A Day At The Club

Thursday is my day where my responsibilities as an officer (secretary) including opening up, filling in for any other members who didn't show up, and kind of overseeing everything. Usually that actually means sitting around chatting or working on the project du jour. Today was more than just a little different. I sent off an email to the other officers, some scattered as far as Yellowstone and Florida, just to keep them in touch. For info, a red card is a repair request listing what's wrong and warning not to use, Bell is another rec center whose members are invited to our club while their jewelry club is closed for the summer, Earl is the guy who runs the supply room, the only position that was filled today and he had to leave early. Last names are deleted for this posting.  It read as follows:

"Interesting" day today. Decided to do some lapidary. One saw wouldn't turn on, no red card. Didn't  inspect further. One next to it worked, but nobody has put gem lube in it for a bit. Glad instructions for mixing it were available, because I quickly found out why they hadn't and it's been a couple years since I'd done it. Situation fixed.

Grinder with 45 degree plate (first of those inside door) got plugged with water, but Carol (one of our Bell additions) used some pressure by repeatedly pushing with her finger to "plunger" it through. Bell actually has that tool. Might consider getting one,  or just letting us all know where an existing one already is.

After Earl left, everybody wanted to buy supplies. Got lots of practice hunting for stuff, ringing up sales without standing immediately in front of the cash drawer (the second, third, fourth times).

One of those center employees with the pretty shirts stopped by to get his wife a birthday present. $200.+ later he took home, all in sterling and turquoise, earrings, a ring, cuff, and necklace. He got to use the polishing cloth on them while I rang him up and found him a box. Of course I couldn't remember exactly where the cards go after the sale, but I called Vic and told him where I left them.

Susan B. brought in a whole bunch of jewelry to put in the silver vibrators before doing the cards to submit for the store. When she went to remove them, what she found was black sludge and silver looking 50 years old. From both vibrators!!! We spent about an hour rinsing them out, rinsing them out, rinsing them out, and once we finally thought the shot was ready to put back in the vibrators, rinsing it out more. With new chemicals she ran stuff again, and some of it improved. Not great, just improved. There is a nice piece of wrapped larimar with black spots on the back. She plans to return when she again has time to continue the process. There was one bell cap found with the shot, of some undetermined metal definitely not silver, but we have no clue what else could have been run through the vibrators with no followup cleaning, or by whom. One can only hope  their stuff turned out the same way.

At end of day, those three of us remaining worked together to complete the monitoring list. Nice cooperation.

Hope you are all enjoying YOUR Thursday!

Heather

S.S.D.D.

Well, not everything's the same, of course.

I'm recovering and becoming more active - until I'm not - until I am again. The house is not only getting cleaner with Rich's help, but things packed up way back in 2011 are getting unpacked, organized, put out or away properly, or facing the age old question, "What on earth was I thinking when I packed ____?" Fortunately, there is an abundance of thrift stores in the area, mostly raising funds for charities, which welcome donations. We can see properly out several windows now, can enjoy stained glass pictures hanging in front of them, and admire long-hidden art up on the walls. Part of seeing them is the replacement of long-dead ceiling-high light bulbs.

(No, we still can't find what passes for studs in these walls, but picture hangers work on glue and velcro now.)

And... we're packing stuff up for the return to Minnesota. Just don't hold your breath, folks. We'd all be moldy and cobwebby if we were to do that. Because, you see, there's still no good information on when Steve can get his back procedures, first the trial on the pain interrupter, and - hopefully - the installation of a permanent one much like they do a pacemaker. Not to mention requirements for follow-ups.

There is progress, or what a sleepy snail might consider as such. The required psych evaluation has been passed. Of course, it wasn't smooth. Not the test - that was fine. The scheduling was another matter. (Yep: S.S.D.D.) The first appointment was cancelled. The doc doing it moved out of the local office and it was rescheduled for later and relocated to Chandler, AZ. If you need a map to prove to yourself, rather than take my word for that being a long drive, particularly for somebody who reacts to every excruciating little bump, go for it. Don't forget to count the mileage for the return trip. For an area of the country with no frost heave, some of these freeways have a lot of bumps.

Today's trip was back to the local office. There were "preliminaries" needed before scheduling the test of the external interrupter. It seems like the preliminaries involved a blood pressure check, reading the labels on his pain meds and evaluating the number of pills remaining for a determination of his possible next prescription, and listening to me gripe about how long this was taking.

Yep, he let me accompany him into the exam room to play "bad cop." I did. They were polite. There was the reassurance that the procedure had been approved. There was also some blah blah blah about somebody named Steve who was looking for an opening in the schedule to fit us in, but no specifications, and we'd never heard anything from/about this person regarding any inkling of hope for anything happening besides an infinite set of planetary rotations around its axis.

In other words, S.S.D.D.

With another co-pay.

Post Paced

WHEEEEEE......!
Whee!
Deep breath.
Alrighty then, I'm back.

So, the drugs are wearing off, especially the part where the fentanyl quit and I'm beginning to find out what's actually ... uhhh... "uncomfortable" in doctor speak. But first another nap.
....

With some time to reflect, I realize that the anesthesiologist was right when he said I wouldn't be completely under,  just doped to the point of not giving a sh... uh, he was more polite than that, so, darn. I was remotely aware during the procedure of hearing background conversation, and of being somewhat reassured that the topic seemed to be the procedure and not, say, athletic scores. Plus, nobody panicked. I don't remember a word, of course.
.....

I'm home, the pacemaker's in, and recovery is about to rule my life for for the next few weeks. It's turning out to be different from the way it's described online. For example, when wearing this sling which cements my left arm tight to my torso, I quickly find out that my PJ pants hang up on my left hip when I most desperately need then to quickly slide down. Ahem. I mean, sure, there is a spare clean pair in a drawer, but how many could I go through in the three days before I can start removing the sling for brief periods?
.....

Turns out the three days with the sling bit just isn't happening. I was allowed to remove the big bandage after 24 hours. Yes, I actually counted them. Of course, the expected happened. My skin bubbled under the adhesive edge and decided to abandon me for the glue. Hello red marks and scabs. Yep, gross. The worst spot is where the sling was over it, and rubbing and pressure really aggravated my allergic reaction. So, no more sling wearing. I sleep with my elbows down and tucked in anyway, so no motion issues due to being unconscious. There is a drawer in the bedroom that's stuffed a little fuller now. I'm saving the sling for possible future use.
.....

Second day, I can drive again. Good thing because Steve had a doctor appointment. I'm already noticing I can breathe better, though I think that's an illusion and what's really happening is the blood is getting around to where it should much better. Sweet!
.....

Saturday and I am comfortable enough to drive to the bus depot next to Sky Harbor airport and pick up Rich. He's volunteered to come down for the duration of medical recovery for both of us until we can head north. The plan is still flying Steve up north and me driving. Only this time I will have a companion, "in case." That doesn't seem as urgent now as it did before the pacemaker, but he'll still be good company.

Our first stop before home was joining the group demonstration for peace. Being even more political than I am - saying a lot - he was happy to join us and plans to continue as long as we're here. He's also helping with things around the house. Some are the simple things which would have required me to raise my left arm over my shoulder. Others include tackling long-postponed chores which were neglected due to our medical issues.
.....

I'm out walking now, with Rich accompanying me. I started in Walmart, requiring a sit-down or two, but back to pushing a cart rather than riding a scooter cart. I overheard him telling Steve when I was supposedly out of earshot how proud of me he was over the changes in activity level. We try to get out twice a day, working up to 3 blocks each time. With the triple digit temperatures finally arriving, alternatives must be found. Up and down halls in medical buildings, the community center, shopping WalMart again, all work.
.....

The one-week shower: HEAVEN!
.....

The two week+ visit to the doctor brings the adjustment to the pacemaker. Imagine a round hand-held magnifying glass about 5" across, with no glass in the middle but with a cord sticking out the end of the handle connecting to a suitcase piece of electronic equipment over on the counter. The open part of the loop hangs over my shoulder and is placed around the pacemaker. The technician fiddles with his settings and I start to feel woozy off and on. After I double check that he's causing it, I tolerate the discomfort until he finishes. I'm fine!

The Doc takes off the steri-trips covering the incision and checks it out. I'm healed well except for one spot. This adhesive must be better than the big patch was, because my skin doesn't begin to bubble until later that night, meaning I still have it in place. Still itches, though. So does the pacemaker. That's supposed to be a good sign. He'll see me in another four weeks, forgetting that is when he's on vacation, so I get to wait another week. Not a real biggie, as I presume Steve will be dealing with his back even longer than that. Oh, but no swimming for another four weeks. Dang!
.....

Back in the pool again!!!!! No, it's not been the four weeks. Then again, no, I'm not dunking my upper chest in the water. Our community center has a walking pool, two interconnecting loops at two different depths. I can walk through the 3'6" part and keep the incision area dry, providing nobody is roughhousing and splashing. But hey, we're geezers here, plus a few guests. There occasionally is a wheelchair parked on pool edge, folks with different mobility issues, and no horseplay. A lot of folks just stand around in the deeper water and chat. I can even practice getting in and out using the steps instead of the ramp, so, including cooling off, the pool has triple benefits. Plus, Rich gets to swim as well. Even waiting till the sun is down, there's a couple hours available before it closes. We come home wonderfully cooled down and tired.
.....

Time for another nap. Then, let's see... organize my pictures. I can ditch a couple thousand and have room on the thumb drive to back up my library. I even bet the old computer where the wi-fi failed, the one I still keep because it connects to my old printer, still has my Alaska pics on it and another thumb drive can hold all of those without culling!