It is 5:30pm and we are gambling with discharge. If her next test at 6pm goes well, we might get to go home tonight, otherwise it’s back on the spine-snapping foldout chair for another night (the cute little bed is out of her line of sight, which keeps her from sleeping, so I’ve been qwopping myself on the chair to stay next to her).
The girl has been disconnect from her most uncomfortable tubes and she is caroming around the ward with her IV stand like a menace. Her appetite is back, and she’s ready to blow this joint.
After some midnight vomiting and bedding changes, this girl got 8 hours of sleep and woke up feeling like her old self again (thank you, sneaky-footed night staff). She has been walking all over the place, snatched a shrimp off my lunch like a hyena, and kicked our asses at board games.
Very relieved. Her new kidney valves are holding strong. If tonight goes well, we’ll be out of here tomorrow.
The night was long and hard, this next one looks to be the same. Between her pain, hourly nurse checks, beeping equipment, and lights going on and off, we gave up on sleep and watched movies most of the night.
This morning she walked a bit with some help, her whole little body shaking and teeth chattering. She’s in a lot of pain, can’t eat, and had to have more scans/labs to make sure everything is working inside. Looks like we’ll have a delay leaving tomorrow while they figure out what’s happening in there.
This poor miserable kid. She caught 3 hours of sleep this evening, at least.
Reporting from surprise quarantine. We left the overnight bag in the car and then got locked into her hospital room for 6-8 hours while her PCR test comes back (precaution; there are cancer patients in this ward). Phone is going to die because the cord is in the bag, but here’s the update:
She’s out, and she’s doing great. Still sleepy and uncomfortable, but asking good questions of the right people (ie: not me).
“What’s this glowing thing on my finger?” she asks.
I say, “It’s to measure your oxygen levels.”
“Uh huh,” she says, then to the nurse, “What does this really do?”
Good girl, fact check with the experts.
At least we got some prime rib at the cafeteria’s carving station before getting locked in a room. The food here is A+.
Her room has a little bed for me to sleep on next to her, a nice bathroom, and an amazing industrial grunge view out the window. Tonight her homework is to sit on the side of her bed and try to stand up. If she’s feeling perky, she gets to blow bubbles to prevent her lungs from developing pneumonia. Dinner is a banquet of clear liquids. She’s got mixed opinions about all this, but she’s dealing with it like a pro.
Thank you for the good thoughts, folks. Fingers crossed she doesn’t develop any blockages or fever tonight. So far so good.
“The teeth on that Paw Patrol bulldog are moving with his lips when he talks”
Out of stubbornness, I put my name in the drawing for the next library conference this fall. I will make a nuisance of myself until they kick something my way. This one is in Chattanooga, Tennessee. What do they even have in Chattanooga? Distilleries, fried bologna, and nighttime ghost tours, that’s what. Let's go.
- - -
Radiology on Monday, packing on Tuesday, surgery on Wednesday, hospital until Friday, a few weeks of recovery. Zenny prepared a list of things to bring (pillow, stuffie, books), and made sure I won't leave. I told her I'd be pressed against the door of the operating room, they won't be able to get rid of me, and I'm not coming home without her.
First thoughts react, second thoughts reason and comfort, and third thoughts are pragmatic assholes that prepare you for the worst. To get away from third thoughts, I’ve been running more in the evenings. My hips and knees are crackling
like baguettes when I walk, but my meaty bits feel happy.
Sky over Wahiawa
This guy pruned his death flower tree so idiots like me won't get poisoned,
and now they're too far up to get a good picture
Koolau Mountains
My neighborhood is full of flowering trees, vegetable gardens, kittens, and chickens. Toads come out when it rains, and I spend most of the time shooing them off the road so they don't get squished. I run along the backside of the police station and wonder about the rotation of smashed cars stored back there. Watch the day-to-day progress of the guy fixing a disassembled truck, the house getting a new stone walkway, the older man building a fiberglass boat in his garage.
The studio sale went really well. More than half the paintings sold in the first 24 hours, and it felt amazing to pack up all the boxes for shipment. I am deeply grateful for the support and encouragement, it really makes it feel like this thing could be a viable way to make a living.
I was in the middle of daydreaming up a 7-year plan to quit my job and paint full-time when my mother called, crying, because a cat had fatally injured LaVie, a dove she rehabilitated 10 years ago and released back into the wild. LaVie would come back to visit every day, bringing along her mates and babies over the years. They were friends for a long time, and having to put her down after being punctured and losing an eye was awful. I drove over to feed the rescue babies (mynah and two doves) and clean up the crime scene while my mother was at the vet, and spent the evening distracting her with beer and Our Flag Means Death.
Got home and saw that I had sold three more paintings. Made enough to replace the busted oven, you beautiful people.
The pre-op exam was yesterday. Zenny is cleared for surgery in 2 weeks, but there were some concerns that came up with her kidney ultrasounds that necessitate an uncomfortable radiology diagnostic beforehand. Her surgeon sat down with us and carefully explained every part of the upcoming surgery, as well as everything that could go wrong (swelling, obstruction, stents, ruptures, emergency repairs). I was nodding along just fine until she asked if I had any questions, and then realized that if I said anything I would start crying. Mike asked competent questions about wound care and hospital logistics while I just sat with my arms around Zenny and felt her breathing. She's so small, and she's trying so hard to be brave about all this.
love this kid so much
We took her to Panda for honey walnut shrimp and chow mein afterwards.
Feeling grateful for patrons of the arts, advancements in oven engineering, merciful veterinarians, antibiotics, pediatric surgeons, and fried noodles.
I’ve stopped pushing the sale on Instagram, mostly because I’m overwhelmed by what’s happening over here, but I’ll keep the store open and post when something new gets listed. This whole thing has given me a lot to think about, and I have so many little scraps of paper covered in thumbnails of future paintings.
There have been some subtle red-flag behaviors happening, and my internal warning system says it's time to ramp up my efforts to handle the household on one income, just in case.
Also there is Zenny’s surgery coming up, I broke the dresser, and now the stove is on the fritz.
There was an episode of Top Chef where they had to cook on stoves like mine, and they all cried.
So it's time to get my shit together and sell some paintings. I'm putting together a studio sale this week, and if it works out alright, it will become a regular thing. (I redid my website and added a store.)
What I’ve got listed so far
I’m nervous nothing will sell. I’m nervous everything will sell and they’ll all want refunds when they see how much cat hair is in the varnish. Social media marketing is a nightmare. I'm just going to do it and pretend it's great and that cat hair adds artistic value.
More on that later.
Unrelated news: went for a walk with my mother after Sunday dinner at her house, and found another baby bird in the road.
I made my usual joke about how I can’t take her anywhere without birds falling out of the sky onto her head, and on cue a cardinal shot out of a bush and went straight for her head. She ducked. I don’t know how they know.
Jury duty was a bust. I tried to appear blandly neutral, but I guess accused child rapists just don't like having children's librarians on their jury. The defendant asked his lawyer to give me the boot, along with the elementary school teacher. FINE. Probably the correct move, actually, because while I was sincerely trying to be a good citizen and an unbiased judge, my brain kept whispering Chester the Molester every time I looked at him. Thanks for that, brain.
Easter was three days of bread baking, tie dying, egg dying, roasted meats, chiffon pie, and childhood trauma mitigation. On Easter morning, Zenny mistook the cats triggering the motion-activated light in the kitchen for me making coffee, got out of bed at 3am, wandered around in the dark, saw the couch blanket on the floor and a rabbit-shaped shadow sitting on the ceiling fan, and ran crying into our bed, terrified. I told her the darkness turns thoughts into monsters and we fell back asleep until the cats jumped on our heads at 6am.
I have a difficult relationship with Easter. Bad things have happened on Easters past, and my mother has childhood neglect issues that come up, so I throw a lot of effort into making everyone happy with good candy, good food, new clothes, and fun activities - then crash down after the kids are in bed with relief that all the major holidays are over until next Halloween.
It’s over, folks. Good job.
Eggies
Eggie handlers
Leif experiments with alcohol markers
Sassy the Mynah
Tie dye
Chocolate buns, meats, Yorkshire pud, etc
Droopy tries his best to carry the basket, eats it instead
Waiting for bread to rise with a drink and a photo app
My mother trying to teach Sassy how to bird
Just frisbee this straight into my chest next time, thanks
It will surprise nobody that I was not chosen to
attend the PLA conference. Evidently admin was looking for someone with
work ethic and career goals to represent our library system.
That is the last time I try to win a popularity contest with sing-song animal noises. For a while.
I was, however, selected for jury duty. That still counts as a field trip away from work, so I'll take it.
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Grandfather-in-law died this week. While the man is in New York for the funeral, I am solo-parenting - which is mostly the same as regular parenting, but with relaxed nutrition.
Actually, the real difference is how the tension in my chest loosens, like when the dryer shuts off and you're shocked by the silence. I have learned not to examine that feeling too closely, though.
On the way to school, Zenny and I found a baby mynah in an open field. There were no nesting trees close by, and no parents looking for it, so I picked it out of the grass like an angry Easter egg and drove across the island to ditch it with my mother, the wild bird rehabber.
tired mad baby
It tried to climbs my arms like a velociraptor while I was driving, and is feeling much better now. These birds are like crows - very smart and talkative and strong. It's unusual for their parents to lose them, so it's neat to have a chance to get to know one.
Working on Saturdays means that grandma keeps the kids for the weekend, and my exciting child-free time alone involves:
* Installing new hardware to the freshly-painted cupboards.
* Varnishing paintings.
* Destroying the garden; I got mad at the rickety plastic trellis for falling over in the wind and trying to kill the chickens again, so I cut down all the lilikoi vines and removed it. Now I need to figure out what to do with it. FREE DANGEROUS TRELLIS, neighbors.
Thinking about replanting the gardenia bush and lilikoi in the sunny corner of the back yard so I can line the fence with hibiscus, but I'm afraid of digging up a dead pet. Maybe I can add two more feet of dirt back there and go vertical, instead.
Feeling pretty good, overall. At work yesterday, after cleaning up some pee in the kids' section, I watched a 4 year old slowly drag his nose back and forth across the edge of my desk and then lick it to get the trail of snot off, and realized that I have gotten used to peoples' gross faces again. I don't know why this is a situation that everyone has been excited to get back to, but okay. It beats standing at the door all day.
