The "What's on your mind?" Thread -2017

[Alicia88]

I second the dunce cap emoji thing.  I almost laughed on a call tonight, but I managed to control myself.  It wasn't my fault though.  It was the guy's name!

Dong Wang.jpg

• Alicia88
• Jan 5, 2017

He spoke flawless English.  I'm betting he grew up here.  School must have been TORTURE.

Poor Pretzel!

Oddly enough, spinach has always been one of my favorite foods.  I ate it quite often when I was a kid.  Still got loads of nosebleeds.

 

[margd]

About dunce cap emoji's - technically we do have one.  

   I just figured that out about a week ago and am quite certain that  I've unintentionally slandered a few people in the past.  

  I've always thought it was a party hat!  

 

[tallyollyopia]

He spoke flawless English.  I'm betting he grew up here.  School must have been TORTURE.

Poor Pretzel!

Oddly enough, spinach has always been one of my favorite foods.  I ate it quite often when I was a kid.  Still got loads of nosebleeds.

Oh man, I bet it was!

He spoke flawless English.  I'm betting he grew up here.  School must have been TORTURE.

Poor Pretzel!

Oddly enough, spinach has always been one of my favorite foods.  I ate it quite often when I was a kid.  Still got loads of nosebleeds.

Oh, I bet it was. Kids can be cruel.

 
I used to think my bed looked like a crime scene when I woke up bleeding in the middle of the night because I'd already soaked the pillowcase and the top part of the blanket with blood.  My mom actually did start to freak out when we passed hour 3 of the 4 hour one and the ER was unable to stop it.

The nosebleeds didn't really bother me that much until a teacher turned them into an excuse for my classmates to tease me.  She didn't like me because her nephew didn't like me (same grade).  So, she accused me of picking my nose and causing it to bleed in front of the entire class.  6th graders really don't need coming up with things to tease other kids about.  My mom went to talk to her and she was so rude to my mom, she almost got punched.  Mom said the only thing that saved the b with an itch was the fact that she was holding my 5 week old baby sister and diaper bag at the time and she didn't have a free with which to do the punching.

When I was in early elementary one of  my teachers (I can't remember which one), set me up to be bullied by my classmates so that she could coddle me and make me feel better. And boy did it hit the fan when AWM found out! (I do love her.)

 

[Willowy]

My brothers used to get pretty bad nosebleeds. My mom would have them eat avocados. . .maybe a little tastier than spinach, depending on your tastebuds . Seemed to work most of the time. But ugh, those nosebleeds. . .idk why some people get them so badly. I never did. But gross. All of our pillowcases had bloodstains on them, and the pillows themselves had waterproof covers.

 

[margd]

My daughter woke me with a text early this morning.  "I've done something impulsive."   

What? Gotten married?  Quit her job?  Bought a car?   Adopted another guinea pig?  All kinds of scenarios were running through my now fully awake brain while I waited to hear what she'd done.

Well.  It seems she's gotten a tattoo of dandelions.   Once when she was little, we had a magical afternoon playing with dandelions and she has frequently mentioned what a good memory that was.  It's one I hold dear to my heart as well.

"This is for us,"   came the next text.  By then I was sniffing and tearing up and ready to bawl.   

I honestly don't know when I've ever been so moved. 

 

 

[Mamanyt1953]

 
He sounds like my father, who when we were growing up always went a bit crazy in certain situations like this one. Luckily my mom was good under pressure. 

 

[artiemom]

 
So, I just got my feedback from tonight.  I didn't yawn at all, but I got reprimanded for sounding "lethargic."

gets to be laughable at a point... you just cannot do anything right.. I have been there and even laughed in their faces and told them the same...

 

[tallyollyopia]

Please pardon the ranting and whining. Feel free to skip this post.

Alright, so I got up to get something to drink and discovered that RB's van has just--stopped. The engine will run, the lights will come on, but it won't go forwards or backwards, and the engine is knocking really hard. 

 In addition, there's this thing in Savannah that I've been planning to attend for a couple of months (I'm not entirely certain what it is, AWM just said it would be a great surprise with something fun to do that requires no drinking--I have a terrible reaction to fruit based alcohols and can't stand grain-based). So, since we're supposed to request days off on the calendar, and the 2017 hadn't been up yet, I brought in a calendar (my bank gives them to members), with my requested time off. Everyone's using the calendar to note doctor appointments and so on (legally speaking, by the contract that we signed, as long as we don't request more than one day off a month we don't have  to give a reason.) Well, my manager has a scheduling conflict on one of the days I requested off this month, and she wants me to come in, but she's wary about asking because in the last four months I've only requested one day off and didn't get it. (Also, I've been run into the ground lately. I hear people from the plant across the street complain about their long shifts--ten hours--and all I can think is that they get several breaks a day because they come over to the store several times a shift. We  don't get breaks, and I've been working almost full time--short by thirty minutes because I'm still a temporary  employee--and two days off a week just is not enough time to recoup. Also, I learned this morning that the reason the back surgery that SD is getting is so last resort is because there's a seventy percent probability that after the surgery he'll be paralyzed from the waist down. And January isn't even over yet! 

 

Bright side--one of the things I got for Christmas was a gift card and I used it to get a book trilogy that the library doesn't have (I try not to buy more books--the house is overflowing with them) and a new coloring book. Oh, and more flavored honey straws to keep me going at work. So at least, at least  I have that to look forward to.

At this rate my New Year's resolution is to get a freaking hard hat!

 

[tallyollyopia]

Well, nothing more in Magic School and Egg  yet, so I thought I'd try posting a little bit of another story I'm working on and see how that goes. This then, is Seven Wonders.  Specifically, this is the prologue.

Prologue

“And,” the female guard continued as she led him into the dark, tunnel-like area, “this is Rock World. You have to be careful,” she added. “There are false walls here and sometimes children like to hide behind them.” Having said that she gave the “gem” studded wall an expert kick and it swung open to reveal two children. They looked to be about six years old. “You know the drill,” she told the kids. “Time to go home.”

The two groaned and made their way through the dark tunnel that was mostly lit by glowing plastic lights that were shaped to look like glowing gems. The new guard shook his head. “That was amazing!” he said. “How'd you know they were there?”

He looked back at her in time to see her glaring at one of the animatronics, a fat old miner with a long, white beard. By the time she looked back at him her face had cleared into a more pleasant, affable expression. “Well,” she said, “I've been working here since GO day.”

“GO?” he asked curiously.

“Grand Opening. Now, you'll want to start your close-down walk about an hour and a half before it actually closes. There area places in all eight areas where the children like to hide so they don't have to leave, and it'll take you a while to root them out.” She continued walking down the tunnel, until it opened up into a large room. There was a stage, musical instruments of all kinds (he was shocked to see a full sized harp), chairs, plastic pick-axes, child-sized hardhats with headlights on them, and boxes that were full of the “gems” that some of the children “mined” in Rock World. She moved through the scattered obstacles with ease. In all areas she seemed to be professional, caring, and efficient.

So why was she wearing a pair of costume fairy wings and a Velcro pink and purple tutu over her uniform? Management had hinted that she was losing her mind and wits, but she seemed sharp to him as she easily, gently, and firmly, ousted children out of their hiding spots. Maybe she was only partly crazy, and only concerning certain topics.

“I thought it was called Seven Wonders,” he commented.

She turned to face him as she paused in her duties for a moment. Her face was unreadable in the odd lighting. She turned back to her job, and explained. “There are seven clearly defined areas; Rock World, Western World, Pirate World, Fantasy World, Cosmic World, Virtual World, and Cog World. The eighth main area is the space that connects them, where the arcade, dining area, and restaurants are. I'm sure you saw it on your way in? I count it as one of the areas because, personally, that's easier for me. You may be different. We'll see.”

As they passed the stage he caught a glimpse of the singing animatronic. This one looked like a grizzly bear with a pink Mohawk and was wearing a silver studded leather jacket. It looked like it was glaring at him.

No. He was thinking too much. There was no way that any of the animatronics could glare at him; it wasn't as though they were alive. “That's not how they're listed in the commercials,” he commented as she kicked another gem-studded “wall.” Unlike the first one, this one was empty and she closed it firmly. He heard the latch catch.

“I list them in that order because that's the order I walk through them,” the guard said as she continued down the hall. Suddenly they were in what appeared to be a town taken straight out of a Hollywood Old West set. She walked over to what appeared to be a weather-beaten wooden porch, slammed her foot on the dusty ground in front of it, and the “porch” opened to reveal—a young child. “Closing time,” she informed the child.

The girl (still wearing a costume as one of the showgirls), began to cry. “I can't find my hair band!” she whined.

The guard sighed. “Well,” she said, “what's it look like?”

The girl sniffled. “I—it's pink and I—i—it has Mi—Mi—Minnie on it,” she cried.

“Bartender Minnie from the Saloon?” asked the guard. The child nodded.

“We're looking for something pink, stretchy, and has a picture of a Spanish beauty wearing a giant bow in her hair that's bigger than her head,” translated the guard. “You help look too.” Turning to the child she asked, “Did you lose it around here?” The little girl nodded and the guard got on her hands and knees (the tutu being pressed into the dirt) to look for the hair band.

He got into the porch area and followed suit. There were a number of bobby pins, safety pins (all firmly closed), pencils, tiny plastic balls, and more. He didn't see anything like what had been described.

“Got it!” said the guard in triumph. She handed a battered, pink elastic band to the little girl. He could see that there was a plastic circle with a picture of the woman that she'd described on it.

The girl's face lit up and she pressed it to her chest as the guard patted her on the head. “Now go catch up to your folks,” she advised. “I don't know if you've noticed, but it's closing time.”

“I will!” agreed the girl. She jumped up, grabbed the frilly skirt with one hand, and then ran off.

“Shouldn't we have told her to remove her costume?” asked the new guard. “Isn't that property of the park?”

“Not our problem,” said the guard firmly. The two of them got out of the area and she stomped the same place on the ground making the porch close.

“Why are there so many hidden areas?” he asked.

She turned to look at him. The lighting in (what he assumed to be) Western World was much better than Rock World. She looked—hesitant. As though she wasn't sure she should say. Finally she shook her head. “Doesn't matter,” she told him firmly. “What matters is that there are, and that you know where they are. It's important to—”

“There you are!” boomed a voice. They turned to see that the portly man who owned the park was striding towards them, his eyes on the guard. “I thought you were supposed to clock out.”

“I thought it would be a good idea to teach the new guy how to get around the park so that he can have a chance to do his job well from the start,” she said. “So, I've been showing him around the park.”

“All you have to do is tell him the basic things that he needs to know to make it through the night,” the owner said breezily. “I can hire four people to go through the areas kicking people out for what I pay you.”

She nodded and looked the new guard in the eye. “You have to wear part of a costume,” she said bluntly. “The animatronics will mob and kill you unless they think you're one of them. I wear these,” she said gesturing to the wings on her back and the tutu, “because it's what I happened to have on hand. Whatever you choose though, you'll have to wear every night, so choose wisely.”

He stared at her. She was talking like the animatronics were alive. This must be what management had been hinting at when they hired him; the neurosis that was making her a liability as an employee. He smiled condescendingly at her. “I'm sure I'll be fine,” he told her. “I'm a good bit larger than you are, and stronger too, I'll bet.”

She stared at him for a beat before turning to the owner. “When he dies,” she said, “I'm not coming back unless you double my current salary.”

The owner laughed nervously. “He's not going to die!” he said. The man's face was pale, and he was sweating slightly.

The new guard put it down to the fact that the owner was wearing a full three-piece suit and the air in Western World was at a higher temperature than Rock World. “See?” he said. “I'll be fine.”

She looked him up and down, her gaze measuring. “I give it a week at most,” she said. She slapped the owner on the arm as she passed him. “I give you two of them,” she said as she left. She stretched her arms over her head.

“Where are you going?” asked the new guard.

“Off to get some well deserved vacation time,” she yelled back.

 

[tallyollyopia]

Sorry. Had to post something else to get the taste of whining out of my mouth.

 

[handsome kitty]

 

What will Hekitty think? 

or  

 

[Margret]

He spoke flawless English.  I'm betting he grew up here.  School must have been TORTURE.

Poor Pretzel!

Oddly enough, spinach has always been one of my favorite foods.  I ate it quite often when I was a kid.  Still got loads of nosebleeds.

Oh, my.  You're right; that's a horrible thing to do to a child, though I doubt his parents were thinking in those terms.  It's probably a family name.  I'm glad you managed to restrain your laughter; that really would have been unprofessional.

Pretzel blamed me terribly for not only letting the paramedics in (she didn't realize that I was the one who had called them

), and even more for locking her in the bedroom so she couldn't defend Roger from them, but then I went out every day to drive to the hospital to spend time with Roger (obviously I spent all that time searching for him after he'd been heinously kidnapped), and eventually I brought him home from the hospital (Oh joy!  She finally found him!  Let's have a party!), and at that point she forgave me.  When I had to be out of town later, whenever I'd call home Roger would put me on speaker phone to talk to Pretzel and she'd purr back at me.

 

 
I used to think my bed looked like a crime scene when I woke up bleeding in the middle of the night because I'd already soaked the pillowcase and the top part of the blanket with blood.  My mom actually did start to freak out when we passed hour 3 of the 4 hour one and the ER was unable to stop it.

The nosebleeds didn't really bother me that much until a teacher turned them into an excuse for my classmates to tease me.  She didn't like me because her nephew didn't like me (same grade).  So, she accused me of picking my nose and causing it to bleed in front of the entire class.  6th graders really don't need coming up with things to tease other kids about.  My mom went to talk to her and she was so rude to my mom, she almost got punched.  Mom said the only thing that saved the b with an itch was the fact that she was holding my 5 week old baby sister and diaper bag at the time and she didn't have a free with which to do the punching.

When I was in early elementary one of  my teachers (I can't remember which one), set me up to be bullied by my classmates so that she could coddle me and make me feel better. And boy did it hit the fan when AWM found out! (I do love her.)

Some teachers should be schooled.

 

 
He sounds like my father, who when we were growing up always went a bit crazy in certain situations like this one. Luckily my mom was good under pressure. 

It started here last night.  Our choir director is considering cancelling rehearsal tonight.  Neighborhood roads are bad enough that Roger intends to hibernate for the weekend (except for dialysis tomorrow morning), but major roads are snow-packed and sanded.  And I still have errands to run today.

  "We need the moisture.  We need the moisture.  We need the moisture."  My new snowstorm mantra.

 
Please pardon the ranting and whining. Feel free to skip this post.

Alright, so I got up to get something to drink and discovered that RB's van has just--stopped. The engine will run, the lights will come on, but it won't go forwards or backwards, and the engine is knocking really hard. 

 In addition, there's this thing in Savannah that I've been planning to attend for a couple of months (I'm not entirely certain what it is, AWM just said it would be a great surprise with something fun to do that requires no drinking--I have a terrible reaction to fruit based alcohols and can't stand grain-based). So, since we're supposed to request days off on the calendar, and the 2017 hadn't been up yet, I brought in a calendar (my bank gives them to members), with my requested time off. Everyone's using the calendar to note doctor appointments and so on (legally speaking, by the contract that we signed, as long as we don't request more than one day off a month we don't have  to give a reason.) Well, my manager has a scheduling conflict on one of the days I requested off this month, and she wants me to come in, but she's wary about asking because in the last four months I've only requested one day off and didn't get it. (Also, I've been run into the ground lately. I hear people from the plant across the street complain about their long shifts--ten hours--and all I can think is that they get several breaks a day because they come over to the store several times a shift. We  don't get breaks, and I've been working almost full time--short by thirty minutes because I'm still a temporary  employee--and two days off a week just is not enough time to recoup. Also, I learned this morning that the reason the back surgery that SD is getting is so last resort is because there's a seventy percent probability that after the surgery he'll be paralyzed from the waist down. And January isn't even over yet! 

 

Bright side--one of the things I got for Christmas was a gift card and I used it to get a book trilogy that the library doesn't have (I try not to buy more books--the house is overflowing with them) and a new coloring book. Oh, and more flavored honey straws to keep me going at work. So at least, at least  I have that to look forward to.

At this rate my New Year's resolution is to get a freaking hard hat!

  70%?!  Oh, dear.  If there's any way you can get him into physical therapy now, do so.  There's a chance that proper treatment can improve those odds.

@Margd, the reason you mistook this

for a party hat is that it is a party hat.  There's a noisemaker in the little guy's mouth, it's next to the other party emojis, and its name is "party3."

Margret

 

[Alicia88]

OMG, Pretzel sounds like quite a character!!!

Well, my mom just randomly stopped by.  She brought me a big thing of cat litter, 3 lbs of hamburger, pork chops, chicken nuggets,fish fillets, a huge bag of potatoes, a gallon of milk, and several cans of vegetables.  And after she left, I stuck my hand in my sweater pocket and found a $20 bill.  Called her and she says she knows nothing about it; I must have put it in there myself and forgotten about it.  Uh-huh.  Sure I did.  Except, you know, I never have cash because I use my card for everything.  So then she said maybe it was from a long time ago and I'd washed it with my sweater.  Yep.  Cuz money comes out of the washer all crisp and new.  My mother is a terrible liar.

So, thanks to my mom, we're not gonna starve.  

 

[Alicia88]

 
Please pardon the ranting and whining. Feel free to skip this post.

Alright, so I got up to get something to drink and discovered that RB's van has just--stopped. The engine will run, the lights will come on, but it won't go forwards or backwards, and the engine is knocking really hard. 

 In addition, there's this thing in Savannah that I've been planning to attend for a couple of months (I'm not entirely certain what it is, AWM just said it would be a great surprise with something fun to do that requires no drinking--I have a terrible reaction to fruit based alcohols and can't stand grain-based). So, since we're supposed to request days off on the calendar, and the 2017 hadn't been up yet, I brought in a calendar (my bank gives them to members), with my requested time off. Everyone's using the calendar to note doctor appointments and so on (legally speaking, by the contract that we signed, as long as we don't request more than one day off a month we don't have  to give a reason.) Well, my manager has a scheduling conflict on one of the days I requested off this month, and she wants me to come in, but she's wary about asking because in the last four months I've only requested one day off and didn't get it. (Also, I've been run into the ground lately. I hear people from the plant across the street complain about their long shifts--ten hours--and all I can think is that they get several breaks a day because they come over to the store several times a shift. We  don't get breaks, and I've been working almost full time--short by thirty minutes because I'm still a temporary  employee--and two days off a week just is not enough time to recoup. Also, I learned this morning that the reason the back surgery that SD is getting is so last resort is because there's a seventy percent probability that after the surgery he'll be paralyzed from the waist down. And January isn't even over yet! 

 

Bright side--one of the things I got for Christmas was a gift card and I used it to get a book trilogy that the library doesn't have (I try not to buy more books--the house is overflowing with them) and a new coloring book. Oh, and more flavored honey straws to keep me going at work. So at least, at least  I have that to look forward to.

At this rate my New Year's resolution is to get a freaking hard hat!

That's terrifying.  Sending prayers your way.  But, you know, those percentages are a blanket thing.  It changes with the person.  And, people have even been known to beat the worst odds.  I broke my back when I was 16.  Went to the ER and the doctor came in and said, "You should be dead.  Or at the very least, paralyzed."  He didn't have much of a bedside manner.  Anyway, I had walked into the hospital under my own steam.  I was in a lot of pain but had no loss of mobility.  So, think positively.  If he does end up paralyzed, it's not the end of the world.  There was a couple at the church I grew up in.  They got married when they were 19.  A few months later, the husband fell out of a tree and was paralyzed from the waist down.  They celebrated their 60th anniversary before he died and they always seemed perfectly happy.

 

[margd]

@Margd, the reason you mistook this

for a party hat is that it is a party hat.  There's a noisemaker in the little guy's mouth, it's next to the other party emojis, and its name is "party3."

Margret

That's not the one I mistook for a party hat. It's this one:  

     The only reason I know it's a dunce cap is because its name is "dunce."   Otherwise, I'd just go on thinking it was some guy who wasn't having a great time at the party.   

 

[Margret]

 
OMG, Pretzel sounds like quite a character!!!

Well, my mom just randomly stopped by.  She brought me a big thing of cat litter, 3 lbs of hamburger, pork chops, chicken nuggets,fish fillets, a huge bag of potatoes, a gallon of milk, and several cans of vegetables.  And after she left, I stuck my hand in my sweater pocket and found a $20 bill.  Called her and she says she knows nothing about it; I must have put it in there myself and forgotten about it.  Uh-huh.  Sure I did.  Except, you know, I never have cash because I use my card for everything.  So then she said maybe it was from a long time ago and I'd washed it with my sweater.  Yep.  Cuz money comes out of the washer all crisp and new.  My mother is a terrible liar.

So, thanks to my mom, we're not gonna starve.  

All cats are characters, despite the number of people in the world who think they're all alike (now let's see whether I can find it ...

  Yes! -- those people are dunces, thanks, @Margd).

You may or may not recall (from the Makin' Biscuits thread) that Pretzel chose Roger.  We didn't choose her, we merely assented to her choice.  And, although she loved me, too, she always made it extremely plain that Roger was her human, and if it came to a choice between us Roger was right.  Period, end of subject, so there!

I can think of much worse characteristics in a mother than an inability to lie convincingly.  I'm very glad that you won't be starving.

 

 
Please pardon the ranting and whining. Feel free to skip this post.

Alright, so I got up to get something to drink and discovered that RB's van has just--stopped. The engine will run, the lights will come on, but it won't go forwards or backwards, and the engine is knocking really hard. 

 In addition, there's this thing in Savannah that I've been planning to attend for a couple of months (I'm not entirely certain what it is, AWM just said it would be a great surprise with something fun to do that requires no drinking--I have a terrible reaction to fruit based alcohols and can't stand grain-based). So, since we're supposed to request days off on the calendar, and the 2017 hadn't been up yet, I brought in a calendar (my bank gives them to members), with my requested time off. Everyone's using the calendar to note doctor appointments and so on (legally speaking, by the contract that we signed, as long as we don't request more than one day off a month we don't have  to give a reason.) Well, my manager has a scheduling conflict on one of the days I requested off this month, and she wants me to come in, but she's wary about asking because in the last four months I've only requested one day off and didn't get it. (Also, I've been run into the ground lately. I hear people from the plant across the street complain about their long shifts--ten hours--and all I can think is that they get several breaks a day because they come over to the store several times a shift. We  don't get breaks, and I've been working almost full time--short by thirty minutes because I'm still a temporary  employee--and two days off a week just is not enough time to recoup. Also, I learned this morning that the reason the back surgery that SD is getting is so last resort is because there's a seventy percent probability that after the surgery he'll be paralyzed from the waist down. And January isn't even over yet! 

 

Bright side--one of the things I got for Christmas was a gift card and I used it to get a book trilogy that the library doesn't have (I try not to buy more books--the house is overflowing with them) and a new coloring book. Oh, and more flavored honey straws to keep me going at work. So at least, at least  I have that to look forward to.

At this rate my New Year's resolution is to get a freaking hard hat!

That's terrifying.  Sending prayers your way.  But, you know, those percentages are a blanket thing.  It changes with the person.  And, people have even been known to beat the worst odds.  I broke my back when I was 16.  Went to the ER and the doctor came in and said, "You should be dead.  Or at the very least, paralyzed."  He didn't have much of a bedside manner.  Anyway, I had walked into the hospital under my own steam.  I was in a lot of pain but had no loss of mobility.  So, think positively.  If he does end up paralyzed, it's not the end of the world.  There was a couple at the church I grew up in.  They got married when they were 19.  A few months later, the husband fell out of a tree and was paralyzed from the waist down.  They celebrated their 60th anniversary before he died and they always seemed perfectly happy.

Roger was hospitalized in 2012 or 2013 for perforated ulcers.  Then I got an early morning phone call from him in the hospital saying that his blood sugar levels were over 600 (100 is normal, 600 is terrifying) and weren't responding to any of the diabetes meds they gave him.  They'd told him he had less than a 60% chance of leaving the hospital alive.  Then they took him to dialysis (because he requires it 3 times per week, no matter what), and by the time it was over his blood sugar levels were in the 130s.  For most people, dialysis raises blood sugar levels.  Roger is unique. 

  (As are we all.)

Margret

 

[tallyollyopia]

 
Oh, my.  You're right; that's a horrible thing to do to a child, though I doubt his parents were thinking in those terms.  It's probably a family name.  I'm glad you managed to restrain your laughter; that really would have been unprofessional.

Pretzel blamed me terribly for not only letting the paramedics in (she didn't realize that I was the one who had called them

), and even more for locking her in the bedroom so she couldn't defend Roger from them, but then I went out every day to drive to the hospital to spend time with Roger (obviously I spent all that time searching for him after he'd been heinously kidnapped), and eventually I brought him home from the hospital (Oh joy!  She finally found him!  Let's have a party!), and at that point she forgave me.  When I had to be out of town later, whenever I'd call home Roger would put me on speaker phone to talk to Pretzel and she'd purr back at me.

Some teachers should be schooled.

It started here last night.  Our choir director is considering cancelling rehearsal tonight.  Neighborhood roads are bad enough that Roger intends to hibernate for the weekend (except for dialysis tomorrow morning), but major roads are snow-packed and sanded.  And I still have errands to run today.

  "We need the moisture.  We need the moisture.  We need the moisture."  My new snowstorm mantra.

  70%?!  Oh, dear.  If there's any way you can get him into physical therapy now, do so.  There's a chance that proper treatment can improve those odds.

@Margd, the reason you mistook this

for a party hat is that it is a party hat.  There's a noisemaker in the little guy's mouth, it's next to the other party emojis, and its name is "party3."

Margret

I talked to him about physical therapy and the response I got was, "They don't know what I can do because they're not in my body." 

 He is not  a good patient--and there's going to be at least  a year of crankiness--if  everything goes well.

 
OMG, Pretzel sounds like quite a character!!!

Well, my mom just randomly stopped by.  She brought me a big thing of cat litter, 3 lbs of hamburger, pork chops, chicken nuggets,fish fillets, a huge bag of potatoes, a gallon of milk, and several cans of vegetables.  And after she left, I stuck my hand in my sweater pocket and found a $20 bill.  Called her and she says she knows nothing about it; I must have put it in there myself and forgotten about it.  Uh-huh.  Sure I did.  Except, you know, I never have cash because I use my card for everything.  So then she said maybe it was from a long time ago and I'd washed it with my sweater.  Yep.  Cuz money comes out of the washer all crisp and new.  My mother is a terrible liar.

So, thanks to my mom, we're not gonna starve.  

That's great news! 

 
That's terrifying.  Sending prayers your way.  But, you know, those percentages are a blanket thing.  It changes with the person.  And, people have even been known to beat the worst odds.  I broke my back when I was 16.  Went to the ER and the doctor came in and said, "You should be dead.  Or at the very least, paralyzed."  He didn't have much of a bedside manner.  Anyway, I had walked into the hospital under my own steam.  I was in a lot of pain but had no loss of mobility.  So, think positively.  If he does end up paralyzed, it's not the end of the world.  There was a couple at the church I grew up in.  They got married when they were 19.  A few months later, the husband fell out of a tree and was paralyzed from the waist down.  They celebrated their 60th anniversary before he died and they always seemed perfectly happy.

 
All cats are characters, despite the number of people in the world who think they're all alike (now let's see whether I can find it ...

  Yes! -- those people are dunces, thanks, @Margd).

You may or may not recall (from the Makin' Biscuits thread) that Pretzel chose Roger.  We didn't choose her, we merely assented to her choice.  And, although she loved me, too, she always made it extremely plain that Roger was her human, and if it came to a choice between us Roger was right.  Period, end of subject, so there!

I can think of much worse characteristics in a mother than an inability to lie convincingly.  I'm very glad that you won't be starving.

Roger was hospitalized in 2012 or 2013 for perforated ulcers.  Then I got an early morning phone call from him in the hospital saying that his blood sugar levels were over 600 (100 is normal, 600 is terrifying) and weren't responding to any of the diabetes meds they gave him.  They'd told him he had less than a 60% chance of leaving the hospital alive.  Then they took him to dialysis (because he requires it 3 times per week, no matter what), and by the time it was over his blood sugar levels were in the 130s.  For most people, dialysis raises blood sugar levels.  Roger is unique. 

  (As are we all.)

Margret

Wow. 

 600? I'm surprised he wasn't in a coma!

 

[Margret]

 
All cats are characters, despite the number of people in the world who think they're all alike (now let's see whether I can find it ...

  Yes! -- those people are dunces, thanks, @Margd).

You may or may not recall (from the Makin' Biscuits thread) that Pretzel chose Roger.  We didn't choose her, we merely assented to her choice.  And, although she loved me, too, she always made it extremely plain that Roger was her human, and if it came to a choice between us Roger was right.  Period, end of subject, so there!

I can think of much worse characteristics in a mother than an inability to lie convincingly.  I'm very glad that you won't be starving.

Roger was hospitalized in 2012 or 2013 for perforated ulcers.  Then I got an early morning phone call from him in the hospital saying that his blood sugar levels were over 600 (100 is normal, 600 is terrifying) and weren't responding to any of the diabetes meds they gave him.  They'd told him he had less than a 60% chance of leaving the hospital alive.  Then they took him to dialysis (because he requires it 3 times per week, no matter what), and by the time it was over his blood sugar levels were in the 130s.  For most people, dialysis raises blood sugar levels.  Roger is unique. 

  (As are we all.)

Margret

Wow. 

 600? I'm surprised he wasn't in a coma!

No, that's more likely with hypoglycemia.  Before I found out I was sensitive to milk, but after I'd been diagnosed with diabetes, I was having trouble adjusting to the metformin.  One of the reasons they prescribe metformin is that it's supposed to be impossible for it cause hypoglycemia, so they can just tell patients to take a certain dose at a certain time every day with food, and then not to worry.  In reality, between 1% and 5% of healthy volunteers in a double blind study reported hypoglycemia as a side effect.  I fall into the 1 - 5% category.  I was also having a lot of trouble with nausea on metformin, until my body adjusted to it.  So one morning I woke up with severe nausea and rushed to the kitchen for some milk to calm the nausea.  It helped, but then I began to feel guilty, because milk has enough lactose (a sugar) that it always raised my blood glucose level.  I immediately took my blood sugar, and it was 20!  So, in the first place, extreme hunger does nauseate me, so that could be the reason metformin caused nausea, in the second place, I'm lucky I wasn't in insulin shock at that level, and in the third place I'm incredibly proud of the fact that I was actually able to control the trembling enough to take my blood sugar when it was that low.

Diabetes has a nasty learning curve.

Margret

 

[Margret]

 
I talked to him about physical therapy and the response I got was, "They don't know what I can do because they're not in my body." 

 He is not  a good patient--and there's going to be at least  a year of crankiness--if  everything goes well.

Has he ever actually talked to a physical therapist?  The good ones are also good listeners.  They believe the patient when he says it hurts.  That doesn't mean they don't push him to do a little bit more, but that's the way any kind of exercise works.

It sounds to me as if he's decided that he'd rather be paralyzed than actually try to help himself, I'm sorry to say.  I hope I'm wrong.

Margret

 

[tallyollyopia]

 
No, that's more likely with hypoglycemia.  Before I found out I was sensitive to milk, but after I'd been diagnosed with diabetes, I was having trouble adjusting to the metformin.  One of the reasons they prescribe metformin is that it's supposed to be impossible for it cause hypoglycemia, so they can just tell patients to take a certain dose at a certain time every day with food, and then not to worry.  In reality, between 1% and 5% of healthy volunteers in a double blind study reported hypoglycemia as a side effect.  I fall into the 1 - 5% category.  I was also having a lot of trouble with nausea on metformin, until my body adjusted to it.  So one morning I woke up with severe nausea and rushed to the kitchen for some milk to calm the nausea.  It helped, but then I began to feel guilty, because milk has enough lactose (a sugar) that it always raised my blood glucose level.  I immediately took my blood sugar, and it was 20!  So, in the first place, extreme hunger does nauseate me, so that could be the reason metformin caused nausea, in the second place, I'm lucky I wasn't in insulin shock at that level, and in the third place I'm incredibly proud of the fact that I was actually able to control the trembling enough to take my blood sugar when it was that low.

Diabetes has a nasty learning curve.

Margret

I know. One of my uncles is what's known as a "brittle diabetic" (still not entirely sure what that means), but one summer, during a reunion, he got to feeling exceptionally sick. Here's how everyone figured out that he was going hypoglycemic--I (and I was about eight at the time) saw him curled up in a chair and--before anyone could stop me--gave him a piece of candy. (Because, to an eight year-old, candy fixes everything.) Five minutes later he was fine. I've kept candy in my purse ever since.

 
Has he ever actually talked to a physical therapist?  The good ones are also good listeners.  They believe the patient when he says it hurts.  That doesn't mean they don't push him to do a little bit more, but that's the way any kind of exercise works.

It sounds to me as if he's decided that he'd rather be paralyzed than actually try to help himself, I'm sorry to say.  I hope I'm wrong.

Margret

I'm afraid that may be the case. I've been trying to subtly suggest he should at least consult  a physical therapist, but subtlety isn't my strong suit.