Wednesday, December 9, 2009

These Days

Happy Birthday, Shep!!

December 8, 2006. I am born.

My beloved grandson James Shepard made his way into our lives on December 8 in 2006.

The staff at the hospital kept referring to him as a towhead, but Kate and James had never heard that old-fashioned expression and, to their great distress, thought he was being called a “conehead”. That took a little explaining.

When we got there, my sweet, hours old boy looked into my eyes and I got this amazing photo.

And here he is today.

He is ALL boy. Chatting with his other nana last night I mentioned I was knitting him a hat for Christmas. He heard this as he flew by us and, without missing a beat or pausing he declared, “I don’t want a hat.”

Alrighty then.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for being you, Shep.

The Body Human

Well, if it’s post-op, I must be blowing up like the Michelin Man. And sure enough, I am.

And if it’s post-op, I must have cellulitis in aforementioned swollen legs. Check.

And because the pain of a shoulder replacement could never be enough, edematous, infected legs, with skin stretched practically to the breaking point, must be incredibly painful to walk on. Check again.

And even though I haven’t had a cold in about 20 years, I must be getting one now. Check.

Add a stomach virus for grins and giggles. Check.

So I am a tad miserably self pitying uncomfortable.

I am incredibly lucky this go round to have a marvelous health team and all of them are on top of these crap symptoms. Unfortunately, the treatment is usually pretty crap too, but what are you going to do? One hundred and sixty milligrams of lasix might cause someone to pee forty times a day, but it might also help prevent heart failure.

Dr. B., my regular doctor, is every word you can come up with that is synonymous with kind. I knew the reason for every obnoxious medication he had to add to my already obnoxious regimen. But he made a gentle little case for each one because he is so respectful and so generous with his time, subtly reminding me he is not out to deliberately torture me.

So What Else Is New?

I am actually disappointed that I was not able to be cleared to go back to work yesterday.

I am filling the idle hours with puking and blowing my nose reading and knitting. My friends had twins last week and I am knitting them hats. The babies, not the parents.

Because my sleep schedule is off kilter right now, I do most of my knitting in the middle of the night. I needed to check the size of the hat I was working on, but was reluctant to drag myself up to the attic and search for a dolly to fit it on to. Then my eye rested on this:

Not that I did, mind you. But it was tempting.

I once read a suggestion that for a baby hat, a grapefruit is a good size check. I would not recommend this. You will never look at a grapefruit or a baby quite the same way again.

So here is the first hat:

And the second will have a pink lambie. Fun to do.