid day training on a new system program, I would have it nailed). With 20+ years experience in various areas of medical office work, I am more than capable, but I am concerned about the liability of records not being processed correctly and potentially creating a significant issue. (such as the physicians having their asses sued off AGAIN because they missed an extremely abnormal report because nobody knows what the fuck is going on). So, with these concerns, along with others, I resign effective immediately, so as not to waste your time and to allow you to fill the position in a more expedient manner.(with some other chick that can share nipple piercing stories with the rest of the staff, that if they are lucky and put all their knowledge together, would equal one good brain.)

Sincerely,

OHN

ME? You want to know about ME?

I don't usually do memes but my buddy Deathstar ( http://awomanmyage.wordpress.com/) sent out a challenge and I don't back down from a good challenge. Plus, I am trying to avoid some boring projects.

ABC meme

A. Age: 53 (not sure when I sailed past 32)

B. Bed size: King. I need my space.

C. Chore you dislike: Windows. Even with that windex crap you rig to a hose my windows looks bad. I have 39 windows (plus ones that never get cleaned because they are not reachable) so it is a huge pain in my ass to do windows.

D. Dogs: Two. I have had solos all my life, but once I got a second, I vowed to have two at all times for the rest of my life. Would you want to be the only human in a house of dogs????

E. Essential start to your day: Cold L.ipton green tea, or white raspberry tea. I had a peach S.napple addition that I had to break. Even now when I cruise down the tea aisle in the store I have to tell myself to keep walking past the beloved S. Oh, and I hate coffee. All kinds. (except for the caramel frappé at McD's...but that kills my guts)

F. Favorite color: If its clothes, probably blue, though I don't have any. I wear a lot of black, though don't particularly like it.

G. Gold or silver: I wear both. At the same time. So there fashionistas who say it is a faux pas.

H. Height: I use to be 5'6", now am creeping down to 5'5". Before I die, I suspect I will be 2'4"

I. Instruments you play(ed): Piano lessons x 1 year, organ lessons x 1 year (yeah, still hate my mother for that one..she may as well have tattooed dork on my forehead)

J. Job title: Job seeker.

K. Kids: Yes. Three. That I always wanted and never thought I would have.

L. Live: Midwest, where it is cold more often than not. I crave beaches. The only thing keeping me here is kids. I need to convince them that island living is the way to go.

M. Mom’s name: Can't say. Too unusual and googleable.

N. Nicknames: Punky, Pookie, and sometimes punkypoo.

O. Overnight hospital stays: I don't remember them all, but they all had to do with either trying to get pregnant, trying to stay pregnant or delivering the results of the prior two.

P. Pet peeves: Stupidity. There is no reason, for anyone, to ever be stupid. Also, people that don't wash their hands. Howie Mandel is my hero.

Q. Quote from a movie: "Are you a good witch, or a bad witch"

R. Righty or lefty: Righty. I only have a left hand to balance my body. Other than that, it is useless.

S. Siblings: One. Oy-vey.

T. Time you wake up: 5:50 am during the week. 7:00 am on weekends. Yes, to me that IS sleeping in.

U. Underwear: If I have to leave the house...you know, for that accident my mom always warned me about.

V. Vegetables you don’t like: cruciferous

W.What makes you run late: WAITING FOR OTHER PEOPLE. I am always on-time or early.

X. X-rays you’ve had: Pick a body part. They have all been irradiated.

Y. Yummy food you make: I'm a baker. Love to bake. I make up massive batches of cookie dough, make little balls and freeze them so I can make cookies whenever I want without making a mess. (You're welcome, it IS a great idea.)

Z. Zoo animal favorites: Monkeys. I want to sneak in at night and set them all free. I think they are more intelligent than many people I know.

So, there you go.

Newly marrieds??

You might want to click away. I certainly wouldn't want to be the one to rip that bloom off your rose and tell you that someday, you will realize that your now perfect husband, really never was perfect, and truly does not fart rainbows and unicorns.

I found myself having to take S3 to school this morning (car issues--don't get me started on that) and for most of the ride I was explaining to him (okay, so it was more of a rant) that before he gets married he should go buy and do everything he thinks he will ever want to buy and do..because once he is married you have another person in your life that thinks they are allowed to have an opinion.

As you know over a year ago we started our kitchen re-do. I found the perfect granite in 15 minutes at the granite place. It took BigD over a month to decide that he picked it out and it was perfect. Next came the sink. Then lord-help-me the light fixtures. I found all of them and it took him weeks to decide they were perfect.

When I see something I like, I know it. I don't need to think about it twice. If I do, then it is obvious to me that I must not like it enough.

Which leads me to the kitchen table. Right now, we have our dining room table in the kitchen, and subsequently have an empty dining room. We only use the dining room when we are forced to host holiday feasts, other than that we are kitchen people.

BigD hates our dining room set. It was my grandmothers...and before you can say ewwwww, it must be dated, and old and ugly...it isn't. It is old, but it is hand-carved oak and gorgeous. It is a small set, because people used to be smaller, ya know? So it fits in our kitchen but BigD hates it. Fine, lets get a new kitchen set. Simple huh?

Shit.

I have been looking for months. I keep emailing possible sets to myself and showing them to him. He doesn't like any. He wants metal. Yes, I said metal. We have a tusc.an kitchen, cracked walls, exposed brick, dark granite, dark brownish cast iron sink, cherry cabinets, new black/bronze hardware, black fridge, and yes, the light fixtures are a dark antique bronze (think powdercoat) with warm fluted inverted globes.Trust me, a metal table would not fit the vibe of the kitchen at all. I haven't seen any that aren't too small, or that don't have a glass top. If you knew my crowd, you would know that it would be easier to keep an elephant pen at the zoo cleaner than a glass top table in our kitchen.

Also, I want something that we can put a leaf in when all the boys and their girlfriends/spouses/et. al arrive for a meal. All the sets I see with metal are 4 chairs. So if you do the math, me, BigD and three sons, (not including their upcoming families), someone needs to sit on the floor. (I vote BigD). I found a very pretty set that was a combination of black and cherry (hmmmm, sounds like it would really look great in a kitchen with cherry cabinets and black hardware) and he said "that's not what I had in mind".

I am just so sick of all the crap. He made the statement last year that I had no opinion on the types of plantings he wants to do outside....that's HIS area. Well, fuck you very much.

Before you tell me to just go ahead and get what I want because the kitchen is MY area...note that he still is angry about something that happened (minor) 25 years ago and every chance he gets he brings it up. I am married to a child.

So, I decided this morning I am done. I won't look any more and next year I will be writing a post about BigD finding this lovely cherry and black set that would be perfect. Except by then, they won't be available.

I still swear, being a lesbian is the way to go.....if I didn't have to have sex with women.

Have you ever

put something in the fridge, something that you ate 1/2 of for dinner the night before, only to get your mouth all prepared for it's greasy goodness for breakfast, and find that some inconsiderate SOB ate it? WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING.

I had it wrapped up, stuck up on the top shelf, and BigD knew it was mine. S3 and I had to make a run to a neighboring town last night and they happen to have a Fi.ve Guys burger place (soooo good and soooo bad for you). Since we don't make this trip often, when we do, we stop and pick up the burgers. I CALLED BigD to see if he wanted one. Nope. Not hungry. That is, until I fell asleep and he snuck his sorry ass down to the kitchen and ate my dinner/breakfast.

Ordinarily anything in the fridge is fair game, but, the fridge at this moment is full of food, (Italian meatloaf, various veggies, au gratin potatoes, various fruits, roasted chicken, ham etc) yet he chose MY 1/2 burger to satisfy his nocturnal munchies. If you are wondering why I only ate 1/2, it's because they are big. Really big. While I could have eaten the whole thing, and even licked the wrapping, I don't want to gain back the tonnage that I have lost.

I called BigD at work and asked him if he was guilty. He said "yeah, I was hungry", then had the nerve to say "remember that leftover donut from a couple of weeks ago, I wanted that and when I went to eat it, it was gone" OHHHH, I get it. One donut from a box of 12 (of which he had already eaten a few) that was put on the counter for anyone to enjoy is exactly the same as eating someones dinner.

OH, and just last week he was telling me how he really wanted to lose weight. He needs to. He is walking heart attack waiting to happen. (don't judge me for having any treats in the house, if I don't, he pouts and whines and gets actually pissed--no, he isn't 12, but at times his age is questionable). Remember, I am NOT his mother. I love sweets. I would probably have convulsions if I didn't have them...often. BUT, I don't eat all of them at once and I buy the least fattening treats I can----with the exception of Fat Tue.sday. Baby, that day, I will eat all the custard filled, chocolate iced poonchkies I can find.

So, I had to settle for a breakfast that was nowhere near as delightful as my grilled onion and mayo cheeseburger would have been. Remember, he said he didn't want a burger. I thought mine was safe. Now I know better. It's war.

Surgery, love and job loss

S1 had surgery this week. He has been having problems for YEARS with his sinuses and has been telling everyone that he couldn't breathe at all out of his LEFT nostril. **

**This is as far as I got with this post that I started WEEKSago...those of you that know me on Fbook, have heard some of this. I can't believe how long it has been since I have come here and bitched about something.

The story gets much more interesting. To continue......he ended up having a golf ball removed from his RIGHT sinus. Okay, it wasn't really a golf ball, but the whateveritwas was the same size. It took about an hour and a half with teensy little instruments shoved up his nose and into the sinus to remove it. They doctor casually said while S1 was signing the consent, that they are working very closely to the brain and eyes during this procedure and there was always the chance that one of them could be damaged. Nice.

So if you noticed, I said he was having trouble for years with the left side, but the whateveritwas was on the right. Poor kid. The whateveritis took up the ENTIRE sinus cavity so no air was being exchanged there......and on the left side, his airway was as thin as a hair. I can only imagine how smart he would be if his brain had actually been getting oxygen all these years. We then found out that to correct the thin airway they had to break his nose. Lovely.

So, we were a week out...all was good...then the panicked phone call came. He woke up on day 7, rolled over and started gushing blood out of his nose. Now, S1 has a very low panic threshold when it comes to medical things so I didn't panic until I heard his girlfriend in the background talking about the amount of blood. It was obviously time for a trip to the hospital.

They went to the car, but we had an ice storm and the car was frozen. Did you know that panicking when you are bleeding makes you bleed more? Now you do. It became obvious that 9-1-1 needed to be called. They came, transported to podunk general in S1's town. The ER couldn't stop the bleeding so they called the surgeon (40 miles away) to see what they should do. His order was to get him back in the ambulance and bring him to realhospital where the surgery had been done.

Needless to say I was at the hospital before the ambulance arrived. S1 looked like hell when he arrived and my heart rocketed up to my throat. It doesn't matter how old your kid is, he is still your kid. They got him a room and we waited. We waited for him to quit bleeding, then when he did quit bleeding we waited for it to stay quit, or whatever you call it.

He was in for 4 nights. 4 very long nights. Not because of him, he was doing great. His room mate was a drug seeking, loud, demanding SOB. The nurses were so patient with this guy but at one point even they were done with him and told him he was cut off from his drugs. The one drawback, is the only time he was quiet was when he was stoned, so we were in for more obnoxiousness.

So S1 was discharged, and because this had scared the shit out of him, and the surgeon said no work for a week, he came home instead of going to his apartment. I have loved having him here, but this is the part we come to the too much cooking and laundry. You see, his girlfriend is here too. She is wonderful, we have grown to love her, but I have also learned that she really doesn't get the concept of day to day things. She is very smart, but not too bright. Last night she ate late and didn't bother to put the milk, burgers, cheese etc in the fridge before she went to bed. I got up this morning and they were all on the kitchen counter. I have seen a little pattern developing here. Lessons in housekeeping will be given but I will be so slick about it, she won't even know. She will wake up one day and it will all be in her head.

While S1 was recuping at home he asked me how to tell if a diamond is a good one. HUH??? Oh shit, I knew where this was leading. So, we sat and talked about size vs quality vs price, picking it out ahead or asking then letting her pick it, and I really didn't want to say too much. I don't want it to come back and bite me in the ass, so I gave him several answers and told him to pick one. He has to save a bit more (he is a cash and carry kind of guy) but he is ready. SHE IS THE ONE. He is trying to think of a good place/way to ask her....romantic but not uncomfortable...memorable but not over the top.

Thankfully we love her (except for the lack of common sense in the home area) and it will be a good match (I hope). For her birthday we went out to dinner with her dad, brother, and grandparents and had a blast. I am sure the waiter hated us, and the 6 tables surrounding us were hanging on every word BigD and BigE (same line of work so there was a lot of shop talk going on) were saying. I am sure we looked like a motley bunch from I.rish to Afri.can Ameri.can with skin tones from pale as a marshmallow, to dark as the night and none of us stopped talking for a minute. I'm gonna like these people :-)

So, the announcement was made public on Tuesday at work.....doc is closing his office and joining a group. So, where does that leave me you ask?? Who the hell knows. He said we will be offered positions at the (established with full staff) group, but they may or may not be: our same position, our same pay-scale, our same location..blah, blah, blah. So with gas hovering around $3.50 a gallon, none of the satellite offices would make sense unless I would get a significant bump in pay. Since I still have my business (though it is swirling down the proverbial drain with changes in healthcare) I don't want a typical 9-5 M-F job. Not because I think I am too good for that, just because I do have commitments to the remaining clients I have to still complete their work.

In a perfect world I would snag new clients and be able to work from home and only shower when necessary. My second choice would be to sleep with one of the practice partners and take pictures, and tell him that if I didn't get to stay in the local office, with a raise, work M-F but only from 7-12, the wife would get the shots of my glorious self with her cheating SOB husband. Third I could go out and try to find a "real" job, but that's too much work.

The timing of this really couldn't be worse either. I am in the middle of redecorating two bedrooms and am only 1/2 way done. I have to finish because BigD has a big-wig muckety muck coming to town in May and he (and forgodssake, I just found out his wife) will be staying here. If it was just the guy I wouldn't be as stressed. But you all know that we women are judgmental bitches so things really have to look nice or I could be featured on a reality show...a cross between h.oarders and old whiny people. (Big-wig has a relative in that production arena).

So kids....that is a brief update on what is happening at chez OHN. There are many more things I will update, but right now I have to go figure out how to finish two bedrooms with things I find on peoples tree lawns, in the dark, the night before trash day.

The verdict is in

I have been absent for a good reason. (okay, laziness too)

I received an invitation from my county court system to grace them with my presence and to decide the fate of one of my peers. Not actually a person I know, but a peer in the sense of "jury of his peers" kinda thing.

BigD laughed at me when I excitedly told him. He said no way would I be selected because I am married to one who detects things. BULLSHIT I cried.

So, with my response questionnaire indicating that I did in fact receive their invitation, I also included a note to the judge. (One, who by the way has known BigD for about a zillion years). BigD's reaction when I told him I wrote the letter, well, I wish I had a camera. His face froze in that --oh shit, what did you say--look.

I very respectfully explained that just because I put a check in the box on the form where it asks if we are related to anyone in law enforcement, it certainly DID NOT mean that I was unable to make an intelligent, well informed, decision based on the facts of a case. I could have elaborated and said that I have known many an officer to screw up a report, or evidence or, whatever. I did hold my tongue (or pen, as the case may be).

So, on the reported day I sat in the potential jurors box with 59 strangers and we waited as questions were asked of the initial 8 chosen, then as they were dismissed for various reasons, they started picking from our reserve box. Since this was a civil case, I had a better chance that I would be one of the 8 finalists (I like to think of it as a competition), and I was, and I was elected the queen...I mean the foreperson.

They instruct you not to make any opinions or decisions until ALL of the facts of the case were presented. Okay, now, if you are human, this is probably not possible. What person doesn't check out the defendant, and the plaintiff? We all do. I had a very open mind, but a quick glance at each, showed a stark difference in their appearances, probable educational opportunities completed for each, and mannerisms that seemed to yell out loud. Once each took the stand, these impressions became even more pronounced.

Then a funny thing happened. Each lawyer started talking. The plaintiffs attorney was soft spoken, but passionate. I didn't think I liked him, but by the end decided that if I ever needed a lawyer I would look him up. The defendants attorney was slick. Very well dressed in an expensive suit, handsome, and had it all going on.......until he opened his mouth. He talked down to the jury like we were 4th graders, he kept losing his glasses, repeated the same inconsequential information over and over. Maybe in his experience that is the level of intelligence of juries he has known, but it wasn't the case in our pool. So, while the defendant was a wormish guy with , he had a slick attorney. The plaintiff was a well educated professional woman, with a lawyer that started out being a weenie but we all agreed in deliberations that he was actually a far superior lawyer than the expensive suit.

Lost yet?

So, the case. D (defendant) ran a light, hitting two cars, including the P (plaintiff) who was sitting at a stop light. She stated that the collision (as the attorney kept calling it) caused her considerable back pain, spasms, and had altered her lifestyle. For a year she was unable to pick up her kids and had to spend considerable time in physical therapy, having injections (which were vividly and dramatically described as being ENORMOUS needles injected into the spine, and her insurance didn't cover her medical bills, with a deficit of about $7000. The attorney asked that we consider her loss of life enjoyment and recommended that we find in her favor for about $25,000. He stated this would help her become whole again.

Medical records were produced to show the testing, therapy, medications etc that she endured since the collision. This was interesting because where some in the courtroom were confused or unsure of the terminology and what it all meant, for me, it was like brushing my teeth. None of it was foreign and I explained a few things during deliberations that were stated to us in a manner that would (and did) make a few jurors feel that her injuries were horrendous. Actually, the medical records played a big role in our decision too. She admitted that she had back problems in 2000, but none since. While reviewing her PT records, the therapist (who by the way, had fabulous detailed notes....much better than any physician) mentioned that the patient told her that she had "flares" of her back issues during both of her pregnancies. These actual records were not shown to us, in fact were were told "the plaintiff hadn't seen a doctor since 2000" but she obviously had to see one a few times during pregnancy. Things started to not add up.

The real deal breaker in deliberations though, were the details of the damage to her car. With all of her debilitating issues, and the descriptions of the way her life was altered, we expected that at the least, her car would be a mess. In reality, the only, ONLY damage was a broken driver side mirror. Yep. This life altering accident hadn't even scratched the side of her car, it merely knocked off the mirror. $198 repair.

All of us agreed that while the defendant was a goofy weirdo, and did cause the accident, the accident most likely did not cause of the plaintiffs back pain. She had it in 1998, 2000, had it during two pregnancies (her youngest was 2 at the time of the accident) and could have hurt her back doing something as simple as getting out of a chair. The evidence was simply not here.

We found the defendant was guilty of causing the accident by running the light (at one point he couldn't tell the difference between 10 feet and 75 yards.....yeah, like I said he was goofy), but we didn't award the plaintiff any damages.

So, going into the trial with opening arguments, my first impression was that this was going to be a fairly simple case, and by the end I just hoped that if I were ever a defendant or plaintiff, that the jury was actually awake and paying attention.

Things are not always what they seem. I know people make jokes about jury duty, and lie and connive to get out of reporting, but honestly, I would do it again and again.

I may be screwed...and not the good way

Firstly...Happy 2011 everyone. I hope it is the best year for you and many wonderful things happen. If not, well find someone to blame.

So, to todays topic. I got ANOTHER email forward from BigD. It's ANOTHER O.bama is the devil/anti'christ/muslim/terrorist...etc. It really hit a nerve. I firmly believe that everyone should be allowed their own beliefs and freedom of speech. I also believe that I don't have to agree.

Let me tell you firstly...I do not think our President is outstanding. I don't think he is satan either. This most recent email questioned something that a very simple g.oogle search would clarify or demolish. I made a decision that will most likely cause marital ramifications as BigD never thinks he is wrong. Ever.

I am on the list of "forwards" that he sends these emails too....a list of hundreds. BigD, because of his career and involvement with several organizations has many email contacts. Most are government type employees, or friends of long-standing. Well......this morning I sorta snapped and hit the dreaded (or cherished) 'reply-all' button and proceeded to very sweetly (taking his feelings well into account) tell him that he needs to quit buying into the rhetoric and chicken-little emails that he receives and forwarding them BEFORE even wondering if they are true.

He is of the thought that if it is written....well hell, it must be true. This drives me insane. He needs to get off the bandwagon and sit down and really think about what he KNOWS, and if he doesn't know, take the time (maybe 2-5 seconds) to do a quick online search to see if what he is forwarding is factual.

So, I typed a sweet reply all, non-confrontational, not degrading (though the snark in me was dying to leap onto the keyboard) and told him that he is a smart man and to check his facts. I then kindly asked him (and the hundreds of people on his email list) to read the following article and give it some thought. So, now I ask you to do the same. I would love to know what you think.

http://ireaderreview.com/2011/01/01/ot-divide-and-conquer-vs-shared-purpose (this blog is also a terrific one to subscribe to for free books for your K.indle---this person sends out an email several times a week with lists of current (many genre) books that are free on A.mazon for a short period of time. I have found some great new authors reading a free book. Yeah, some are duds..but hey..free so I can delete if they don't snag my attention).

Feedback on the article please :-)