Happy Seahorse Day

My dad died several years ago.

antique image, altered by me

I can't begin to tell you how much I miss him. Not a day goes by where I don't think of him, wonder what he'd think of something in the news, want to share one of the girl's accomplishments, or just be able to say hello and hear his voice.

antique father's day image in the PD

So much of what I am comes from him. I try to be fair, because he was. I try to listen to people, because he did. My love of nature, of books, of science, and history, all from him. He took me places, and showed me as much of the world as he could. He gave me a deep and abiding appreciation and understanding of our country and what it means to be an American.

antique image in the PD

He taught me to appreciate what I have. He taught me to always try to see the humour in things.

Ultimately, he taught me the hard lesson that life is far too short to try to change things that we don't have the power to change. This means that we owe it to ourselves to be as true to ourselves as possible, to be brave, to be good, and to do our very best.

So, on this Mother's Day, rather than focus on the negative (like why this isn't about my mother, for example), I want to focus on the positive, and thank my father. I want to thank all of the fathers and others who are mothers without the title;  who are caretakers and providers, who are listeners and supporters, often without thanks or recognition.

antique seahorse image, altered by me

Thank you. Thank you for caring. Thank you for nurturing. Thank you for listening. Thank you for your advice. Thank you for just being there. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Hippocampus
image in the PD, from here^, 

originally from U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration

Now, why seahorses? Seahorses are the only animal on the planet where the male bears and nurtures the young. It occured to me this past week, as I was dreading another yearly replay of "OMG I love my mother sooooooooo much", which I can't relate to, that seahorses are the perfect symbol to represent how I always feel in the days leading up to Mother's Day. They represent nurturing and caring by people in non-traditional roles.

 Spiny seahorse (Hippocampus histrix) 

from here^, used in accordance with  

Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported

photo by Nick Hobgood^ 

If, like me, you find yourself unable to celebrate Mother's Day in the traditional way for whatever reason, consider trying to identify a person in your life who helped you, who nurtured you, who cared, who was there. And then finding a way to say Thank You.

antique seahorse image, altered by me

Happy Seahorse Day.

Namaste

deena

Home again, home again

Three days post-surgery, and everything is finally getting back to normal, or at least what passes for normal around here. 

vintage image
It's Owl Right & thankfully, so am I

We got home Friday a bit after lunchtime, and it wasn't long before I was drowsing off, physically needing to lay down and sleep. I was (and am) in more pain than I expected, but I'm trying not to dwell on it, because it can only get better from this point on, right? 

The surgery went well. One thing I learned is that I probably don't hide fear as well as I'd like to think. The surgical nurse, Olga, could apparently tell that I was terrified, because at one point, just as I was about to be put under (I was watching the anesthesiologist putting the first drug in my IV line), she came up to me, grasped my hand, and told me that everything would be ok.

And it was ok. I came out of anesthesia quickly, and wasn't sick at all afterwards. I was a little disoriented, but it passed quickly. The procedure was an obvious immediate success, but they don't consider it a true success until 3 months post-surgery, when they'll better be able to tell if the procedure "took" long term or not.

So, it's a date. February 3rd, 2011, I'm looking at you.

used with permission, by clarita, at Morguefile^

I would have been able to come home sooner than I did, but they had trouble getting an acceptable blood oxygen reading. It wasn't until they tested my ear that they got the (normal) 97% measurement that they wanted.

used with permission, from Morguefile^

My fingers never show the proper levels of blood oxygen due to the fact that I have mild primary Reynaud's phenomenon^ (pops to a National Institutes of Health page). In other words, I have poor circulation in my fingers and toes, and always have. Secondary Reynaud's (which I totally do not have) is caused by other factors, often serious diseases - it's not a diagnosis anyone wants.

To be honest, I always thought that everyone had the same experience (cold extremities indoors, actual pain in the cold) and that it was entirely normal. At least  until I was pregnant in 2005 with Clementine. My doctor, who was trying to get a blood oxygen reading at the time, grabbed my hands, held them palm up, gestured toward the splotchy, pale skin, then said, "Has anyone ever told you why your hands are cold and blue? Because you have Reynaud's".She seemed quite pleased to be the one to tell me.

So, I have Reynaud's. Really, though, the only time it comes up is when I'm out playing in the snow or when I need to give a blood oxygen level, which is almost never. By the way: you can try to tell the nurses that they won't be able to get a blood oxygen reading from your fingers, but about half the time, they'll take it as a personal challenge. At least it isn't painful, though. Nothing like the nurses who are entirely sure that they'll be the one to tame my rolling, collapsing veins with half-a-dozen jabs in the arm rather than taking it out of the back of my hand as I request. In the past I've come close to fainting before they were willing to give up. Now I just insist on the back of my hand.

As mentioned above, I'm still in quite a bit of pain, but determined to get some work done this week. I've had it up to here with my own kvetching, and feel the need to be productive. I'm tired of being sick. I'm sick of being tired. So, I'm planning on working on Christmas gifts, putting up the Christmas tree with Dan and Clementine, and doing all of the other things one is supposed to do in December.

vintage image

Speaking of Clementine: She handled Mommy being in surgery both better and worse than I would have expected. 

Better in the sense that she's been all over me, giving me hugs and kisses, which is very sweet. She wanted to be reassured that everything was ok, and she spent a lot of the weekend right next to me, checking on me. She asked a lot of questions, all of which we answered, all of which seemed to satisfy her sense of curiosity. She knows that I'm ok and at this point, she's back to her sweet self.

But worse in the sense that Clementine decided on Saturday to give herself a haircut. She seems to like to change things up whenever she feels stress, and told me quite plainly that she wanted shorter hair, which is why she cut it. We didn't scold her - there was no point. I simply told her that we'd have to go to the salon and get it evened up, which we did, and she's now the proud owner of a darling pixie cut. 

Until later...

 
vintage image

Namaste