And God said "Pay Close Attention, I'm only going to say this once"...

On the Sunday before Easter Mac and I sat on the patio with our dear friends and neighbors, Craig and Joanne. Mac and Craig were talking about something, I was not really paying attention. Joanne was looking at me with such concern on her face that I asked her..."what?" She shook her head and said, "I don't know but you are awfully pale. You really don't look well at all." I agreed that I didn't particularly feel well, either. I had taken my temperature earlier in the day at it hovered around 101. When we went inside, I lay down on the sofa with a heating pad at my back. It helped not a bit. The next day, on Monday Mac was due to take his stress test. We drove into Hartsville to the HeartCare Center. While Mac was having his stress test, I went over to the Walmart Shopping Center and had my haircut and my eyebrows waxed. I wasn't feeling terrible, just a bit awful. As soon as my "do" was done, I went back to join Mac. He finished up about 2 pm, saw Dr. Grainger and was pronounced good to go for another year.

Mac wanted to go back over to WalMart to pick up some gardening supplies. When we got out of the truck, suddenly my back felt as if I couldn't walk another step. After about five minutes inside the massive store, I begged off shopping for a trip home. Mac raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. We went home soon after and I called my doctor. I had to leave a message and sat and waited for his return call. Then, as though I heard His voice in my head, it was like God told me, don't wait. Go now. The strains of the old song "Go Now" (The Moody Blues were an intregal part of my life) played in my head and I knew I shouldn't ignore it. "Can you get my suitcase out of the shed and bring it in here?" I asked Mac. He looked at me and never questioned why. When he brought it in, I proceeded to pack for the hospital. I told him that I knew there was something really wrong and that when we went to the hospital they wouldn't be letting me come home anytime soon. He took me at my word. I've never been wrong in these matters before.

We arrived at the Emergency Room at Carolina Pines and it seemed like merely minutes and I was being seen by the ER Doctor, Dr. Kohn. I told her where the pain was and that I had no idea what was wrong. I think I mentioned that I suspicioned trouble with my pancreas. perhaps brought on by the Byetta. She soon ruled that out. They came in and took blood...a lot of blood. I was so out of it by this time that I couldn't say who did what, but I do remember when they came in and told me that they needed to do a Cat Scan. I had to drink two 16 ounce cups of crystal light with dye contrast in it. It tasted like nasty Tang...I've never been fond of Tang. I only kept about half of it down. After the Cat Scan, a surgeon came in. I remember thinking "why is Rodney Carrington in scrubs and in my cubicle?" Rodney Carrington is a comedienne-singer that I had just seen the night before on YouTube singing his new song, If you Loved Me...it seemed odd, to say the least. He told me that I was very sick, that my white blood count was 29, 766 and that I had an abscess on my colon. He told me that they were going to admit me and start antibiotics right away. So, this is how my first day went. Drink nasty tasting stuff, take pictures. Talk to Doctor...well, Mac talked to Doctor, I was just oblivious to everything and everyone around me. Tuesday morning, drink more nasty stuff, do another cat scan. Dr. Rodney came in and told me that they were going to try to put in a drain and if they couldn't it would mean surgery and a temporary colostomy (temporary like 6 to 9 months). If you can call that temporary...I dreaded the thought of surgery, but smiled widely (a habit of mine) and told them I understood. I was on clear liquids and IV, but really didn't want anything. I just wanted to sleep.

So, they had made plans to move me out of the Pediatrics Wing (yes, I was the oldest kid on the block up there...but they put me where there were few patients and three nurses per shift to see to my every want and need. Luckily, I didn't want or need a lot. I just talked to anyone who entered the room, asked questions and waited to go to surgery. On Wednesday I had another Cat Scan. This was Cat Scan number three and by now when the lights went out in the room I made a passable reading lamp. Dr. Dameron (who I had learned by now was not Rodney Carrington, just a strong resemblance) came in with what he termed "really good news". "The abscess is much larger!" he said. I believe I asked him point blank, this is good news how? "It means we can guide the draining tube to where it needs to be and hopefully won't have to do major surgery!" Oh yes, this was really good news! So guess who gets to drink another 32 ounces of CrystalLight+ and go down to the Cat Scan department for this minor surgery? Right first time.

They have this "sleepy time" medicine that I received the first time after my heart attack for them to do the angioplasty...it's called Versed...probably not spelled correctly, but there you go. I remember going down to the Cat Scan Lab and them telling me that I would probably feel very warm all over and then nothing after that. When I came to, I was back in my room,a drain tube now beneath my belly button and Mac sitting next to the head of my bed. "It went well they said, " he told me. "How do you feel?" I told him I felt fine and didn't remember a thing about the procedure they'd done. They had had to replace the IV line to another arm, the Antibiotics were apparently playing havoc with my veins. So far the area had to be changed four times. This last one lasted till my discharge, I'm glad to say.

The flowers that started arriving in my room were beautiful. Daisies and Foxglove, Tulips, Roses and baby's breath with huge Lily heads poking out into the room. I was still on a liquid diet, and was now looking forward to my broth three times a day. Their jello, not so much. I believe the jello may have been provided by Good Year Tires...you could stick a spoon in it and thump the spoon to set it rocking back and forth. Retreads, that's what they were feeding me. Mac went to the Grocery and brought back lots of Jello brand sugar free jello to keep in the fridge at the Nurse's station. Yummy. And it wouldn't bounce off the wall should I decide to pitch a fit.



On day nine my temperature was normal. Joanne and Craig came in to visit and Joanne told me that my color was better. She told me that I had looked like "death warmed over" and was really afraid I was about to die. She said she'd been concerned about me for over a week before she said anything. When my Doctor came in, I told him (and laughed when I said it) my neighbor says I looked like I was about to die, she's amazed at how much better I look!" Dr. Mitchell (the Hospitalist) looked at me like I'd grown another head. "Well, you were about to die, Mrs. McBride. We had you on the Critical list till last night. Your White Blood count is still a bit above normal, we won't let you go home till it's been normal for a day or two." Now, that was news to me. I told Lee (who called me every night) "it's a good thing I didn't know how sick I was, I might not have recovered!"

Diverticulitis. A long name for a potentially devastating illness. Mac wants to know why I can't ever get anything that's easy to spell. He also wants to know (as do the doctors) why it is that I can keep on going (like the energizer bunny) right up to the point that I'm near death and/or facing total collapse. Or total paralysis. I don't know, I think that I've thought of myself as "Superwoman" for so long that I'm beginning to believe my own hype. But I have learned that when God whispers in my ear not to second guess Him. And I thank Him for sending me to all His best Doctors and Nurses...and for surrounding me with the love of my friends and family. I couldn't have done it alone. On Saturday, day 12 of my stay, Drs. Mitchell and Dameron came in to tell me that they were going to let me go home that afternoon. "What have we learned from all this, Mrs. McBride?" Dr. Dameron asked me. I thought about it for a bit.
"Well, I've learned that if I'm to sick to shop in WalMart, to come straight to the Emergency room...because there is definitely a problem!" They took me at my word.

Home again!

After two weeks, I am so happy to tell you all that I am finally home from Carolina Pines Hospital. I find that after two weeks in bed I am surprisingly tired and yes, a bit weak. But I know that this will pass. I was so touched by all of the concern from you, my friends, that it was a bit overwhelming. Wallace printed out the comments and my nurses were all suitably impressed that I had so many loving friends who were worried about me. This will not be a long post, but there will be a complete explanation that may prove to be a cautionary tale that I myself will be paying heed to! Again, thank you all so much. Your love and support helped me immensely. How can anyone give in to fear when there are so many hands and hearts pulling you along. I want to say a special thank you to my dear Lee at Chrysalis Dreams for the daily phone calls that I grew to look forward to each day. More tomorrow, for I am sure I'll be feeling much better!
My love to all of you
Sandi

The Vanishing

Hey, all. This is Sandi's oldest son, Wallace. You might have been wondering where your author's been for the last week. On Monday evening she was admitted to a hospital with an infection, one that looked to be extremely serious by Wednesday morning. The good news is that — at the moment — things look good, and she's expected home by next Tuesday. She ought to be able to leave the hospital with all the body parts she came in with, too.

Until then, don't expect a lot of activity on this blog. I considered bringing in my laptop and checking to see if the hospital had a wireless connection, but it seemed rude to surf the Internet when the Grim Reaper was hanging around. He's a stickler for etiquette and decorum and I decided it was best to stay on his good side.

I'll let my mother tell you the whole story when she's comes home. Until then, if you wanted to post any comments for her, I'll print them out and see that she gets them.

— Wallace

An April Fool

So today the WWW is on tenterhooks. We're all (or most of us) terrified to even check our e-mail accounts, much less open them! I've received those "you've received a card from a friend" but unless the friend's name is clearly spelled out (and correctly) I have never opened them, simply sent them into the e-mail hell known as Deletion World. Or, the WWWDW...in the meantime, I intend to enjoy the witticisms that you send me, and if I see my sisters' names and they don't include a last name, well, you know where they're going. Okay, so much for the conficker worm...no, that's not a misspelling, it's the closest they could come and still rate it as G for General Audiences.

Now, as for my Giveaway...I'm happy to say that Brenda, of Country Romance from the Heart was my draw winner. I'll be sending her an E-mail (that I hope she won't misconstrue as the Conficker Worm) to let her know and have her send me her address. I'm so happy for Brenda!

Yesterday Mac and I went to do some Spring shopping at Lowe's and WalMart's. We shop in Hartsville (which is in Darlington County, SC) because they're the closest to us and we're never disappointed when we get there. We're in the market for a Chipper/Shredder. We have so many trees that have to be thinned and we need so much mulch that it seems wasteful to burn our limbs yet buy chipped up limbs for our gardens. We didn't find one yesterday, but are hopeful that when we order online, it will come to our store. In the meantime, I picked up a couple of Collumbines and African Daisies to add to the front beds. I can only hope that more frost doesn't hit. But if it does, I've been saving gallon sized milk jugs to use to protect any tender plants. I can put them safely over the plants, caps on, then remove them easily when the threat is past. If it's still a bit dicey when the sun comes out, just pop off the cap and let the jug vent and not build up to much heat to harm the plant. Today we'll be planting out and watching over our shoulders for the rain that's moving in.

We've had some major illness in our family this past week, my Brother-in-Law Jack has had open heart surgery and that is just the beginning of his ordeal for next few months. My cousin Jerry has been in a bad way for several weeks, had pneumonia, coded (actually died) and is now just coming out of something called "ICU Psychosis" in that he has been in ICU so long that his mind simply shut down, memories and all. He's doing much better this week and his memory has pretty much returned. So, while I ask that you include my family in your prayers, I also ask that you petition God for all in our nation who are undergoing trials and tribulations that are beyond their kin. What with bank failures and floods, home losses and job woes, we need that prayer more than ever!

So again, Brenda congratulations on being my winner...I'll be e-mailing you pal, so don't send me off into WorldWideWebDeletionHell! I'll need that address!!! I think you, above all, are going to be one happy girl!

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

I'm not sure how old I was when I first read Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening". I had certainly read quite a few of his poems, but this one did not leave me with a warm happy feeling. It left me with a feeling of dread, as though the gentleman who lived in the village may have been not quite all that he seemed to the village folk. The first time I read it, I got a chill from the reflected snow that wrapped my thoughts. I felt that it was not promises that kept the young man from entering the snowy woods, but fear. Was Washington Irving's Headless Horseman perhaps lurking deep within the cold shadows? Was the young man afraid that some nameless monster could be hiding behind the false prettiness of the wood? Had he just finished reading Mary Shelley's Gothic horror, "Frankenstein"?

I regret to tell you that this very poem gave me a fear of the dark. I would hurry to my bed and pull the covers over my head and sleep that way all night. My parents worried that I would deprive my brain of oxygen sleeping in this cocooned way and once even took all my blankets and the pillow from the room to try to break me of the habit. I thought them most cruel for this act...I don't think they acted out of cruelty but out of desperation. I still think back on that night and wonder how I managed to get through it without having a panic attack. Ever after that, I always lay awake until everyone else had gone to bed, then feeling safe at last, would haul the blankets over my head and sleep peacefully.

I outgrew the fear of the dark while in my room, but the fear of the darkling shadows outside still hold me in a cold grip. Our home is surrounded by woods and at times they lay deep in snowy shadows. I avoid them at night. Just after we first moved here, it was getting dark and I had taken Mindy, our blind dog, out for her last romp of the day. She and her cats had wandered down to the wood line and I stood under the security light (I didn't name it that, the power company did) and watched them. Suddenly I saw the cats stop and sniff the air, noses pointed up, then Mindy did the same thing. As one, the dog and the five cats turned and started to RUN towards the house. My mind froze momentarily and then when it came back to me, I saw all the monsters that could possibly inhabit the imagination lurking in the wood in front of me. I turned and ran like hell (in fact got up a pretty good speed for someone who walks with a cane) and the cats and the dog passed me. I refused to turn around and look behind me. My breath was coming in gasps as my feet made purchase on the porch steps and I ran straight into Mac's arms.

His face was perplexed and all I could do was start laughing. I was so glad to be the winner in this weird game of "ally ally oxenfree" that all I could do was grasp Mac's shirt front and laugh hysterically...I think I may have been crying, as well. What had the cats and the dog sensed in the woods? Coyotes probably...perfectly natural...no wraiths floated out to grab at my running feet, no monsters emerged from a dark lair. I'll never find out, either. I don't get far from the porch at night. Any Dog Walking is done by Mac. He's not afraid of anything.



Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

The Joy of Cooking

When I was younger (much younger than today) I loved watching cooking shows. Of course at that time there was no Food Network, so I had to get my Chef Fix where I could. The Galloping Gourmet started my life long love of Australia and Australian accents. I would spend an hour watching Graham Kerr collect the ingredients for the meal he was preparing, write down each one (complete with measurements) and then watch with awe and wonder as he assembled the said meal before my very eyes. Not knowing a thing about television production, it never occurred to me that the dinner he prepared in 37 minutes (commercials, you know) probably took him hours in real time. Being a novice cook (Mac lost 20 pounds the first six months of our marriage), I was nervously anxious to try new recipes and sort of spring them on him giving him the fancy name of the dish that looked like the dogs dinner by the time I was finished with it. I faced each afternoon in the kitchen with dread.

I cried a lot in the kitchen. I couldn't figure out why my efforts never looked like the finished product I had just viewed on The Dinah Shore show, or The Galloping Gourmet. I had no cookbook to guide me and the best meal of the day was generally breakfast. I could (and still do) prepare an omelet like no body's business and could cook grits with nary a lump, but dinner other than spaghetti was beyond me. Mama did all the cooking, we did all the eating. She was an amazing cook that I would put up against any chef in the world. She could take shoe leather and turn it into Chateaubriand, or stretch a meal for 5ive to accommodate a crowd of eight with no loss of flavor. That was my goal, to cook as well as Mama...or nearly as well. I longed for the day that included a real dinner that didn't start with the words Hamburger Helper.

I was in the bookstore one day and came across a cookbook called The Joy of Cooking. It was rather pricey, but I figured, what the hey...I bought it and took it home. I curled up on the couch and began to read. And so began my love affair with cook books. I read all about how to cook meats, about moist heat and dry heat...how to cook potatoes and the difference in salts. I learned that fresh ground pepper was far superior to the powered pepper that may have been ground years earlier and about the spices that made our food taste more like ambrosia and less like cardboard. I learned about the different pastas and what pesto was all about. I learned the difference between a Standing Rib Roast and a Sirloin Tip. It didn't happen overnight, and it took more than one cookbook, but I learned to cook. Better yet, I learned to love to cook and try new things and exhibit not the first sign of fear in the doing of it. I read cookbooks like novels and my approach to each recipe is with ambition instead of consternation. I have three shelves in the pantry that are nothing but cookbooks . My Joy of Cooking is dogeared and the pages are loose and I have a brand new one sitting by it's side. But it's the old one that I always reach for, it's like a beloved and trusted friend.

How to get me out of the yard and onto the computer...

I was wandering around the house, picking up the kids (kitties) toys, preparing to vacuum and dust when I happened to look out the window and saw robins on the ground. I repeat, ROBINS! Dusting, vacuuming and picking up of toys forgotten, I found myself in the yard staring at the plum tree which was dazzling with sweet white blossoms. I looked down and realized that I still had the swiffer duster in my hand, so I hurried into the office , laid it down and grabbed my camera. I had to get a picture of that beautiful Victoria plum tree to share with you all before the blossoms are gone, and hopefully the fruit is set! Isn't it just beautiful? The other one is set to open, but so far only a few have. I can't for the life of me figure out why it is always two weeks behind the other. We have been busy in the gardens, getting things planted, and we finished up spraying all the trees with the winter wash just in time for this microburst of spring. I only pray we don't get an "Easter Snap" and a freeze undoes all we have done!

Okay, now I intended to do a giveaway for my 400th post, and this is (by estimation) my 421st, but a giveaway is on! All you have to do is leave a comment on any of my posts from now till March 31st and you're entered. I'll be back in here soon, but right now the yard and the 70 degree weather calls. Rain is expected on Thursday, I'll be here all day everyday till it's gone!

Winter Reruns?

We've been so busy here, celebrating Mac's birthday with a great party last Saturday and now working on getting the bedding plants repotted that I find my time is so limited it's painful! I'm putting a re-run and hopefully will be back within the next two days! Hope you won't mind to much!


A few years ago my husband Mac and I went out on a limb. No, really. We ACTUALLY went out on a limb. Going through our library of gardening books looking for "how to prune Pecan trees" we decided we pretty well knew what to do and how to do it. We assembled saws and ladder, (including a chain saw. ) There was only one pecan tree to make the pruning attempt upon, but it was so large it was like pruning three trees. We attacked it from about 8 different directions and all was going well. My nerves over the use of the chain saw were taken in hand and I found that I could assist Mac without having a breakdown. We were on the last limb when disaster struck. The chainsaw became lodged in the limb. Mac told me to climb up on the ladder and push up on the limb in an attempt to free the chain saw. So, in our attempts to free the saw from the grip of the limb, I pushed a little harder than maybe I should have. The limb exploded, the ladder flid out of place, fell to the ground and I hit the pavement...I broke two ribs and as we learned later, my neck. I swore that I would never attempt such a thing again.

Well, that was then, this is now. We have this apple tree here at the new house. It is a very big old apple tree. Limbs are growing willy-nilly and crossing over, going straight up, curving around. And to top it off, it had a terrible case of fire blight. Mac started out spraying it to kill the fire blight. The first spring we had such beautiful flowers and soon there was fruit. The fruit wasn't pretty to look at. Due to the trees diseased state, the fruit fell off the limbs to soon. We decided the tree needed lots more work. We tackled this job Tuesday.

Mac got out the (new) ladder and the chainsaw. I had the loppers in hand and got the smaller branches on the bottom that were growing in all directions. Mac cranked the chainsaw and I stood back as far as was humanly possible to stand and still remain in sight. After a few limbs were expertly trimmed from the main trunk of the tree, I was coaxed closer, Mac assuring me that all would be well this time.

There was one limb that went straight up out of the main trunk and took up much sunlight for something that was dead as a hammer. This branch was as big around as a man's leg. It was very hard wood and Mac was having a time getting the saw to cut through it. Hesitantly, I approached the tree and tried to help. Finally, we tied a rope around the limb and using the tractor, pulled it down and out of the way.

There was much pulling, tugging, twisting and straining to make this tree look as good as it does right now. We hauled limbs till dusk. This time there were no accidents involving the tree, and I didn't get knocked off the ladder by a sizable limb. I just feel as though I had been. The difference in five years from then till now is amazing. We did the job on Tuesday. This is Friday. Recovery may take a while. I remember my mother singing "too old to cut the mustard anymore." Those words speak volumes.

Pyewackit Goes to the Vet

I wanted to tell you a bit about our senior cat, the Infamous Pyewackit. He is an apple head Siamese...that is, the old time seal point before the brains were bred out of them . He is very intelligent and quite wily. He will be 13 years old on May 1st. The kittens know who is boss, and it isn't any of them. He is beloved by BatGirl, the crazy calico who only comes in to eat and sleep and momick Pye. Okay, now for Doctor John, to momick is to handle and caress and just in general annoy the receiver of the momicking...it's a southern word that we heard all our lives. Use it in a sentence? Okay, "Sandi will you quit momicking that cat and let it be?" I think my Grandmother may have been the first one I ever heard use it, followed shortly by my Grandfather. My mother was just as apt to come take the cat away from me and tell me to go play and do as I was told and stop momicking that cat! Okay, so we're clear on the word.Now as for Pye...he's been paying special attention to his ears lately, the constant cleaning of lobes, ears turned down sometimes, just acting as though they bothered him. I spent a couple of days trying to look into them without success. He would run into any room that had an open door and hide under whatever furniture he figured I couldn't get down to. That's most of it. Saturday and Sunday we noticed he wasn't playing with the kittens, and worse, wasn't avoiding BatGirl's constant loving routine.

"I think you may have to take Pye to the Vet, " Mac said Sunday night. I noticed the use of the word "you" right away. I had already decided that we were going to have to head towards Sandy Memorial (the animal hospital) and was just trying to figure out how I was going to get Pye into the carrier. I set the carrier out where everyone could see it, so that it didn't come as a surprise to anyone (Pye) who might go hide under furniture. I placed the hated garden shoes next to it, Pye's favorite things to fight with, then I left it open and the kittens played within it's confines quite enjoying themselves. Pye watched suspiciously. But he didn't run. He attacked the shoes, ignoring the carrier. So the next morning, after coffee, I stood the carrier on it's end and picking up the persnickety Pye, eased him feet first into the cave of the carrier and quickly slammed the door shut. He began to howl immediately. I interpreted his words to be : You will pay for this...you're going to be very very sorry...

So, Mac put the carrier in the front seat of the truck, next to me, buckled him in and told us to have a good trip and be careful. I shot him a look as the howling reached a fever pitch. I cast a glance in Pye's direction, reached out to touch the cage...I mean carrier...and he hissed at me. Alrighty then...it's going to be like that. It was going to be a long trip.

So we arrived at the Clinic and Jean, she of the infamous sign above the business end of the clinic (Don't Place Animals on Counter, Receptionist Bites) signed us in. I told her that Pye had been "using his words" all the way here and that I hoped Dr. Lawhon would not have any trouble with him. "Oh, he has his assistant with him, they'll manage okay, " Jean assured me. "Do you want him to get his jabs today?" I agreed that we may as well kill two birds with one stone (at which point Pye shot daggers at me from his eyes...I swear that cat speaks English). We were first up and after a short wait Dr. Lawhon and his elderly assistant entered the exam room. The assistant held in his hand the dreaded nail clippers. I cringed for Pye. This was not going to go well. I told Dr. Lawhon that I was afraid he might have trouble with the big lug, but he told me not to worry, they had controlled far worse hooligans than the Dreaded Pye. I opened the carrier and he came strolling out as though he hadn't a care in the world, and tossed a "kiss my derriere" look in my direction. The Elderly Assistant looked at Pye, stroked that big apple head and said "Look here Old Man, you not going to give me any trouble and this will be over and painless in a minute." He took one of Pyewackit's paws into his big old paw and proceeded to clip his nails with no trouble! I didn't have to lie down on him to hold him still, nor even hold him by the scruff of the neck. I was humiliated. Then he held his head up for Dr. Lawhon to look into his ears and Dr. Lawhon agreed he had an infection, but no mites (after examining the gunk he had swabbed out of his ears under the microscope. Here I was, thinking that this huge (17 pounds, 14 inches high) cat was going to have to be sedated, and he was being a...well pardon the pun, a pussy cat. We exchanged glares as I told Dr. Lawhon rather apologetically, that the cat was making a liar out of me. He simply laughed.

We were leaving and Dr. Lawhon handed me a bottle of ear drops to put in Pye's ears twice a day for the next four days. He had already applied them, and showed me how easily this could be accomplished. Yes Doc, from your mouth to God's ear.

That night I prepared for combat. I approached the beasty with calm deliberation and told him in no uncertain terms that these drops were going into his wee ears or I'd know the reason why. On seeing the medicine bottle in my hand, he immediately ran to a room I had neglected to close off and ran under the bed. Drat! I called Mac into assistance when Pye had forgotten that there was business at hand and sauntered into the living room without so much as a by your leave. Mac pounced, picked him up and held him close all the time calling out "now now"...so I managed to get the meds in one ear before Mac was forced to release the sudden typhoon he held in his arms. "I don't know, I think you're doing something wrong, " he said. "At this rate we're never going to get those ears well." Yes, I was doing something wrong alright. There was one to many people in my medical practice.

This morning, Pye was sound asleep on the arm of the sofa. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of medicine and quickly threw myself over him and managed to get both ears medicated before he could escape. I'll have to come up with a new plan for tonight. I don't think he'll be quite so easy to catch next time.
Pye, sniffing at the garden shoes he has just beaten into submission...

The Byetta Diet

Okay, so I've already fallen off my "POST DAILY DIET" but then, that's how most of my diets end up. I'm making a concerted effort here, though. I'm going to tell you all about what's been going on in my life the past few weeks. It's called Byetta. Now, most of you know that I have some, we'll call them, health issues. You know, for my entire life I was always what I considered healthy. I never came down with colds, never missed work on account of illness (in fact had 60 days built up even after I'd taken six weeks off to get Mac back on his feet after his open heart surgery) and was just in general a happy healthy girl. I could get in a tussle and come out of it with nary a scratch or even breathing hard. Then all of a sudden it was diabetes, heart trouble, RA and that pesky broken neck. But I pulled though it all with a lot of determination and loads of prayers!

Baby Sister came over one day and I told her that she looked better than I had seen her in long while. She had more color in her cheeks, her eyes twinkled and she'd lost what looked like thirty or more pounds. She told me that her doctor had changed her from Insulin to Byetta. She said that her blood sugar had been in better control than it had in ages and the bonus was that she had lost the weight she'd put on. She explained that it made you a bit nauseous so you should eat within a few minutes of taking it, but the plus side was that your hunger was gone, you didn't want to snack all the time. WooHoo...sounds like a plan. I'd been unable to take off the extra 20 pounds that I'd packed on after my neck surgery. My blood glucose levels stayed high no matter how much sugar and bread I cut out. I haven't had real sugar in years, I'm a Splenda girl all the way. I only eat whole wheat bread and limit my fat intake. I have what they call Brittle Diabetes. So anyway, I talked to Dr. Moyd about trying the Byetta to see if we could bring this problem under control. He agreed to let me try it.

I started the Byetta about three weeks ago. I was startled the first time I checked my glucose level and it was 111. It hadn't seen numbers that low in years. I had struggled to get those numbers down to no avail. I danced through the house on a cloud holding the meter in my hand and taking it to show Mac. It's been pretty much that way ever since. It's just that little bit of gagging that keeps me out of the kitchen, away from the pantry and with one eye on the bathroom door. Yes, there is that little side effect that is warned about in the literature. But I've lost ten pounds and can we all spell HAPPY GIRL? Well I for one know that I'm totally in love with my new diet buddy. Okay, so it's not pleasant. But I can live with it. Better yet, I can LIVE with it! Now if they'll just come up with a treatment for the RA that doesn't make me sick we're in business!

The Farmer Takes a Cat

I've been up since 4:45 this morning. It is now 5:38. When most people are still snoozing in their nice warm beds, I am up, showered, hair washed and bright eyed at (looking at clock in corner) 5:39 in the morning. What (you might ask) has me up and about so early? Why (I hear you pleading) am I annoying the world with an early morning posting? Well, two reasons. One reason being that I have it on good advice (David McMahon at Authorblog) that one should try to post on a daily basis. The second reason is Mac's darned cat. Well, not a cat yet. Still a kitten. And hey, if the kitten annoys me, then I (in turn) will annoy anyone who gets in my way. Sonny Boy, who is a Russian Blue, (and who should have had a home by now but anyone who wanted him couldn't get SLED or FBI clearance to please Mac) gets in these contentious loving moods...he runs through the house and into our bedroom and takes a running leap to jump into the middle of the bed, turns his motor on and then proceeds to head butt Mac till he's awake. Then there is much tussling and playing going on while I, the innocent bystander...or layabedder...get pelted with the fall out of such love and devotion. I toss and turn while they wrestle and play. I lie there and think about how good a cup of coffee would be. If Sonny were any good, he'd sprout thumbs and go turn the coffee pot on for me. But no. Still the laughing and playing go on and then Mac gets the bright idea to teach "the baby" how to play vigorous games of catch foot. So, now I'm up. They make me sick.

Cleanliness is next to Godliness

I love to cook and bake. My kitchen is one of the happiest places in our home, because I'm always "inventing" new recipes to try out on Mac. Okay, he's the only other person who lives here, and so of course I have to try these things out on him. I made a new coffee cake the other day, just throwing in this and that and covered it over with slivered almonds (or slithered almonds as Arianna would say). Evil Sister and hubby were coming over and so I took the unusual opportunity to serve it to them. Tea for me and ES and coffee for Mac and ES's hubby. Okay, now I've never baked anything that turned out so well that the guinea pigs...(sorry, guests) asked for a second piece of it after only a few minutes. It was a first, and pleased me no end. My Aunt Florence (Merriman Sellers) used to say that she loved my grandmother's coconut cake because it "leaves a good farewell taste in your mouth ." So, I suppose this coffee cake left a good farewell taste in every one's mouth. The only problem is, I didn't bother to write anything down and to repeat the process will be purely hit and miss.

Now, hit and miss is apparently the way I cook and bake, anyway (as I discovered this morning). I have long been a fan of my neighbor Joanne's nice big fluorescent light that hangs in her kitchen. It gives enough light to see and makes the work area cheerful. My kitchen, on the other hand, is sort of dim and not enough light comes in because we face North. Craig, Joanne's hubby, told me he was going to put a light like hers in our kitchen. Being a licensed electrician he is our life saver around here. Anything we need done electrically that man is never to busy to come see about it. He loves his work or he loves us, we don't know which! He won't take a penny for anything he does. He says it's because he wants to keep in good with his computer man (Mac) so I guess it's sort of a reciprocal thing with us. Well, yesterday afternoon they came over and put in the light. It is about five feet long and 3 feet wide. It brightens up the room like someone turned on a soft white sun. He and Joanne put it in together...they make quite a team. Afterwards, we sat down and had coffee and the rest of the almond coffee cake. I was so happy to be able to see in the kitchen. We spent the rest of the day planting trees.

I got up this morning and flipped on the light, turned the coffee pot on and looked around at the bright kitchen. And saw disaster. Spots and stains and little tiny globs of what I don't care to even hazard a guess, was on everything. It had apparently been on everything for a while. I had just not been able to see it because of the dimness of the kitchen. Now I love dirt. I just don't love it in my kitchen. My wiping down of the cabinet doors and work areas apparently hadn't been such a job well done. I should be embarrassed to tell you this, but I told you I'm not normal. I've been cleaning since 7 am. Every cabinet, every door, every drawer, every surface. The floors will be next. And the long handled swiffer duster will be getting a workout on the top of the cabinets. Thank God I'm not tall enough to see up there. I think I may want my old light back.

Welcome to Boggy Gully Farm

I followed my friends to find out what super hero I am...get me with my big stick...be afraid, be very afraid...then go to M104 (look at my blog role) and see who you are...I'll try to put the link in when I figure out what I'm doing wrong!!!
Now, back to my real life...

Yesterday we went looking for garden fertilizers not common to most. We needed Aluminum Sulfate for the blueberries most desperately. Our house sits in the middle of what was once a cow pasture and the soil doesn't hover around 7+ alkalinity, it hangs onto 7+ with a death grip...well, death for acid loving plants, anyway! We heaped in the cotton seed meal and mulched 2 inches deep with pine straw, but still it keeps creeping back up past the 7 mark. We watch a show produced here that is called "Making It Grow". It is presented by Clemson University (all dirt roads lead to Clemson) as an educational show for gardeners. Rowland and Amanda do a great job of answering any query you might have about any plant you might have. Then there's Webby Debby who runs the live link online chat during the show and for awhile after. (The older shows can also be seen weekly on RFD a new network we have discovered.) But I digress. We learned from Rowland that the best and quickest soil acidifier (and longer lasting) is Aluminum Sulfate. So we headed off to Hartsville yesterday to try to locate a few bags. I called the Mayor's office in Hartsville to ask which nursery they might have nearby where we could check if no one else had it.

The Mayor's secretary was so nice. She gave me the name of the Boggy Gully Farms. Boggy Gully Farms...the name just rolls off the tongue and is such an inviting mind picture. I knew I would be visiting there whether they had any of Mac's magic elixir for the blueberries or not. I just had to see this place. I called and spoke to Shirley Best, the owner, who told me that they didn't really carry fertilizers. I asked if she had any pomegranate bushes and nearly fell over when she said yes. We've been looking for replacements for ours for ages! I told her we would be seeing her sometime late morning, and she gave me directions to her door.

Okay, it was a great trip. We went to Ace Hardware where we found the Aluminum Sulfate, then to Lowe's for Spragnum Moss...had to go by WalMart for the weekly cat food fix, then off we went to Boggy Gully. It was 11:55 in the morning when we arrived. Shirley immediately began apologizing for the "mess" the place was in. What mess? It was a shrub and tree farm. There was no mess. There was heaven. I was hooked. We walked amongst the many plants she had for sale and my eyes lighted on the double bloom knockout roses. The picture showed a deep red. I asked how much for the roses and she told me ten dollars. I pulled two out of the crowd and Mac took them to the truck. He had already picked out three pomegranate bushes and know she was showing us the Paulownia Trees she had for sale. They are more commonly known as the Empress Tree and are extremely fast growing. Shirley explained that they grew ten feet per season. Okay, I was impressed. I was impressed with the tree, the nursery, and Shirley's knowledge. We talked about the lovely pond that is a part of the nursery grounds, and her Koi. You all know by now how wild I am about Koi. She always worries that the Cranes or the Otters are going to get them, but so far, so good.

Okay, I've yapped enough about this delightful place that I am going to becoming a frequent visitor to (unless Shirley gets tired of the sight of me and bans me). I'm going to give you her website address so you can see for yourself! To visit Shirley and Mike's place just go to http://www.boggygullygardens.com/ and you won't be disappointed. Check out the Paulownia trees. Amazing!

The Morgue Drawer

A group of us girls got together last night, leaving husbands and lovers to fend for themselves where it came to scavenging for food, drink and entertainment. Waitress not included. It's been a while since we were all together swapping war stories from the line of duty. It felt good to be in the company of women. I'm sure men can appreciate this, it's not much different from their poker nights, only we have no cards or chips, we expend no money only laughter. We try to keep things light for the fun of it and occasionally dark for the fun of it.

We were doing hamburgers and GS was doing her world famous slaw. I was amazed because she was actually making it in front of us so we could all steal the recipe if we were so inclined. I was. I did. I will. I told them about a house that had burned nearly to the ground on my way out to her house. It struck me as suspicious...but that's the cop blood, you see. Everything is suspicious. So GS told me that there had been a few suspicious fires in town, and that I could be right about the house. Everyone was moving around the kitchen, breaking up lettuce, slicing tomatoes, GS was now making chili so those of us so inclined could have a Carolina Classic hamburger...chili and slaw with a healthy slice of Vidalia onion. Turns out we were all so inclined. She cut the potatoes to fry, and looking around at our bounty, said "Wendy's doesn't have anything on us, girls!" Asking me if I wanted a soda, she directed me to her fridge. "I put some diet cokes in the freezer."

I walked over to the fridge, pulled the freezer drawer out and grabbed a coke. I heard one of the girls say, "did you intend to put a morgue drawer in your kitchen or was it a happy accident?" Every one broke out laughing as GS shook her head and told us it had not even occurred to her until it was set in place. After that several of us begged her to tell us the story of the night she got pinned in the Morgue.

The Morgue in the old hospital was more like a walk in closet with four odd looking drawers inset into the wall. It was old, having been an afterthought years ago when the hospital was first built. The only other people (other than the resident dead) that entered on any kind of frequent basis were the Medical Examiners and family members there to identify a loved one, or view a loved one who had passed in the hospital. One of the drawers, the bottom drawer on the left had long been in need of repair, but administration had done nothing about the repairs in the six months since the request had been made. There was now a trick to pull the "Resident of the drawer" out into the light for viewing. In the room was a tall metal trash can, you had to open the door out, pull out the drawer and quickly kick the trash can under the drawer to support it and keep the body on the tray of the drawer from tumbling onto the floor. The ME's had become so used to doing this that it was just second nature, open door, pull drawer, kick can, support tray. See? Easily done.

So this one night when GS was the ME on call, she had to go down to the Morgue to do the paper work on a body that had just gone down from upstairs. The family would want to "view" her, she knew, and she needed to get all the paperwork in the system. For some reason, the "Residents" were always put in feet first, rather than head first which made it difficult to read the toe tags. You had to pull the body completely out to read the information. GS said she groaned when she saw which drawer her patient was in. She expected the worse. She got it.

"I opened the door, " she told us, "and realized that the body within was well over three hundred pounds. At first the tray refused to move. I had one leg cocked to kick the trash can under the tray when it rolled out, but the tray still refused to move. Instead of looking to see what might be holding it, I just gave a hard jerk on it and suddenly it began to move. It picked up momentum and before I could kick the can under it to support it, it came off the track and pinned me to the back Morgue wall. I couldn't lift it. I couldn't move it. I began to wail hoping someone would hear me. After a bit, I gave that up and decided to save my voice for when I might hear someone coming down in the elevator. I figured that someone would miss me eventually, or the family would be escorted down to view the body and that I wouldn't be here long. I was in there for an hour before I heard the slightest sound other than my own breathing. I began to yell, "hello!!! hello!!!" at the top of my lungs.

The young ME was now thankful for the sweater that she had pulled on before going down to the glorified closet. It was cold in here. Of course, it needed to be cold, but she was afraid she was going to freeze to death before anyone came to her rescue. It was the elevator she heard that sounded like an angel skidding to a stop. She heard a voice singing a gospel song and so she began to shout, "in here, help me please!" She saw the young man in the huge mirror that hung on the morgue wall and showed the outside hallway. He stopped, took an earbud from his ipod out of his ear and stopped. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open in shock as though he had awakened and found himself in the midst of a horror movie. The ME, whose voice was now raw and wispy from shouting for over an hour, again called out, "Hello!!" She could hear the young man clearing his throat. He too seemed to have lost his voice. He turned all around trying to locate the voice. He began to stammer back, "hello, where are you?" He turned into the Morgue and seeing her there against the wall, ran over to try to help her. It took three men and a jack to free her from her chilly prison, but they finally managed to get the tray back on the tracks and into the drawer. "You know it was about a month before I felt warm again. And it was the impetus for building a new morgue. And high time, too!"

And so that's the story of the Morgue Drawer...line of duty stories? I have a million of them.

The Effects of Hibernation on the Human Psyche

I really need to apologize to all my friends. I've been away for two weeks and I don't really know how to explain to you where I've been. The only way to say it is I've been in hibernation. I'm not sure how it happens, just that it happens around the time the Groundhogs start making their way into the news. Something happens to me. I know that it is seasonal, but it's not depression. I'm so very rarely depressed that I'm sure there's something abnormal in that, as well. I feel the need to burrow down into blankets and sleep. It's something I try to fight, but in the end, I just give into it and let the bear in me take over. I can feel the deep chill of winter and the only cure is a warm quilt and plenty of sleep. It's as though my energy is sapped and I can barely put one foot in front of the other. I've walked in here and looked at the computer and my mind just locks down. I want to sit down at the keyboard and write my heart out but my heart is not in it. But it's nearly over. I know that the hibernation period is about to break and I will be so glad when it's behind me. It's something I've dealt with for years. No one has an explanation, no doctor knows the cause. But I left my burrow today and looked out over the landscape. I didn't see my shadow, so I know it won't be long before I'll be happy to be among the living again. And visiting my friends will be first on the agenda.