Unimaginable

On Friday morning for the very first time in my adult life I will wake up to no "organized" responsibility.

But, MillyWilly, you query -- "Didn't you quit teaching in 1990 to start a new life and on the day after Paseo High School closed for the final time, didn't you wake up that morning with no schedule, no work, nothing to do but laze around?"

That, my friends, is a resounding "N O!"  That summer we were still trying desperately to save the old high school and my summer was a round of 7 a.m. meetings with lawyers, J.E. Dunn (boo!), architects, and students I was responsible for carting all over the darned city while we created beautiful plans to restore a historic structure -- plans at which no one really looked but those of us working to save the school.  And then in the fall I got violently ill, had surgery, recovered, and immediately had to find a job.

But this Friday I will get up and face no concrete plans.  No schedule I have to follow.  Nobody to account to for my time.  Even better a small but regular social security check will arrive in the mail every 4th Wednesday of the month -- hopefully providing enough to keep us feed, housed, and clothed for the duration. 

I started school when I was five and graduated college at 21.  The summers were pretty much mine until I went to college -- then I usually attended summer school.  At 21 I got a job teaching and if you think teachers have the summer off, think again.  Every summer involved either re-education for me, workshops, or summer school for kids. I earned my master's degree during the summers -- and then 36 hours beyond my masters.  When I left teaching in 1990 I worked 12 months out of the year in business.  Back to teaching in 2006 and I went to summer school or wrote curriculum for the district every June and July.  In August these days teachers start school at the beginning of the month.  

Friday in simply unimaginable.  I can't really believe I'm finally going to be free.  I will be able to choose what I do and when I do it.  I may not have a big pile of extra money to choose to do everything I'm dreaming of (like adding a bathroom to the house or moving the washer / dryer upstairs), but I will have my freedom and no schedule to maintain.  I keep repeating it -- it's simply unimaginable.  Freedom finally comes this Friday.  What will it be like?

Decisions

The doctors' visit yesterday was less than conclusive -- at least for Hubby.  In my mind, it was a "done deal" -- but I've been on favoring knee replacement surgery for the last four years.

The Baker's Cyst is gone -- probably broken into tiny pieces by Hubby's insistence on exercising through this whole ordeal.  At least that's what the doctor thinks has happened.  But the left knee is still incredibly swollen, he has terrific back pain, and he's a limping heap of utter misery. 

Our favorite intern (Hubby goes to a clinic with student doctors but everything is run past "the big guns") brought in the senior physicians to look at Hubby, then they went and found the doctor who had already had two knee replacements himself.  The doctor flexed the knees, jumped up and down, said, "This surgery has had really great success and has been improved on yearly.  DO IT!" 

Initially Hubby gave a "N O !  NEVER!" response.  After 20 minutes of discussion his head was on his chest, the stubborn look was still in his face, but he agreed, reluctantly, to think about the surgery. 

The choices at this stage are simple:  replace the knees or live on high dosages of pain medication that will turn him into an addict.  That's it.  Choose. 

Then we were turned over to the X-ray technicians and the vampires who draw vials of blood.  We were there for five boringly long hours. 

Next up -- orthopedic surgeon appointments.  Whether or not Hubby will commit to this surgery remains up in the air.  I'm a strong advocate but I don't know what may be final decision.  Hubby has to go into this with a positive attitude.  I've said, "It can''t get worse, can it?  You're utterly miserable.  You can't walk now -- the only thing that could happen is that after the surgery you can't walk at all.  No change.  Or you could die.  That's a possibility, but not likely.  In this worst case, do you want to live like you are now?"  And the answer for him is a resounding "No!"

If we choose the surgery, then all the meds will have to change -- especially the Warfarin.  But the doctor has already explained what the alternatives will be for a time and I think we can successfully do it. 

Meanwhile, I continue to haul trash, do the shopping, walk the dogs, and feel entirely put upon.  I want a functioning Hubby back in good form.  

What fun the future of retirement holds . . .

Meat Loaf Eases Pain

Sunday evening we were invited to our dear friends', Debby and Lou's, house for a meat loaf dinner.  Debby claims that her meatloaf is nothing special -- just hamburger, onion soup mix, and oatmeal.  However, what comes out of her pan every single time is VERY special -- I'm not sure if it's the love she puts into the loaf pans or the way she bakes them so the meatloaves come out of the oven with this perfect blend of crispy outside and savory, tender inside -- but her meatloaf is the best I've ever eaten.

Meatloaf is one of my most favorite foods, but as I age I find it hard to come across a good meatloaf.  My own never comes quite up to snuff.  Debby claims it's because I have to make it for myself.  I just can't seem to get the right crispy versus tender combination.  Hubby invents a new meatloaf every time he makes one. They are good -- but they just don't have Debby's touch that makes hers the food of the gods.

Hubby is still in enormous pain.  I can tell because he has become evil, cross, uncommunicative, and downright obtuse.  Now he has been all these things in the past -- but never all at once.  Living with him has become a real challenge -- especially since I'm having my own traumas facing retirement for eternity in 11 days time.  We are not currently a very pleasant household to be around.  I'm super stressed and he's super evil, which, even though I know is caused by the pain, I'm taking personally. 

Debby served up the meatloaf, along with macaroni and cheese, some fresh cantaloupe with lovely blueberries, and then -- to totally please Hubby, topped it all off with Hagen Daas ice cream.  I opted for a second (or was it third?) piece of meatloaf instead of the ice cream.  Slowly, as we consumed every last morsel on our plates we began to mellow out.  The pain was still bad, my exhaustion and stress were still there -- but it all seemed a bit farther away, less intense, more manageable.

And then, to top off a really lovely evening of conversation and food, Debby sent us home with an entire meatloaf of our own, to snack and dine on for the week.

We have a doctor's appointment at 1 p.m this afternoon.  I'm bowing out of school early to go with Hubby so he won't just sit there and tell the doctor that he's "fine" and he won't be able to leave the doctor's office and then tell me that "nothing happened."  We've got to find a way to make this pain more manageable, even if the recovery time is going to be prolonged.  And when we get home from out medical foray, we will each have a huge meatloaf sandwich.  Good friends really do help ease your load.

No Progress

Hubby is doing very poorly with his bad leg / bad back.  We got him out of the house on Saturday morning to pick up breakfast from Sonic but then he wasn't out of the bed and dressed for the rest of the weekend.  He did hobble to the computer room once but sitting up made him sick to his stomach and gave him chills (too many pain meds?). He's watched a whole lot of TV and read every current magazine in the house. 

I'm beginning to be seriously worried.  I'm so not used to him just "lying around in bed."  He has given up any form of cooking, including putting up my lunch.  Last night he asked, "So what are we going to do about lunches this week?" and I was astonished that he had given up hope that he would be mobile sometime during the week.   Last week he was still making sandwiches and cutting up fruit.  This week he's not even trying. 

If you talk with him, as did his Louisiana friend on Sunday morning, he tells this strange story about his "bad back" and that it seems that "every two years something goes horribly wrong in my body."  He doesn't acknowledge the knee / leg problem at all -- or that he can't walk, except for a few hobbling steps. 

We don't have a doctor's appointment until the 15th -- because the doctor warned this would take a while to recover from (the Baker's Cyst).  I honestly don't know if we can hold our that long.  I'm beginning to have a very quivery feeling in the base of my stomach that something more seriously is amiss than what we at first assumed. 

Cinco de Mayo, Amigos!

Thankful for Friday

It is finally May and it is Friday.  I am grateful.  First, I'm grateful that this is my last month before retirement.  I am exhausted.  No amount of sleep right now seems to be enough.  I come home from school and I fall into bed.  Hubby may or may not wake me for dinner.  Usually around 7 p.m. I wake up for a bit. Then I'm asleep again until 1 or 2 a.m. -- and it usually takes an hour of reading to put me back to sleep until 4:30, when we turn on the TV and try to find the energy to start the day.

I am grateful this is Friday, the end of the first week of May.  I have two days ahead in which I don't have to get up by 5 a.m. and try to function.  I have two days to get the washing completed and the toilet scrubbed.  I have time to grocery shop in the daylight.

I am grateful at the end of this week that Hubby is NOT having heart problems and that he has enough serious pain meds to see him through this incredibly painful bout of knee / leg / back problems.  He has tried a walker but found he hated it. After spending $90 to purchase one and then trying to use it for 24 hours, he has relegated it to the coat closet. He has tried acupuncture which at least made him sleep most of Thursday.  He has been massaged and adjusted by his chiropractor.  Nothing has helped yet but the doctor warned we had at least two weeks of misery ahead.  If you ask him how his knee is doing, he replies, "It's fine."  If you ask if the pain is getting better than where it was on Monday, he admits, "No, it's the same."

I am grateful that the dogs are cooperating with me while I walk them.  Hubby has resumed most of the walking chores, though -- and I doubly grateful for that.  I still have to do all the cooking and carrying and cleaning -- but at least one chore which must be done early in the morning and late at night is no longer mine alone.

I am grateful to my advisory class which made a delightful card for Hubby once they learned he had paid a visit to the ER on Monday morning.  Every kid wrote him a note -- and though one freshman simply wrote, "I like cheese" and signed his name, the others all sent him best wishes for good heath, told him how much they enjoyed his cooking when he sent treats and what they liked best (his spaghetti) and how much they appreciated having me as their teacher.  We were both incredibly touched.

I am grateful that I have a wonderful student who has been my teacher's aid this last semester.  She has made my life much easier, running errands and organizing my final departure from the building.  I don't know what I'd do without her help -- except reach a point of exhaustion that might be deadly.  Today she helped me find all the books that I had checked out from the SPED library and that had to be returned before I could "officially" retire.  They are now boxed and ready to be sent back to the central office.  You have no idea how grateful I am that this chore is completed. 

The school announced their retirement celebration -- only four of us are leaving my building -- to the district and to our staff -- it is scheduled for next Wednesday, May 9th.  I'm NOT going.  I hate that type of thing.  I can't imagine having to sit before the faculty and have people talk about me -- people who really know next to nothing about me at all.  I did have the decency to tell them I wouldn't go -- and the stunned looks on people's faces were hilarious.  "Oh, no, not really.  Really?  REALLY?  But we want to honor you!"  Yeah, right -- honor me by giving me a day off -- not by having a party AFTER school which people have to attend on their own time.  That's just nuts. But I'm grateful that I actually have the option of not attending -- and that the party can cheerfully go on without me. 

I am grateful that only three more weeks of early mornings and collaborative teaching are in my future.  I am grateful I had the six years here at this beautiful school -- and now I'm grateful as all heck to be leaving.  I'm very grateful that I actually have this option of real retirement ahead of me.  If the money and our health will only hold out . . .

Lusty Month of May