Sunday miscellany

Much like parts of my house, this post is filled with random items that don't belong together so they are all getting lumped here. First, this wise forward from my friend, Seal, that ties nicely with yesterday's post:


Time . . .

On his deathbed Alexander the Great summoned his generals and told them his three ultimate wishes:

1. The best doctors should carry his coffin;
2. The wealth he had accumulated (money, gold, precious stones) should be scattered along the way to his burial; and
3. His hands should be left hanging outside the coffin for all to see.

Surprised by these unusual requests, one of his generals asked Alexander to explain.

Here is what he said:

1. I want the best doctors to carry my coffin to demonstrate that in the face of death, even the best doctors in the world have no power to heal;
2. I want the road to be covered with my treasure so that everybody sees that the wealth acquired on earth, stays on earth.
3. I want my hands to swing in the wind so that people understand that we come to this world empty-handed and we leave empty-handed after the most precious treasure of all is exhausted - Time.

Time is our most precious treasure because it is limited. We can produce more wealth, but we cannot produce more time.

When we give someone our time, we actually give a portion of our life that we will never take back. Our time is our life!

The best present you can give your family and friends is your time.

May we all have the wisdom to give it.
___________________________________

Next, the crap clearing out extravaganza continues. Yesterday we purged through the games, a big process for us. We did not clear out as much as we probably could have, but condensed at least.  Keeping four complete Trivial Pursuit games, with the original boxes seemed ridiculous. The three we actually use were pared down to cards and a board, purging the boxes that took so much space. We decided to part with Book Lover's Trivial Pursuit after trying a dozen cards and not knowing the answer to a single question. Not as well read as we thought, apparently. I believe there are a few of those cards in the Suicide Trivial Pursuit box, but I'm sure who ever finds this game in mint condition with the $39.99 price tag still on it won't miss them.

Most of what went out were kids games. We are past Candyland, thank you very much, with or without the "go back" cards. While I look forward to someday again playing Ants in the Pants and Cootie, I am hoping it will be long enough that I will be happy to be replacing them. Also Chutes and Ladders, Hi Ho Cherry-O and one Clue game (why we had two, I'm not sure.)

Occupy Medical was thrilled to take the five and a half cases of left over formula that I'm not going to use and will expire soon. I could not imagine drinking that stuff, but it is a lot of calories in a small can and it doesn't have to be refrigerated, so I'm sure it will be put to good use. I now have one whole corner of the kitchen floor back.

Speaking of formula, the syringes that came with my last order are ridiculous. They sent two new kinds. Some are 100 mL syringes. These are so bulky that I have no idea how I'd have the strength to push the food through them and are poorly designed. The other ones look like the 60 mL ones I have been using at first glance, but they are not. They don't have the prongs on the sides, which makes drawing up and pushing out difficult to manage. Also, they don't come apart, so there really is no good way to wash them. I hope the old ones I have hold up until our next order.

Speaking of random medical supplies, we got an EOB for a random day of my hospital stay. We already received one for day one and day two, but hadn't gotten anything else. Friday we received one for October 26, which would be day 11. Just under $38,000 for that day, BUT that is what the hospital billed the insurance company. The insurance company actually paid just over $5,000. While $38,000 seems absurd, $5,000 honestly seems too little. I had a nurse and a CNA that only had four total patients. I had a herd of doctors traipsing through my room. I had multiple pieces of heavy duty medical equipment. I had blood drawn for labs at least once every day. I took a raft of medications.

I was seen by the IV team (kept blowing veins), the respiratory therapist for the trach, the dietician for the tube feeding, a physical therapist and I don't even know who else. That doesn't take into account the housekeeper who kept my room amazingly clean, or any of the behind the scenes people whom I know I kept busy. It will be interesting to see what the next bill shows.

We are starting to get the hang of eating at home all the time. We weren't huge restaurant people, but I know we had dinner out at least once a week. We were not particularly great at using up leftovers in a meaningful way, feeding more to chickens than I liked. It is the planning ahead part that trips me up. Did I soak the beans over night? Did I remember to thaw the meat? Do we actually have "X" the crucial part of this particular meal? Did I put it in the crock pot this morning rather than remembering at 4 pm and having to create something else? I also realized that my regular repertoire is a bit thin. I can make a lot of things, and I have, but I have about a half dozen favorites that I tend to fall back on. That isn't going to cut it seven days a week.

Of all the annoying parts of my new body, I think the drooling is officially the worst. Yes, I get frustrated trying to communicate at times. Yes, I miss chewing and swallowing. However, the utter humiliation of opening your mouth to speak and having drool drizzle all over you is hard to beat. I am actually lucky because I have "dry" mouth because of my past radiation. Unfortunately, a lot of water, etc. is still making its way back up my esophagus. Because I currently do not swallow, I also have the attractive yellow slime that accumulates at times. That is what sends me to turn on the suction device at night because I can't breathe. That is even more exciting when my neck muscles decide they don't want to work, so I can't breathe or move my head. Nice. During the day I can usually extricate it without too much work, but spitting without a tongue is a challenge. Gross, gross, gross.

Here it is, after 9 pm again. I haven't practiced swallowing. I haven't walked on the treadmill. There are dirty dishes in the sink and Karissa didn't practice piano tonight. On the upside, her room is (FINALLY) clean, we've made some inroads in the purging, and my neck hurts somewhat less than it has most of the day. 

Tomorrow is another day to get up and try it again.