Category Archives: literature/reading

Am I ready?

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Such a simple question for process about to begin. God is watching over me, Barry will be by my side, Emory Winship Hospital will be providing the care and mom will be home waiting to cook a nice healthy meal. I’m hoping my stomach will let me eat. I do not need to worry about daddy, because Kristie is in control. I feel sorry for the nurse assigned to Pop yesterday.

My clothes are laid out and ready to go. My tablet will be charged, allowing me access to books, games, the Bible and whatever else the internet may provide as entertainment while waiting for the infusion to complete. I can do more research on chemotherapy and the type cancer I have. I can write a step by step post on what chemo is like. I would not want to bore you to death.

I have to repeat this process every three weeks for four doses. Then we swich to radiation. Radiation is scheduled to be daily for a certain period of time. I’ll find that out when the time comes.

My cousin has given the inside track on whst to ask for from the goof doctors.  She let me know what worked for her and what she has heard from other people. I believe Barry and I are as ready as we can be. 

There is a thunderstorm brewing here. We can hardly keep up with the grass. We’ve had so much rain, the flowers are h8rgeous and yhe grass is growing like crazy. I’m going to hit the sack. Hope everyone has a beautiful day tomorrow!

Surgery under local anesthesia!

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If you read my blog regularly, you are aware that I was scheduled for right wrist surgery. To decrease my exposure to anesthetics, I elected to have this cyst removed with only a local anesthetic.

I’ve been under general anesthesia 14 times since 2009. Each time, it appears to take longer for the anesthesia to get out of my system and it also takes longer my body to recover. My responses are slower after each surgery. I have tried everything I can think of to flush the medication from my system, but I can tell I’m less responsive, each time, for a longer period of time.

Trying a local this time was an experience. Dr. P. Is a very nice man and excellent physician, as I found out during this surgery, quite a comedian.

He numbed my hand prior to surgery.  My hand looked like half of a pear with all of that Lidocaine injected into it. Dr. P. stated, “prepare to feel your finger nails go numb. See you in there soon.” and walked out of the room.

A few moments later, I was wheeled into the surgical suite and placed on the table. The staff prepared me for surgery. The nurse stuck my right arm into a giant sock and then through a hole in the drape. They used some kind of belt to strap my arm to an extension on the table. I guess they were making sure I could not pop Dr. P. in the chin, while he worked on that wrist.

After they had the strap in place, they let me know what was about to happen. After they get the drape in place, the plan was to cut the sock away and to clean my right arm for the operation. When they completed that task, the doctor would be in to start.

Dr. P. entered the suite. The comedy started the minute he walked in.

“This is the right arm amputation, isn’t it?” He said as he peeked under the drape, and asked me, ” Did they ask what you want for lunch? They will be serving in about 20 minutes. Can’t let the staff get hungry, can I?” He giggled and walked over to my right arm to get started.

They started the procedure. About 20 minutes into the operation, I hear Dr. P. say loudly, “What the?” and then total silence. My question was of course, “What what?” He told me not to worry, “just a little blood”. He continued with the operation.

At a certain point in the procedure, he picked my right hand up and had me bend my fingers. The purpose was to test his handy work. When I bent my fingers, something popped. Dr. P. peeked in the drape and stated, “you are strong. I’ve got to redo it, might take a sec.”

I dozed off for a bit and was suddenly awake at another “WHAT?” I asked what was wrong, and he started trying to get me to let him take the drape down to watch. He said I was so full of questions, he said I should watch. As a nurse, it takes a lot to make my stomach turn. But I have never been able to watch a doctor work on my body. I have passed out cold watching a procedure on myself. My saving grace was I couldn’t see without my glssses, so he left me alone.

When finished, the drape was removed, a hard splint was applied to my wrist and I was finally discharged. A procedure scheduled to take 30 minutes, took 3 hours. At least he kept it interesting. I’m not sure how I feel about another local anesthetic. My wrist is healing well. I get my cast tomorrow. I think I’ll get hot pink. Might be a good color to wear into chemo.

Word of the weekend: Peccant

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Peccant, ( \PEK-unt\ ), adjective

1 :guilty of a moral offense : sinning 
2 :violating a principle or rule : faulty  

Examples: Outside the confessional stood a short line of peccant parishioners waiting to seek redemption for their sins. 

“His own translation of Heinrich Heine’s ‘A Woman’ features a naughtily misbehaving protagonist and herpeccant boyfriend….” — From a review by Benjamin Ivry in The Forward, April 27, 2012  

Sponsored Link    “Peccant” comes from the Latin verb “peccare,” which means “to sin,” “to commit a fault,” or “to stumble,” and is related to the better-known English word “peccadillo” (“a slight offense”). Etymologists have suggested that “peccare” might be related to Latin “ped-” or “pes,” meaning “foot,” by way of an unattested adjective, “peccus,” which may have been used to mean “having an injured foot” or “stumbling. “Whether or not a connection truly exists between “peccant” and “peccus,” “peccant” itself involves stumbling of a figurative kind—making errors, for example, or falling stumbling.” Whether or not a connection truly exists between “peccant” and “peccus,” “peccant” itself involves stumbling of a figurative kind—making errors, for example, or falling into immoral, corrupt, or sinful behavior.

Tomorrow

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The doctor has decided that my left knee needs replacing. At the moment my left leg is swollen from the ankle up to my hip. I look like I have a cankle. Since my brain tumor surgery, I haven’t been light on my feet.

The falls I have taken, since brain surgery really screwed up my balance, ha done a job on my left knee. I’ve been incredibly lucky and only ended up in the emergency room one time. I had forgotten how bad getting stitches hurts! But all the falling has taken care of any useful cartilage in my knee.

With the breast cancer, I’m still waiting to hear which treatments I will be getting. So, I am sure knee surgery is going to have to wait until after my treatments. I’m making a list of questions, for both doctors, I need to add that to both list.

This is crazy, I’m putting my health issues in a que to be handled in order of importance. Cowden Syndrome strikes again!

Wednesday afternoon, I am having a cyst removed from my right wrist. I’ve had wear a cast a few times when the cyst was enlarged. Apparently to get it to stop, it needs removing. My right hand is my only good hand. I need to keep it in shape as long as possible. I’m not looking forward to a cast or brace again, but I’m a tough cookie. I can handle it! Wish me luck!

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Personal Prayer Request

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I believe in the power of prayer. I have seen too many things in my lifetime that proves there is. On this date, I am asking that everyone pray for my father, Lee Van Hayes. He received some extremely bad news from his doctor today. I think we were all expecting it, even dad, but hearing those words are not easy. WordPress Blogs are full of love and kindness, with a few freaky things added in. I’d love it if I could take my computer to Pop and show him all the well wishes received from my fellow bloggers.

WordPress reaches tons of people. It would be such a wondrous thing to get at least half the people, in our blogosphere, saying a little prayer for one special man. I know he is not special to everyone, but he is to my family and his friends. My dad doesn’t meet strangers, he likes everyone. He is just the biggest sweetheart on earth! My family, as well as Barry and I would greatly appreciate any small wish of good health or just a hope you are feeling better soon.

We are to the point that prayer is the answer. Dad is in God‘s hands and he will take care of him. Thank you in advance for anything you say!

If my comments section is not working yet, please use the email available for my blog: geegeebear3@gmail.com.

Have a bless day!

Barry and Jill

and the family of LeeVan Hayes

English: The logo of the blogging software Wor...

English: The logo of the blogging software WordPress. Deutsch: WordPress Logo 中文: WordPress Logo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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Word of the Weekend: Hoise

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hoise: 
verb 
: lift, raise; especially 
: to raise into position by or as if by means of tackle   

Bethany was selected by her Girl Scout troop to hoise the American flag for Monday’s Memorial Day ceremony on the town green. “In order for [New England Patriot’s quarterback Tom] Brady to play a great game, which is a must if the Pats want to hoise the Lombardi Trophy, he needs to stay upright.” — From an article by Nick Curcuru and Michael Muldoon in the Gloucester Daily Times(Massachusetts), January 27, 2013  Sponsored Link    

The connection between “hoise” and “hoist” is a bit confusing. The two words are essentially synonymous variants, but “hoist” is far more common. You’ll rarely encounter “hoise” in any of its regular forms: “hoise,” “hoised,” or “hoising.” But a variant of its past participle shows up fairly frequently as part of a set expression.

And now, here’s the confusing part—that variant past participle is “hoist”! The expression is “hoist with (or by) one’s own petard,” which means “victimized or hurt by one’s own scheme.” This oft-heard phrase owes its popularity to Shakespeare’s Hamlet: “For ’tis the sport to have the engineer hoist with his own petar[d].” (A petard is a medieval explosive. The quote implies that the engineer—the person who sets the explosive device—is blown into the air by the explosion of his own device.) 

Jill and Barry Baynes

Daily Prompt: Person of the Year

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You’re asked to nominate someone for TIME’s Person of the Year. Who would it be, and why?

My nominee for Time’s Person of the Year would be my best friend, the love of my life, Mr. Barry L. Baynes. He does not feel he would deserve such an honor, but in my eyes he was the only person I would consider nominating. He has been my night in shining armor for several years.

Barry suffered a massive right-sided stroke in Dec. 2012. I almost lost him. His percerverence and determination not to let that stroke get him down, has given me strength and will to push through the health issues I have currently and really push myself into recovery and staying healthy.

Barry has been my love, my companion and my chauffer through what feels like millions of appointments with numerous doctors.

We started the year off running in January,  with a referral to a breast specialist at Emory over something suspicious on a mammogram. We were off to learn our way around another section of Emory University Hospital‘s clinics. (By now, Barry and I should have a wing dedicated to whatever we want.)

When Barry was not feeling well, he was there, never complaining always supportive. He gets stronger (from the stroke) daily. I can see the changes. He strength never faltered.

He has been my rock, he let me draw on his strength as I needed to. He was always positive. As doctors delivered news we really did not want to hear, Barry had a smile on his face. He tried to keep my mood elevated the best he could.

When I knew he wasn’t feeling his best, he tried to not let it show. He is always encouraging and loving.

All of the above are reasons, Mr. Barry L. Baynes, would be my nominee for Time’s Person of the Year. I could not think of anyone more deserving of this award.

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Jill and Barry Baynes

Should we take a vacation or rest and heal?

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Having breast cancer is such an issue. To start off, everything is rush, rush, rush to get a diagnosis. They will put you through a mammogram. ultrasound, MRI, and biopsy in one afternoon. Making you think you have some horrible problem that needs to be removed NOW! After all this, they schedule you to see a doctor a few weeks out. They freak you out about the possibility of cancer and then the wait is on.

When you get an actual diagnosis and the rush is back on to see a breast surgeon. You see the doctor and the rush is back on to remove the tumor, at the surgeons convenience. Once that is over, the weight is on again. Then you receive a call and are given date to see oncologist. The Radiation Oncologist at 11am and the Medical oncologist at 3:30pm. All in the same day, but there is no way to get the appointments closer together. After packing for a day at the hospital clinic, we head to the second appointment. They had a no-show and we got in early. It was nice to get in and out of there quickly.

The one thing I didn’t enjoy was listening to the same speech from two different doctors for over an hour each time. One doctor even wanted to know if the other had explained properly a certain lab test that can decide my need for chemotherapy or not and they both asked if the surgeon had gone over anything with me.

Without asking for our response again, We were given  appointments to get ready for radiation treatments, then found out at the next appointment, it would be hurry up and wait for blood-work ordered and a test on the tumor they removed. I feel like I know absolutely nothing about what is going to happen for my treatments. Better yet, I have an idea of the treatment, I just have no clue when the treatments will start. Maybe. by the end of the summer, I’ll have an idea when this will be over.

I have to remember this is in God’s hands and I need not worry. He’ll make sure things are under control. Take one day at a time. In this waiting period, should Barry and I rest and take time to heal or should we take off somewhere?

English: pink ribbon

English: pink ribbon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

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For the Week of June 9, 2013: When You’re Laughin’…

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I shared to topic of the week with my mother, so this one is for her……She shared a little “funny” from her chilhood. So, here goes the take of:

         “My Uncle Owen’s New Cowboy Boots”

My Uncle Owen, spent months, saving up his spare change. When he had enough money, he picked out the boots he wanted and placed the order.

For weeks, he watched and waited at the mailbox for his prized boots to arrive. When they finally arrived, he was thrilled. He opened the box with care, made sure they fit, wiped the boots down, and sat them by his bed to be ready for school in the morning,

He was up early, dressed and ready to go to school. His hair all slicked back, wearing his nicest jeans and shirt with his new boots. He hopped on the bus and grabbed a seat. He was ready to impress a certain young woman when he got to school.

The one thing he had not counted on, was the heel on his new boots. He should have practiced walking with the heel before wearing them to impress in public.

Unfounately, that young woman he was looking to impress was one of the first people to witness his fall from ‘grace’, when he was stepping off the bus. Poor Owen stood up to head down the bus steps. At the top step, he twisted his heel and fell the rest of the way down the steps. Ruining his bluejeans and scuffing his boots up. He also managed to scrape his knee.

Uncle Owen was mortified. When he managed to make it home, he had a brilliant idea to fix his boots. He spent a few hours in the barn after school, when he walked into the house in his ‘ new, new’ boots; we all just looked at him. He had such a bad day, no one wanted to laugh. If we had, we were not sure what Owen would do. He was getting pretty big for a fifteen year old.

Mom took him out on the porch to talk about his boots. He had cut the heel off both boots in the barn. What he did not realize, was that without the heel, the toe of the boot curled higher. He looked like he was wearing a pair of shoes from Denmark. The wooden shoes with the pointed toe.

Mom came in and ‘shhh’d us all. Owen walked in a few minutes later, without his boots on and sat down for dinner. We never spoke of the incident again. Owen never ordered boots from a catalog again.

Jill and Barry Baynes