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. 

I Wanna Hold Your Hand (Again)

 I was sitting on the edge of Mr. Ginley's bed the other day, holding onto his absent fingers.

At Big Sur, in the beforetimes

"Come on, squeeze my hand," I said quietly.

And he did. 

It was the first time since his stroke almost seven months ago. And it was grand.

He hasn't been able to replicate this bit of magic since then, but that's okay. It all takes time, as we have been reminded again and again.

Meanwhile, our granddaughter turned a year old this week, and she and her Dad paid us a visit. She's such a delight. I found Raffi's "Bananaphone" on YouTube and played it for her. We all grooved to the tune our son and Kevin used to like listening to in the car.

Those were the highlights of the week. No major mishaps to report, thank heavens. 

Y'alls prayers, virtual hugs, and good thoughts and such must be doing wonders.

Thanks to one and all!

Naming Names

I don't know where the thought came from, but I was ruminating this week on brainstorming sessions with Harry in the before-the-beforetimes. 

Someday, we visit Sweeties again

We'd spend an hour or two trying to name a new product line or that year's plush animal to be sold for the company's favorite charity. Each of the writers would have a list, and we'd toss out names to each other to see if anything stuck. It was fun and wonderful working in that creative environment.

Maybe that's what inspired this week's blog.

"What if we combined our names, like 'Brangelina.' What would we come up with?" I asked Mr. Ginley.

These are the kinds of discussions we have now, amidst the mayhem that has become our lives.

"Of course, it depends on which form of our names we use. William or Bill, Barbara or Barbie." Possibilities include:

• Willarbie
• Barbilliam
• Bariam
• Willbara
• Barbill (my personal favorite)

Given how much of a team we've become, it only makes sense to give us a name. 

As you can see, it's been a pretty quiet week. There were a few highlights.

Mr. walked 50 feet this week. (Woo hoo!) And, for the first time the other night, he moved the toes on his left foot. Which is clutch to his recovery.

His nurse, Serena, took blood so we didn't have to go have it done at the hospital, and she did a wonderful job. It's no small feat considering someone's small veins. 

We're inching closer to the next kidney stone procedure. Please, dear God, let this be the last one.

In other news, we signed a contract to get the back of the house painted. I think we're going to put off replacing the back door for now. 

Thanks, dear readers, for hanging with us. Know that we love to hear what y'all are up to. 

As always, we live vicariously through others.

Keep those healing thoughts and prayers coming, please! 

Late Night Rambles

 "Chirp."

"What time is it?," Mr. Ginley murmured. 

"20 to 4," I replied.

He hit the light on the clock and took a gander.

"3:40," he gurgled.

"Chirp."

"What was that?," he inquired.

This conversation took place in the wee hours this morning, as I was emptying his pee bottles and covering him back up.

"Chirp."

"It's the smoke alarm," I diagnosed. "I changed out the batteries in one of them when it went kaput last year, but I think it was the upstairs one. This must be the one downstairs."

In the beforetimes, Mr. replaced the batteries on Halloween, but last year, the VERY BAD DAY occurred before the trick or treaters came around.

"Chirp."

"I'll just get the step stool and remove the battery," I said. 

"You should use the ladder, that ceiling is pretty high," Mr. Ginley replied.

But I didn't have it in me to shlep the big ladder up from the basement, so I stood on tiptoes on the step stool and tossed the battery out.

"I'll bring up the ladder later today when I'm fully awake and put in the new battery," I told him.

"Chirp."

Sigh.

I went over to the steps leading upstairs and cocked an ear.

"Chirp." 

Up I went, dragging the step stool with me. Turns out, the culprit was the CO2 detector. I replaced the battery, reversed my steps, and carried the step stool back to its home in the kitchen.

Blessed silence.

Just another night of high jinx at the Casa de Ginley.

This is why I live vicariously through all of you on Facebook. 

P.S. Progress report on Mr. Ginley: He walked 25 feet this week. Watch out, Stroky McStrokerson is on the move!

P.P.S. This week, we celebrated our anniversary: 38 years of marital blisters bliss.