Teaching an Old Dog...

Christmas past, I received a new 'phone. Now for years, I've carried a TracFone. Yes, one of those prepaid jobbies. I only have it for emergencies, and I don't even give the number to anyone except a couple of family members. My minutes don't get used up before it's time to add more to keep the line utile. Anyway, this new 'phone has triple minutes for life. Add a 60 minute card, get three hours. I've got about 2,000+ minutes waiting to be used. And no monthly bill!

This new 'phone replaces a basic Motorola flip model with an LG800. I've got texting capability, (with a qwerty keyboard!) and a camera, and video, and mp3 player. Ye gods and little fishes. It takes me a long time to figure out all these electronic gizmos. So in order to put music in the 'phone, I had to order a cable with a teeny tiny USB on one end and a somewhat larger USB on the other. They tell me that I can put a CD in my laptop and end up with the music in my 'phone. It will be good when I start my daily walks again but I'm not buying headphones until I'm sure I've got something to listen to.

My taste in music runs to the classical swing tunes - and some jazz. Not very conducive to keeping a good pace when I'm walking for my health. Thinking of ordering a John Phillip Sousa CD. That should keep me moving at a decent clip. I could dig out my baton and twirl for a little extra exercise. Or not.

Doldrums

It's mid-January and I'm bored. Or lethargic. Or something other than enthusiastic.

I finally got around to taking the decorations off the Christmas tree yesterday. They're boxed but not put away. Yet.

I've tried crocheting. I'm not satisfied with the outcome. And I'm a damn good crocheter! But I have no enthusiasm.

I'm working on a jigsaw puzzle. Usually, when I'm doing a puzzle, it supercedes everything else. I get up early and stay up late just to work on the puzzle. But this one just isn't moving me. Oh, it isn't the puzzle. It's the ennui.

My Kindle sits idle. I've started reading three books and abandoned each after only a handful of pages. No focus.

I need a few things from the store, but I'm delaying the trip. Just don't want to gather up the list and the coupons and the money and the gift cards and...well, I'm just not feeling it.

So I eat. More than I should. And it's too bloody cold to go out and walk, so the pounds are creeping back. Those pounds that I worked so hard to lose last Spring.

I did have a doctor appointment yesterday. It was a follow-up to my December visit for my SOB attack. And apparently my health is okay. At least as far as can be determined externally. (We all know now that stuff can grow unseen in the dark and not be found until one is very, very, very sick)

I take my medication every day. I read the paper - well, parts of the paper. Much of it is too depressing or of no interest. I keep up with the dishes and if pressed, I'll go so far as to run the Hoover.

It's the middle of January and on reflection, I think I feel this way every middle of January. I'm pretty sure it will pass. In the meantime, yaaawwwnnn

An Anniversary

Three years ago today, I was diagnosed with colon cancer. Surgery removed the tumor. Six months of chemotherapy was an effort to stave off a recurrence. Tests, tests and more tests were performed to determine if the above worked.

Thus far, all looks well. I have a team of medicine men taking good care of me. They drag me into their offices a couple of times a year to make sure I'm still vertical. They order blood work and CT scans. Also mammograms, which I would have been doing even without a cancer history.

My digestive system is the only indicator that something happened in there. In all likelihood, it will never return to the pre-Ca days. I'm still learning to live with that. And the key word here is "live".

Happy New Year

I promised myself that I would try to do better this year. I thought I would make an effort to add a little something to this page every day of 2012. You see how that worked out?

I also promised myself that I would lose that last 15 pounds. The pounds that left off getting lost when I got sick with a strange breathing disturbance (okay, my COPD kicked in) and had to take prednisone for 10 days. Ever take prednisone? It's a type of steroid - not the anabolic kind that athletes take - and it has a strange effect on me. It makes me eat. I'm not really hungry. I just want to eat. So I put on a couple of pounds while the prednisone was coursing around in my body. Then Christmas was here and there was a lot of eating just because there was so much around to eat. Now, just so you know, it really was only a couple, well, three, pounds. But when I went on the losing weight quest back in May, I was aiming for a reduction of 30-ish pounds. I had only dropped 15 when I filled my prescription for prednisone, so I have to work on losing the rest. If I can make myself as motivated as I was last year, I should be at my goal by end-of- February-mid-March-the-latest. The weather is supposed to be 40s-50s all week so I should be able to get back into the walk-every-day mode.

And if I don't get to that point by mid-March, well, maybe I can at least do better with coming here on a regular basis. For now, I guess it's time to start putting away the Christmas decor. I didn't really go crazy putting stuff up so I don't have a lot to take down. I was pretty happy with the tree. I only put glass hearts and glass drops on the tree with white lights. I thought it was understated and elegant.

So a week into the new year and I have my goals. Let's see how well I do.

The Last Day

It's December 31st. 2011. One more year. Who would have ever thought? Next week will be three years since my cancer diagnosis. The following week will be three years since my surgery for colon cancer. That was followed by six months of chemotherapy. And iron infusions to bring my hemoglobin level back up to normal. And lots of doctor appointments and blood work and CT scans etc., etc., etc. Thus far, my blood work has been better than good. My hemoglobin is normal. My CEA, which is a tumor marker, has been good. My CT scans have shown "no mass, no active disease."

For each of those three years, I have hosted Christmas, just as I did pre-cancer. This year, for the first time, I made peace with the fact that there is no perfect Christmas. Something will go awry. And who cares? We all have our health, (well, most of it), we all have jobs, and homes, and plenty to eat and we are together.

Yesterday, I mailed all my "thank you" notes and paid all my bills. I had strength enough to do three loads of laundry. And my mind is okay because I can still figure out the daily cryptogram without a hint.

I'm ending 2011 with a clean slate. You know what would be nice? To say the same thing next December 31st. Until then - Happy New Year.

When Do We Stop?

About four or five years ago, my grown children got together with their children (my grandchildren) and had a portrait taken and framed for me for a Christmas gift. Needless to say, I was enormously pleased. There were, at the time, ten grandchildren and while I had many photos of them individually, or in their particular family groups, I did not have even a candid shot of all of them. Together. At the same time. So this picture was especially meaningful.

During this past year, our family welcomed yet another grandchild. (We thought we were all finished!) She is a cutie. I planned on photo shopping her little face into the grandchildren photo. In addition to the newest grandchild, my eldest grandchild welcomed a daughter of her own, making me a great grandmother. And me so young!

Well, family once again decided that a new grand photo was in order. The logistics were tricky, since eldest granddaughter, her husband and their baby live in Arizona. Flying in for the Christmas holiday called for some tight scheduling. Their arrival was late evening on the 21st. That meant earliest photo session could be held on the 22nd. and pushing for a finished photo by the 24th. for presentation on Christmas.

Well, the 25th. arrived, as it always does. My gift was presented. I unwrapped the package and stared at the photo for a long time. I counted the faces staring back at me. And counted again. Something was amiss. There were only 11 people in the photo. They were all my grandchildren. But not all my grandchildren were in the photo.

For some reason, eldest granddaughter opted not to be included in the new photo. For reasons known only to her. As her mother said, "That's our girl."

And I want to know, when does it stop? When does Mom stop making excuses for this woman? This woman who became 30 years old earlier this month. The woman who had long held herself to be the smartest woman in any room in which she found herself. The woman who recently wrote a treatise on what one should have acheived by age 30, including realizing that one is not the center of the Universe. Fans of the blog, who have in the past nominated her for President, Queen and sainthood, were quick to comment on how succintly she had summed up what should be expected by the time one reaches 30. Putting a meal on the table; not blocking the grocery aisle with your cart; wishing folks Happy Holidays and screw'em if they object because you didn't say "Christmas" or "Hanukkah" or whatever particular nomenclature you prefer.

But just as though she knew of Granddaughter's intent as to declining to appear in the Grandchildren photo, another blogger left a comment which added her own take on what a 30-year-old should be able to do. To do something you don't really want to do simply because it would mean a lot to someone you care about and who cares about you so suck it up and just do it!

That comment was particularly appropos in light of the pontificate tone of the blog and the refusal to add to a Christmas gift that would not have impacted her life at all (her daughter, her sister and her brother are all in the picture) since she only comes here once a year. But this whole event has become a non-event and other than the fact that her Mother still defends her bad behavior, I don't particularly give a flying falafel. And this is when it stops.

We Are - Ashamed

The whole Penn State thing. I'm very sad. I'm not a rabid Penn State fan. And Joe Paterno is a football coach. I don't even like football. Nothing about the game excites me. But the scandal that is monopolizing everyone's interest is making me very sad.

Is Sandusky a monster? I don't know, he hasn't had a trial yet. Should the Board of Regents have fired JoePa? I don't know. Because I don't know what they know. But they needed a scapegoat to make themselves look righteous, so I guess they had to. Oh, and Spanier, too. God knows how he fit into the chain. It didn't sound like he had ever been in the loop when the accusation came to light. But, hey, somebody has to take the blame.

Coaches, presidents, athletic directors, out you go. You let Sandusky ply his evil trade and did nothing.

What makes me saddest is the fact that the original witness to this horror is still at work with the football team. And as of Thursday, the new interim head coach intended that this person, this cowardly wimp, would be on the sidelines in his position as one of the coaches. It was only when he received death threats that he was placed on "administrative leave with pay". Yes, I know his name, but I won't say it because it tastes bad in my mouth.

It makes me sad that this man was 28-years-old when he says he witnessed Sandusky sexually assaulting a young child in the locker room. He scurried out like the weasel he is and went home and called his Daddy and asked him what to do. Why, at age 28, would it be necessary to ask anyone what you should do. Do? DO?? You should make your presence known as you dial 9-1-1. The police would have arrived and the legal process could have begun. But no. Our witness slept on the information and then went to Coach Paterno the next day and told him what he saw. He says. We don't know what he told Paterno. But Paterno did what he was supposed to do and reported it to the next-up the chain of command. Now, current wisdom has it that Paterno should have called the police. And told them what? That his grad assistant said he saw a sexual assault taking place. And when was this, asked the friendly officer. Oh, sometime yesterday replies Paterno. And what do you want us to do about this now? You have an allegation that cannot be corroborated because the perpetrator and his victim are gone, and when he is tracked down and questioned, do you think he will admit his crime?

While I cannot answer as to the fairness of the firing of the four people who were sacrificed in order to make the university look good, it certainly seems fair to expect that the witness who suffers from Yellow-stripe-up-the-back syndrome should have been the first one to do the perp walk off the campus.

I guess he saved his own bacon when he testified to the Grand Jury. But he's still being paid by the school. And that makes me sad.