A Day

one day closer to Movie Man leaving me. Not in a bad way. In a good way...for him. Movie Man had a good interview today. Proud of him. Know he sparkled. Happy for him, kinda yuck for me It's that whole patience thing I have to remember. It's all in His time. Not mine. That really is the kicker. I am better than I was in the past. Some folks, who read this blog may disagree. :)

Oh well.

On the bright side. I headed for my Poke today. That's what I call my Coumadin check-due to having the mechanical mitral valve in my heart. I tick. Did you know? When it's real quiet, you can hear me. Anyhoo, the Coumadin check is to see if my blood is too thick or too thin. Vitamin K affects Coumadin aka green stuff like broccoli or spinach. Today I was right in the middle of my range. 3.0. So I don't have to go back for another month. Glad. Through this whole ordeal, I've not had one major setback. Very Glad.

And since we're in February, it's when I start to reflect how my life changed in February 2006, February 27 to be exact. The day paramedics carted me to the ER. I spent all day and all night, and nobody knew where I was. Left the hospital on March 24, 2006--scar and all. Movie Man picked me up. Took me to Wal-mart so I could buy groceries. I drove that little cart and ran over everybody. I digress, plus I was scared to even THINK about spinach or broccoli, cause the nutritionist told me 'avoid it at all costs' because of the Coumadin. I didn't buy any that day.

Took me six months to finally get OVER that. Brings me today. I'm consistent in my Vitamin K eating. Don't think twice. Your body needs em. Just need to be consistent. Today, I'm in my range. Feel good. Cardiologist says, my valve works great, my heart itself works great, and she knows all is well with me. Even tho Movie Man might leave me, that's OK--it's time for him to move on. He'll just owe me a burger at the best burger place in Dallas: Burger Island! :)

On this day I'm very, very glad.

Monday Medicine

Got POKED today. That's what I call my Coumadin check aka INR. Because of the possibility of clots forming around my mechanical mitral heart valve, I pop Coumadin everyday. And let me just say this up front: I HATE to pop pills of ANY kind. Even while in the hospital, for my surgery--one of the nurses said, "Don't be so brave!" Which meant I wasn't asking for many painkillers. The pain I felt was more of an annoyance than anything else. Having the the breastbone heal can be an impatient kind of thing. The day I could finally sleep on my side, I almost ordered up a parade--and that was still some weeks after surgery.

So back to this pill thing. I HATE it. I don't want to take Coumadin or anything else I'm prescribed. My blood pressure pill, for instance, looks like something only my friend Flicka would get down easily. To pop a pill, to me, is to admit there's something wrong. Kind of a pisser really. Something I've had to work on mentally.

And had to learn how to feel good about eating Vitamin K, which effects Coumadin. We're talking green leafy vegggies here: spinach, broccoli. The more you eat of Vitamin K, the blood clots. Consistency is the name of the game. Guess you could call me a poster child. Unless,something else comes along, Coumadin and I are bonded together forever.

Oh well.

This little thing called "life" keeps me grounded. I realize I will do what I need to do to keep truckin. Sure, there's some side effects. Minor ones in my thoughts. I've had a few--fatigue for one, yet a small price to pay for a glassful of Life. And besides, there are cats to pet and Blue Ice Cream to savor. I can deal with what I gotta do, in spite of not feelin' a whole lotta love for the meds.

I am blessed.

The 7th

On July 7, 1988 I began my trek from Iowa to Dallas. My Fifth Street Friend sat in the passenger seat of my 1987 gold Dodge Colt. I’d just decided to get a/c put in. Fifth Street’s mom wished me well, as we set out that morning about 7ish. I think she was more glad I was leaving town. The lady liked me, yet she feared I put wild ideas in her daughter’s head. She needn’t have worried; her daughter could and did, do that on her own! My two cats at the time, calico Millee, along with her son, an orange, long haired fat boy, Morris, meowed from their crates. I tried to dry my own tears, after saying good-bye to my dad. I lived at home for the last two years. Even tho, living with the folks cramped your style, it was good to know you had a next meal and the clothes would get washed. Nonetheless, on that July 7th, we got on I-35 South for a 750 mile journey, that’s still not over.

November 7th, 2001. My first day at work, after the death of my dad on October 18. It was a comfortable feeling. To be back in a routine. It helped the grieving process. I missed my dad’s calls every Saturday. I wouldn’t leave my place, until I heard his voice say, “Hey, girl, what you doin?” Always had guilt I left him back in Iowa. That I should have taken care of him. Find a job back there. Whenever Dad saw me look at the job ads, he’d always said, “There ain’t nothing back here for you.” I would remind him that he was there. He’d shift his cigar and say, “I’ll always be here. You hafta leave your life.” On October 23, 2001, which was my parents’ 47th wedding anniversary, was also my dad’s funeral. I think he planned it that way. Together again---at last.

March 7, 2006. The day I a doctor informed my life would forever change by having open heart surgery that following Monday. Then five minutes, the same doctor came back and announced Monday was too backed up, so I was pushed to March 14. My mitral valve needed to be repaired or replaced. Last week, my cardiologist told me she liked the fact, I’ve gone on with my life as if nothing happened, yet I get reminded. Yep, every time my scar itches or the tip of it clashes with a top I have on or when I take my INR and I’m two tenths out of “the range”, and need to come back in 10 days, instead of a month.

April 7, 2008. The day I moved into my first house. Also the day before my Roman numeral “L” birthday. I woke up in my own house on my birthday! What a great present! How and why did I ever live in an apartment so long? Tish Tosh. The whole move-in, get settled, is still a work in progress. Cats adjusted better and quicker than I did.

June 7, 2008—in my hometown for my high school class’ 50th Birthday Party. Where the last chat of the night I most remember. A classmate who says, ‘You know I’m just a farmer who drinks beer.” Enlightened me and encouraged me to take on public speaking. He says nobody can say what I have to sa with the way I say it. He’s since been traveling to speak to other farmers about farmer stuff. I’m proud of him. His talk stays with me. “I expect to hear about you,” he said. Maybe so.

Today July 7, 2008. I got a taste of what good neighbors are. My coolant leaked from my car. I noticed the puddle as I pulled out of my driveway for my Target run. I was glad Target is literally 5 minutes away. Yet, I was petrified enough, it might as well been 500. Made it home safe and sound. I headed next door to my neighbors, J and his wife J. They always wave and smile. I figured they may know a good mechanic. J Wife’s brother-in-law is a mechanic, and lives down the street. The brother-in-law and the wife were on their way to dinner, yet he says he’ll look at my car. He looks, finds the leak. I tell him I will not drive it tomorrow—heck, I’ve blown up engines before. He says he’ll bring his tools tomorrow night. My best friend will pick me up for work in the morning. I like his neighborhood stuff.

On the 7th Day, He rested.

I am blessed.