Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Yes, it's been eons. And the saddest thing is that nothing has changed. The wound on my leg is not yet healed. It has completely filled in the gaping hole that had been there, and all I need now is skin covering over, but I'm not going to have surgery in September in this condition. I saw the plastics folks yesterday and afterwards called my surgeon's office and cancelled the appointment for next Monday. No point in going in, have him look at it, and reschedule the surgery. So I rescheduled over the phone for Oct. 17. I may just need a padded room if I'm not ready by then, but another month should do it. As you might imagine, I am going bonkers being cooped up. So Monday S came to visit and I got into the garden and actually weeded a bit which I paid for later. Today D and I went across the border into NSW in search of sock yarn (I have created a sock knitting monster) partly because the utilities folks cut off all services to my house for 6 hours. I was exhausted by the time we came home (I only bought one ball of yarn but also a much needed replacement pin cushion) and more or less collapsed for several hours when I returned to a house with power. I read, I watch TV, I sleep, I play on the computer. I've made the first real genealogical steps by writing off to Connecticut for death certificates for my father's parents. I've made contact with a member of my maternal great-grandmother's family who sent me a photo of the family with my grandfather as a child. That branch of the family is Canadian so I guess I'm one quarter Canadian. Otherwise there is very little to blog about that I would dare share with the anonymous public. I've had my blog used against me once and I don't want to get into that situation again. Sorry about that, dear readers, but not everyone in cyberspace is nice.

Monday, August 08, 2011

At right is the latest pair or socks, completed last night during the Masterchef finale. I have to admit I was glad Kate won and hope she continues to grow as a chef. I'm not worried about Michael or any of the other finalists because they will get opportunities without actually winning. I have been so frustrated at not being able to cook while they were creating marvelous dishes. Don't think I'll add a cooler of liquid nitrogen or a paint sprayer to my kitchen, but I have bought a mandoline.

Earlier this year I posted that I was considering moving back to the US when I turn 65. Waffling back the other way, now I think I won't. This medical adventure has been a wake-up call to me to reinforce how much quality and, most importantly, free medical care I have access to. Aside from the rather superficial trials of not having a private room with all associated conveniences, I got excellent medical care in The Canberra Hospital. Sure there were some not so nice nurses, but that is the nastiest thing I can say about it (aside from the appalling food). I shudder to think how this would have played out in the US, much less how much 5 weeks in-patient and now 4 months out-patient care would have cost me. Besides the medical side of this, I like my house and once I get more renovating done I can close off a guest suite and use the rest of the house for my own devices. I was going to have to put in a new kitchen anyway before I sold it, so now I'll remodel it for my tastes and needs. I now also know that I have one friend I can totally rely on through thick and thin so I don't feel quite so alone. The thought of all I'd have to do to move was beginning to really oppress me so I feel somewhat relieved. I could easily change my mind again but now I'm enjoying the wattle in bloom and looking forward to the Swans getting through the season in one piece.

Monday, August 01, 2011

The fact that I haven't posted simply means that there has been no progress to post about. The nurses continue to come (but twice a week now, not 3 times) and tell me the wound looks good, but the fact remains that it is still there. I can only hope that it heals in the next four weeks so my surgery can go ahead. The thought of being put on hold for another month is almost too much. When I'm feeling OK emotionally, I can remind myself that it's not cancer or something else potentially fatal; when I'm depressed, I feel like I've been sentenced to eternal house arrest. Yes, I've read, watched TV, knit, researched family history, but I am limited to my house and can't even do much within the four walls. If I could cook, or weave, or work on the garden, or work on fixing up the house, it wouldn't be so frustrating. Today D told me my neighbours across the street (whom I don't even know) asked if I was all right because the car doesn't move. I am tired of the Imp glued to my armpit trying to lick my neck, or rolled up like an armadillo in my lap. All right then. If all I can do is whinge, I should shut up.