varying angles

The Eleven took yesterday off (and today…this didn’t work out) so that her can’s position could go through a pocket revision. I’ll put that into better terms: They were going to open up her shoulder area yesterday morning and reposition the ICD. This merry journey began on Tuesday at her first follow-up when she told them that it felt like that it might be slipping position a bit. She wanted to know if it might keep moving and cause troubles for both her and the device. This discussion got translated, a bit erroneously into “let’s pop you open on Thursday morning and fix that thing.” No one was looking forward to another trip into the twilight, re-positioning of the device, and a fresh start on her physical recovery. This may be the only time where ‘fresh start’ doesn’t indicate a good thing.

We checked into the hospital in the morning, got the paperwork in order, and were called back to the surgery prep area. The multiple questions, from multiple questioners, were answered. We spoke with the pre-op nurse, another nurse (the op nurse?), the Anesthesiologist, and had the IV started. Ready to go. Then the doctor comes in and the discussion starts to ramble through confusion: Is the move aesthetic? Is the device okay where it is? Is it bothering her? Marker is put on both her shoulders (one saying “no” on the good shoulder) to indicate where to move the thing. A bit more of a discussion and then the doctor leaves. (Pause.) New doctor enters. Come to find out he’s a more senior member of the practice and the head of cardiology at the hospital. He’s clearly been called over because there’s confusion on whether or not to proceed. He’s quite good; comforting and focused. He pretty quickly sorts out the concerns and isn’t much interested in proceeding. I think the term was, exactly, “I see no medical reason to do this.” Right. He heads out to gather up one more opinion. (At this break in the action, the OR nurse comes by and says, “Okay, are we ready to go?” To which we both sort of reply, “I think we’re holding off for a second.”) CardioHeadMan returns with practice founder who jiggles can (ICD, not his) and declares tomfoolery. Nurse comes back, removes IV, and we exit stage right. (Curtain.)

No new recovery period needed, no reentry required, recovery time will be a few months for the original, and no worries about infection nor whatnot. Happiness all around.

L. has taken to asking X. for temporary authority to direct G. in various ‘activities’. Authority has been denied.

L. told me last night that she needs a graphing calculator for Algebra. “Sure,” I say, “they probably run $30 or $40 so we’ll just grab one at the store.” Funny that. Apparently most types of calculators have come down to a cost of about nothing; not graphers. $130. Yikes. I think I’ll use it when she’s done so I at least get my money’s worth. I don’t think Euclid had a graphing calculator. I think he did his work in stone.

Am I confusing historical epochs?

t

swept back in

Okay, back in the saddle.

The house has settled down and we’re simply back with the ‘normal’ load: the Eleven, one boy and one girl. And two cats. X is back to near normal aside from the slower recovery required for her left shoulder. That’ll probably be another couple of weeks before she can lift, rotate, and carry on as normal. I’m very pleased to have my normal chick back. Thanks to everyone out there for driving around, helping out, and sending wishes and cards. We’re lucky the knucklehead is still with us after two years of that dodgy ticker.

The four adults headed into D.C. on Friday night to see a live performance of Mystery Science Theater 3000 (MST3K for the hepcats) though they work under the title of Cinematic Titanic these days – copyright issues, I guess. The seats at Lisner aren’t the best for long sitting (a little over two hours) but the show was quite good; almost like sitting on a big couch back in 1994. I sort of considered us dorks for being so excited to see the crew live…I was wrong. I think we’re normal. Any MST3K get together is going to have a large pods ‘Trekkie’-like idolatry about the wandering about the place. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

For those who’ve been to the Hilltop you already have a visual for the next bit, for those that haven’t, here’s some background. The ‘Top is a fully wood-floored, single-level home. There’s a rug in our room, one rug in G’s, and one in the den (or “library” as east coast elitists might call it.) Other than those, the place is free-and-clear of material matter on the floors. We’ve had two vacuums (one tank that died and now an upright that does floors) since moving here about 2 ½ years ago but neither has tripped my trigger. How to most efficiently clean wood floors? I know that the fans are screaming ‘Swiffer’ at their monitors and I’d nearly give credit for that idea; but, I need you to think bigger, think better. Think one of those industrial janitorial shaggy brooms that the crazy janitor used to clean your high school classrooms and hallways. That’s right, I’m fully loaded now and the total coat was $23 at a commercial cleaning place (Daycon) right next to G.’s gong fu hut. I was waiting to pick him up a few Saturday’s ago and was eyeing the Daycon shop, as usual, wanting to head in for some commercial products; I love that sort of stuff. As I was envying (?) the place and the men that use it, I thoughtof my house, I thought of my cleaning, I thought of my sweeping. It hit me like a…well, like a sweeping thing. I wandered in and started a chat with the manager – you know, explaining my needs in the most manly way possible – and walked out with the long-handled pusher, the rack, and a blue-sky colored (washable) cover. Sweet. After a few weeks of simply sliding most things in the house to one side of the room, sweeping, sliding, and sweeping, I can report that this is the best device, ever. Don’t tell me you don’t remember trying out Janitor Watson’s shaggy push moppy/broomy thing back when you were in school. And, just as you remember it, that thing is just as maneuverable, gets all the edges, and doesn’t leave anything behind. I can’t decide if the inventor is my hero or if I’m my hero. It’s a fine line.

If you have a retractable cable keychain with about 100 keys on it that you can send me I promise I’ll wear it while working the sweeper.