rickvs: (Ouroboros)
Rachal's mother died at 12:05am, having not really been awake for the previous day or so. Under the circumstances, we're all pretty relieved. She was stubborn enough that I was feeling some trepidation she'd hang on by her fingernails for weeks.

Not sure when her mass will be held, but Rachal and I will, in all likelihood, return to Dallas for a few days before it occurs. I do know that she'll be cremated, and eventually interred at Fort Sam Houston, having beaten all of her older sisters to this finish line. Kathy had a competitive streak.
rickvs: (!cough)
Rachal's mother is improving, to some extent. We'll get the results of her MRI later today, but in the meanwhile:
Read more... )
rickvs: (!cough)
Rachal and I will be heading to Houston tomorrow. My mother-in-law has brain cancer, which has been progressing faster than predicted, and she has lost the ability to speak. (I will be finding out, as surreptitiously as I can, whether any alternative methods of communication have been tried).

I'll keep you folks posted.
rickvs: (Default)
I'm typing this with a big jury-rigged bandage enveloping my left index finger. It serves more to remind me not to bump it than anything else.

I made a nice half-moon-with-flap slice on the end of it last night while attempting to cut a cantaloupe in twain. While I rinsed it off in the sink, Pat was kind enough to avenge me on the melon.

It never hurt (sharp knife!), and I thought it was healing well when I woke up this morning. I rewrapped it, and through lunchtime had only a small dot of blood that soaked through the pad.


One of our vendor's delivery trucks called ahead as they pulled up to the door, with a COD package. I scrambled out to our car for exact change from the ashtray -- and pinched my finger between the door and the jamb. Again, it didn't hurt, but immediately felt warm, and the cotton pad began to fill in red from one end to the other, like a progress thermometer at a pledge drive.

I never lost enough blood to be hazardous, but spent a few interesting minutes trying to juggle paying the delivery lady (with Rachal's help) without staining the money, the package, or my boss's furniture.

In other news, I'm in another vehicle drawing: one of the local radio stations is giving away a classic Corvette, to celebrate the 30 years their DJs have worked together. I've got, I believe, a 1-in-92 chance that my midlife crisis car will not be a Hyundai Accent.
rickvs: (Sad)
I was awakened after 2am by the kvetching of our cat, Paris.
Read more... )
rickvs: (!cough)
No, that's not the name of a band. Yet.

My father-in-law was taken to the emergency room, and has now had two surgeries on his gallbladder. He should be coming home Thursday, but we'll see. He's less uncomfortable than he was, and is no longer in danger -- but his acid reflux is now giving him fits. So rather than being in crisis-road-trip mode, we're, uh, on vacation in Seguin.

I like being able to work remotely on the laptop, and will be mowing my in-laws' yard in about six hours.
rickvs: (Default)

I understand that at a Nampa Walgreens recently, one of your pharmacists refused to fill a Methergine prescription on ethical grounds. My mother lives in Nampa, and my wife has various health problems, so I'm more than a little curious: what are the odds of my wife being refused such a prescription when we visit my family in Idaho? I follow the rationale of allowing your employees to protect their religious beliefs, but I hope Walgreens' policy would suggest she forward the request to another pharmacist -- which apparently isn't what happened. If I have any of the details of this incident wrong, I apologize -- but I'd like to know what steps Walgreens is taking to make sure that it has all of its employees on the same page.

Thank you for your attention in this matter.


[my name]
[my contact info]"

***** END PASTED text

No, that's not the exact Walgreens where I had the flat tire incident thirteen months ago. But nothing in Nampa is too far from anything else.
rickvs: (Default)
I've been having a minor problem with my left eye for some months now: the inside corner of it is intermittently bloodshot. I believe it rubs against my bedsheets at night, since I usually sleep sprawled on my face. I've started wearing an eyepatch to bed, and when I remember to do so -- no problem.

Last night, I had a dream that my eye had deflated into almost a disk, like a leaky beach ball. It didn't hurt, and I could still see out of it, but when I looked to my right or left, it would tumble end-over-end in my socket, the same way a heart-shaped lollipop spins in your mouth when you twist its stick.

It was bizarre, especially since this was another one of those unusual times when I didn't realize I was dreaming till I woke up. I much preferred the dream of the previous night, when I was guest starring on "NYPD Blue"...
rickvs: (Default)
Man, this is like coming up with a hundred punchlines, and letting the audience reconstruct the stories. But here goes...

Fifty the First )
rickvs: (Default)
Rachal's still recovering from pneumonia; she says her lungs hurt worse than they did at Thanksgiving. But she had a doctor's appointment yesterday, and they started her on some new antibiotics.

She basically lost a day over the weekend; she's been sleeping a *lot* the last week or so, and when her roomate woke her up on Sunday, she thought it might still be Saturday. Hope she's feeling better soon, but I'll cuddle her silly when I see her in a couple of weeks regardless.

In other news, I'm looking forward to helping [livejournal.com profile] valkyrwench and [livejournal.com profile] twfarlan move some of their stuff this weekend, with a break to go see my father at the airport. I'll be moving in m'self a couple of weeks later, and then we'll see how the roomate thing goes. We've already done some preliminary negotiation regarding chores and such, which I find a much preferable approach to just diving in headlong.
rickvs: (Default)
Wife and work and wending my way to another apartment )

More later, as it happens.
rickvs: (Default)
I had a bunch of drama at work on Thursday, most of it my own fault. (I failed to notice one project deadline until after it had passed, ordered too little specialty vinyl to finish another, that sort of thing). It all worked out, and the production staff downstream from me (on whom most of this fell) were forgiving and jovial, rather than justifiably pissed off. I didn't get it all worked out till Friday -- I matched the specialty vinyl color I was short of with our heated-foil printer, and finished the signs with that ...after I fixed the broken machine that was supposed to cut out the sign shapes. It wasn't unpleasant, and at least Friday's drama wasn't self-inflicted.

My wife's still looking for a job, and has been manic for the last two days, getting little sleep. Her doctor told her what pill to take when she got home last night, and I've not called her so far today because I don't want to wake her up. I believe/hope that she's sleeping the weekend away, which would be preferable to her being awake the entire time.
rickvs: (Default)
I seem to have picked up a small rash, probably from rooting around in the bush while playing frisbee golf. The only patch of it that's seeping is on my right wrist, and I've been covering that with band-aids so it won't spread.

Being one of those furry types, I got tired of ripping clumps of hair off each time I changed my bandages, so I shaved my arm. Started out with the area that would be covered by a wristwatch, but then it looked like I was wearing a chimp glove, so I also deforested a section from the back of my hand to partway up my forearm ...and am taking a hard look at the hair on the backs of my fingers.

It looks weird, and feels weirder -- I've not had an uninterrupted view of the back of my hand in a couple of decades. The skin is smoother than I expected (especially given that my palms and knuckles have been getting rougher, these last few years). It's almost as odd as when I shaved my head a while back.


Jul. 11th, 2002 06:54 pm
rickvs: (Default)
My landlady's pet german shepherd -- the one whose portrait is tattooed on her bicep -- has been wearing a big plastic cone on her head these last couple of weeks. The dog, named Girlfriend, had a cyst removed from her leg, and they don't want her to tear out the stitches. In the meanwhile, Girlfriend is putting on quite a show. The cone gives her tunnel vision, so when she's not bumping into furniture, she's bobbing it from side to side as she scans her surroundings. When the neighborhood kids ask what that thing's for, I get to tell them she's hard of hearing, and when she tries to sniff the grass, Girlfriend looks like an industrial vacuum cleaner doing a vaudeville face plant.

Show's over on Saturday when the stitches come out. I'm almost disappointed.
rickvs: (Default)
I posted recently about my cat with liver problems, currently residing in Nashville. An ultrasound was done a couple of weeks ago, and we found the source of the appetite loss that caused his liver dysfunction. Ratlet had stomach cancer.

It was too far along to really do anything about. They sent my wife home with enough narcotics to keep him comfortable until she was ready to take him back for his big sendoff ...which, as it turned out, happened this afternoon. (I'm not a big one for death euphemisms; I won't get in the habit of saying that Rat's "passed on". He was taken to the vet to be killed, and I maintain that we did him a favor).

Ratlet had a long life -- over twelve years -- and a good one. I find I'm worried about my wife -- it doesn't look like I'll be able to leave Dallas any time soon, and I wish she hadn't drawn the short straw on this one.

We'd had this cat since before we got married, when we were still rooming with Unbeliever and Phaedrus. They're actually the ones that found him, huddled in the middle of the street and waiting to get hit by a car. Dunno where he came from, but this gray kitten was starving: he was much smaller than his age indicated, and never really attained grown-cat size. For many months after we took him in, he guarded his food jealously, going so far is to *sit* in the middle of his plate, growling around mouthfuls as he shoveled it in with one paw.

When I'd drive to Nashville to visit my wife (and months would sometimes pass between visits), Ratlet would still recognize the sound of my engine, and trot out to greet me. He'd hop up on my shoulder, and walk from there to my wife's shoulder -- at which point I'd have to run around to her other side so I could provide him the next section of "track".

On rare occasions, we could convince him to sleep in bed with us. This usually required a pretty careful beguilement involving a towel on top of a pillow, and if we bounced the waterbed too much, he'd bolt. But if we succeeded, we were sometimes rewarded by waking up with him curled up into a ball, leaning against one of our heads like a sort of feline yarmulke.

Ratlet always alternated between being a cranky little bastard and a buzzing little love machine, and I'm never gonna see him again.

Damn, and double damn.

September 2016



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