Saturday, April 27, 2019

Homes, Humor and Hibiscus Rescue


As I've mentioned in earlier posts (but never really explained), Opie and I are getting ready to move.

You might think that buying a new house, moving, and getting our current house ready to sell while in the midst of skin cancer treatment & recovery is a little bit completely insane.

You would, in fact, be right.  It's nutty cakes...but it was one of those deals we just couldn't pass up.

It was Opie's cousin's house that I've been obsessed with for years...In fact, after the first time we went over there for dinner, when we were driving home, I told Opie "If they ever sell that house, we're buying it."

He laughed, like I was kidding.

I wasn't kidding.

So when the cousin and his wife decided to downsize and offered us a great deal on it, we knew we couldn't let a little thing like horrible facial scarring stand in out way.  I mean, if you're going to hide yourself away like a hermit, you might as well do it in a house you love!

In any case, the beauty of buying a house from family is that, even though we don't officially close until the end of May, we've been able to slowly start moving our stuff to the new house.

The only problem with this is that Opie and I have VERY different strategies when it comes to familial relocation.  He us under the impression that it is best to go through our closets and storage areas, take over the things we aren't currently using, and get them put away in a organized fashion. I am of the firm opinion that I love my freaking kitchen with a love that is more than love and I've had all my cool Mickey Mouse gadgets in storage for years, and I should spend a few hours every day arranging them in an aesthetically pleasing fashion.

Poor, deluded Opie also doesn't understand that some of the things we need to take with us are the plants and flowers that I have spent 8 years cultivating....like the hibiscus.

Which was the subject of the following blog back in 2015:


Well, after the unfortunate “NeighborsGet A Monster-Sized Dog” issue, we're biting the bullet and having a new fence installed.

And if you think this process has occurred without drama and brouhaha then you've never read this blog before.

It all started with the hibiscus. This beautiful, big hibiscus that is growing through the old chain link fence and dwarfing the plants around it. It flowers for months and months every summer and is absolutely gorgeous.

And kind of huge.
The original Hibiscus

“We can't really build around that.” The fence guys said. "And if you leave it there, it could warp the new fence."

“We'll have to rip it out," Opie said.

And I stared at him in abject horror. "We are not MURDERING that hibiscus!"

"I don't think it's really murder when it's a plant," he said.

But I wasn’t about to listen to that kind of nonsense. So I flat out refused to participate in his horrifying bushicide plot and began looking up ways to transplant it to the front yard.

"This is going to be a disaster," Opie predicted.

"Not for YOU," I assured him. "I'll take care of everything."

Everything except pruning the bush down to 1/3 of its original size (per Internet instructions) and cleaning up the subsequent debris.  He did that…convinced, I suspect, that I wouldn’t completely clean up the hibiscus detritus (even though I love the word detritus) and instead scatter it around the yard in hopes the lawn guy would be able to mulch it with the mower.

After that, though, the bush’s fate was in my hands. And one morning last week, after Opie left for work, I went out to save the poor hibiscus. 

“Easy-peasy,” I told the dogs. “Just dig around the bush in a circle, loosen the roots, and bam! Hibiscus saved!”

2 hours later, it was pretty clear the root-loosening wasn’t really working for us.

“Never fear,” I told the dogs.  “We just need to add a little water to the soil, saturate the roots so they slide right out of the ground.”

Which led to 3 more hours of digging in soggy mud.

Though, to be fair, part of that time frame was based on the fact that the ridciulousPrincess Snowflake Sassypants kept scampering through the mud in a very un-Princess like fashion.

In any case, I worked on that hibiscus for a shocking amount of time and it showed no signs of loosening by the time I had to get ready for work.

Which is when I came up with my brilliant plan:

Completely flood the roots and hibiscus hole, let it all soak in while I worked my shift online, then come back out and pop it out like a cork from champagne.


And still I think this might have actually worked…except it started to rain.

And when I say “rain” I don’t mean a gentle shower with rainbows peeking through. I mean the kind of torrential downpour that makes you start looking for the proper materials to build an ark.

The hole flooded, the area around the hole flooded, the fence-line flooded…

“This doesn’t look good.” I told the dogs. And they concurred but had no helpful suggestions other than to hint that a few treats and belly-rubs would make everyone feel better.

Seriously, these dogs are very self-involved.

Anyway, I don’t have any pictures of that because I couldn’t take my awesome new camera out in the rain.

I had no trouble taking myself out in the rain, though, because after I finally finished my online shift, I ran out into the storm, and started digging and wading through calf-deep mud, pulling that hibiscus as hard as I could.

To no avail.

It was around this point that I lost whatever tiny grip I had on my sanity and began screaming at the hibiscus in frustration.

"I am the only thing standing between you and CERTAIN DEATH!" I shouted at it. "Don't you understand that? You need to move or DIE."

I'm a little disturbed to report that none of the neighbors came out to investigate the screaming and death threats. Which means they are either completely callous and uncaring OR they have become completely inured to this type of behavior after nearly 4 years of living next to me.

Honestly, I don't know which is worse.

Anyway, there I was in the backyard in a torrential downpour, cursing the hibiscus, threatening the hibiscus, and trying to shake the hibiscus free when Opie got home from work.

"What did you do?" He demanded, looking at the swampland that had once been our backyard.

"EITHER SAY SOMETHING HELPFUL OR GO INSIDE!!" I shrieked.

And he went inside.

Which makes him sound like the biggest jerk in the world until you realize that he was just going in to change out of of his work clothes. He was back in a few minutes, in old clothes and shoes, with a shovel of his own.

And a mere hour and a half later, we got the damn bush out of its earthen prison!

Which left an unfortunate puddle large enough to drown a dog.


“I’ll drag the hibiscus around front,” Opie said.  “And then you can dig a new hole and plant it in the morning.”

“I have to plant it tonight,” I said. “All the guides said you have to get it re-planted as soon as possible or it won’t survive.  And,” I finished before he could even ask “I couldn’t dig the hole before-hand because I didn’t know how big the rootball was going to be and what size hole I would need.”

Opie stared at me for a really long time (especially considering we were standing outside in the rain) then began dragging the bush and muttering under his breath…muttering, I’m pretty sure, sweet nothings about how I am the light of his life.

“Go on inside!” I shouted after him. “I’ll dig the new hole!  I’LL TAKE CARE OF EVERYTHING!”

But he wasn’t falling for THAT again. He dug the hole, we pushed the hibiscus in, and bam! Opie was saved from the karmic consequences of hibiscus murder.



The 2019 problem, though, is that I love that stupid hibiscus...after the transplant trauma of 2015, it actually now blooms in two different colors and I think it's gorgeous but after my own transplant trauma I'm pretty sure I'm nt going to be able to move it without Opie's help. And every time I mention it to Opie he says "You already made that joke." like I'm kidding. 

So, friends help a flower lover out -- how do I convince Opie that we need to to start planning Operation Hibiscus Rescue 2.0?




Sunday, April 7, 2019

Bad, Mad, and Sad - Next Step in Skin Cancer Recovery!





Here’s the thing about English teachers, even former English teachers, we all have our personal grammar pet peeves. And some of us have A LOT of grammar pet peeves. I, for instance, hate it when people use apostrophes to make a plural, or use the word “myself” when “me” is appropriate or confuse it's and its...

There are more (don't even get me started on there, they're and their) but you probably get the picture.

I’m not saying I always speak perfectly because I don’t. I mix metaphors, I end sentences with prepositions…In fact, I’m frequently guilty of NPR Grammar Hall of Shame’s #1 error (in related news, how dorky is it that I actually know the NPR Grammar Hall of Shame?!) misuse of the words “me” and “I.”  I say things like “This is a picture of Opie and I” instead of “Opie and me” because it somehow sounds better even though it’s wrong. I have to correct myself on this all the time.

And if you think it’s annoying when someone else corrects your grammar, you should think how poor Opie feels when I shout out corrections for both of us.


Friends of ours got me
this bag a few years
 ago and it's so true!
But I digress…

I was going to talk about my personal #1 Grammar Pet Peeve – the misuse of the word “badly.”  Even more specifically, when people say “I feel badly.”

If you say this, please note that “I feel badly” does not describe your emotional state. It actually means there is something wrong with your ability to feel. Like you have nerve damage.

It is interesting to note that I have actually complained about this so much with this exact explanation to Opie that when someone on television says “I feel badly” we now both say “Nerve damage?” at the same time.

Anyway, there’s a whole long grammatical explanation for the “I feel badly” issue that has to do with linking verbs versus action verbs and how adverbs and adjectives work...but if you didn’t pay attention to your English teacher back in high school, you’re probably not that interested in a grammar lesson now.

So, just trust me, “I feel badly” is wrong.

And if you don’t want to take my word for it, think about this: you don’t feel madly, sadly, or gladly do you?!

Of course not, that would be ridiculous.

Anyway, you might be wondering what in the holy heck this has to do with skin cancer recovery. Well, to be fair, I do feel bad, mad, sad and not at all glad that I got skin cancer. But, the thing is....

....Wait for it....

Because of the skin cancer, I also DO feel badly! In the sense that my ability to feel has been compromised! My scalp is still numb where I had a bunch of staples and my nose is numb because it’s new at being a nose and is still getting used to it. But—worst of all—when I touch the flap to clean it or whatever, I don’t feel it on my nose, I FEEL IT ON MY FOREHEAD!

Why?

Because after sustaining all the surgically induced NERVE DAMAGE, the flap feels badly!!!

I’m not going to lie, I tell Opie that with alarming frequency.

But my next surgery is Tuesday. During this one, the doctor is going to cut off the flap to make my forehead and nose separate entities again and all the nerves should start recovering and waking up and I should be on the road to feeling good again (yes, good although well also works when you’re referencing health…but that’s a whole predicate adjective grammar lesson for a different day).

I still won’t be posting pictures of my face for awhile, and I have to have another (more minor) procedure for another spot of cancer on my chin in May which does make me feel bad, mad and sad all over again but I will be able to stop screaming “I FEEL BADLY!” every time I wash my face.

Which will probably be a big relief to Opie.

So, once again, I’d appreciate your thoughts, prayers, positive energy, and cookie donations in lieu of blood sacrifices (I like macarons) while I go under the knife again.

But, whatever you do, don’t feel badly for me because there’s really no need to give yourself nerve damage on my account.








If you want to read more about my skin cancer journey, you can find that info below:

Sunscreen, Skin Cancer and Spiritual Support

Happy Birthday to Me


National Doctors Day

Dogs & Daffodils


And if you want more information on skin cancer in general, check out these articles at the CDC:

CDC - Skin Cancer Information

Tuesday, April 2, 2019

Dogs and Daffodils

Well, we just hit the two week mark and do you know who is actually excited by the skin cancer and horrifying forehead flap?

The ridiculous dogs.

Well, to be fair, I don't know if they're excited about the skin cancer itself but they have found the recuperation process downright blissful.

See, while the "flap" is still attached like a horrible bridge across my face, there's a danger of infection and rejection. So, I'm not supposed to do anything. Not really walk around, go up and down the steps as seldom as possible, not even walk out into the kitchen and get myself something to drink because I'm not supposed to lift anything heavier than a jug of milk.

Which means I spend A LOT of time either lying on the couch or lying in bed.

This might sound like a great gig but the first week I felt too sore and tired to really enjoy it and this week, now that I'm feeling worlds better, I'm bored out of my mind.

You know who ISN'T bored and thinks spending the day snuggled on the couch is a mini-version of heaven?

The ridiculous dogs.

In fact, I often wake up to this:



This might seem cute and loving but has caused a situation in which my belly has become the disputed holy grail of canine cuddling. See, Bubba thinks that he, too, is a lap dog. So I also often wake up to this:



at which time Bubba suggests that Sassy needs to take her turn at the end of the couch so he can be the one to perch lovingly on my stomach. I have tried to explain to him that this will result in my slow death by suffocation but he's really committed to his idea of fairness.

The other person who is NOT thrilled with the recuperation process is Opie. Not that he minds helping me--he's been great about that! It was easier when my mom was here but after she left, he worked out a whole system so that before he has to leave for work, I have everything I want/need for the day beside me and anything I might want to eat for lunch or snack on is just a few steps away. He's awesome.

But since I can't do anything around the house, he has to do EVERYTHING while I lie on the couch and call out helpful suggestions on the cooking, cleaning, animal care and, of course, the cutting of daffodils for a festive bouquet.

I'm not going to lie, that last one wasn't on his list of important tasks but I, in my sweet and docile way, explained how it was supposed to freeze and the daffodils were going to be ruined before I could even go outside and enjoy them and would it really kill him to go to the front yard, for the love of heaven, and snip a few stupid daffodils?

He was a pretty good sport about it but considering this was one of the flowers that made it into the vase:


I suspect his heart wasn't really in it.

Luckily, though, we only have to survive one more week. I went to the doctor yesterday and the horrible flap is healing nicely, looks like it's going to be a "100% take", and we're on schedule to have the separation surgery one week from today. After that, I  still won't be able to lift anything heavy for awhile and I'll need to rest for a couple of days but it won't be like this week in which I have to wait for Opie if I so much as drop a Q-Tip on the floor.

And, though he hasn't actually complained at all, I think Opie will be glad to give up his nursing duties...but I don't think he should give up his other day job because he definitely does NOT have a future in flower arrangement:


Thanks again for everyone's thoughts, prayers, and positive energy!




If you want to read more about my skin cancer journey, you can find that info below:

Sunscreen, Skin Cancer and Spiritual Support

Happy Birthday to Me

National Doctors Day

And if you want more information on skin cancer in general, check out these articles at the CDC:

https://www.cdc.gov/cancer/skin/basic_info/index.htm