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Monday, March 14, 2005

three liters and counting

When I got to the hospital this morning, Stanley was getting an echocardiogram. The nurse kept telling me he’d be back soon, so I read the paper, paced, bugged the nurse again. Jeff called me from outside of Hartford and said I should ask the nurse just where he was and go find him, so I did. She tracked him down in Xray, where they assured her he was on his way up. Ten minutes later, he was back in his room not resting, uncomfortable. He spent more than three hours shuttling from the tenth floor to the third floor and then back to the seventh floor. I was ready to file a missing person report.

Stanley said last night he awoke about 3:00 feeling as if he was drowning, in a panic and getting more and more agitated. He rang for the nurse, who came down and gave him his pain meds and sat with him, soothing him until he could go back to sleep. I don’t know what her name is, Stanley couldn’t remember, but many thank yous to her (I will find out who it was tomorrow if I can).

The surgeon and PAs Dave and Ryan huddled over Stanley before he went up to get the ecg and said that his coumadin was at a level where it was safe to insert the tube to drain the fluid from around his lungs. And that they would be doing it in the afternoon. But, as bad luck would have it, there were a couple of emergencies and the docs spent the entire day in the emergency room (Bridgeport Hospital is a regional, tier 1 trauma center, so I was not surprised.)

Jeff, our brother-in-law, came down from Natick to help me cope with things. He told me the ropes of dealing with things in the hospital since he’d been helping care for his brother for, literally, months at Mt. Sinai in New York City and before that, dealing with Maureen through her hospital stays. I’d already listened to him and to Maureen and met one of the case managers in the morning and filled her in on my concerns—all of them. I’ll repeat it all to Stanley’s other case manager when I see her Tuesday as she doesn’t work Mondays.

At any rate, having Jeff there today really helped me a lot, calmed me considerably and by the time he left to go visit his brother, I stopped feeling like I was going to break down and sob unstoppably at any second. That was exhausting, so having that pass after feeling like that for more than five days was like being cured at Lourdes. And insisting with everyone I met with about Stanley’s care that his pain be managed adequately this time seems to have helped, plus Stanley has learned to be more insistent about getting the pain dealt with before it gets out of control. Yesterday, in the ER in the early afternoon, it took me over an hour to get someone to help him with the excruciating spasms he was having—I think they only helped him when they realized I was about to turn into a berserker if they didn’t.

The afternoon got progressively worse until, around 6:30, I started bugging the nurse again about when the hell S was going to get the fluid drained. “Soon, soon,” which I’ve learned mean “I really don’t know, maybe some time in the next 24 hours” in hospital talk. After Jeopardy, when Stanley was starting to panic again and was feeling even more like he was drowning, I went out again in search of the nurse to get a real answer, and ran into Dr. Robinson, who was on his way to check on S and asked me if the chest tube had been inserted yet. When I told him no, he went into see Stanley, and then told me PA Dave would be in to do it soon.

About 8 o’clock, Stanley’s nurse, Andrea, gave him a shot of morphine and said they’d be back in ten minutes to do the procedure. A half hour later, they threw me out and proceeded to suction the fluid out of the space around his lung. Dr. Robinson went in to monitor it at one point, the later came out and was please that there was no pus in the fluid. He said it was sort of what President Clinton was going through, and said something about—and I probably have this totally screwed up—inflammation of the pericardia ... I don’t really know. I couldn’t hear him that well, he was tired, I was tired—I will ask the PA to explain it more carefully tomorrow so I understand just what happened.

Eventually, they let me back in the room. PA Dave said they drained nearly three liters of fluid from around his lung, which was flat as a crepe from all the pressure. Stanley said it was the weirdest sensation he’s even gone through, feeling his lung reinflate. When the suction was strong, he said, it was pretty painful, but he said the difference is like day and night. He feels like he’s starting to be able to draw real breaths and doesn’t feel like he’s on the verge of drowning any more. He was so, so much better.

The most amazing thing to me was that his coughing continued a often and strong as before, but it is finally productive, and it doesn’t hurt him like it did before (though he says that might be the morphine talking, especially since he got more morphine during the procedure). PA Dave said the lung will be expelling anything trapped in there over the past few days, so he will be coughing up a lot of gunk. Gross, but damn I was happy to hear that. Dr. Robinson warned that there is still plenty of pain to come as the lung bangs against the chest walls and gets back to normal.

So the prognosis is that he’ll likely get the tube out by Wednesday&yIL;[’ (the cat is trying to contribute)—Tuesday he’ll get the portable setup so he can move around a bit (like go to the bathroom). And he’s supposed to be seen by Dr. Infectious Diseases about the staph infection (it was supposed to happen today, but I didn’t know that so I couldn’t nag to get it done). Maybe some time Tuesday we’ll get an estimate on when he can come home. Dr. Robinson says he’ll bounce back pretty fast—I believe that because S was doing so well before the fluid/infection stuff happened, plus his valve and bypass are nearly healed, as well as the sternum.

Alice stopped by the house to take Ginger out for a bit and left me some sushi from Wild Oats for when I got home—it was great! And Jeff stopped by before he headed back to Natick to take Ginger for a romp at Taylor Farm and to play with Twitch a little, then stopped back at the hospital. I wouldn’t have minded if he’d thought to check the fridge for something to eat and found the sushi (he, Kate, and I are the only ones in the family who like it), but I was glad he didn’t :} George came by the hospital today and as usual Stanley was delighted to see him even though laughing made him cough a lot—it was more than worth it, S said.

The patient relations dept. delivered the CheerGrams friends and family sent via the hospital website and Stanley loved getting them all, read them twice. So thank you so very much for sending them.

Now it’s time for me to catch some sleep. I’m going in a little later Tuesday morning because I need to get a couple of work things done.

posted by lee on 03/14/05 at 09:56 PM
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Wednesday, March 09, 2005

setback

Had to take Stanley back to Bridgeport Hospital to see his surgeon today. When he woke up, he found that his incision was oozing liquid and pus, plus he was in agony with every breath. So began the merry-go-round of phone calls and doctor tag.

Dr. Robinson examined S and found that there was an infection at the bottom of his incision. Dr. R drained the pus (unbelievable amount of blood and crap coming out of that hole, ye gods). So, scrips for a strong antibiotic and some pain meds, and instructions to come back on Friday for followup and to call if there is a problem tomorrow.

Feck. And we were just so pleased the other day with how well the incision seemed to be healing over. At any rate, Dr. Kiwi said the sternum is healing very well, and the new valve is sounding very good. The infection was a setback, but not a major setback, apparently.

The pity is we had to postphone a meeting we were very much looking forward to. Hopefully, we can go tomorrow—will try to as long as S feels he can at least sit there and listen.

S is still astonished at how much the operation took the wind out of his sails. I miss him at work—it was so strange sending out some sketches without first putting our heads together to fine tune them. He tried to look at one of them at one point, but he just cannot concentrate any longer than five minutes or thereabouts.

Now to try to get his pain meds. The doc prescribed them for him, but didn’t put the dosage down so Walgreens had to call him. Unfortunately, Dr. R had gone back into surgery by that time and who knows how long it will take to get the answer. At least I could get his antibiotics filled.

Feck.

posted by lee on 03/09/05 at 02:09 PM
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Friday, February 25, 2005

futures price history databases by Time & Timing

We launched Time & Timing the other day. Time & Timing is a database that provides historical information about the futures markets and their price movements. Stuart Johnston, who wrote this software, is the author of Trading Options to Win, which was published by John Wiley.

Stu wrote this software because he’s been looking for a database with this type of information for years, and just got tired of waiting and wrote it himself. It’s done in MS DOS, so searching it is incredibly fast. He is looking for someone who can convert it to a Windows version but hasn’t had much—the first person who took a whack at it spun his wheels for a couple of thousand dollars. So ... if you can tackle this, let me know.

Stu is also writing a blog about options trading ideas. Check it out: The T&T Blog. A lot of this stuff, to be honest, parts my hair, but the stuff I do understand makes a lot of sense.

posted by lee on 02/25/05 at 03:23 PM
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Tuesday, February 22, 2005

stanley is home

It’s amazing—last night I thought he needed another day in the hospital. This afternoon, after we were told he could go home if he wanted to, I was wild to get him out of there.

Stanley is mending well. He’s a bit anemic, and his blood pressure tends to the low side, but otherwise, he’s in damned good health. I listened to his heartbeat today and it sounded strong and loud and NORMAL. PA Bill said he could stay another night if Stanley wanted to, but that there was nothing they could do for him that he couldn’t get from me at home. The creatures are so happy he’s back.

There are a lot of things we have to do: followups, getting bloodwork done so his cardiologist can monitor his warfarin. I filled four prescriptions today (if you don’t have a prescription plan and are old enough to join AARP and get its prescription card—do it. Saved us the cost of the card on the Zocor alone) and I went grocery shopping for dinner for the next couple of days.

Pretty much everyone whom we encountered at Bridgeport Hospital was very nice to us. I had some problems with the quality of the nursing care on the surgical unit, such as having to wait 90 minutes for Stanley to get pain meds—I had to go track down the nurse to get them, twice. And the tube in his neck was in there 36 hours longer than it should have been. I would have liked to have met Stanley’s case manager before discharge day and I wish I didn’t have to ask to see the dietician. I wish I didn’t have to be the one to explain to Stanley that he had to ask for pain meds—this should have been done by the nurse. I didn’t like having to ask that they weigh him—it should have been happening every day. I didn’t like not being able to read his chart. But, several of the nurses and nurses aides were wonderful. Kristen was great, and Eva was fantastic. Joel was kind and gentle, and Ronan, from the SICU, was really good (though he should pay more attention to signs of pain). We met so many staff ... most were great. But boy, anyone going into the hospital needs an advocate or someone keeping track of what’s going on.

The other thing that really bothered me is the quality of the food. All I can figure out is that the menu is designed to ensure repeat business. My standard is the cafeteria at the University of Michigan Medical Center, where they were proud of their heart healthy menu of stuff that actually tastes great. Word of advice: if you’re eating at Bridgeport Hospital, stick with the chicken salad sandwiches because they’re pretty good. Get a sandwich at lunchtime or in the coffee shop and save it for dinner, because dinner at that place is over-cooked, over-fat, steam-table slop.

But all in all, I’m so happy that things went so well. Now if we can just get through the next couple of weeks ... trying to get through to Stanley’s cardiologist today is a tale for tomorrow—suffice to say it left me crying in frustration. A cardiology practice, or any practice, for that matter, should not have a dipshit answering the phones for them. They should also have a voicemail system that actually works.

But Stanley is home! And his heart sounds so wonderful! And I am so tired ...

posted by lee on 02/22/05 at 08:59 PM
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Monday, February 21, 2005

Maybe tomorrow!

Just a quick note before I go out and fire up the Snow Fox: Stanley saw his surgeon, who told him he was doing really well and might be discharged tomorrow! S and I are both very happy about this, but also very nervous. I want him home, but I don’t want to push it. Just have to trust that they know what they’re doing.

Off to dig a path through seven inches of snow ...

posted by lee on 02/21/05 at 06:50 AM
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Friday, February 18, 2005

stanley

I know I owe several calls, but I’m just too exhausted to deal with it at the moment. Stanley’s operation went as expected, according to Dr. Robinson. Stanley received a bovine valve and a mammary bypass. (So I guess he’ll start asking me to get alfalfa sprouts for his salads?)

Anyway, as I write this, he is still in surgical intensive care. He breathing tube has not been removed yet (as far as I know). He has some arrhythmias going on, which I’m told it typical post-op for this kind or surgery. His platelet count was low coming out of surgery and he got two blood transfusions. I was in with him as late as 8:00 pm, but got thrown out because his heart rate shot up while I was there. I think he was trying to talk to me but couldn’t because of the tube. He was trying to tell me he was having trouble with the tube, most likely, though he wasn’t; I’m sure it must feel awful to have that thing. Nurse Janelle thought it would be best if I left so the heart rate would be steady. Who knows—maybe he just wanted me to go home or something. He was in considerable pain, so they floated him off into the arms of morphine.

I was hoping the breathing tube would have been out when I left. Usually it’s out in four to six hours post op, but not always. And it’s not necessarily a bad thing that it has to stay in longer. I think, for me, it is more a symbolic thing that it’s out and he’s breathing on his own.

Helene and my sister Maureen were with me through the surgery. We took a break after I got to see him in post-op and came back home to walk the dog and drop Helene off. Alice had walked Ginger already, blessed be Alice! Ginger was so happy to see Maureen and me I thought she’d break in two from the wagging.

After a while, Maureen drove me back to the hospital (I left my car there—I’m so tired I’d be a menace on the roads). I spoke with Nurse Ronan for a while, went in and out. Greg and Sarah stopped by and it was really great to see them.

UPDATE: He’s breathing on his own and the breathing tube it coming out now (it’s almost midnight as I write this). He blood stuff is much better, though the platelets are still low. Nurse Janelle said he’s looking really good and is cleaned up, and asked that I give them until around 10 a.m. before I show up because they’re really busy in the morning, and I can call around 5 am to see how the rest of the night went. She said they’ll wean him off the tubes and move him to the floor when he’s ready.

I’m so relieved—I think I can sleep now (after setting every alarm clock in the room for 4:45 am so I can get a progress report). Been going for nearly 40 hours with just 90 minutes of sleep so I’m pretty discombobulated. Maureen keeps pointing out that once Stanley is through this, the worst is over. I can’t wait until I can actually talk to him in the morning. I have to remember to tell him that his blood type is A-—something he never knew and has been curious about.

posted by lee on 02/18/05 at 08:58 PM
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Wednesday, February 16, 2005

tests today, and the details re: Friday

Stanley went to get his tests done this afternoon. He had an EKG and a chest x-ray, blood was taken, piss collected. Dr. Clive Robinson’s physician’s assistant, Bill, spoke with us, getting a case history and details and letting us know a bit of what to expect. Then, a nurse from anesthesiology took another history (same questions, different sequence, with dental history included). She filled us in on the sequence of events on Friday.

We’re supposed to get there at 6:30 am. That’s as in am in the morning, as in a time of day we rarely see unless we work an all-nighter, before the sun even rises. Which also means we probably won’t sleep much the night before. Stanley, especially, doesn’t sleep well if there is someplace he MUST be very early. Anyway, we’re supposed to report to the third floor where they’ll take him in and prep him for surgery, and I will get to be with him for most of this time (he gets a nice shave from his neck to his ankles—they shave the legs just in case they need to get one of his leg veins for the bypass). His surgery is scheduled to begin at 7:30 am sharp, and will last from four to six hours. I get to wile away the hours in the third floor waiting room. The nurse said I could even leave and go home during surgery if I wanted to. As if! The farthest I will go is the coffee shop on the first floor. I wonder if I can get a coffee IV ...

The PA said his tissue valve will likely be a bovine or porcine valve, rather than a human valve. Stanley was kind of leaning toward a human valve, but those are only used in 82% of these procedures, PA Bill said. S decided it doesn’t matter—he trusts Dr. Robinson. As long as it’s not a mechanical valve.

After the valve job/bypass, the surgeon will come out and tell me that everything went perfectly. About an hour after that, I get to go see S for a little while in his cardiac intensive care room on the 7th Floor. He will have all kinds of tubes, particularly a breathing tube and a chest tube. He should be able to have the breathing tube removed with a few hours post surgery and the chest tube gets yanked the next day if all is well (which it will be). He’ll then get moved to a “regular” room on the 7th floor. A private room, which is nice.

The nurse said he’d be spending at least five days post-op in the hospital, maybe four days if he’s cartwheeling down the hall on Day Four. (Stanley said he wants to be going home in four days. That would be nice, but I want him to come home when he SHOULD be coming home).

Visiting hours, once he’s out of intensive care (by Saturday morning, when all goes well) are from 8:00 am until 8:00 pm. It’s pretty easy to get to Bridgeport Hospital as it’s right off I-95 (exit 29, the follow the big H signs to Grant Street). I know he will want visitors, and I know he won’t have any trouble asking visitors to leave if he gets too tired (or I will!) The hospital also delivers CheerGrams that can be sent via the website (his full name is Stanley Thompson).

The cat and the dog will miss him, I already know, because they both moped last year when he was gone for a week rescuing a friend’s dogs trapped in Bumblefart, Kansas. Ginger will be berserk spending so many hours without either one of us—maybe I can pretend she’s one of those care dogs that make trips to the hospital—she is a Golden, after all. Only she’s so terrified of elevators she would make the lie pretty damned obvious real fast. S won’t be able to pick up Twitch for a month, which will be hard not to do since the cat is very insistent when he wants to get picked up. Stanley is also bummed out that he won’t be able to drive until mid-March—he has to be very careful not to re-fracture his chest and it will take about a month to heal enough so it won’t be so much of a worry.

Stanley and his buddy Twitch upsetting Ginger by sitting in HER seat:
Stanley and Twitch share the couch

S said, “Hey, I won’t be able to check my email for a while. I don’t know if I can handle the withdrawal.” I told him I would check it for him if he really cares that much.

We saw the bill from Norwalk Hospital for his MRA (MRI heart scan): $2047. Don’t know yet if we have to pay for this as part of our hospital deductible or if it’s outpatient and part of lab testing or if it wasn’t approved so we’re stuck paying for it. I’m not gonna worry about it yet. So far, not counting the consultation with Dr. Robinson or today’s pre-op testing and consultations (which we haven’t yet seen the bills for), this journey has cost $9,950. That’s for two consultations, two tests, and one cardiac catheterization. Which reinforces my determination to lose weight and stay healthy.

Stanley’s heart stuff is purely genetics—a congenital heart valve problem, an inherited tendency toward a blockage as his father had to have a bypass when he was about Stanley’s age. Otherwise, he’s ridiculously healthy. ‘Tain’t hardly fair ... live right, eat right, don’t smoke, don’t drink and whammo, aortic valve stenosis and a blocked coronary artery. PA Bill said that it’s 90% probable that Stanley’s older brother, Scott, also has cardio problems; less so his younger sister Holly because she’s protected by estrogen.

So I guess the lesson is live right, eat right, don’t smoke, don’t drink, and get those damned physicals every year or two. ‘Cause you never know.

posted by lee on 02/16/05 at 04:15 PM
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Wednesday, February 09, 2005

friday the 18th is the day

We like Dr. Robinson. He was straight with us, actually paid attention to what we had to say and ask. So we went ahead and scheduled the surgery for February 18, just a week from Friday. Dr. R. will be on duty that weekend, so he’ll be able to tend to Stanley.

Stanley is scheduled for an aortic valve replacement (he has a bicuspid aortic valve, which is congenital, and it’s finally giving up) and a coronary bypass. The bypass will be one of those where they connect stuff to the mammary artery rather than grafting in a vein or artery from the leg or arm.

The blockage (lower front part of the heart, whatever artery that is—we’re not sure) is 80%. Stanley’s cardiologist (David Lomnitz) was concerned that the aortic wall had thickened, so that’s what was checked when Stanley had an MRA (an MRI for the heart) last week. His score was 3.6 which, according to the doc, means it’s not too badly thickened (borderline).

Stanley is getting a tissue valve (vs. a mechanical valve)—Dr. Robinson also seemed to think this is the best choice because, he said, long-term prognosis for a mechanical heart isn’t that good considering all the warfarin S would have to take for the rest of his life. He is NOT getting the Ross procedure (Stanley’s attitude is if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it), which the surgeon agreed with.

Stanley is otherwise ridiculously healthy, so the prognosis is excellent. There is a 98% success rate (or, as Mr. Half-empty says, “2% croak on the table”) with a 90% chance there will be no complications. Stanley goes in for a bunch of pre-op tests etc. soon (we have to schedule this tomorrow). We don’t know yet how long he’ll be in hospital, maybe three or four days only if all goes well, then a month to six weeks to recover, and doing those lung exercises, walking, etc.

The risks of waiting to have the surgery later are too high—Stanley already passed out once (which Dr. R. said is called syncope) which is a key “get thee to a surgeon” symptom for aortic valve stenosis. Dr. Robinson said the prognosis gets worse if there is damage to the heart muscle—Stanley doesn’t have this problem yet, fortunately, so it’s best to get things fixed before he does.

Stanley seems to be looking forward to getting the surgery over with rather than being [completely] wigged out about it—except he’s annoyed he won’t be able to see Constantine when it opens. He swears he will be completely recovered three weeks after surgery. (One can hope ... )

I am the one who is really wigged out. It’s been such a shock—just over a month ago, Stanley was perfectly healthy, we thought, then we discover he has a life-threatening condition. We both have this sense of unreality about it all. I’m worried about the operation and won’t be unfreaked again until about a week after it happens and things seem to be ok. I know all the statistics and hear all the assurances and all that, but it doesn’t matter: I’m still scared. Really scared.

I also remember what Dad went through when he was recovering from his bypass surgery: the mood swings, the frustration and not getting better fast enough, the painful breathing exercises to prevent pneumonia, etc. But I know we’ll get through it. Stanley told me today that it’s been really bugging him, how quickly he’s been getting tired over the past year and not knowing why.

Well, now I know that we can plan to take our honeymoon in April—which is probably a great month to visit Washington, DC for three or four days. Something to really look forward to when things get rough—I can’t wait to take him to the Lincoln Memorial.

Now if I could just get it together enough to get my work done—I need to get my focus back. I’ll be in the middle of constructing a form and then I enter the Twilight Zone, compelled to google “aortic valve stenosis” yet again, like there is something new and miraculous that happened just five minutes ago, a magic bullet. Oh frell ...

posted by lee on 02/09/05 at 09:53 PM
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Wednesday, February 02, 2005

cardiac catheterization done ... news is not great

Stanley went in for his cardiac catheterization today. Dr. David Lomnitz, Stanley’s cardiologist, found significant blockage in one artery. So, in addition to getting his aortic valve replaced, the doctor is recommending that Stanley undergo bypass surgery. At the same time.

Friday afternoon, Stanley goes in for a MRA, which is an MRI for the blood vessels, and will provide a detailed view of what’s going on. Then, next Wednesday (Feb. 9th), we go see Dr. M. Clive Robinson, a cardiothoracic surgeon at Bridgeport Hospital, who will explain everything to us and outline Stanley’s options.

Dr. Lomnitz suggests that Stanley get the valve job/bypass done within a couple of weeks. Stanley isn’t too happy about this—says he has stuff to do. I said, “Yeah, you have to get better.”

What was interesting today was seeing what they used to close up the hole they punched in Stanley’s femoral artery: an Angio-Seal, which kind of looks like a molly bolt—sinks the anchor end into the artery, where it opens up and flattens against the artery wall, holding a sponge against the hole. The anchor is made of some kind of a bio-absorbable stuff that dissolves when it’s supposed to, and the sponge is made out of collagen, which also dissolves eventually. Beats having to lie there with a weight on the artery for a few hours, or having some nurse have to put pressure on it until the hole closes up.

The recovery nurse, Anne, was quite nice. Stanley liked the other nurses who attended him during the procedure. Whatever sedative they gave him didn’t make him loopy. Or mellow, for that matter—he was really annoyed by it all, acted much like his cat does when I scoop him out of the laundry basket of warm clean clothes.

I’m in kind of a state of shock about the blockage. Although I guess I half expected it as Stanley’s father had a bypass when he was in his fifties.

posted by lee on 02/02/05 at 12:48 PM
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Tuesday, February 01, 2005

cardio stuff & juggling & the snow fox

Tomorrow, Wednesday, Stanley goes in for his angiogram, which is I guess officially called “cardiac catherization.” Angiogram sounds so much less scary. We’ve been assured by lots of people it’s a routine procedure—but it’s new for us. I hope the worst part is having to get up so early to get there since we are so far out of the “morning people” camp it’s not even funny.

Mainly we would like to know what’s what and find out when Stanley can get his valve replaced—the hardest part is trying to plan the next couple of months. As far as he’s concerned, the sooner the better. It’s frustrating because we have interesting and exciting stuff we’re working on and will start working on.

I don’t know all the details yet, but I think Stanley will only be in the hospital for three days or so, then it will take him three to six weeks for healing from the surgery. But at this point it’s all speculation—I hate not having the details down but have to just be patient until we hear what the doctor and the surgeon have to say.

Based on what I remember of my Dad’s bypass surgery, I will be not working for about a week—but then, I may escape into it. Maybe the hospital has a wireless Internet connection ...

Stanley is pretty strong, so I think it will all go really well for him. He says he doesn’t want the mechanical valve, but a tissue valve. I haven’t read much about it yet—I’m kind of pushing it aside until I need to deal with it, trying to get stuff done enough so that when it’s time, I can focus on it without worrying about tending the home fire. (Yes, I am majorly freaked out about this all.)

When Stanley has healed from his valve job, we plan to take our honeymoon. Just three or four days down in Washington, DC, when the weather has warmed up and spring has sprung, I hope. Stanley has never been there and I love it there. He wants to take in at least some of the Smithsonian and I want to see the new WWII memorial and go back to the National Archives again (and re-read the Constitution before the Bushies burn it or something) and take Stanley to see The Wall and, my favorite place there, the Lincoln Memorial. I don’t know if we’ll drive down there or take the Acela. But I do know I looking forward to planning it all out—I want it to be great for Stanley.

An aside:
Stanley ordered me a Snow Fox snow thrower and it arrived last Thursday. (He said, “Your wedding present has arrived.” Helene thinks it’s funny that I got a stove for Christmas and a snow blower for my wedding—but I’m very pleased with these not-very-romantic gifts!) We tested it out and it seems like it will do the job quite nicely. Now I’m ready for the next load of snow dumped on us—looking forward to it, even, in a masochistic kind of way. What I secretly believe, though, in my heart of hearts, is now that I have something to help me deal with the snow, I won’t need it at all. I know it’s a silly superstition, especially in New England, but there ya go ... we did notice that we have to be careful on the gravel portion of our driveway since it marks up the blade; I will just have to remember to raise it up on that part.

I have several things I need to work on over the next couple of days, all stuff that I like to do. Just having a little trouble deciding which to tackle first. Guess I will do the stats first, since that’s the least favorite ... off to work w/ me ...

posted by lee on 02/01/05 at 09:18 AM
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