Hammers and Pajamers

Stan Here:

I was thinking a little the other day.  Not sure why I want to announce that now but just wanted you to know I was thinking.   Somehow the topic of wimpy and non-wimpy things was on my mind. I think a guy walked by with a wimpy dog.  I kind of reminded me that we once had a dog like that and  kind of wondered if people thought "who is that guy with that wimpy dog walking by?"  when I would walk the thing.  Another thing I own that is kind of wimpy is hammers.  Ever see a real carpenter use a hammer? They bust a nail about twice and it is in.  I looked this over one time and figured out that the reason I could never do that is that the hammers I own are kind of wimpy.   I also have had this life long thought that the idea of mens pajamas is by its nature just kind of a wimpy idea.  At least that way I have never had to remember to pack pajamas when I travel.  I think Buicks are kind of a wimpy car.  I don't have a good reason for that. Just kind of have always felt that way. They are kind of a Christian car though.  I always see quite a few of them at churches.

Anyway I was sitting here at the hospital in the chair next to Deb's bed. She is sleeping right now. It is Sunday afternoon.  And I think what I want to say in case you have not figured it out is that there just is nothing wimpy about any of these events that have taken place over the past 1 and 1/2 years since this cancer was first detected.  I am kind of in a reflective mood. I just looked and there have been 271 postings on this blog.  Mieke talked us into doing the blog. She thought it would be better than repeating the progress reports. But I do not think anybody could have thought that there would be 271 times that some sort of posting would be needed to report the various events. I did not go back and read and probably a few of them did not have with them medical news but most did.

Have just now been recalling how this whole thing started. Deb and I were on a trip to Wisconsin in August of 2011 and someplace along the way she started to report some discomfort in her midsection.  By the time we were on the way home she was very uncomfortable.  She had a doctor appointment sometime the following week but somehow arranged to have an ultrasound on the Monday we came home. By the time it was noon the phone was ringing and her doctor told her we have some big problems.  It was just amazing to see how fast many decisions, operations, arrangements, recoveries, medicines and everything else came upon Deb.  I have mentioned that Deb is now recovering from the 6th surgery related to this thing and these are not the puppy variety of surgery. In fact they have used the same incision now 6 times and the recoveries from this is not getting easier. It is the other way around.  I counted up and last year Deb was in the hospital for 84 days (I think 2 weeks of that was in a recovery center).  The toughest event I have seen was her battle with severe intestinal infection that followed one of the surgeries.  That was last spring and that was one of the the scariest medical events I have witnessed (That was when Deb had to put in a medically induced coma for about a week). Most recently enduring the nausea that came with long hospital stay and return home was very difficult.

So I started talking about wimps and wind up talking about the industrial version of this and right now I just wanna tell you I am of glad I did not marry a wimp.   No reports yet on when she can come home.  She had a really tough day yesterday but seems much better today.  The good money is for her to come home sometime this week.  She is kind of anxious to eat something again.  She got halfway through a banana today which is the first thing I have seen her consume in a long time.  Now they brought in some more food. One of the things looks like a Swiss steak.  So maybe things are getting there.  She was thinking her taste buds were going to sleep but I just went over and tried a piece of this thing and it must have come from the land of bland. 

Anyway that is the news.

Stan