It's MINE!

Yes, that's me alright

I'm sure you all know my husband was recently in a horrible motorcycle accident and is now attempting to recover at home.

He was finally able to make it up the stairs and hobble to our room to sleep in our bed, took awhile, but he did it. The hospital bed and wheelchair were picked up, thankfully, although I'm not so sure he'll ever be able to go into his office again.

He was confined in there for so long that now he usually has to be outside, feeling the breeze and smelling the sweet summer air.

Oh, yes, back to the story at hand.

He had been sleeping in our bed for about three nights. He can't really move, roll over, etc. He has to lie face up with a pillow under his knee to take the pressure off of his broken pelvis.

We both use three pillows, one to cradle our heads, he uses one under his leg and usually puts his arms around the third.

I, however, use the second, and sometimes the third, to put over my head. I know, I'm a freak like that. At least one pillow has to be over my head, covering my ears, while allowing my nose to be free....ya know, breathing in already breathed air is pretty gross.  Sometimes I put the third on top of the second one, and sometimes I just hang onto it.

Well a couple of nights ago I was searching for my third pillow around 2 in the morning. Guess where I found it? Uh, yeah, under his arm. I gently attempted to pull it out so I didn't wake him, didn't go so well. So I pulled a little harder. Suddenly he grabbed the pillow and yanked it from me with his good arm! I mean, the freaking nerve!

I know he's hurt and all but, damn it, it was MY pillow and I wanted it! So a bit of a tug of war started up.

"Give me MY PILLOW!"

"It's NOT yours, it's MINE!"

"The hell it is, give it to me NOW!"

"I'm the one that's hurt, I get it!"

"Just give me that damn pillow! You are hurt, you can't move, either give me the freaking pillow or I'll smother you with it!"

No, no I don't have much compassion when it comes to my sleep, just ask anyone that knows me.

"Fine take the damn pillow!"

"Thank you!" I put the pillow precisely over my head where it had been when he snatched it from me, turned over, pulled up the blanket, snuggled in, and then heard him say,

"Oh, wait, there's a pillow on the floor over here." Then he asked, "Can you get it for me?"

I pretended to be asleep, remember, I don't like my sleep disturbed.

"Well, maybe I can get it with my crutch. Ow, that hurts my BROKEN shoulder to try."

"FINE, I'LL GET YOU THE DAMN PILLOW! JUST LET ME SLEEP!"

I got out of my cocoon, stumbled over whatever was in the floor, and found his precious pillow.

"Here, here's YOUR pillow."

"Thanks."

"Anything else you need since I'm out of bed and freezing?"

"No, that's all. Thanks for getting it for me."

"I told you it was mine!"

He pretended to sleep. 


Moral of the story, keep track of your own freaking pillows, or they may be used as a device of torture.

Please check out Jeff Fundraising site. Although he is healing, he still is unable to work for months. Look around, check it out, leave him a hug, or give from your heart.

 Lovingly,

 

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But I Don't Have To Go!

Jeff: "I'm SO tired. I can't sleep because of the pain."


Me: "Then take the pain meds the doc told you to take.

Jeff: "They make me loopy."

 Me: "So, you'll be asleep."

Jeff: "I'm so tired and can't sleep."

Me: "So take an Ambien."

Jeff: "What if I have to pee?"

Me: "Then go now before you go to sleep."

Jeff: "I don't have to go now."

Me: "I don't see any pee in the jar. When was the last time you went?"

Jeff: "Oh, several hours ago."

Me: "You don't think you have to go because the pain meds might be masking the feeling."

Jeff: "I don't have to go."

Me: "Fine, then take the Ambien and pee in the bed."

Jeff: "FINE! I'll try to go!"

Me: "Good idea."

Jeff: "Hand me the jar."

Me: "Here."

Me:"Well?"

Jeff: "Be quiet. I'm trying to concentrate."

Me: "Whatever. Just go."

Jeff: "I am."

Me: "Good."

Several minutes pass..........

Me: "Are you finished yet?"

Jeff: "Not yet."

Me: "So I guess you did have to go?"

Jeff: "Be quiet"

Jeff: "OK, here's the jar."

Me: "Gross! It's hot, AND full!"

Jeff: "You're a baby!"

Me: "And you would have peed in your bed! Take your Ambien and go to sleep!"

Jeff: "You win."

Me: "I know."

Jeff: "Goodnight."

Me: "Goodnight, oh, and take your glasses off before the Ambien sets in."

Jeff: "Shut up and go to bed!"

Me: "Nikki, take your dad's glasses off before you go to bed."

Nikki: "Hahahahaha!"


 Go visit his site, give some love, tweet it, FB it, share it. Please?

Much love and appreciation,

XOXO


 

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Uh, Ok, I'll Try

By now the world knows Jeff was in a severe accident and Life Flighted to a trauma hospital in Portland. He was left having a difficult time doing ordinary things......like getting to the bathroom to pee. The wheelchair barely squeaks through the door. Plus, he was unable to get to the chair to get to the bathroom. So we had a bit of a dilemma.

One of the kids had a great idea, a BIG jar. Yeah, I thought I could live with that.

Yes, you read that correctly, thought. I'm trying, really trying, to be with him as often as I can, doing as much as I can, and that includes emptying the jar.

However, I cannot touch it when it is hot, I have to hold my breath and close my eyes as I empty it and rinse it out. By now you're thinking, "she had how many kids?" I kind of sucked as a mom too.

I could do diapers and spit up ok, but big kid pee, poop, or puke, uh, no. Really, I AM terrible. I'll throw them a pan, and a wet towel from the doorway and tell them to call dad if they need something.

They puke, I puke. Simple as that.

While I was emptying one of the jars the other day, it reminded me of the time in 1996 when Jeff was living in Oregon and the family was still in Washington.

We made a surprise run down to Portland to see him. It was about a 2 1/2 hour drive from where we lived at the time, so it was an easy shot.

We only had five kids then, they were 14, 11, 6, 5, and 3. The two oldest, Karli, my daughter was 14 and Cole, my son, was 11.

I had all of the kids pee before we left the house. Then we stopped for a bite of food, and of course something to drink. I made the kids all go to the bathroom again.

I thought we could make it the rest of the way to Portland. Cole couldn't. He cried, he whined, and carried on until we had no choice but stop for him. He did his thing and jumped back into the van.

We got about 45 minutes down the road and he had to pee again. There was no way I was stopping another time, no way. The kids searched around and finally found a soda cup, without a lid, in the van. I told him to go to the back of the van, do his thing, then give the cup of steaming hot pee to Karli and she would pour it out of the window.

Well, he peed, and he peed, and he peed, nearly filling the cup. Then he gave it to Karli, she began gagging because it was so hot, and, well, it smelled like pee. She put down the window, while carefully trying not to spill a drop, and went to pour the pee out of the window.

Well, I guess when you're flying down the highway and attempt to pour something out of the window, it sort of, goes up your arm.

Karli let our a shriek and promptly began to gag and gag badly. The other kids and I, however, were laughing hysterically. There was no towel in the van, so we searched around for napkins, anything to try to dry her arm and her long sleeved shirt. There was nothing.

So we had to drive the rest of the way to Portland with Karli gagging, the smell of really strong pee, and hysterically laughing kids.

I think of that drive every, single time I empty the pee jar. I always grab it from the top part of the jar so I don't feel the warmth, I'd totally lose it. Then, as I said, I hold my breath, rinse the jar, take it back and use a bottle of Purell on my hands.

I must love him, I guess.

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The Loss of Love

We've all had, and have, friends that we love, that we really connect with. Ones that are just incredibly special to us.

I lost one of mine last night. He was in a motorcycle accident on Tuesday.  I haven't been able to get a hold of family yet but through our circle of friends I have heard a car ran a light and hit him.

They did surgery and amputated his leg.  Evidently his injuries were too substantial and his ventilator was removed last night.

I'm in shock. I think I always will be. My heart is broken, shattered.

Jay and I were close, close friends and will always have a huge place in my heart for him that can never be filled.

Please people, please, watch for us out there. Don't be in such a hurry that you run lights and hit innocent bikers. Watch when you turn left. We watch, we're hyper vigilant, more than you know.

Jay we love you and always will.

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No XX Here!

Disclaimer: Ok, this is only an observation. I'm not condemning nor am I condoning anything.

After diving head first into Harley sub-culture a few years ago I had to get the gear, you know, the leathers. I wanted them mostly for the protection they offer, but I loved the fringe benefits. Most, some, a few women look great in tightly fitted chaps. And the chaps HAVE to be tightly fitted for that sexy look to allow for stretching.

The first ride out in my new found hotness gear left me with a stress fracture on my knee. I didn't know it was a stress fracture at first. It hurt, it was swollen, I had to see the doctor, yada, yada, yada.

I made a phone call to set an appointment and was told that there was only ONE doctor in the ENTIRE practice that could see me that day. It was a female doctor that I'll call Dr. XY. I was shocked, but intrigued.

I'd never seen Dr. XY before but I'd heard all of the salacious gossip about this physician. In our small town rumors and rumors of rumors spread like wildfire. Dr XY had been married for 30+ years, was an accomplished pilot, a parent and one of the founding members of the largest medical practice in our little area. Dr. XY's secret was also the topic of many "over latte" discussions.

I was sitting in the office waiting for Dr. XY to come in after I'd been x-rayed. Suddenly the door was forced open and this whirlwind of a doctor came blowing into the room. In one swift motion a short, stubby, cankled leg, with a dowdy shoe, forced up the frumpy skirt and kicked the door shut.

I tried not to stare, but it was impossible. Dr XY wore the most hideous outfit EVER created, badly applied, and over done, make-up and a terrible excuse of a wig. Yes, you see Dr. XY was bald. Dr. XY was also an XY, chromosomely speaking.

A few years before Dr XY, now you know why I picked "XY," chose to have his "his" parts removed and replaced with "her" parts. I'm not sure why his wife, as in still married, didn't give old XY a few make-up tips and a little help holding that creepy wig in place.

Back to my story. Dr. XY glared at me from the start.

XY: ::Shaking the x-rays in front of me:: "Do you have ANY idea what crashing a motorcycle at 60 mph is like?"

Me: "No, I didn't crash."

XY: "I used to work in the trauma center!" XY's twitching forehead made the wig fall a little more off center. It was then several inches longer on one side and the bangs were all tweaked out.

Bubble thought here: "Your point? Airplanes crash all the time killing multiple people in almost every instance and you still fly."

XY: eye twitching now and make-up running, "It's like falling out of a SIX STORY WINDOW!"

I just stared at this curiously dressed person that was struggling to keep the bad wig in place and the cheap mascara from running.

XY: "Why in HELL would you CHOOSE to do that?!"

I sat there in disbelief trying to decide what the heck to say.

XY: "Well, I asked you WHY you would CHOOSE to do that?!"

Me: "I guess we all make decisions that others might not make."

Dr. XY huffed, threw down the x-rays and left me sitting in the room. Dr. XY never returned.

I wonder if he/she knew I was speaking of the wig?

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Motorcycle Thoughts and Royal flushes

I was still curled up, buried beneath my blankets when Jeff came in. We had made plans to ride the motorcycles out to the casino on the beach, have lunch, lose a few quarters and ride home. I really didn't want to go. Jeff did so I pulled myself from my haven, got all leathered up and we roared away. My thoughts on that first leg were typical:

• I hope the kids take the puppy out
• It's kinda cold out here
• I love my bike
• How much longer?
• Big heard turns
• Look through the turns
• I wonder how much a Mac is?
• I want to go to Vegas
• What are we going to have for dinner?

Once there we parked our bikes, de-leathered and made our way into the casino and through the maze of canes, walkers, smokers and oxygen tanks.  I played one of my favorite games for about an hour while Jeff walked around.

Jeff was a compulsive gambler about 40 years ago so he doesn't play much. He found his way outside to enjoy the sunshine while I continued to lose quarters. After about an hour I was done, I found my husband and we had a bit of lunch.

 Note to self: the buffet lunches at tribal casinos are icky at best. There are also icky people with no table manners that have macaroni salad dripping from their gaping mouths. I really need to eat before coming to the casino!

On the way out I asked if Jeff wanted to play a few hands of video poker. We claimed a couple of quarter machines and begin to play. A few hands into my game I pressed the deal button yet again. I think I was in a daze by now.

The first card up was an ace of spades, followed by a king of spades. Next was an off suite card that I can't remember, then came a jack of spades and finally a queen of spades. I stared at the screen for probably 20 seconds before I tapped Jeff on the arm and said "Look at this".

Jeff stared at the machine and stared at me. I froze. I wasn't sure I wanted to press the deal button. After what seemed like an eternity I held my breath and pressed the button praying for the ten of spades. The card was dealt. It was the ten of spades. A royal flush! A freaking royal flush!

I looked at the pay line and said 4000 credits. I'd been playing quarters. I couldn't think. I turned to Jeff and asked "how much is 4000 quarters?"

"Uh, Teri, it's a thousand dollars!"

We watched the red digital counter as it counted out the winnings. As soon as it ended Jeff pressed the cash out button.

"What the hell did you do that for?"

"Teri, we're out of here."

Still in disbelief we walked to the cashier, then I realized he had my ticket.

"Give that back!" I snatched it out of his hand. We cashed out and walked back to our bikes without saying a word.

"You know Teri, that could be part of a down payment on a new 2011 Harley."

"Yeah, I don't think so."

Thoughts on the way home:

• A royal flush?
• All spades?
• That was unbelievable!
• What ARE we going to do with it?
• We're not paying bills, that's for sure.
• Maybe we should put it toward the family vacation in June.
• A freaking royal flush?!?!

We stopped at a light. Jeff looked over and said "maybe we should put it toward the vacation with the kids."

Dilemma solved. Kids. Vacation. Family time.

It was a good day.

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You didnt see me

Please, be aware.

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