Independence Days

"You're not stacking the dishes properly," Mr. Ginley admonished me the other night. "I showed you the most efficient way to do it, but you're not doing it that way."

at the lake, from the beforetimes

Admittedly, I lost it. I've been doing all the chores since that awful day, including washing the dishes every evening. I figure if I'm the one doing the task, I should be able to do it the way I'm comfortable doing it.

I threw down my sponge and said, "Fine, you stack them then."

Which he proceeded to do.

A truce was called, and it was decided that from now on, I'm going to wash and rinse, and Mr. Ginley will stack the dishes. He'll also dry any oversized items.

It occurred to me that this is part of his recovery, working toward his independence. 

His bigger mission this week was to cull through the hundreds of books in the living room. I've lost track of how much reading material is heading off to new homes. Our son is coming over soon to cherrypick any of the ones he wants before they go to either Half Price Books or one of the libraries for their book sale. (If y'all are in the neighborhood and looking for reading material, feel free to stop by.) 

This week marked another milestone, as Mr. has been out of bed and in his wheelchair the most he's ever been in the last several months. In our new routine, he completes his morning constitutional, has breakfast, and hits the wheels at around 11:00. Then he's up until the dishes are done in the evening, usually around 8:00 or so. 

In addition to going through his books, he sits at the kitchen table and reads, watches the World Cup, or dabbles a little on his computer. His eyesight troubles slow him down but don't stop him.

As for his PT, it seems to be winding down. His therapist is encouraging Mark and me to help him transition to his chair (aka "The Cloud"). We did that yesterday, and it went okay. No spills, no thrills. (That's a good thing.)

Today is spa day, which is nice and relaxing. It's also lawn-cutting day, which is not so relaxing, but needs must. Also, I need to check the blackberries. Hopefully, they haven't all ripened and fallen off yet. Alas, it's been so dry, the last one I tasted wasn't very good. 

Our big decision of the day will be whether we want to continue the tradition of Chinese food for dinner or if we want to try something different.

Do you think Dragon Towers will miss us if we defect to another cuisine?

A Quick Update

Not much new to report this week. Mr. Ginley is spending more time in the chair, and less in bed, which is great. He continues to get stronger at transitioning from bed to chair and back, which is also clutch. And he walked back and forth across the room in his one-and-only PT session this week. 

USDAgov, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons*

Meanwhile, the dreaded "check engine" light came on in my car. Nothing that throwing a few hundred bucks at it didn't solve. The trouble was caused by a squirrel or some other rodent chewing the wires under the hood. I put moth balls under the car and have ordered a solar-powered deterrent system that uses high-frequency sound and strobe lights. We'll see how this goes.

The other snafu this week was Mr. Ginley's bed controller, which became temperamental about raising up his head. It worked, then didn't, then did. A tech came out and installed a new controller, so that's taken care of.

I got my teeth cleaned and my hair cut, each performed by a "Sherrie," both of whom are grandmothers-to-be. What are the odds?

That about wraps up our excitement here. Hope y'all have fun plans this weekend.

Confidential to the robo caller with the 216-998-four last digits that change every time: Please stop calling me three times a day. You can't have my money. Shoo. Shoo. 

*Meet Park Land Rancher Ned Wood. He came up when I was looking for images to use and typed in "electric squirrel." I have no idea why, but I was so tickled and he looks like a nice guy, so I thought, "why not?" Happy 4th, Ned!

A Return to Normal-ish

"Maggie started calling me 'Ironside,'" Mr. Ginley reported to me the other day. "But she said she can't take on any assignments because she's not allowed to go out of the house."

I guess you could say things are getting back to "normal" here.

With a monkey friend in the beforetimes

Aside from a high blood pressure issue we're trying to sort out, Mr. Ginley is doing pretty well. He spent 8 hours in his wheelchair yesterday, which is a record for him. And he's trying to do more things for himself to take the burden off me, especially when I'm trying to work. All good stuff.

The kitchen table has become his office. He reads a page or two at a time out of his book and writes himself notes. And I set up his computer so he can access files and such. He still needs help finding things, but the effort is there. 

We're hoping to venture out this weekend, weather permitting, even if it's only to stroll to the corner or sit and relax in the backyard.

Next weekend is a holiday weekend, and I'm looking forward to it. My company generously gave us 2 days off, and I tagged on an extra vacation day to go to the dentist. I'm also getting my hair cut and colored. The last time I had anything done to my 'do was right before the awful day last October. I can't wait to lose the wild woman look.

Special thanks to those of you who visit, call, send cards, follow his progress, and otherwise check in. Your presence in his life has kept his spirits up.

We're grateful to you all!

A Rare Day Out

Aside from trips to hospitals or doctor appointments, for the past seven months, Mr. Ginley has been stuck indoors.

That changed last Saturday, when we ventured out to the neighborhood Hooley.

We were both a little nervous. We hadn't tackled the local terrain. Ours being an old neighborhood with iffy sidewalks, we weren't sure if he was in for a bumpety-bump ride. But we took Mark's advice and stuck to the roadway, at least on our street. Once we got to the corner, it was a matter of navigating a block and a half of commercial sidewalk, which was thankfully smooth sailing.

Once we got to the Hooley, we were able to cruise up the street, past various vendors. There was live entertainment at each end. We headed to the far sound stage, where Cats on Holiday were setting up. 

Mr. Ginley brought his own seat, and I stood behind him, marveling at how surprisingly normal it felt to be out on a beautiful June Saturday afternoon, taking in the sights of a neighborhood shindig, and grooving along to live tunes. The sun was out and the breezes were lovely. And there I was with my honey.

After awhile, Mr. Ginley professed that he was parched and reminded me I promised him lemonade. So we strolled and rolled our way first to the lemonade stand, then secured a bucket of fries and found a place where I could sit, too.

There we partook of our treats while taking in the last few songs from the Cats and observing the crowd passing us by.

The only trouble we had was navigating around the crowd gathered to see the Irish dancers. The way we'd come in was blocked, so we had to "serpentine" our way through the audience to the other side of the street and cross behind the stage to get to a curbless entry to the sidewalk.

It was quite the adventure for us, and we were both exhausted at the end.

But I wouldn't have traded our outing for anything.

A Work in Progress

It was a quiet week, thankfully.

Ancient selfie from the beforetimes

Mr. got 2 PT sessions, took many steps with the upright walker and practiced getting into and out of the Cloud (aka his fancy-schmancy recliner). 

We continued using the massager on his hand and shoulder. 

The stent comes out Monday. We can't wait, although his nurse, Serena, cautions it will take a week or two for his body to adjust to not having a foreign object mucking up the works. Lots of fingers crossed.

And, in an act of defiance, Mr. picked up a book and worked at reading. No, there weren't any miracles, and he's going at it a page a day, but he is reading. It helps that it's a small size book, the type isn't tiny, and the leading (aka, the space between the lines) facilitates his ability to read. At the end of the day, it's about his attitude. He can't control when his brain decides to get on board, but he can make the most of what he's got now and hope the rest comes along for the ride.  

Meanwhile, I want to help him figure out how to engage the reader on the computer and the iPad so they will read to him. Baby steps.

In other news, the painters came back this week and took care of the two issues I had, so that's done. 

Next on the docket is cleaning up what used to be the office and has become a storage area for all of Mr. Ginley's supplies. I'm going to pack up the post-op stuff they gave me in the hopes I'll never need it again. 

The plan is to put in the screens in the office and open things up so I can work downstairs in the afternoon. This involves taking down the heavy drapes and the Capitals flag, and maybe getting a new office chair. (The current one is stuck in a position that suited Mr. Ginley but is too low for me.)

Today, we're hoping to walk up to the Hooley, a yearly neighborhood event. This will be our first outing that doesn't require special transport. Just Mr. Ginley, me, and his wheels. We hope to see some old friends there. It will be good to get Mr. some fresh air and sunshine, and I'll get a good workout pushing him along.

We'll let all y'all know how it goes.

Onward on, as the Blue Streaks say! 

Third Time's a Charm

When the doctor came out of surgery looking all cocky, I knew the kidney stone odyssey was finally over.

"I'll make you pay (attention to me)."

Or...mostly over. Mr. still has a stent in place, and although the doctor said it could come out after a week, due to his schedule, we have to wait almost two weeks for it to be removed.

In the meantime, we got through the last of the antibiotics (to prevent infection), and are counting down the days until the stent is gone, gone, gone.

PT picked up again yesterday, and Mr. did well. More steps plus practice getting seated in the cloud. 

The massager (don't call it a vibrator, please) that Mark gave Stroky McStrokerson is helping to relieve the stiffness in his afflicted hand and shoulder. And he continues to work hard at building up strength in his abs and his fully-functioning leg.

In other news, we had lots of company yesterday. The physical therapist, Mark, Diane and Mr. K., and a bonus visit with Joe and our beautiful granddaughter. It was a busy day, but wonderful to see everyone. Diane added a handle to the kitchen door, so it's easier to open now. (If you know, you know.)

We also got the back of the house and the porch painted this week. Huzzah! Aside from a couple of snafus that will be cleared up soon, it went well. 

Pro Tip: Don't paint triple-track window frames because the homeowner won't be able to put the screen down and get cross-ventilation. 

I'm afraid to say that things should settle down this week. Don't want to jinx ourselves.

I keep telling Mr. Ginley to stop looking for the other shoe to drop, but somehow, it always does. 

Even when he's only wearing one shoe. 

Out of Sight

"I want to get rid of all the books," a frustrated Mr. Ginley said. 

Any

Stroky McStrokerson's Selfie

one who knows my husband understands that this has been the most gut-wrenching consequence of the stroke.

He's a lifelong reader, and his current difficulty in reading is devastating. We have books. A lot of books. But his doctor was very cautious about his ability to zoom through a 500-page tome again. She told him he'd likely come out of this with a significant blind spot in his left eye. 

The awful thing is it's not simply that he can't see properly out of his left eye; it's that his brain doesn't always process what he's seeing correctly. My sister got him a workbook with different exercises to do, and he's struggled at times. 

"I can't find 'Frank Sinatra' in this word search puzzle," he huffed the other night as I made dinner.

I looked at the list and told him Old Blue Eyes wasn't on the list of words he was supposed to find. 

On the other hand, he just got the sport trivia workbook I ordered for him, and he's already done a few pages in that and has done well. 

The brain is a weird and mysterious place. We're hoping it finds a work-around for his vision problems. In the meantime, he helps me with the Spelling Bee anagram I do in the New York Times, and he tackles the Sports Connection puzzle on my phone daily.

Of course, there are audio books. He's burning through those, along with AA batteries. He's also taken to listening to music at night before bedtime, which helps him sleep. At first, it was a little unsettling to hear him crooning in the other room, only because I wasn't sure if he was calling for me. But last night, I recognized a tune by the Moody Blues, so I trundled back off to my own slumbers.

This week, he'll be going in for this third try at kidney stone removal. Hopefully, this trilogy will wrap up that part of the program for good, and we can concentrate on everything else that needs to be fixed. 

Fingers crossed.