Who needs med school?

Well, so once again while we were on our beach vacation, it came to pass that a member of my sister's family needed to have stitches removed.  It has become our family tradition!  So once again, Uncle Doctor soaked his medical instruments in vodka (you cannot be too careful, people), and prepared to remove the seven sutures that the cavalier cousin had acquired in some sort of college capers and/or shenanigans.

 

OK, so the other thing that is true is that the girl in charge is taking an EMT course this summer.  She hopes to be a doctor some day, but in the meantime, she is totally thrilled to own her own stethoscope and blood pressure cuff.

I know, right?!

 

So it made total sense to all of us that Uncle Doctor should give a lesson or two, and then the girl in charge should remove the sutures.  Because obviously.

Weird . . . no one asked the cavalier cousin how he felt about this plan . . . .

Well, so before the action started, Uncle Doctor whined a little bit about how the light wasn't very good, and quick as a cricket, multiple relatives pulled out multiple iPhones with multiple flashlight apps.

 

Uncle Doctor was much happier.  Then he showed the girl in charge how it's done.  She was riveted.

 

She wasn't the only one.

And then -- Uncle Doctor handed the scissors and the tweezers (from a cousin's glamour bag) over to the girl in charge, and she took out the rest of the stitches.

It was really cool!

Her hair was bugging her (and was making the cavalier cousin question the whole proceeding), so a cousin got drafted to hold her hair back -- STAT!  I'm sure there's medical terminology for this.  What is it?

Uncle Doctor was fabulous.  After collecting the cavalier cousin's insurance information and making him sign a liability waiver, he was totally chillaxed and calm, and was a great coach for the girl in charge, who was nervous and excited and nervous.  Her one terse comment:  "This is really fun."  Uncle Doctor grinned, and said, "It is, isn't it?"

I choose hope.

I don't know who created this artwork, which has been traveling around on Facebook for the past couple of days.  But I totally affirm its message.  I do know that the world is full of good people.  I am lucky enough to feel surrounded by them every day.  So during times like these, I choose to look to the Light.  I choose hope.

+++

And as we prepare for Christmas, that's the core of what we are all preparing for. So today I chose this beautiful book to share with you during our Advent -- our time of preparation. The First Christmas uses the Nativity stories from the Gospels according to St. Luke and St. Matthew as its text, drawing from the gorgeous language of the King James translation.  The artwork really helps you focus on the interplay of light and dark, with intricate silhouette designs and silvery inks.  It's a lovely book to read as we ready ourselves for the birth of the Light of the World.

Bring it, Sandy!

The sunny girl and I hit our local grocery store one last time before we began to seriously hunker down and wait out Hurricane Sandy.  We were already bored and stir-crazy, and felt the need to buy those last minute emergency supplies that would help ensure that we will make it through the storm unscathed -- staples like brownie mix, potato chips, and wine.

We did notice that our fellow citizens had emptied certain key shelves . . . .

While the store still had water in gallon jugs, there is no more individually bottled water to be had.

Do you need AA batteries?  You're in luck!  Also available:  AAA, 9V,  and C batteries.  But if your flashlights and lanterns take D batteries, you are so screwed.

And as it turns out, you are also screwed if you need tortilla chips.  Apparently nachos, and chips with salsa, are necessities for sheltering in place.  Good thing the sunny girl and I snagged the very last bag of Tostitos Scoops in the store.

Because that would have been a catastrophe.

The tall boy is my hero -- and so are you.

OK, so I am sorry to report to you that my tall boy is back in the hospital.  You may remember that he had some pretty significant and scary (not to mention painful) surgery last month.  The universal thinking six weeks ago was that a procedure called a pleurodesis would save the world, cure cancer, re-kill Osama Bin Ladin, ensure that pandas live forever, and send our tall boy out into the world with permanently fixed lungs.

Well.

As it turns out, his continuing pulmonary woes are -- well, they are continuing.

The ways that this sucks are multiple and varied, and I could go on for days about how crappy this is, but frankly, I'm too tired.  But the sunny girl told me that I could blog the lazy way, and show you some screen captures of the texts that I have sent to various people as we have sat with our boy, while he hears super-smart, super-confident, super-experienced cardio-thoracic surgeons and pulmonologists and interventional radiologists (which I didn't even know was a thing, but it is) -- plus Uncle Doctor (who is an OB-GYN) -- say, "damned if we can figure this out."  Tragically, I'm not even paraphrasing.

Then the sunny girl talked me through the whole "screen capture" thing, which I didn't even know was a thing, but it is.  So any successful screen captures are thanks to her.

So -- here's what happened this time:

So -- that's pretty much where we are right now.  The tall boy is in the hospital, tethered to a chest tube and a pleural pump, with no end in sight.  He could be -- justifiably -- so depressed and cranky and mean.  But he is my hero because he has repeatedly said, "It is pointless to get pissy about things I cannot control."  We should all be wearing this on a t-shirt.

SHE (who is turning out to be the world's greatest girlfriend) has been his only bright spot in a really very discouraging turn of events.

Well, HER and his grandpa -- who brought him a fabulous Italian sub and ate lunch with him while talking about the Redskins game and Eisenhower.  Oh -- and his cousin, who is studying to be a nurse and was really nice about not asking to see his chest tube up close and personal, and who brought him a balloon that is basically a dead fish (which cracked him up).  And Lisa and her husband, who have visited every single day.  And Grandma Carol and Aunt Heidi, who brought him a watercolor set (people -- this tall boy is BORED).  And his professors at Catholic University, who, to a person, have been so supportive and gracious and have made sure he concentrates on getting better instead of on papers due and classes missed.  And all the people (Coleen, Sheri, Judy, Susan, Kathy, David, Lissa, Andrew, Carolyn, Mary) who have joshed and joked and jollied with him on Facebook and via text, as he faces a frustrating and frightening turn of events.  Plus the prayer warriors:  Annalisa and Jim, James and Betty, Carol Jean and Jim, Steven and Terry, Holly, Bonnie, Cristie, Bob and Elaine, Katey, Jane, Randy, Meghan, Lourdes, Mark, Lissa, Scott, Rafe, Alan, Jana, Saskia, Wendy, Matt, Rosemary, Joe.  And my dear, dear blog friends around the world: Polly, Heather, Maureen, Diane, Rena, Holly, and others I don't even know about.

He is a lucky, lucky tall boy.

We love you all very much.

Things I Did This Summer Instead of Blogging -- in random order because I've lost track of my head

OK, so I had quite the event-filled summer with the family.  Much (though not all) of it was even fun.  Some lousy stuff happened, too -- and between the happy and the crappy, I was hoppin' all summer.  Hoppin' -- but not bloggin'.

And the whole summer really has gotten all jumbled up in my head, so I"ll just ramble.  Try to keep up.

1.  (Or maybe 4.)  The tall boy's freaking lung collapsed.  Again.  So once again he and I made the familiar jaunt to the Emergency Department of the good old Virginia Hospital Center, where once again he was admitted and scheduled for surgery.  This time the procedure (called a pleurodesis) was a little more dramatic, but all went well.

After five days of quality time with a chest tube and a morphine pump, the tall boy was released into his family's capable hands.  Facebook friends already know that the Tall Boy Care Team consisted of the girl in charge (very bossy, so perfect for ensuring that the grueling walks around the happy little cul-de-sac took place as ordered); the sunny girl (a total night owl, so she was a companion on those long and sleepless nights when he couldn't get comfortable, so they watched zombie movies until 4:00 in the morning); and HER (she was a little frantic with worry all the way up in Boston, so she came back for the fall semester of school a few days early, so she could lay eyes on the tall boy, and help us get him moved into his dorm room).

The tall boy's current status is: shockingly good!  He has begun the fall semester at Catholic University, and although he's still moving slowly and is not yet quite up for a game of Frisbee, he's better and stronger every day!

2. (Or is it 7?) I told you about the awesome family vacation in lovely Nag's Head, North Carolina, back in June -- and I introduced you to the fabulous small boys (so stinkin' cute!).

But as is our family tradition, we also had a little car drama while we were at the beach.  And can I just say that I am all for tradition (I even know the words to the song!), but this particular family tradition blows.  This car crunch didn't even look that tragic from the outside of the car.  It did suck though -- trust me! SHE and the tall boy had gone on a Sonic run (their good deed for the day) and were t-boned at an intersection.  A vision I wish was not in my head is the sight of an ambulance and a stretcher, with my tall boy's tall legs dangling off the end.  Dreadful.

The crappy news is that my beautiful car -- purchased to replace the P.O.S. minivan that was stolen on a previous beach trip, if you can stand the irony -- was totaled.  The good news is that the tall boy and his lovely girlfriend came away relatively unscathed.

3.  ( Or perhaps 2.)  The girl in charge turned eighteen, y'all. 

Look how pretty and grown-up she is!  Aack!  My heart can't take much more of this.

* * * * *

OK, so a whole lot of other stuff happened this summer, but I've worn myself out re-living the traumatic shit.  So -- coming up in future posts: 

• The un-family reunion -- as fabulous as ever!
• The girl in charge goes to college!
• My sunny girl is a hipster.
• Moms' Week at the Beach should be a federally-enforced mandate:  

  "NO MOMS LEFT AT HOME!"