It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. If I may be so bold as to quote Dickens. 2012 just stunk to high heaven for me but I did get a new hip and a heart that beats like it should out of the deal so I should concentrate on those two things. Oh, and I passed Level 1 in the Master's Knitting Program. Three things. For me though...I continue to concentrate on the negative...that might have to be my New Year's Resolution. To quit being such a gloomy sad sack and to look on the bright side like Pollyanna.
My year was filled with trauma and it seemed as though every day brought a new crisis to pick at and worry over. Selling my mom's house turned out to be a bigger mess than anticipated but I was already worn out by the hideous Reverse Mortgage nightmare. Mom's diagnosis of Alzheimer's should have made me happy because...YES...there is a reason for her latest behavior and all the money she spend on useless crap to the point of having nothing to live on. But it just made me sad and mad. Mad at the VA who really has their collective heads up their asses and mad at my mom for leaving my sister and I in such a precarious position. We have to make new decisions every day and none of them seem like the right thing to do.
Then there was all my health issues. Wow. I turned 60 and promptly fell apart. Literally. My already replaced hip began to slide out of place at a moments notice...mostly on the potty. Turns out it had been a bad replacement from the get go and needed to be redone. I had to wear and sleep in a big brace that went around my waist and strapped to my thigh just to stay together. Sigh. A third hip replacement on the same damn side. I was thinking of getting a tattoo right along the big scar line that reads 'Open Here'. During the process of getting ready for the new hip it was discovered that I had a heart problem. Oh. There was a flurry of activity for a month before the surgery going to cardiologists and having expensive tests and being put on meds. Turns out I suffer from the same thing my dad did. Congestive heart failure. It was not what I wanted to hear.
My year was filled with trauma and it seemed as though every day brought a new crisis to pick at and worry over. Selling my mom's house turned out to be a bigger mess than anticipated but I was already worn out by the hideous Reverse Mortgage nightmare. Mom's diagnosis of Alzheimer's should have made me happy because...YES...there is a reason for her latest behavior and all the money she spend on useless crap to the point of having nothing to live on. But it just made me sad and mad. Mad at the VA who really has their collective heads up their asses and mad at my mom for leaving my sister and I in such a precarious position. We have to make new decisions every day and none of them seem like the right thing to do.
Then there was all my health issues. Wow. I turned 60 and promptly fell apart. Literally. My already replaced hip began to slide out of place at a moments notice...mostly on the potty. Turns out it had been a bad replacement from the get go and needed to be redone. I had to wear and sleep in a big brace that went around my waist and strapped to my thigh just to stay together. Sigh. A third hip replacement on the same damn side. I was thinking of getting a tattoo right along the big scar line that reads 'Open Here'. During the process of getting ready for the new hip it was discovered that I had a heart problem. Oh. There was a flurry of activity for a month before the surgery going to cardiologists and having expensive tests and being put on meds. Turns out I suffer from the same thing my dad did. Congestive heart failure. It was not what I wanted to hear.
My summer was full of going to the doctor and being monitored. Having nurses call me about stuff and me writing it down on random scraps of paper only to be lost in the weekly big kitchen table clean up. Seriously....I did knit and pass Level 1 but I have almost no recollection of it. As I was recovering from the hip surgery and going back and forth to the VA with my mom and going back and forth to my own new cardiologist I lost my job. Actually there was a fight and I quit but still...no job.
When it came time for the pacemaker/defibrillator to be implanted because the meds weren't working I became very nervous. If it would have been another hip replacement I would have been fine. I can do that but this was monkeying around with my heart and there were so many things that could go wrong. My surgeon was the top guy in the Twin Cities but let me tell you this: when there is a gum snapping young gal in the room who doesn't know how many electrode pads to stick on the patient and where they should even be a person gets very nervous. A person wants a drug. Just a little something to take the edge off. That wasn't available. I kept being told that this would be a snap, that I was a 'Nervous Nelly', that I wouldn't feel a thing because, eventually, they were going to give me something called an 'amnesia' drug. Huh. And when it came time to 'test the device' I would be knocked out. I should have been knocked out for the whole thing because the first thing they do after the complicated electrode sticking is to tie your hands down. Then they velcro you to the table around your waist. Then they ask if you are comfortable. That would be a big no. They ask if you are claustrophobic and toss and sheet over your face. It all went downhill from there.
I felt every damn thing, remember every damn thing and didn't get the promised amnesia. The first 'little prick' felt like it went right into my heart. I was thinking that the surgeon was the little prick by this time. There was cutting and shoving and I was in there a whole lot longer than anticipated because, of course, I had a wonky vein on the left side and the thing had to be taken out and done over all with lots of things happening that left me bruised and looking as though someone had punched me good in the chest. I felt the stitches and by the time that was happening I was sobbing. A nurses face loomed before me to ask what was wrong and I told her that I could feel everything. Well, she says, it's almost over. Where the hell was the morphine? My face was a mess of snot and tears but since my hands were tied down there was nothing I could do about it but sniff and snivel. It was barbaric. I was still crying after they got me to my room and was dumped off in bed. I cried for most of the night and was so damn happy to go home the next day that I walked out before the discharge was complete. The nurse followed us down the elevator and gave me the business but I was in no mood to be nice. I'm not repeating what I said.
Christmas went fine with the help of my hubby and my daughters. Things got wrapped, food got cooked and Amazon was a lifesaver. I enjoyed the day to the fullest because my heart was beating like it should and I could sit without dislocating. I have my hubby, my girls, my sons-in-law and 5 beautiful and darling grandchildren. I'm okay. And I finally remembered that I went on lovely trips, watched soccer, found a new little job, have a beautiful garden, and am still alive. 2012 was the worst of time and the best of times and now the new snow has covered over the dirty stuff. Onward into 2013 with a better attitude and a grateful beating heart.
When it came time for the pacemaker/defibrillator to be implanted because the meds weren't working I became very nervous. If it would have been another hip replacement I would have been fine. I can do that but this was monkeying around with my heart and there were so many things that could go wrong. My surgeon was the top guy in the Twin Cities but let me tell you this: when there is a gum snapping young gal in the room who doesn't know how many electrode pads to stick on the patient and where they should even be a person gets very nervous. A person wants a drug. Just a little something to take the edge off. That wasn't available. I kept being told that this would be a snap, that I was a 'Nervous Nelly', that I wouldn't feel a thing because, eventually, they were going to give me something called an 'amnesia' drug. Huh. And when it came time to 'test the device' I would be knocked out. I should have been knocked out for the whole thing because the first thing they do after the complicated electrode sticking is to tie your hands down. Then they velcro you to the table around your waist. Then they ask if you are comfortable. That would be a big no. They ask if you are claustrophobic and toss and sheet over your face. It all went downhill from there.
I felt every damn thing, remember every damn thing and didn't get the promised amnesia. The first 'little prick' felt like it went right into my heart. I was thinking that the surgeon was the little prick by this time. There was cutting and shoving and I was in there a whole lot longer than anticipated because, of course, I had a wonky vein on the left side and the thing had to be taken out and done over all with lots of things happening that left me bruised and looking as though someone had punched me good in the chest. I felt the stitches and by the time that was happening I was sobbing. A nurses face loomed before me to ask what was wrong and I told her that I could feel everything. Well, she says, it's almost over. Where the hell was the morphine? My face was a mess of snot and tears but since my hands were tied down there was nothing I could do about it but sniff and snivel. It was barbaric. I was still crying after they got me to my room and was dumped off in bed. I cried for most of the night and was so damn happy to go home the next day that I walked out before the discharge was complete. The nurse followed us down the elevator and gave me the business but I was in no mood to be nice. I'm not repeating what I said.
Christmas went fine with the help of my hubby and my daughters. Things got wrapped, food got cooked and Amazon was a lifesaver. I enjoyed the day to the fullest because my heart was beating like it should and I could sit without dislocating. I have my hubby, my girls, my sons-in-law and 5 beautiful and darling grandchildren. I'm okay. And I finally remembered that I went on lovely trips, watched soccer, found a new little job, have a beautiful garden, and am still alive. 2012 was the worst of time and the best of times and now the new snow has covered over the dirty stuff. Onward into 2013 with a better attitude and a grateful beating heart.
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