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I was well and truly ready to wreak mayhem on the scooter company yesterday and still haven't given up on the idea. I was supposed to go to the clinic to get the patch on the pressure changed....but..... New Harley Too had other plans for the day. The rain finally arrived and NHT, smarter than he looks, only wanted to stay under his new nylon sheet cover and the hell with the old gimp's sore.
I had much fun telling the company what I think of it in my deadly cold nasty gimp tone! Yefim arrived this morning and actually found the problem. I sent him back with two very clear, consise nasty letters, one in English and one in Hebrew. Then, I got dressed and went to get the patch changed, and came straight home afterwards. On the way there it was sprinkling rain and almost just cold enough to snow. There is a covering of snow on the Naftali mountains just to the west of town. It sure is pretty.These pictures were taken just before I got home. The snow covering is so sparse that it will probably be gone by morning unless we get lucky and get more, which is entirerly likely if the local radar is accurate. There's still a lot coming our way.
And here I thought I was winning the battle of the pressure sore! It was much better yesterday, then, I had to go and do something stupid.
I decided that I needed the hole peppered air mattress back on the bed and that I would put it back on all by myself. To that end I opened up the wheely and put it in position so that I could take all the stuff that was on the floor to the right of the bed and put it someplace else, and get to the motor and that side of the of the sheets. That only took an hour and 4 crashes into the chair to rest. Then, the mountain of quits and blankets got dumped on the floor, had another short rest, got the mattress off the closet top, unfolded it, actually managed to put it on the bed with the air tubes on the right side, another sit down, and I got it all tucked in, then after a yet another rest, sorted all the electric cords and got the motor up to put in the air tubes. This was accompanied to the tune of a temper tantrum as some of the cords to other things were twisted around each other. After it was all connected, it was time to get the sheets tucked back in. That required access to both sides of the bed and all the stuff from the right side of the bed was in the way. The solution to that was to separate the stuff that needed washing from what didn't, from the wheely, of course. Right, sheets in place, rest, pillows in place, gimp in chair, on to the blankets and quilts, collapse in chair. By then it was time to settle in for the last event of Europeans, the Gala Exhibition, and I was well past the need for a nice long rest. I settled the pressure sore leg on it's pile of pillows and got lost on the ice in Zagreb. Only when it was over did I realize that the sore was hurting really badly. Upon investigation I found that there was a pillow there where it shouldn't have been and the sore had been on that pillow. I just sat with that leg hanging off the end of the bed unti it settled down to a dull roar, rearranged the pillows and had a short nap.
The weather people have been telling us that big storm is on the way. It was supposed to rain on Saturday, but didn't, and again yesterday, but there was no rain here until very late at night. Rather than rain, as they predicted, it's sort of almost drizzling now. They are talking snow for tomorow. I can only hope that they get it right for once.
One of our local newspaper's web site actually posted You Tube videos of our Ice Dance team's performances, the compulsory dance, the original and the free. Um, yeah, I did kind of mention something about my pet peeve to the editor. Here's the result. Just ignore the Russian talk over.
http://www.readme.co.il/articles/sport-425.html
They came in 8th which is pretty damn good. They are on their way up. I wish they'd included Tamar Katz, but that's just greed on my part. Ice dance is my sport, after all, so I am well satisfied.
Things are going pretty much my way at Zabreb. Brian Joubert didn't get gold in the Men's. I don't know him personally, but, I'm for sure not a fan.I think my problem with him is that he looks too much like Tom Cruise, and him I do not like. I was thrilled that Thomas Verner won the gold. Right now figure skating is at a stage where the youngsters are on their way up and the electrifying excitement of the performance of a Yagudin or Plushenko is mising. That feeling will be back in a few years. This group of youngsters just has to grow into themselves.
The Ladies events start tonight, and I'll miss my favorites, Slutzkaya and Sokolova among others. The latter might still be competing, but I'm not sure. Slutzkaya is a special favorite of mine. The Original Dance is on tonight and I can't hardly wait.
I love this period in the skating world when the youngsters are making their mark and starting move up in the ranks. To me it's much more exciting than watching the 'elderly' skaters battle it out amongst themselves yet again. Just thinking of what they've done to get there fills me with awe. They work so hard for so long. The very best of them also have such an obvious love of the sport. You can spot those skaters the very first second they step on the ice. It's an attitude you can't miss, especially if you had it yourself.Sergei Sakhanovski has it in bucket loads. I will never ever forget the first time I saw him on the ice in Metula. That love of skating filled him and the whole rink as well. It truely is palpable, and you either have it, or you don't. Oh, how I miss being able to skate. Of course I miss being to walk, and dozens of other normal everyday things, but it's the not being able to skate that really hurts. I am extremely thankful that at least I can watch the major competitions on TV and still feel every single move made on the ice. It's a bit tiring to feel it so intensely but I wouldn't give up a minute of it for anything other than to go out on the ice in my own skates.
These late nights are making mornings more difficult than usual. It's really hard to get in gear after only 4 hours of sleep. Now, if I could just let the TIVO record it and watch it the next day it might be easier, but, I can't not watch it live while backing it up on the TIVO.
Tonight I have Original Dance and our couple are most likely going to end up in the top 10, if not the top 5. And the Ladies short program is on tonight as well. The Ladies finish tomorrow and then I'll have 2 months to rest up for Worlds in Sweden. I can hardly wait.
It's all fine and well that Blogger has added Hebrew to it's list of supported languages. What I want to know is why the sign in page came up in Hebrew? Granted, I could write this blog in Hebrew almost as easily as in English. However, I write it in English, and did not appreciate having that page come up in Hebrew. I absolutely do not like the fact that it was assumed that because I blog from Israel, I would like to sign in in Hebrew. I do not. I signed up in English, blog in English and want to continue signing in in English. Had I wanted to blog at Blogger in Hebrew, I would have opened a new blog in that language. I guess that in the grand scheme of things it's no big deal, just a minor annoyance that makes no difference at the end of the day.
Not much has been going on here this weekpretty much because I've spent most of it in Zagreb at the European Figure Skating Championships courtesy of Eurosport. I revel in every single minute of the competition.
The only thing about it that bothers me is that our sports news completely ignores our skaters. Our brother and sister ice dance couple are doing quite well and have a shot at being in the top five, which is damn good. We also have a couple in the pairs competition who could well end up in the top twenty. Don't people in this country realize what an amazing accomplishment that is? What a foolish question. Of course they don't. If it's not soccer or basketball only medals count, and even then, just the Golds. I do recognize and applaud their accomplishments wish they got a bit more encouragement from the sports establishment.
And on that note, it's off to Zagreb I go.
I'm almost recovered from yesterday's trip to Haifa for the doc to check on the slit in my neck. Beeing fully aware that I was going to a big city teaching hospital with no patient parking, we left at 0530 and got there just in time to find a parking space, and somehow found the outpatient clinic. It's almost in a completely different neighborhood to the hospital itself and has a ramp that goes to a door that doesn't open. Why was I not surprized? There is an elevator that goes to floor the docs are on and I was in and out fairly quickly. The slit is healing nicely and I have to go back there in a month to get another doppler ultrasound on that artery. Next order of business after finding out that place that does the dopplers will only be able to make an appointment for next month next month, we headed for the hospital medical school that Dem Der needed to go to in order to see a doc. As it was a bit chilly, I elected to wait for him in the car. It only took him an hour and a half in there, but he did call to ask if I wanted a sandwich. I said no initially but called him back to ask what kind they had about an hour later. I was ready for a hard boiled egg sandwich with veggies. Dem Der being Dem Der called back to ask what else I wanted on it. I told him and then he called again. Before he had a chance to say even one word, I informed that a sandwich is not a life or death decision and to just freaking get one. In the end, he did, and we headed home. While back at the clinic he asked if we could go to Safad on the way home. That was greeted with a resoinding "No" He did try to wheedle me into doing it, but I was adamant. I got up in time to leave at 0530 and he wanted to go to Safad. I don't think so. As it was, I pretty much fell into bed when we got home and slept on and off most of the afternoon and night, except for a few quick trips to the computer.
This morning I was still sleepy, but after returning to bed at 0600 from the computer slept in until 0830, got up, answered e mails and named the 18 new pictures my son sent. Then I went to the clinic to have the stuff on my pressure sore changed. It looks a lot better now, which means that Mrs. Dr. Gimp was right about the treatment. Then, I came home and slept even more.
I did have a wonderful thought today. It dawned on me that I just might live long to see the day when my son's daughter asks her cousins why they don't know their other grandmother (me). I do wonder what she'll tell them. They'll know from Adee Polly that I'm not dead. Should be interesting. That thought alone was more than enough to keep me smiling all day long. I'd almost feel sorry for her if she hadn't brought it on herself.
It seems that we might get some rain tomorrow, and over the weekend. I'm good with that. I'll be able to get stuff done here if it does rain.
It's time for another argument with Town Hall, then, bed and sleep. It's Monday, so I'll be able to sleep with Bill O'Reilly!
There have been way too many times since Dem Der moved in that I have wished that murder was legal. These are but a few of the capital offenses he has commited. He has never once put the bog seat down. Not a once. He leaves shampoo blobs on the shower floor and has a shaving foam covered can of shaving foam enshrined in a place of honor among my purple shamoos, soaps and stuff. He has gone through an amount of bog roll that I have trouble using up in 6 months in less than one month. And that's just the bathroom!
As far as the kitchen goes, he thinks that paper towels were made for drying dishes, pots and pans, and if it runs out that bog roll is a worthy substitute. A 6 pack of paper towels lasts at least 6 months when it's just me. He leaves empty packaging and wrappers in the cupboard and there's a crumpled up piece of paper towel on a shelf in the fridge. There's a little waste thing in the sink with a bag in it for the gunk that's left in the sink after doing dishes and he puts used paper towels/bog roll in it instead of the bin under the counter. When he can be bothered to use the bin, he can't be bothered to push the stuff down far enough so the flip top on the bin cover will close properly. It's also perfectly ok not to close cabinet doors so that not quite awake gimps can walk into them.
The dining table is adorned with his most recent purchaces, which does nothing by way of helping me get over my habit of dumpling things there. I no sooner get it all cleaned off than he's filled it up again and added duboius pieces of paper towel/bog roll.
He's invented a new security system to keep intruders out of his room. Rather than use the external latch and lock that *I* put on the door, he uses a system of fallen or dropped broom and dust pan with crossed handles. How he gets in and out without tripping over them, must be part of the genius of his invention.
There are no words to adequately describe the room he lives in. I'd take a picture, but I fear for the camera lense!
I don't suppose I could claim murder in self defence?
On the other hand, the poor guy does try. Any time he leaves his toxic waste dump for other regions of Gimp House, he does ask if he can me anything. I'm spending rather more time than usual in bed as that little slit neck thing has left me feeling more like Wimp Gimp than Wonder Gimp. Who would have thought it would take so long to start feeling like my own unusual self again? All they did was slit my neck, do some fairly simple plumbing, staple me back together and send me home. So why am I so tired all the time? It's not the pressure sore because that predates the operation by a good 3 weeks.
Israel is going though a miserable cold wave with night time temps under zero for most of the country. That's 32 for you Farenheit users. No rain, so no cloud cover to keep the air warmer at night.
I've been taking it pretty easy since I got home from hospital. Just trying to catch up on lost rest due to that miserable pressure sore that just won't go away. I did get my staples out yesterday and it was quite interesting to a gal used to old fashioned stitches. Of course I had to get an order signed by the clinic doc and the only one there was the idiot one who had to argue that they should be in for at least another week. I offered to call the surgeon so he could argue it out with him, at which point he gave in, not being willing to display his stupidity to a real doctor who stayed awake during medical school. This whole staple thing is quite ok even if I can't quite get the image of the surgeon using a staple gun to put them in. I don't know how they do it as I was asleep at the time.This time, I'm going to sort him for once and all. The hospital sent a list of blood tests to have done before the operation and he didn't list them all on the order. Big big mistake on his part. I can add that to the list of other things he's gotten wrong and with any luck they'll make him go away. I really do not like the guy.
On the up side, I got lots of pictures of my grand baby from my son. She has a new first tooth, and is so adorable. Just look for yourself. Aron called yesterday and said that baby and her momma will probably come over in the late Spring sometime. I'd be a lot happier if he were coming too, but will be more than happy if I finally get to meet my granddaughter.
It's now time to get dressed and go out to start the proceedure to get a new anti pressure sore air mattress from the Health Ministry. I checked on how to do it yesterday, so, I'd best get started on it. If I'm not too tired when I get back I might just come back here and have a nice long rant about Dem Der, or, just crash into bed.
Please take note that the parking issue should be explored before heading off to a big city hospital for any reason.
Sunday evening 2230; bag out, jammies, and robe in bag, meds sorted and in smaller bag with toothbrush and paste in smaller bag; knee pillow in big bag with two books. Bag of holding; wallet in, tests and paperwork for rotorooter in, cell phones in, other neccessary junk in.
Monday morning 0545; After Dem Der got me awake at 0445, and after coffee and a quick run through e mails, we were in the car and headed out of town. We ran into a huge traffic jam in Acre, and got to the area where Dem Der wanted to be left off for a test he had in a different hospital (more of that later). As the traffic was so bad, I decided to let him off closer to Rambam and take advantage of the roundabout to get headed in the right direction for my hospital. I got there at 0830, (half an hour after I was supposed be inside already) but there was absolutely no place to park in a 6 block radius. I called the hospital and told them about my parking issues, and continued circling the hospital like a vulture looking for a place close enough for me to get there by wheely. At 0915 a wheely spot opened up and I grabbed it, got the wheely parts out, put it together, hung the overnight bag on the wheely's handles and headed downhill towards the hospital, backwards. A very nice lady asked if she could help me, so I told her where I was heading and she very kindly rolled me right to where I needed to go. I was only an hour and a half late, but they were very nice about it as the parking issues aren't new to them.
The next hurdle was checking in. I handed all the papers to the clerk for her to go over and she offered to go downstairs to the main admitting office and do it for me. You'd figure the ward clerk would know which form she needed to take, but, no, she came back and told me to go down and handed me the wrong paper. Down I went and was told it wasn't the right paper. Good grief. I'd called to find out if my clinic had gotten the correct one and they said "yes", so what's going on? I mentioned that to admitting clerk and told her the number on the correct paper, so she called the ward clerk who eventually showed up with right one. Being glad that it was now sorted I didn't bother looking at the stickers to make sure they got my name right. Back upstairs I found out that they got it wrong, so there was more waiting around until the correct stickers were sent up.
It's now after 1000, but I'm admitted. The anaesthesiologist found me and informed me that I didn't bring all of the correct blood tests he's asked for, so had to stick me again after he put the IV thingy in, and started an antibiotic drip. At that point, I just laid back and read while waiting to be hauled off to the operating room. The 'bed driver' arrived and put the IV bags on the bed, and started pushing me towards the OR, but the nurse saw that my blood was backing up into the tubing and had a go at him about not putting the bags on a pole. My comment was "Great, now my own blood is trying to get away from me" That broke the tension between her and the bed driver who had been asked by me to show his bed drivers license and insurance certificate. With bags firmly on the pole, it was off to the OR where I was parked for a last minute check or two. Then, just as I was about to get up and go home, they rolled me in, and there were the rotorooter doc and the anaesthesiologist who was ready with a needle. He shoved it into the IV tube after they put a huge strap around me explaining that might have to tilt the table and don't want me to fall off. Never mind what I said to that. We were all still giggling when he put the shot in. The next thing I remember was being very surprised that I woke up. I do have a vague memory of them moving me back to my bed, and taking me to recovery where I stayed for what seemed like forever but was only two hours. The recovery nurse kept telling me to breath more deeply and the monitor over my head that I couldn't see kept making strange beepings. Whoever put the tube in my throat was brutal: it's still a little sore.
I must have slept fairly well because the morning temp, BP and whatever else they torture you with at 0630 only woke me up enough to ask to go pee. The vascular doc does his rounds very early and he told me with great pride that the operation went very well and he wants me to get on with my usual daily schedule, and that I could go home in the morning. Cool, except that meant no scarper! I plonked myself in the wheely and headed off for a cup of proper coffee from the coffee shop and out to the ambulance entrance for the coffee and a couple of cigarettes. After that, I went exploring and rolled around most of the hospital before heading back to my room for lunch. I was still on my preop fast because I skipped breakfast. I can't remember what lunch was but I scarfed it right down. There was another American in my room and she informed me that the hospital had won a prize for having the best hospital food in the country. She was on her way home which left me with one Morrocan and a Russian, neither of whom spoke a word of Hebrew. They both made lots of noise, so I lost myself in a book in between cat naps. After supper, I headed back to the ambulance entrance and smoked until it was time to go back up and try to watch the news in the TV area. Another decent night of sleep, and it was time to go home. After they took the drain out, and put on a new improved smaller dressing, I skipped breakfast again, got coffee downstairs, and sat with the coffee and a couple of cigarettes until I thought maybe I could make it up the hill back to the car. I was almost all the way up when yet another nice lady helped me up the last bit. Got the wheely in the car with the help of a guy who had just parked near me, and off I went to find a petrol station where I put my last 70 shekels in (looking for parking used up a whole lot of fuel) and I got home in fairly good time. Dem Der came out with the other wheely to roll me in and I stopped by the computer to check mail and generally let myself be seen.
I had a fine sleep for once and woke up at around 0800, had coffee, did email and headed out on Harley to try and collect some of the money owed me. My first stop was at the clinic to get the pressure sore looked at and to make sure they'd take out the staples which would save me another trip back to Haifa on Sunday. When I realized Lavana was a nonstarter, and that she wouldn't be able to pay any of what she owes me, I decided to go down to my pals Moshe and Ronit's store in the hopes they'd loan 100 shekels until Monday, when one of the debts will be paid. I got into their store and stopped to reverse Harley but he wouldn't budge so I called Yefim who came right away and took a ride on him, brought him back and pronounced him well. I left Ronit and Moshe after thanking them for the shelter and dosh and went to the other store I needed where Harley did the same trick. Again I called Yefim who came running and this time we found the problem. It has to do with the lever that gives extra control of the magneto and sometimes jumps to wrong place. So, back to town to get cigarettes, and home again, to write this.
I'm so glad it's over and done, and more that a little thankful that it was a success.
Dem Der drove me well and truly wild the whole way to Haifa about not wanting to be late for his test as if my operation was secondary to his test. Um, the only reason he got a ride one way was because I had the rotorooter for crying out loud, and I had to give him 50 shekels of the 100 I had so he'd be able to get back. While I was waiting to be taken to the OR he kept calling and bugging me with stupid stuff, like that Peg peed in the house twice ("So clean it up") and other such nonsense. I finally told him to stop calling. I wanted a little peace and quiet before having my neck cut open, and all this crap was of no interest at the moment and there was not a thing I could I do about any of it from a hospital bed. Duhn. One good thing came of it, though, I'm not giving him so much as another 10 agorot. And yes, he asked for 3 shekels this morning and I said no. That's it. He can stay here until his new flat is sorted, but that's it.
I'm home from the operation and very tired. This is just a quick note to let my 3 faithful readers know that all went well and that I'll write a proper post tomorrow. I really do need some rest in my very own comfy bed.
See you all tomorrow with tales from the operating room!
I just love this picture! Youngest space cadet ever? My favorite morning are the ones when I get new pictures of her. There is always a 'best' among the several my son sends. Today he sent 17 and each one is better than the next, but this one, oh, this one. It more than made up for the insanity that was this morning. Yesterday the stupid English paper was delivered without it's weatherproof plastic wrapper. For a minute there I thought they all of a sudden gone tree hugger on me. I fully expected to get the wrapper only today, but there was nothing at all, so back to the telephone marathon with them. They are without a doubt the least efficient outfit in this country. They even have the government beat hands down. Even the cable phone folks got the problem I had this morning sorted in no time at all. Somehow the cable for the phone got into the wrong place, and had to be put back in the correct one. I don't know how it got moved because I don't fool around with them and I know that my geek didn't have to reconnect them because they fell of the computer in place. Oh, well, at least that's sorted.
I have all the paperwork need for the operation on Sunday, so, I guess I'm ready for that. I'm going to call the gal at the department in that hospital later to find out if, I do indeed have all the right stuff. The last few times I've had anything done, there was a paperwork snafu and I'm so not in the mood for yet another one. I just want to go in, have it done, and come home.
Now, if the pressure sore would just go away. I am not looking forward to being stuck in a hospital bed for two or so days with it. My doc says it's getting better and should be gone by Sunday, but I have my doubts.
