Cowboy here. Don't know what I'm atoning for but I'm sure the imp will fill me in any time now. I'm craving her of course but some peach cobbler as well. I'll atone just about any way she wants if I can have both. :)
Surgery was Monday. It went well. Didn't take them long to do what needed doing. Anesthesia pretty much wiped her out the way it has in the past. She went into ICU right after surgery and stayed until early Tuesday evening. Once she woke up she wanted out of there. I went in - told her we had to wait until the doc gave the ok and he wasn't due in till the next morning.
20+ years! But when it comes to my wife I'm still about as naive as a newborn babe! Sar didn't rant or yell about staying in the ICU. She was calm, spoke softly, smiled at me. I should have realized this was out of character but the smile sent me reeling - lost my common sense, kissed her and merrily went on my way saying I'd be back in a couple of hours.
Long story short: I'm guessing here. Knowing she was fully awake, the nurses probably didn't check her every 15 minutes. The great great grandchild of Houdini disconnected all the medical lines/tubes etc from her body, tied knots in the lines so nothing leaked on the floor, climbed over the bed railing and walked out of the ICU. No one saw her? That's my girl!
They found my escape artist leaning on a wall outside her hospital room trying to catch a breath. Am I the only one that's out of the loop here? The nurse helped her into pj's and into bed. I arrived to find her drinking a milkshake. Got to wonder what she promised the nurse-- probably forge my name to get the woman posted to some island paradise.
I didn't bother to yell. She wanted to know why I didn't bring the pups around. I said a few mea culpas for what I was thinking about doing but then she grabbed my hand and offered to share her milkshake. I figured she's well enough to get out of ICU by herself, she's well enough for a few hugs. I held her on my lap. Couldn't help mentioning how idiotic that was to leave the ICU, how I'm going to toast that little tush as soon as she's completely well again and how I'm going to love her the minute those stitches dissolve.
She said you're not gonna be overbearing are you?
Hell yes!
I take her home tonight or sometime tomorrow. She's fine. I'm grateful and I thank you for all the emails and cards.
Cowboy
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Update on the Imp
Cowboy here. Things turned a bit complicated. Sar's having surgery in the morning. I'll explain. The "flu" cough, chest, wheezing thing turned into something akin to pneumonia - a very mild case - but still pneumonia. A couple rounds of antibiotics pretty much cleared it up. Left her on the weak side but no lasting side effects.
The stomach flu - after a few tests - wasn't flu at all but a slight obstruction in the intestinal tract. Not a complete obstruction - a slight one - which is why she's having surgery. Better to take care of it now before it gets worse. Sar's had surgery in that area in the past - told the doc to "slice me open in the same place. No more scars!" That's my bambina. In fact, the incision is a very small one. The scar will fade.
The only concern we have is the anesthesia. Sar is highly sensitive to it and generally goes into ICU for a couple days to make sure there's no lasting side effects from it before they discharge her. The last time this happened, the imp gave them a run for their money. They were bit flabbergasted when a pizza was delivered to the ICU. Have yet to figure out how she got hold of a phone.
Damage report to date:
- She "escaped" TWICE! A marine MP caught her the first time and picked her up in a fireman's hold. Mistake. Sar pushed the pressure point behind his ear and simultaneously pushed the one in his collarbone. He dropped. She took off but the medics caught her when she ran out of steam. I caught her outside the ER showing up expectedly. A firm swat, those busy hands caught between us and she was back in bed.
- The oral antibiotics wouldn't stay down. I had to hold her down so the doc could administer a shot. She managed to land a few solid kicks on the guy. He limped out of there. There were a few choice words for me but nothing I haven't heard before. I'm kinda fond of having been "spawned from an armpit."
- The mastiff was visiting during lunch time. According to Sar, the offering consisted of apple juice, mystery meat, jello and some other mysterious thing. She gave it to the dog to sniff. The animal sneezed on it. This assured the imp it wasn't edible. Sar doesn't drink juice but food was a necessity so I commissioned the commissary cook to make hot cereal for her. That was acceptable. She's been subsisting on cereal, milkshakes, soft boiled eggs and God help me - chocolate and Twinkies.
Final notes: The nurses and orderlies adore my wife. She remembers their names and personal details. In return for favors, promises to bake pies for them. They generally do what she asks. Docs: they have to keep their distance unless absolutely necessary. She says listening is just as easy from across the room - rolling m'eyes - get too close and she threatens ugly consequences. They tend to believe her.
I expect the imp to be home by the end of the week and maybe online before then.
Cowboy
The stomach flu - after a few tests - wasn't flu at all but a slight obstruction in the intestinal tract. Not a complete obstruction - a slight one - which is why she's having surgery. Better to take care of it now before it gets worse. Sar's had surgery in that area in the past - told the doc to "slice me open in the same place. No more scars!" That's my bambina. In fact, the incision is a very small one. The scar will fade.
The only concern we have is the anesthesia. Sar is highly sensitive to it and generally goes into ICU for a couple days to make sure there's no lasting side effects from it before they discharge her. The last time this happened, the imp gave them a run for their money. They were bit flabbergasted when a pizza was delivered to the ICU. Have yet to figure out how she got hold of a phone.
Damage report to date:
- She "escaped" TWICE! A marine MP caught her the first time and picked her up in a fireman's hold. Mistake. Sar pushed the pressure point behind his ear and simultaneously pushed the one in his collarbone. He dropped. She took off but the medics caught her when she ran out of steam. I caught her outside the ER showing up expectedly. A firm swat, those busy hands caught between us and she was back in bed.
- The oral antibiotics wouldn't stay down. I had to hold her down so the doc could administer a shot. She managed to land a few solid kicks on the guy. He limped out of there. There were a few choice words for me but nothing I haven't heard before. I'm kinda fond of having been "spawned from an armpit."
- The mastiff was visiting during lunch time. According to Sar, the offering consisted of apple juice, mystery meat, jello and some other mysterious thing. She gave it to the dog to sniff. The animal sneezed on it. This assured the imp it wasn't edible. Sar doesn't drink juice but food was a necessity so I commissioned the commissary cook to make hot cereal for her. That was acceptable. She's been subsisting on cereal, milkshakes, soft boiled eggs and God help me - chocolate and Twinkies.
Final notes: The nurses and orderlies adore my wife. She remembers their names and personal details. In return for favors, promises to bake pies for them. They generally do what she asks. Docs: they have to keep their distance unless absolutely necessary. She says listening is just as easy from across the room - rolling m'eyes - get too close and she threatens ugly consequences. They tend to believe her.
I expect the imp to be home by the end of the week and maybe online before then.
Cowboy
Thursday, February 15, 2007
More Flu
Cowboy here. Sorry to tell you the imp is in the hospital. She's had a bit of a fever - it came down with some aspirin - back up - but spiked in the early morning hours. I bundled her up and took her to the base hospital. The doc said he had a private room off the ER in case she made a fuss. The imp didn't fight me on this but that's only because she's feeling less than perfect. Once she's up and about the chances are the medics will start dropping like flies.
My personal opinion is that she never fully recuperated from the flu bugs. The upside is that they stabilized her temp, she's resting ok and is on a round of antibiotics. The downside is that the room is near an exit which means somebody has to be brave enough to make sure my little escape artist doesn't leave unexpectedly.
This is February. We have celebrated it in style but I don't want Sar to feel cheated because of this hospital stay so I think I will extend the celebration into March. I brought her 2 companion dogs over. The rott visited while the mastiff waited in the car for his turn. The rott gets a little crazy when Sar is sick. He whines his displeasure and remains agitated until he can rub his head against her cheek. The nurses aren't crazy about this maneuver - large dog on hospital bed - but it makes the imp happy. In my book that's all that matters. When the mastiff has a turn visiting, he stretches out next to her and makes comforting sounds. I could be jealous here but the fact is that both animals are bonded to my wife. For that I am grateful.
Most of the medics know my wife's reputation as the patient least likely to be called Miss Congeniality. I've reminded them not to touch her unless absolutely necessary. Sar is a stealth fighter. You'll never see a fist headed in your direction until you feel it. Add to that, she's a skilled kick boxer. Think about sedating her just to keep things calm or think about using restraints and you can kiss your butt as well as your career goodbye. The saying - Payback is a bitch - was coined just for Sar.
I expect to bring her home by the weekend. I've stocked up on chocolate, her favorite snacks and I'll make sure she takes it easy. Look for her back online in a few days.
Cowboy
My personal opinion is that she never fully recuperated from the flu bugs. The upside is that they stabilized her temp, she's resting ok and is on a round of antibiotics. The downside is that the room is near an exit which means somebody has to be brave enough to make sure my little escape artist doesn't leave unexpectedly.
This is February. We have celebrated it in style but I don't want Sar to feel cheated because of this hospital stay so I think I will extend the celebration into March. I brought her 2 companion dogs over. The rott visited while the mastiff waited in the car for his turn. The rott gets a little crazy when Sar is sick. He whines his displeasure and remains agitated until he can rub his head against her cheek. The nurses aren't crazy about this maneuver - large dog on hospital bed - but it makes the imp happy. In my book that's all that matters. When the mastiff has a turn visiting, he stretches out next to her and makes comforting sounds. I could be jealous here but the fact is that both animals are bonded to my wife. For that I am grateful.
Most of the medics know my wife's reputation as the patient least likely to be called Miss Congeniality. I've reminded them not to touch her unless absolutely necessary. Sar is a stealth fighter. You'll never see a fist headed in your direction until you feel it. Add to that, she's a skilled kick boxer. Think about sedating her just to keep things calm or think about using restraints and you can kiss your butt as well as your career goodbye. The saying - Payback is a bitch - was coined just for Sar.
I expect to bring her home by the weekend. I've stocked up on chocolate, her favorite snacks and I'll make sure she takes it easy. Look for her back online in a few days.
Cowboy
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
In and Out...
Of the Doghouse!
Of course, my doghouses - kennels - are better living spaces than a lot of folks have in third world countries... but I digress.
It seems that those flu bugs love me. The stomach thing and the upper respiratory thing got together and attacked me at the same time - AGAIN! I was doing just fine and then WHAM! Naturally, the giant squid morphed into medic mode and became overbearing...
After a day of (slightly) high fever, he dragged me to the base clinic ER to see a doctor who was totally clueless why other medics, upon seeing me dragged in the door, immediately signed transfer papers for outer Mongolia and/or were violently ill and had to leave.
There is an outer Mongolia, right?
I could tell he was ready to write an Rx for antibiotics, give the "take 2 aspirin, drink lots of fluids and call me in the morning" speech. Then he spotted Cowboy's stripes. Senior ranked Neanderthals make lesser ranked Cro-Magnum males a little nervous. He decided he needed to do a series of tests "just to be sure" and said he was admitting me to the hospital for an overnight - and possibly longer - stay.
My giant Neanderthal nodded agreement.
I was the epitome of sainthood! I said nothing but noted the medic's name, rank and asked his blood type.
"Sar..."
Tsk
"Why do you want to know my blood type?" Dr. Clueless wanted to know while nurses snickered behind his back.
"In case you need a donor," I smiled.
"Sar..."
Tsk
They weren't doing anything to me that night so when Cowboy went home to take care of the animals, I watched TV in the nurses' lounge and then played on their computer. The nurses love me; I always send snacks whenever I've been in their domain.
The next morning Cowboy called to say he had to go out of town. He had this trip planned but he got a phone call telling him he needed to be there earlier than expected.
Oh JOY!
I immediately dressed, walked out of the hospital, waved goodbye to the nurses who were laughing and caught a ride back to my neck of the woods. Got dropped off a few miles from home and because it was raining, I decided not to jog the rest of the way and called a neighbor who was happy to pick me up because she knew I'd take her out for brunch.
See how healthy I was! I didn't jog in the rain. Believe me, the temptation was great.
Cowboy called my cell phone and asked how I was.
"Just ducky."
"You okay, bambina?"
For now.
"Yep."
"You didn't hurt the doc, did you?"
"Nope, didn't lay a hand on him."
"Ahhhhh, now I know you really aren't feeling well," he said so solemnly.
Double tsk
The pups and I had a mac and cheese orgy and extra thick milkshakes for supper. It rained all day and I dragged a sleeping bag downstairs and made a fire and my pups and I snuggled in front of it.
It was a quiet and cozy evening until...
"Where the hell are you?" were the first words Cowboy said when I answered the phone.
Tsk
I don't talk to people who are rude or loud on the phone so I hung up.
He called back and in a much softer tone, said "Where the hell are you?"
Tsk - still rude so I hung up and turned my cell phone off.
He called back on the house phone.
"Don't you dare hang up on me!"
I dare.
We played telephone until he called, spoke softly, apologized for his rudeness and then quietly informed me that he called the doctor to learn the results of the tests, discovered I wasn't there etc. He continued in that soft tone and promised a very warm greeting when he returned...
I figured I had 4 days to play or 2 days to plan my escape. Belgium or Switzerland? Both have great sources of chocolate. I knew that wasn't going to work so I stayed home and made great meals. The pups and I ate LARGE - lots of steak and cheesecake and cracker jacks and Twinkies - my cure for whatever ails me. BullyBoy discovered Sam Adams beer and now he doesn't want to drink Budweiser. SweetPea concentrated on Cowboy's port. I have raised spoiled canines.
Giant squid showed up in the wee hours on Super Bowl day. Got a swat, a big hug and smooch, another swat and was informed a bunch of guys were coming over to watch the game.
Dogs and cats stole snacks from the various platters every time the guys jumped up to cheer or boo at a football thingmajig happening on the screen. I simply cannot get excited about grown men playing with footballs when there are so many other things they could be doing...
It's February! I'm feeling 100% perfect. Cowboy has not forgotten how important February is in our house and has delivered the goods - chocolate, lovin, more chocolate, more lovin and the occasional swat. If he keeps this routine going, I might break down and make something peachy.
~Sar~
Of course, my doghouses - kennels - are better living spaces than a lot of folks have in third world countries... but I digress.
It seems that those flu bugs love me. The stomach thing and the upper respiratory thing got together and attacked me at the same time - AGAIN! I was doing just fine and then WHAM! Naturally, the giant squid morphed into medic mode and became overbearing...
After a day of (slightly) high fever, he dragged me to the base clinic ER to see a doctor who was totally clueless why other medics, upon seeing me dragged in the door, immediately signed transfer papers for outer Mongolia and/or were violently ill and had to leave.
There is an outer Mongolia, right?
I could tell he was ready to write an Rx for antibiotics, give the "take 2 aspirin, drink lots of fluids and call me in the morning" speech. Then he spotted Cowboy's stripes. Senior ranked Neanderthals make lesser ranked Cro-Magnum males a little nervous. He decided he needed to do a series of tests "just to be sure" and said he was admitting me to the hospital for an overnight - and possibly longer - stay.
My giant Neanderthal nodded agreement.
I was the epitome of sainthood! I said nothing but noted the medic's name, rank and asked his blood type.
"Sar..."
Tsk
"Why do you want to know my blood type?" Dr. Clueless wanted to know while nurses snickered behind his back.
"In case you need a donor," I smiled.
"Sar..."
Tsk
They weren't doing anything to me that night so when Cowboy went home to take care of the animals, I watched TV in the nurses' lounge and then played on their computer. The nurses love me; I always send snacks whenever I've been in their domain.
The next morning Cowboy called to say he had to go out of town. He had this trip planned but he got a phone call telling him he needed to be there earlier than expected.
Oh JOY!
I immediately dressed, walked out of the hospital, waved goodbye to the nurses who were laughing and caught a ride back to my neck of the woods. Got dropped off a few miles from home and because it was raining, I decided not to jog the rest of the way and called a neighbor who was happy to pick me up because she knew I'd take her out for brunch.
See how healthy I was! I didn't jog in the rain. Believe me, the temptation was great.
Cowboy called my cell phone and asked how I was.
"Just ducky."
"You okay, bambina?"
For now.
"Yep."
"You didn't hurt the doc, did you?"
"Nope, didn't lay a hand on him."
"Ahhhhh, now I know you really aren't feeling well," he said so solemnly.
Double tsk
The pups and I had a mac and cheese orgy and extra thick milkshakes for supper. It rained all day and I dragged a sleeping bag downstairs and made a fire and my pups and I snuggled in front of it.
It was a quiet and cozy evening until...
"Where the hell are you?" were the first words Cowboy said when I answered the phone.
Tsk
I don't talk to people who are rude or loud on the phone so I hung up.
He called back and in a much softer tone, said "Where the hell are you?"
Tsk - still rude so I hung up and turned my cell phone off.
He called back on the house phone.
"Don't you dare hang up on me!"
I dare.
We played telephone until he called, spoke softly, apologized for his rudeness and then quietly informed me that he called the doctor to learn the results of the tests, discovered I wasn't there etc. He continued in that soft tone and promised a very warm greeting when he returned...
I figured I had 4 days to play or 2 days to plan my escape. Belgium or Switzerland? Both have great sources of chocolate. I knew that wasn't going to work so I stayed home and made great meals. The pups and I ate LARGE - lots of steak and cheesecake and cracker jacks and Twinkies - my cure for whatever ails me. BullyBoy discovered Sam Adams beer and now he doesn't want to drink Budweiser. SweetPea concentrated on Cowboy's port. I have raised spoiled canines.
Giant squid showed up in the wee hours on Super Bowl day. Got a swat, a big hug and smooch, another swat and was informed a bunch of guys were coming over to watch the game.
Dogs and cats stole snacks from the various platters every time the guys jumped up to cheer or boo at a football thingmajig happening on the screen. I simply cannot get excited about grown men playing with footballs when there are so many other things they could be doing...
It's February! I'm feeling 100% perfect. Cowboy has not forgotten how important February is in our house and has delivered the goods - chocolate, lovin, more chocolate, more lovin and the occasional swat. If he keeps this routine going, I might break down and make something peachy.
~Sar~
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