Vote For Me!

If the McCain/Palin ticket actually makes it to the White House next month, I've decided to run for Governor of Alaska.


Seriously, think about it - could there be a better job? I mean, the population of the whole state is less than that of Manhattan, for cripes sake. You get paid to live in your own house, and you can take your kids on "working-vacations" for free. If your ex-brother-in-law pisses you off, you get his butt canned, and if his boss won't fire him, you just fire his boss! Sounds like quite the deal if you ask me.


I'm sorry, but, what the hell are these people thinking? Adding insult to injury, Sarah and her family go shopping on the campaign trail, to the tune of $150,000. If she needed that much of a make-over, why did they pick her in the first place? And if she's supposed to represent the two Joes (Plumber and Six-Pack), what does she need $150,000 in clothes for? Yes, I know, they're going to be donated to charity when it's all over. You have to wonder, though, would Sarah have coughed up the duds after the fact if no one found out about them? Yeah, you betcha (wink, wink).

Stirring It Up

The following (in red) is the meaty part of an e-mail I wrote recently, regarding a nurse who missed a dose on one of Dennis's meds and lied about it (!!!). This was written at the request of the Nurse Manager, who brought the issue to our attention, and has since been passed on to the Manager's boss and the nurse in question, too. I'm hoping she loses her job, if not her license. There's no telling how many other patients she's put at risk with her careless approach to her job.

Ms. X ,
Whatever your intentions were in missing and falsely recording my husband's Factor VIII dose on Sept. 28th, I would like you to understand the ramifications of your error.
My husband has been hospitalized for more than half of 2008. On several occasions, I was told that he would not survive. He was transferred out and back in to various ICU units no less than three times due to internal bleeding. Three times. Each time, there was no guarantee the bleeding would stop, he was too weak to withstand surgery, and I sat at his bedside and waited for him to either recover on his own or die. I watched the nurses administer dose after dose of Factor VIII, knowing that without it, there would be no chance of his survival. I'm guessing here, but I'm pretty sure you can't imagine what that feels like, no matter how many times you've seen it in your years of nursing.
Factor VIII is liquid gold. The gallons given to my husband over the past few years have depleted our medical insurance to the point that he is now dependent on public aid for his coverage. I know that the pharmacy doesn't mix it until it's needed, and I know they don't just send it up with the other meds and assume that it will be handled properly. I also know that there is no such thing as a leftover dose in a refrigerator. Further, your statement that you "had a ten minute conversation" with my husband is laughable. My husband has been on the edge of encephalopathy for the past five days and hasn't had a ten minute conversation with anyone, including me. You didn't give it to him, you faked the records, and you lied about it - it's that simple.
When we leave our loved ones after eight or nine hours at their bedsides, we expect them to be in good hands. We believe it when we're told that they'll be watched over and taken care of, that they'll get their prescribed medications when they're supposed to, and that they'll still be there when we come back the next day. We also expect the doctors and other nurses to be able to look at a medical record and know that it contains true, factual data - not just what should be there.
Through your negligence, you've given the wife of a very sick man something more to worry about.

I'm sharing this here for a couple of reasons: First, it lets all of you in on what we've been going through these past few weeks and explains pretty well why I haven't been here! Second, this illustrates the desperate need for quality nurses in our healthcare system. Don't get me wrong, we have had some amazing, wonderful, fantastic nurses over the years! There are those, though, who don't belong there and are clearly just collecting a big, fat, union-protected check. Shame on them, and shame on our system that allows half-ass-ed-ness (is that a word?) in one of the most important professions on the planet. Don't get me started again....

Meanwhile, Dennis is back home again. We have a TON of appointments. In addition to dialysis (which is now starting at the hideous hour of 7:00 a.m.), he has to have anitbiotic infusions at UCD three days a week, along with appointments with three different services within the next two weeks. Again, we're on hold with the transplant indefinitely, but the doctors assure me that the labs are stable and nothing is urgent right now. Phew.

On a totally, completely unrelated subject....is everyone out there registered to vote?

A quick one...

As Thumper's mother always said, "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothin' at all". Heeding Mrs. Rabbit's words, I've taken a few weeks off.

Dennis is back in the hospital for another one of those short-stay adventures that has morphed into something more lengthy. I'll spare you the icky details, except to say that he has an infection the size of a football in his abdomen that has pushed his left kidney back about four inches (it's true, I saw the CT) and could potentially cause way more damage than I'd like to think about if it were to get into his bloodstream. It's self-contained, at the moment, and will hopefully stay that way until the antibiotics (three 0f them) take hold or the surgeons decide to "go in and get it".

If this were me, or any average, healthy person, going in and getting it wouldn't be a huge deal, other than the fact that it's surgery. With Dennis, though, every decision made be a doctor has to be carefully considered, weighed for the possible good & bad scenarios, etc. He's been living on Davis 12 (one of our regular haunts) since Thursday, waiting for the team to make their determination, which will hopefully happen today.

Meanwhile, the juggling act continues. I am a hospital-dweller by day, mom/maid/house painter by night. Finally finished the bathroom that I started the last time Dennis was in the hospital. And if anybody needs about 1/3 of a gallon of Lemon Bliss, let me know.

If you happen to be attending the Elk Grove Great Pumpkin Festival on October 4 & 5, be sure to look for the really big kid in the Cosumnes Fire Dept. uniform. Erick will be "on duty", passing out flyers and generally schmoozing with the locals as a part of his ROP Fire Tech training class.

More news as I can think of it, or make it up, whichever is more interesting. Keep those cards & e-mails coming in!

More Animals than the Folsom Zoo!

As my favorite truth-teller, Gloria, was quick to point out, I somehow managed to exclude my old pal, Dudley, from the photo slideshow I added the other day. My bad.

In honor of Dudley, and all the other pets that came before and after, here's a little tribute:

The dog that started it all, as far as I knew, was Little Bit. We had a black lab/mix named Bob before her, but what was I, three? I have no recollection of that dog, other than photos, and only remember our cat, Goya, because of how upset my mom was when she had to be put down - feline leukemia. Oh, and there was Charlie, another cat. I'm told he used to get into my crib, bite the nipples off the bottles and steal my milk. Sounds terribly traumatic, doesn't it? To this day, there is controversy surrounding Charlie's "disappearance". Grandma & Grandpa come to visit from Sacramento, Grandpa HATES cats, Charlie never comes home again. Hmmmmm.

Anyway, Dad & Little Bit were inseperable until she died at 15 years old. The only one more upset about her passing than my dad was our cat, Cleo, who had considered Little Bit as her mother since Ralph gave her to me (for my 10th birthday). I must've been too young for a cat, because Cleo always preferred my mom over me and more or less just tolerated my attempts to dress her up, carry her in various purses, etc. Unlike Trixie & Sandy, Cleo never ventured out of the house unless forced to. Well, she did like the tree in the backyard in Pacifica, but that was about it. When we moved to Brisbane in 1980, she hid for almost a week. Ironically, I inherited a male version of Cleo in 1989. More about him later.

Dudley arrived quite accidentally after Little Bit and before Cleo died. Gloria's dog (I'm trying to remember the name - Cinder! It was Cinder!!!) and a handsome beagle gentleman got together and created Dudley, among others. Dudley went to live somewhere in the East Bay, until Gloria's family found out there was a chance he was being abused. He was 6 months old when I got him and definitely traumatized by any man in dark clothing (who could do a thing like that???). Sadly, the abuse apparently caused brain injury, because Dudley developed epilepsy before his 7th birthday and had to be put to sleep. That one hurt, bad. This was my first dog (Little Bit was Dad's, all the way) and we were buddies...that's why I made my dad, the family pet killer, handle the drive to the vet's office.

At least I still had "Piggy". I'd never had anything rodent-esque before my Peruvian Long-Hair came along. Formerly the pet of a musician friend, Piggy came to live with me when said musician was spending too much time on the road. And what a cool little beast she turned out to be. Up on the third floor of our house in Brisbane, Piggy somehow knew when it was me walking through the front door. She called me - a high pitched, "whoop-whoop" sound that pierced your ears if you got too close. Of all the hamsters/guinea pigs/mice we've had since, none was as easy going and laid back as Miss Piggy. Must've been that bohemian, musician lifestyle, I guess. Oddly enough, I can't remember the circumstances surrounding her death. Obviously, she's not around anymore but, what the heck happened to her?

Flash forward to the 1990's and the aforementioned Cleo-clone, Skeeter. Once again, I inherited a pet that would stay with me for almost 14 years. Skeeter was left by a roommate when he was just a baby (Skeeter, not the roommate) and I just couldn't give him up. As it turned out, Skeeter ended up being a pretty cool cat. In fact, I thought he was the only cat on the planet who played fetch, until Trixie came along and taught me that cats will even play soccer if they're in the mood. Mental note: no pictures of Skeeter on the computer. Scan some.

Skeeter was a patient cat, if nothing else. Not only did he put up with the arrival of Bob, my beloved Chow-Chow, but also a child (Erick), and Torii, the gigantic, comatose Akita. Torii belonged to my brother, Ralph, until he passed away in 1990. My parents adopted her and brought her (in a moving van, in the front seat) when they moved to our house in Sacramento. 900 square feet, four adults, one toddler, a big-ass dog and a cranky cat - I'm sure you're realizing that something had to go. With all that energy (yeah, right), Torii was well suited for her new life in the wilds of Placerville with my cousins, Joanne and John Wallerius. Bob, by the way, departed permanently when he took a chunk out of the arm of a family friend. Don't ever let anyone tell you that Chows aren't tempermental.

Skeeter ruled the roost once again until Chloe was adopted in 2000. A shelter puppy, she was just too cute to pass up (see slideshow image of brownish, wide-eyed pup). Haley, another accidental arrival, came in 2002. Here's how that one went down. Soccer coach Jack says he's got this great dog that is too big for his kids, would I like to have her. I say "Maybe, let me think about it". Jack arrives at the house two hours later, Haley's leash in one hand, her toys in the other. Guess I had thought about it long enough, huh? For a while there, it was a lot like having four legged versions of my sons: Chloe, the larger, more mellow sweetheart, vs. Haley - high strung, high energy, all legs and very little self-control. Sigh. She meant well...

Skeeter's realm was disturbed again with the arrival of Trixie, an abandoned baby I bottle-fed for several weeks, and Sandy, another abandoned kitten not quite as dependant as Trixie. Skeeter got sick not long after the kittens came to live with us. To my melodramatic mind, it almost seemed as if he was ready to relinquish cat-control to the next generation. Either way, it became pretty obvious that he wasn't going to get any better...rest in peace, Skeets.

Present day life includes, of course, Trixie and Sandy, Chloe, and Maggie, my new best friend. Haley? Well, she moved on shortly after we moved to our new house in 2005. Naturally, I enlisted Soccer Coach Jack to help me find a suitable placement. He set things up, we met the adoptees and considered them suitable, the exchange was made. I heard a couple of months later that Haley had tried to escape on several occasions. Finally, she was taken to "live on a farm in Wilton". That's grown-up talk for something unspeakable, I'm sure...

Virtues of the Internet, Part Deux...and other stuff

For some reason, I got the hair-brained idea of cleaning out my e-mail in-box the other day. I have a really bad habit of hanging on to messages after I've replied to them or saved their attachments...kind of a genetic disfunction I think I acquired from my mother, I guess.

Anyway, I realized that almost ALL of the people that I correspond with regularly have known me for at least thirty years. Yes, I said 'thirty', as in a whopping-long-time. Most of these people (and you know who you are!) would be lost to oblivion without 'the web' - who writes letters anymore, really? When was the last time you got a five-pager from your best friend from high school, complete with photographs? Yeah, that's what I thought...you can't remember, either. Get with the program, Mr. McCain!

I've added some goodies to the page, as you may have noticed. I urge you to check out the Cakewrecks blog when you have a chance, preferrably when you aren't at work so you don't get caught laughing out loud. Pretty funny stuff, there. You'll have to let me know about the photo slide show: annoying, or enjoyable? If I can keep up with it, I hope to change the photos periodically so you're not just looking at the same ol' faces everytime you visit. Speak up, and if you have any photos you'd like to share, pass 'em on!

Are You Smarter Than A High School Freshman?

Congratulate us...we survived the first day! 5:45 a.m. came awfully early for a late-nighter like me. Kevin was naturally too nervous to sleep, Erick mumbled something like "this sucks" when I woke him, and I'm pretty sure I made my coffee with my eyes closed.


Erick was beside himself yesterday with news of a Fire Fighter program being offered by the Community College Dist. to Seniors from area schools. Not only will he receive college credits, he'll also have a head start on his goal of becoming a Fire Fighter. When I heard the words, "Mom, it'll look awesome on my transcripts", I got all choked up. It took a long time, but my little boy is finally figuring things out, and not a moment too soon!


It wasn't long after they got home that I realized my concerns about them attending the same school (this is the first time, ever) weren't going to be a problem. Erick asked Kevin if he thought the girls in high school are different from the ones in middle school. Kevin responded without a word, just very, very large eyes and a smile. They compared notes on the food, discussed which teachers were easy/hard/weird, and Erick gave Kevin advice on how to survive Spanish I. Thank heavens he already took it, 'cuz I don't have a clue! Oh, and don't be surprised if you get an occasional e-mail from me asking for help with Erick's Business Finance class. Like I would even begin to think I could help him with that homework!


Since the boys aren't around to run errands with, I've taken on a new co-pilot. Mags has always enjoyed a ride in the car. Now, though, she seems to demand a daily outing. Seriously, this dog knows how to pout. She sulks when she's left at home with Chloe, and she has definitely shunned me in the past when I've been gone too long. You should hear her 'talk'. I swear, she said "Go out" the other day...

Back To School and Other Things

The day I've been waiting for is finally here...school officially starts on Monday, August 25th. Don't get me wrong, I do love having my sons lying around the house, eating whatever isn't moving, sprawling on the couches, but let's face it - it's time. Even with the $3.00 per day per kid for school lunches, I estimate that my grocery budget will immediately decrease by at least $150.00 per month!
Meanwhile, a couple of milestones. Kevin's seven year involvement with Families First, a non-profit agency serving kids with emotional, physical and mental disabilities, comes to a close at the end of this month. The kid is just too darned normal to remain in the program! With all the faults of an over-managed corporation, FF has still played a big part in helping Kevin become who he is today, and we appreciate their efforts, especially the above-and-beyond of some of their therapists (you know who you are...)!
Milestone #2 may be more of a "mile-pebble", but still has it's place in the category. Those of you who know Dennis know that he's played poker on Friday nights with the same group of guys forever. Twenty years, I think? While some wives would resent this "night out with the boys", I prefer to think of it as a nice tradition. I mean, really, does anybody do anything consistently for 20 years anymore??? Anyway, last night was his first night back since February and, though he only managed to stay a few hours, I couldn't help but feel that this otherwise insignificant event represented soooo much. This man nearly died a few months ago. No one expected him to wake up, let alone socialize with his friends at a weekly card game. I very nearly lost it when his buddy, Mike, came out to greet him at the car with a big, teary-eyed hug. I know, I'm weird, but I do believe in signs and I have learned from Dennis's illness that everything has meaning and importance, even the little things we don't always pay attention to. What happens if that small, unimportant little thing never happens again?
Think on that for a while!